#Elite Cultivation

[jothetender]

Strain: Donny Burger

Grower: Elite Cultivation

State: Oklahoma

Medical/Recreational: Medical

[weiwuxianismybae]

Some people don't seem to realise that if not for Jiang Fengmian bringing Wei Wuxian to Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng would never have been friends (or friendly). I would even argue that Wei Wuxian would be nicer to Jin Zixuan than Jiang Cheng. Why? Because Jin Zixuan at least has some honour. A scene that illustrates this better than anything is the Xuanwu cave. Who went against the Wen to help Mianmian? Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan! And how did Wei Wuxian react to that unexpected turn of events? He praised him! (Well, kinda)

Jin ZiXuan lifted his brows, “Is that enough? It wasn’t enough for people to be flesh shields for you, and now you want live humans to bleed for you to use as bait?!”

Wei WuXian found this somewhat surprising, So Jin ZiXuan really does have some nerve.

ExR. ch. 52 (original emphasis)

And what was Jiang Cheng doing? Trying to "reign" Wei Wuxian in so that he "doesn't stir up trouble". Why did he not go against the despicable Wens as well? Let me use his own words:

Jiang Cheng warned, “We aren’t even able to care for ourselves; how do we have the time to care about the trivialities of others?”

And Wei Wuxian's response:

Wei WuXian, “First, this isn’t a triviality. Second, things like this, somebody will have to care about them, sooner or later!”

ExR. ch. 52

And Wei Wuxian doesn't say this because they're talking about Lan Wangji and burning of Cloud Recesses. This is the fundamental difference between them. Jiang Cheng is too self-absorbed to care about others (unless they are related to him by blood), while Wei Wuxian wants to help everyone if he is able to, not because he "has a hero complex", but because that's the right thing to do.

People can be friends with others while having different ideas, but when you disagree on the core beliefs, friendship is hard to achieve.

[tes-slamjam]

heard his voice when I was in a meeting with the vice presidents of the credit union and was the only one who didn't set my water bottle on their custom quartz coasters

then I had more idea :)

[mxtxfanatic]

Hi there, I have a question that may seem mixed (its a bit culturally mixed in my head) I totally get that WWX wasn't adopted and so he didn't expect (or got) parental affection never something close to equal standing to the Jiang children. But, as a mere disciple, what were his responsibilities and rights and what was his sect leaders (shifu & shimu) responsibilities towards him or had the right (considered rightful) to demand of him as a child that joined their sect? Or to broad things to more than orphans (in case it doesn't weight there) what level of care should expect parents for their children once they joined a sect???

Was there an even remote Chinese equivalent to: "in loco parentis"?

I've answered a similar ask to this on the duties of a first disciple, since he was one. Truth is that we actually don't get the details of what was actually expected of Wei Wuxian (or any disciple, really) as disciples per the rules of their affiliated clans. As for the responsibility of the clan and clan leaders: the clan is meant to take care of you like family. If a family sends their child off to be the disciple of someone else's clan or sect and that clan or sect accepts them, the clan/sect is fully responsible for the care, education, and training of that disciple until the day that they separate from the sect or die. Same with orphans as with disciples who still have family outside. In other novels, the divide between orphaned and non-orphaned disciples could be a source of conflict (non-orphaned disciples in a sect might be the direct descendants of a cultivation clans or just have rich parents who send them material resources and offer prestige that an orphaned disciple would obviously have no access to other than through their own hard work). But mdzs isn't about the conflict in that way, especially since it operates with clans as the dominating organization system of the cultivation world, no longer sects.

For the Jiang in mdzs, their responsibilities towards Wei Wuxian as a ward and disciple were to make sure that he was clothed, fed, educated, and trained up in martial arts. Wei Wuxian would then, in turn, bring prestige to the clan with his skills and, as first disciple, help with other upkeep attached to that title (whatever they may be). The things that were not a part of his duties as disciple were: being close to the head family of the clan or being the clan heir's personal companion. Those came with him being the son of the clan leader's deceased close friend, not because he was a regular disciple.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

magic in asoiaf is genetic. and that is intresting. and the fact that grrm doesn’t shy away from the implications of this makes me love asoiaf even more.

because it’s very understandable that these people who could ride dragons would see themselves as more gods than men. it’s understandable that the practice of sibling-sibling incest would become common in order to keep this ability in the family/to not lose said ability. it’s also understandable that these people would see their race as superior because they are able to do these things that others could not.

it also makes complete sense that this human civilization collapsed in a horrific magical event due to their own hubris because they saw themselves as gods when they were always only men.

and that is peak world building.

some more peak world building is that the noble houses of westeros also clearly gained power and held onto their power through the use of their magical abilities inherited from their ancestors.

a godlike existence like Garth the Green being the ancestor of all the oldest and most noble of the reach houses makes perfect sense for this world!and it also makes sense that the lords without this ancestry are discriminated against in this region that still holds onto the values their society cultivated in the past in order to maintain their magical superiority, even though most of these noble and old houses no longer exhibit these abilities.

and it also makes sense that these people no longer have access to these abilities as they no longer practice the religion that was centered around these powers; plus their blood is simply diluted at this point as these houses have married into a different ethnic group so often that the magical gene just doesn’t surface anymore.

but the fact that it still matters if you can trace your ancestry back to Garth the Green? peak! peak! peak!

george does such an excellent job showcasing the stagnation of westerosi society here because why should it matter if you’re connected to this magic guy if magic is no longer commonplace? however, it also makes total sense that the ruling class of the reach still harps on and on about this as it’s how they maintain the status quo and differentiate themselves from those they consider lesser now that they no longer have access to magic themselves.

and this is also why it’s very important that the Starks still retain the blood of the first men. because the first men interbred with the children of the forest and other elder races, which is what gave these humans these powers. it’s also worth noting that before the direwolves connected with the Stark children, none of our current Starks were able to awaken their abilities by themselves, which shows that even now they are very far removed from their ancestor who’s genetic makeup gave this bloodline these abilities. and it makes sense that the Starks experienced this slow magical decline because magic itself was declining in the world after the doom of valyria.

another reason for this decline is because Andal culture started heavily influencing the North and slowly changed the way magic was perceived. so now in the present, a warg/skinchanger/greenseer has become something to fear being because that’d make you different and therefore puts your life at risk, which means that there’s now practically no safe environment to cultivate these abilities and no secure way to pass down any knowledge you do have about said abilities.

i can’t help but be reminded about how Jon Snow has rejected his nature and how that has led to the stagnation of his abilities, and then i think about Arya and Bran and how their new environments have led to an astonishing growth in their abilities, which shows that it’s not just genetics that matter, environment is also just as, if not more, important.

i bring all of this up because magic being genetic in asoiaf is not as problematic as people try to make it out as. in real life, sometimes people just have genetic gifts. some people can become olympians, and some people are disabled. some people are born 10 times smarter than the average human, and some people believe that covering their faces in lemon juice would turn them invisible. that is reality. and in this universe, some people have access to magic and some don’t, and it’s all based on genetics. it’s unfair! and that makes it realistic.

not everyone gets to ride dragons and not everyone gets to travel back in time, and that grounds asoiaf, which is what grrm was going for.

and how these societies have organized themselves in response to these genetic abilities and the dangers they pose makes absolute sense. on one hand we have the valyrian freehold, which was a magic hotspot and the people who lived there used magic to propel their society to new heights, and on the other hand we have the seven kingdoms that demonize anyone too different, and all magic practitioners are different from normal humans.

and the fact that george decided to go this route with asoiaf is so juicy to me cause:

we have characters like Varamyr and Euron who use their abilities to commit great evils and we know that their powers have influenced the way they see and interact with others. on the other hand we have characters like Dany who use their abilities to fight against evil violent institutions. and through characters like her we learn how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners/characters with these abilities are to these older and more dangerous institutions and individuals who are perfectly aware about the knowledge gap between them and these younger characters and know exactly how to exploit them.

so, while it’s understandable that the fandom is uncomfy with the practices and values that grrm has written about, this isn’t bad world building by any means. it’s logical and well thought out. and i truly enjoy that grrm doesn’t shy away from writing about the more worrying aspects and implications of magic being a matter of genetics. i also like how the seven kingdoms and the valyrian freehold are kinda extremes on the matter of magic and how this is/was detrimental to both of these societies and at the individual level. a horrific magical firey doom is not any better nor any worse than a slow drawn out icey decline.

imo, what is important to remember is that in the world of asoiaf, people with magic are the ones who are discriminated against (bc most POV characters are in Westeros and magic is a no no there). so they are the ones who are in danger if they out themselves as magic users. now, it is true that some societies are more tolerant (Qarth is a great example of this and Valyria before the doom was likely the most tolerant to have ever existed in this world), but as of now most societies simply aren’t. remember jojens warning? he didn’t pull that out of his ass. bran would’ve been in a lot of danger if he came out and told the wrong people about his dreams/abilities. also, jon’s assassination may have been partly motivated by the mutineers fear of wargs. this is the life-threatening danger magic practitioners are in for simply existing in an intolerant society.

tbh the reason i typed all this up is because it’s very annoying when people try to ignore the reality, which is that the dragonbond depends on genetics. now, i’m sure there are other ways to ride a dragon, as dragons are magical animals so of course there may be a one in a million chance of a dragon allowing some rando to ride it, but this doesn’t change the fact that there is such a thing as a genetic ability that gives these certain humans the ability to form a connection with a dragon.

(another example that i can’t help but remember is that melisandre was able to get ghosts approval by using some of her tricks. of course there could be other reasons for ghost to have done this, but the most likely reason is that ghost simply fell for melisandre’s trick and this influenced how jon saw mel. but this doesn’t change the fact that melisandre will never have the kind of bond jon and ghost have because melisandre is not a warg. this is also another example of how vulnerable fledgling magic practitioners are to older ones.)

so, sorry not sorry that george decided to create a realistic representation of what a society would look like if only certain bloodlines were able to ride dragons <\3.

[61below]

Unsolicited CQL headcanon:

The reason Hanguang-jun isn’t stacked like a brick shithouse from all the Lan handstands (and why Wei Wuxian isn’t stacked from being a phenomenal archer) is that the typical cultivation method means they’re drawing their strength from their golden cores. So it’s not that they’re not incredibly strong, it’s that that strength does not translate into ✨Muscles✨

The Nie method, on the other hand, doesn’t work quite like that, so they DO end up swole af.

This also makes beauty standards somewhat skewed: in the broader cultivation world, looking waifish is seen as a desirable sign of higher cultivation, while the Nie have a Reputation (NMJ in particular)

[brasideios]

Thank you for sharing your thoughts OP. It brought up a lot of feelings and thoughts in me, so I hope you won't mind my attaching some of them to your well-considered piece above.

I felt the same way after I graduated - my Arts degree is a double major in English and creative writing. I studied writing more broadly, both fiction and non-fiction, poetry, prose and playwrighting, for four years.

One of the things that really bothers me to think about now is the sneer that was consistently directed at genre fiction. In not so many words, it was literary fiction or trash. This trend was even worse when it came to poetry. Most of what we studied was just what you're talking about here - that is (I'm going to be blunt) wank.

Even knowing how to read and interpret it - I can sometimes get at the meanings in it, if there is any - I can write it - but with all due respect to those who love it, so much of it is just pretentious nonsense.

Over the years, I've heard so many people say they hate poetry, and I firmly believe this is why - this idea that literary poetry is the only legitimate form, while every other, easily understandable form, isn't really poetry at all. I find that a travesty really.

And sidebar to all this - when I think about traditional publishing, and how they favour this form of poetry and (here in Australia anyway) fiction, there are capitalistic overtones in it all that really suck. The message really is - Produce what is demanded by the machine or don't write.

For years after I got my degree, I felt creatively stunted. I felt compelled to be writing something very specific - and for me that was Australian, highly descriptive, hard hitting and concerned with social issues around post-colonialism. It had to be realism, of course, and it had to be literary - and when I tried to do anything else, it felt wrong. I'd internalised this sense that writing what I loved, as I wanted to write it, was failing to come up to some imagined mark of true art, true writing.

I endeavoured for a long time to do that - to write what I was 'supposed' to write. Then I stopped writing for two years. Eventually, I found my way back to myself as a writer.

Even so, there are still two wolves inside me (as the saying goes) - one that just wants to write for fun, to indulge in light genre fiction and prose poems that are only loosely poems, and vignettes just for the hell of it - and the one that is, frankly, intensely judgmental and says I shouldn't be wasting my time. I should be writing the timeless, "great Australian novel."

I'm glad to say that on most days, the non-judgemental wolf wins easily these days.

And I'm glad I did the degree. I learnt so much, got shaken out of my comfort zone in the best of ways, was exposed to so many ideas I would never have found for myself, and that make me the writer that I am now - but there's no denying that there's this negative side to it all which I don't see many people talk about.

I've been able to neither read nor write stories in a long time. Poetry too, for the most part. I guess what I mean is that the art of the written word has become a stranger to me.

I hate what poetry classes did to my writing. Yes, the Wikipedia poems, but they are easier because they're not my own words, and I have gotten so many comments on those saying they are powerful pieces of art, but for me personally they're a way of hiding from the awfulness of trying to assemble my own words into poetry.

I hate the poems I wrote in poetry classes. I hate the version of me I showed others in those classes. I hate the way poetry classes taught me to draw from my own experiences and thoughts for poetry. I hate everything I learned about how to interpret poetry, the eye with which I learned to read poetry, and the vocabulary I learned to talk about poetry, and ultimately, I hate "literary" poetry.

"Literary," by the way, is the category of art that has more meaning, value and legitimacy than the "other" category, which is not "literary." A "literary" poem is published in special, fancy "literary" magazines and almost invariably written by a person with a MFA or PhD in poetry.

You could say that the distinguishing feature of "literary" art is its overwhelming sense of legitimacy. A "literary" poem is a poem in the same way that a nonprofit organization is charitable, that a CEO is rich, or that an SAT score demonstrates your academic prowess. It is a poem completely immune to the possibility that someone will think it sucks. It expects to be absorbed, analyzed, studied, and discoursed upon because something feels "official" about whatever designates it as Good Art.

Literary poems are not only written by and for a special subset of people that have been formally taught to read and interpret poetry, they are written exclusively for audiences that will automatically assume they are Good Art; beautiful, meaningful, and worth interpreting. Because of this, most literary poems are literal incomprehensible nonsense.

Just take this one:

Say I climb the ladder of wheat/and at the top there is a faucet dripping beads of water/but the water takes a year to turn into an eagle/and the sky's forty-three shades of gray pierce/the first inflection of my heart, the point where the signals/throw grass into the river. Say the river sags/and the horizon sucks the lance out of the ghost's hands/like the moment of being born, the point where a shadow's/tongue slides through the faultline./Grace. Sunlight, cherries.

(it continues like this)

And conceptually, I love art as collaboration between the creator and viewer, where abstract, indeterminate and murky things are forced to take shape through the participation of the viewer as they interpret and associate things that stand out to them in the work! The "aliveness" of art in the abyss between what the artist attempts to communicate and what the viewer feels is the coolest thing to me!

But this philosophy of art is incompatible with the idea that there is an elite category of art that is worthy of interpretation, analysis, and reverence. I can fuck around with this random word generator and get something that is roughly as meaningful as the above. I don't mean that as demeaning to the poem, I mean that I feel demeaned by the poem, because its linguistic play and experimentation is something that everybody can do, that everyone should try doing, but this poem has been designated as something exceptionally meaningful and worthy and its writer teaches writing at the University of Chicago. You can click through that website for hours and not find a single soul without a MFA or above in poetry or creative writing.

For me, the world of "literary" writing was like a room with a splatter of vomit across the floor that no one else would acknowledge. The ability to formally study poetry in college was a privilege, but I was constantly aware of privilege, and the thing about privilege is the more you have, the less you think about it. What of the ability to pursue a PhD in poetry? What small fraction of people could expend so much time and money on something that didn't really have a career associated with it? And of that fraction, which fraction would be seen as "good enough" to publish poetry books and to teach? With poetry this indeterminate, how were the "good" poets selected at all?

Literary writing excludes poor people, and the existence of published literary poets who are immigrants or minorities doesn't negate this. Increasingly, published writing in general excludes poor people. A LOT of popular authors graduated from very elite schools!

But literary poetry I hate especially, because it puffs itself up on unlocking the universe and human experience and pain, as if insight into those things is a seldom-appearing gift instead of something many people have, except they don't have the time and money to train themselves into expressing it in a way that appears Literary.

The "literary" vs. "non-literary" paradigm had an inescapable rottenness to it. I couldn't stop thinking about the luminous conversations I'd had with people who lacked the formal training to express ideas in a "literary" manner, but still showed me something vital about the universe.

I've been bitching about literary poetry for like two years now, and really, I just hate what studying all that shit has done to my own writing style. It's so frustrating that the joy and playfulness won't come back.

[mctoran]

If you are a fan of The Backrooms, then you may be familiar with the lore of The Pantheon and Convergence. If not, then you may at least be familiar with entities such as The Game Master, The Keymaster, Blanche/The Storyteller, Nostalgi Gaius, Argos/Argus, The Red Knight/Crimson Wanderer, Icarus Procidens, etc. If you want a better idea, you can check the posts under the “backrooms pantheon” and/or “backrooms convergence” tags.

Even if you know about none of those things, but simply enjoy The Backrooms lore, then you may be interested in these two new wikis:

They are The Backrooms: Pantheon and The Backrooms: Convergence. They are functionally independent of each other, telling their own unique stories about two whole different universes with their own rich and deep lore – but they do nonetheless tie into each other as part of a greater narrative. They are primarily character-driven and story-driven, including many well-known concepts in the existing Backrooms mythos, but still strive to maintain and recapture the liminality that The Backrooms is rooted in. As the original creator/owner of this lore, I founded these wikis so that my full, true vision for them could be properly expressed with full creative freedom.

However, we cannot do this alone. We are in need of authors, artists, coders, or even just readers/fans in order to expand the community and realize its full potential. Unlike other backrooms wikis, there is no elitism or gatekeeping, and the barrier to entry/writing is lower – but not at the expense of quality, dignity or reputation. Posting a page is much faster and easier, but drafts are still closely reviewed and regulated to ensure quality in the writing and consistency in the lore. There is no enforced age limit, but a certain degree of maturity and competency is expected from everyone. The ultimate goal is to cultivate a thriving community of those who are all passionate about the stories and characters of this universe, and in turn can reflect that passion in whatever they may produce for it.

If you are at all interested, then please check out the linked sites above, or even join the tumblr community and discord server (linked below). All are welcome, readers/fans and prospective contributors alike. We hope you are willing to give it a chance!

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's guide to spring⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷

i've been preparing this post for a while bcuz i LOVE spring and for this spring i just wanna embody feminine, fairy, dream-like beauty in my day-to-day this spring, and just enjoy it fully.

THE MOOD FOR SPRING : planting new seeds, fresh fruit, and bouquets of flowers. tea parties and floral prints and perfumes. green grapes, hibiscus tea and waking up early to see the sunrise.

PREPARATION FOR SPRING : stock up on your favorite fruits and teas. if u want fruits that are in season, the fruits in season during spring include strawberries, cherries, blueberries, kiwis, bananas and nectarines. my favorite spring time tea is hibiscus and i love a good matcha during all seasons but especially spring, and lastly a good citrus tea is always something that i enjoy.

if ur someone who experiences rly bad allergies during the spring make sure that u go to ur doctors for a check up, and make sure that u have everything that you'll need to combat allergies.

THE PLAYLIST : a good playlist is always essential so my spring playlist consists of : eternal sunshine - jhene aiko. はるなつあきふゆ - ichiko aoba. afterglow - luna li. pisces - yerin baek. fairy of shampoo - TXT. scenery - red velvet. hydrangea love - TXT. cool with you - newjeans. salad days - iiso. pov - ariana grande. lyricist - heize.

REFRESH : time for spring cleaning both mentally and physically. analyze what habits are nourishing u and which habits are drying you out. analyze ur space and do a deep cleaning, that way u can feel lighter both mentally and physically.

wash ur sheets, maybe even buy fresh sheets (floral printed sheets for spring ofc)

go thru ur closet and put the winter and autumn clothes towards the back and bring the spring clothes where they're more accessible and visible

deep clean ur room and clean ur house -> get onto clean-tok for some cleaning motivation cuz watching videos of people cleaning and organizing always motivates me to do so too

create new pinterest boards and delete ones that u dont use, or if u want to, create a completely new pinterest account. i've grown attached to my pinterest account so i won't delete it, but i've made lots of other accounts on separate devices

oftentimes we forget to clean what we use the most, and that buildup can cause our tools to be counterproductive, and just carry a lot of unnecessary germs so here are some things not to forget to clean and organize ;

behind ur ears

ur earbuds or headphones

ur skincare tools and devices (gua shas, face rollers)

ur phone screen

ur folders, binders, and folders

CULTIVATING CREATIVITY :

create something - do some painting, start a sketchbook, start dabbling in some poetry, maybe write a short story, cultivate an elite playlist etc etc

connecting with nature - go and get some fresh air, wake up earlier than usual to watch and enjoy the sunrise. drink different teas that you've never tried before, go to a local crystal shop if ur into that, make urself an elaborate platter of ur favorite fruits. go for a walk in the park, pick flowers and speaking of flowers, go and buy urself a pretty bouquet.

create a spring-time mood board

TENDING THE GARDEN OF THE MIND :

ofc i MUST talk about the mind in any of my posts bcuz its just so incredible. but what you think matters!! what u think manifests! the thoughts that u continue to water and entertain are what you will experience. therefore when u change ur thoughts and water the seeds of the new thought, you'll get a new flower.

its like gardening. your thought is the seed, and ur mind is the soil. when u entertain ur thoughts ur watering the seed, and you'll get a new flower, the flower is the new experience. so this spring, plant new thoughts and entertain those thoughts ✨

FUN SPRING-LIKE THINGS :

picking flowers -> buying yourself a bouquet

have a tea party by yourself or with friends (reference my tea party post if u need some inspo)

make a bracelet or anklet out of flowers

take a bath and infuse the bath with things like rose petals, rose scented bath milks etc

crystal shopping (last year i added amethyst to my crystal collection, this year i'd love to add selenite into my collection)

watch a 90's anime (i've watched sailor moon about a MILLION times and im gonna rewatch it again this year bcuz its just the girliest, best anime i've watched and is one of my favorites)

so i hope that this post sparked some ideas on ways that u can enjoy your spring girlies ✨

[copepods]

thinking about ancient society and how a civilization might cultivate something like mass ascension. i think itd be interesting if void baths required some sort of application and even a vetting process-- after all, if your occupation is too "essential", it would be more fitting for you to stay behind and care for your society until more people are gone, wouldn't it? like surgeries, you probably get shoved into a wait list even after acceptance and have to wait months to actually get a bath reservation (i imagine they'd book a private bath room and do some sort of ceremony with friends and family present for the ascension) of course all the wealthy elites would be jumping forward in line and get into the baths immediately. moon mentions the baths being "cheaper," so price is baked into them from the beginning. i think it would absolutely be a class thing--- only the wealthy get the privilege to move on from the world, and the working class are stuck continuing to care for the city and their iterator until the population shrinks enough. it would be interesting to think about how counterculture and class warfare would cultivate in such a setting, where moving on from the world is seen as desirable but the poor are denied it. void baths would probably have really beefed security, and i bet many people tried to break into them at some point or another. fun to imagine social movements calling for government regulation of void bath prices. maybe there were even private corporations who advertised "cheaper void baths" that turned out to be some kind of acid or other fluid that wouldn't ascend you but would certainly injure you.. idk just many interesting things to think about

[paradoxius]

Herpespets sleep most of the time, but if you feed them with enough sunlight or stress, they can wake up and build little houses on your mucous membranes so you can trade with your friends!

everyone gets so mad about herpes when that's just a little guy that wants to hang out... it's like a tamagotchi inside of you...

[jothetender]

Strain: Blue Dream

Grower: Elite Cultivation

State: Oklahoma

Medical/recreational: Medical

[fatehbaz]

British ships carrying plants and seeds from around the world arrived in Botany Bay on January 20 1788. This story is overshadowed by convict ships and Royal Navy vessels, but the cargo on board also had a lasting impact. Colonists, convicts and Indigenous Australians were all affected [...]. Some of these plants [...] were food sources [...]. Others were attempts to expand the British Empire. Could the new territory be exploited as a tropical plantation? In the parliamentary debate over destinations for convict transportation [considering potential locations for sending prisoners], Sir Joseph Banks and James Matra, both members of James Cook’s 1770 expedition [to the South Pacific], spruiked the potential of the new colony as an extension of the empire. Matra claimed the colony was “fitted for production” of “sugar-cane, tea, coffee, silk, cotton, indigo and tobacco”. Banks claimed Botany Bay was an “advantageous” site, with fertile soil [...].

Two plants carried by the First Fleet stand out as examples of botanical imperialism: prickly pear cactus (Opuntia) and sugarcane.

Banks, as head of the Royal Society of London [and as a close adviser to King George, and also as a plant-collecting botanist who turned the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew in London into the world's leading botanical garden], selected these species as experiments to compete with European trade rivals. His goal was to break a Spanish monopoly in producing fabric dye and to expand British cultivation of sugar outside the West Indies.

Prickly pear cactus was imported because it is the preferred food of the cochineal insect.

Dried cochineal were crushed to make a vibrant, colourfast scarlet dye for textiles. Discovered in the New World by Spanish colonists, cochineal replaced kermes, another insect that had provided red dye since antiquity. Cochineal dye was ten times stronger than kermes or vegetable dyes.

From cardinals’ capes to British officers’ red coats, cochineal was a product for elite consumers signifying power, wealth and prestige.

New Spain, based in Mexico, had a monopoly on cochineal. Banks wanted to break the stranglehold on the scarlet dye by establishing production in New South Wales.

Plants infested with the precious insects were imported from Brazil in 1788. The project soon failed when the cochineal died, but the cacti survived. Colonists used cacti as natural fences and drought-resistant animal fodder.

Without insects to feed on them the plants spread, uncontrolled, to cover more than 60 million acres of eastern Australia by the 1920s. Poison, crushing and fire failed to stop the cactus. [...] Opuntia cacti remain an environmental hazard. [...] The roots of these early imperial projects are deeply embedded in Australian culture and history, with an enduring legacy.

---

All text above by: Garritt C. Van Dyk. "The botanical imperialism of weeds and crops: how alien plant species on the First Fleet changed Australia". The Conversation. 25 January 2024. [Some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Italicized text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.

[mousegard]

when it comes to the relationship between rhea and edelgard i think a lot of people have pointed out that in a way edelgard represents rhea's greatest failure, but i don't think they really get what that failure was in the first place. because yeah the church failed to cultivate and maintain its relationship to the adrestian empire and turned a blind eye to the slithers and allowed the crest experiments that changed the course of edelgard's life to happen, but the actual failure of rhea that created edelgard was her past as a failed revolutionary.

when nemesis elevated himself and the ten elites to the rulers of fodlan and laid the foundation of its modern crest system and aristocracy, she became a leading figure in wilhelm's revolutionary movement. but when the work was done, the nascent adrestian empire and church of seiros made a choice to maintain and uphold the social order nemesis created and become its new defenders instead of offering something better to the people of fodlan. that all too common revolutionary outcome of "meet the new boss, same as the old boss." and fire emblem three houses suggests a reason why this happens—because as much as seiros could care for and about humans like wilhelm, she never had the plight of humanity in the forefront of her mind. during the war of heroes, her priority was revenge against nemesis.

that's the deciding factor that separates edelgard and rhea. they are both people who looked at what happened to themselves and their families and said "i won't let this happen to anyone ever again." but edelgard, who has every right to seek revenge against the people who wronged her, never does—she even refuses to execute duke aegir for treason (which can have disastrous consequences in certain routes)—and she always keeps her overarching goal of creating a more free and equitable social order for humanity at the forefront of her mind.

in fact the entire reason edelgard takes up arms against the church of seiros is because 1200 years ago seiros had the chance to do the right thing and tear down an oppressive system and didn't. there are many ways in which the corruption of the adrestian empire, the noble fixation on crests, and the influence of those who slither in the dark represent the failures of the church of seiros' governance over fodlan that compel edelgard to take up arms, but it all stems from seiros' initial and foundational failure to do what edelgard now seeks to accomplish.

those who slither in the dark wanted edelgard to be a new nemesis, rhea wanted byleth to be a new sothis, and yet edelgard and byleth's arc in crimson flower is, essentially, to instead become who seiros and wilhelm failed to be over 1000 years ago

[wonyowonyo]

Queen Bee (K. Minju x M! Reader)

Another request! I've tweaked some stuff here n there with anon's suggestion but overall it came out nice in the end. Writing Bully Minju was a great experience for me too! Anyways, hope you all enjoy this one!

The opulent marble halls of Evergreen Academy echoed with the clacking of Minju's designer heels as she swept through the corridors, her entourage of loyal followers trailing behind her like a flock of well-groomed ducklings. Her eyes scanned the crowd of students, searching for any sign of rebellion or dissent against her ironclad rule.

Minju was the undisputed queen of Evergreen, her family's wealth and influence casting a long shadow over the prestigious institution. She had carefully cultivated her image as a benevolent, yet firm leader, maintaining an air of superiority that few dared to challenge.

But beneath the polished veneer, Minju's true nature simmered - a burning desire for power and control that knew no bounds. She ruthlessly crushed any opposition, using her family's resources to quash any threats to her reign. The students of Evergreen were her subjects, to be molded and manipulated as she saw fit.

That was, until the arrival of a new Yuna, Yuna, who dared to disrupt the carefully curated social order that Minju had worked so hard to maintain.

From the moment Yuna set foot on campus, Minju could sense the threat she posed. The girl's humble origins and lack of social pedigree were an affront to the exclusivity that Minju prized. And so, Minju set out to make Yuna's life a living hell, subjecting her to a relentless campaign of bullying and humiliation.

But Minju's reign of terror met an unexpected challenge in the form of (Y/N) (L/N), the scion of one of the wealthiest families in the country. As a member of Evergreen's elite social circle, (Y/N) had always been one of Minju's loyal followers, dutifully adhering to the unspoken rules that governed their exclusive world.

Until, that is, the day Minju's cruelty towards Yuna pushed (Y/N) to the brink.

Minju still vividly remembered the confrontation in the courtyard, the way (Y/N)'s usually calm demeanor had been replaced by a righteous fury that left her momentarily unbalanced.

"That's enough, Minju," (Y/N) had said, his voice steady but laced with an unmistakable edge.

Minju had been taken aback, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she tried to regain her footing. "Well, well, if it isn't (Y/N) (L/N), coming to the rescue. How noble of you."

But (Y/N) had refused to be cowed, his eyes burning with a determination that Minju had never seen in him before. "This has gone on long enough. You can't keep bullying people just because they don't fit your narrow definition of what's 'acceptable' at this school."

Minju's expression had darkened, and she could feel the jealousy and resentment bubbling beneath the surface. "Oh, please. As if you have any right to lecture me about what's acceptable. You may be one of the richest students here, (Y/N), but you're still just a pathetic little worm trying to act like a hero."

The words had tumbled from her lips before she could stop them, a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand. But (Y/N)'s response had only served to further erode her confidence.

"Maybe I am a worm, Minju, but at least I have the courage to stand up for what's right. Unlike you, who just uses her wealth and status to crush anyone who dares to defy you."

Minju's jaw had clenched with frustration, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a retort. But before she could, the arrival of Mr. Park had turned the tide against her, forcing her to retreat in the face of the teacher's stern rebuke.

As Minju had stalked away, her followers trailing behind her, she could feel (Y/N)'s gaze burning into her back. The humiliation of being exposed and challenged in front of her peers was a wound to her pride that refused to heal. The clacking sound of Minju's designer heels as she swept through the corridors was fleeting away from the scene. Her entourage of loyal followers trailing behind her like a flock of well-groomed ducklings.

However Minju's eyes would find its way back on (Y/N) (L/N) and the new transferee, Yuna. As she watched the confrontation unfold, a strange, unfamiliar feeling stirred within her - a cocktail of jealousy, possessiveness, and a touch of something she couldn't quite place.

Minju had always prided herself on her ability to command the attention and adoration of her peers. Her family's wealth and influence had granted her an almost godlike status within the hallowed halls of Evergreen, and she reveled in the power it afforded her. But now, seeing (Y/N) stand up to her, his eyes burning with a passion she had never witnessed before, left her feeling...unsettled.

The familiar scent of her expensive perfume mingled with the crisp, sterile air of the academy, and Minju found herself thinking back to the intensity of (Y/N)'s gaze, the unwavering determination in his voice. It was as if he had awakened something within her, a dormant ember that now threatened to burst into a roaring flame.

Minju's fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and reclaim (Y/N)'s attention, to remind him of his place at her side. She had grown so accustomed to his loyal, obedient nature, the way he had always deferred to her without question. But now, that delicate balance had been shattered, and Minju couldn't help but feel a twinge of...longing.

As (Y/N) walked away, his head held high, Minju's heart raced with a mixture of emotions she couldn't quite identify. The sound of her heels echoed through the corridors, a steady beat that seemed to match the rhythm of her rapidly beating heart.

Minju knew she had to regain control, to reassert her dominance over the situation. But deep down, a part of her couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have (Y/N)'s unwavering loyalty and devotion directed towards her in a different way - one that went beyond the boundaries of their established dynamic.

In the days that followed, Minju's obsession with (Y/N) and Yuna only intensified. She couldn't understand why (Y/N) had chosen to side with the lowly Yuna, defying the very social order that Minju had worked so hard to uphold.

Worse still, she could see the effects of (Y/N)'s actions rippling through the student body. Whispers of discontent and dissent began to circulate, and Minju could feel her grip on the school starting to slip.

Desperate to regain control, Minju unleashed a relentless campaign of sabotage and intimidation, targeting both (Y/N) and Yuna. She sabotaged their assignments, spread vicious rumors, and even went so far as to try and have them expelled.

But (Y/N) refused to be cowed, rallying support from other students who were tired of Minju's tyrannical reign. Together, they formed a resistance movement, challenging Minju's authority at every turn.

Minju's frustration only grew, and she lashed out with increasing ferocity, her actions becoming more and more reckless as she fought to maintain her hold on Evergreen. She was like a cornered animal, baring her teeth and lashing out at any perceived threat.

And then, the final confrontation came at the annual school gala, a prestigious event attended by the elite of Evergreen Academy. (Y/N) and Yuna had been invited, and they knew that this was their chance to make their move.

As the gala unfolded, (Y/N) and Yuna worked tirelessly to rally support from the other guests, exposing Minju's misdeeds and rallying the school community against her. The tension in the air was palpable, and everyone held their breath, waiting to see how the showdown would play out.

Finally, Minju took the stage, her eyes blazing with fury. She tried to discredit (Y/N) and Yuna, but their allies stood firm, refusing to be cowed by her intimidation tactics.

In the end, it was (Y/N)'s impassioned speech that tipped the scales. He spoke of the values of kindness, compassion, and mutual respect that should be the foundation of Evergreen Academy, and how Minju's selfish and cruel behavior had betrayed those values.

As Minju's supporters began to waver, (Y/N) seized the moment, calling for a vote of no-confidence in Minju's leadership. The vote was close, but in the end, Minju was toppled from her throne, stripped of her power and influence.

In the aftermath, Minju found herself adrift, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her. She had lost everything – her status, her power, her very identity as the queen of Evergreen. And worst of all, she had lost (Y/N), the one person she had always counted on to be by her side.

As she wandered the empty corridors of the school, Minju couldn't help but feel a sense of profound loss and regret. She had sacrificed so much to maintain her reign, but in the end, it had all been for naught.

It was in those moments of solitude that Minju finally began to confront the truth about herself – the truth that she had been desperately trying to bury beneath layers of arrogance and cruelty.

She had been a bully, a tyrant who had used her wealth and status to crush anyone who dared to defy her. And in doing so, she had lost sight of the very values that had once defined her – the compassion, the kindness, the sense of community that had once been the hallmark of Evergreen Academy.

Minju's eyes filled with tears as she realized the full extent of her transgressions. She had betrayed the trust of her peers, her teachers, and worst of all, (Y/N) – the one person who had always seen the best in her, even when she had long since abandoned that part of herself.

With a newfound sense of shame and determination, Minju knew that she had to make amends. She had to find a way to redeem herself, to rebuild the trust she had so carelessly destroyed.

It was a daunting task, but as Minju steeled herself and set out to confront the consequences of her actions, she knew that she had no one to blame but herself. The road to redemption would be long and arduous, but she was determined to walk it, no matter the cost.

And deep down, a small part of her still harbored the hope that one day, (Y/N) might see the change in her, and that perhaps, just perhaps, he might be willing to give her a second chance.

The aftermath of Minju's dramatic downfall reverberated through the halls of Evergreen Academy, leaving a palpable sense of unease and uncertainty in its wake. The once ironclad social hierarchy that she had so ruthlessly enforced lay in tatters, and the students found themselves navigating unfamiliar territory, unsure of where they now fit within this new, uncharted landscape.

For Minju, the transition from untouchable queen to disgraced pariah was a bitter pill to swallow. Gone were the days of her loyal entourage and the unchecked power she had wielded with such casual cruelty. Now, she found herself cast adrift, her very identity as the reigning monarch of Evergreen stripped away, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

As she wandered the empty corridors, Minju couldn't help but feel the weight of her actions pressing down upon her. The memories of her past transgressions – the bullying, the sabotage, the relentless pursuit of power at any cost – played out in an endless loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of the monster she had become.

Minju's gaze drifted to the trophy case that once held the symbols of her dominance – the accolades, the awards, the trophies that had been a testament to her success. But now, those gleaming artifacts felt like a hollow victory, a meaningless accumulation of trinkets that had done nothing to fill the void within her.

With a heavy sigh, Minju turned away, her steps heavy as she made her way to the one place she had once found solace – the school's library. It had always been her haven, a quiet refuge where she could escape the relentless demands of her social obligations and immerse herself in the world of books and knowledge.

But even this sanctuary felt tainted now, the whispers and sidelong glances of her former peers following her like a dark cloud. Minju could sense the judgment in their eyes, the resentment that bubbled just beneath the surface. It was a humbling realization, one that she had never been forced to confront before.

As Minju settled into a secluded corner of the library, her fingers tracing the spine of a well-worn volume, a familiar voice suddenly reached her ears.

"Minju?"

She looked up to see (Y/N) standing before her, his expression unreadable. Minju felt her heart leap in her chest, a surge of emotions she had long since buried threatening to overwhelm her.

"(Y/N)," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."

(Y/N) regarded her for a moment, his brow furrowed in a faint expression of concern. "I... I wanted to make sure you were alright. After everything that's happened, I-"

Minju cut him off, her hands trembling slightly. "I'm fine, (Y/N). I'm... I'm managing."

An uncomfortable silence hung between them, the weight of their shared history palpable in the air. Minju could feel her carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble, the mask of indifference she had so painstakingly cultivated slipping away.

"(Y/N)," she began, her voice wavering with emotion. "I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know that doesn't begin to make up for what I've done, but I-"

(Y/N) raised a hand, silencing her. "Minju, I... I've been doing a lot of thinking since the gala. About you, about all of this. And I realize that... well, that I may have misjudged you, in a way."

Minju's eyes widened in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

(Y/N) sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that what you did was right. You hurt a lot of people, Minju, and you betrayed the very values that Evergreen is supposed to stand for."

Minju felt a familiar sting of shame, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I know. I-I don't expect you to forgive me, (Y/N). I've done so many terrible things, and I-"

"Let me finish," (Y/N) interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. "The truth is, I've always known that there was more to you than the bully and the tyrant. Somewhere, underneath all of that, there was a person who cared, who had a genuine passion for this school and its community."

Minju's breath caught in her throat, her eyes searching (Y/N)'s face for any hint of deception. "You... you really believe that?"

(Y/N) nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I do. And I think you believe it too, deep down. That's why this has been so hard for you – because you know that you've betrayed that part of yourself."

Minju felt the tears welling in her eyes, her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of (Y/N)'s words. "I... I don't know what to say. I've hurt so many people, (Y/N). How can I ever make up for that?"

(Y/N) reached out, his hand coming to rest on Minju's shoulder. "It won't be easy, Minju. Rebuilding trust and earning forgiveness takes time and effort. But I believe you can do it – if you're willing to truly change, to become the person you know you can be."

Minju looked up at him, her eyes shining with a newfound glimmer of hope. "I... I want to try, (Y/N). I want to be that person again. But I'm scared. What if I fail?"

(Y/N) squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You won't be alone, Minju. I'll be here, supporting you every step of the way. We'll face this challenge together, just like we used to."

Minju felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, her heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose. She had lost so much, but in that moment, she realized that she had the chance to regain something even more valuable – the trust and respect of her peers, and the chance to become the person she had always wanted to be.

It would be a long and arduous journey, but with (Y/N) by her side, Minju knew that she could overcome the obstacles that lay ahead. She would have to work tirelessly to make amends, to prove that she had truly changed. But for the first time in a long while, Minju felt a glimmer of hope – a spark that she was determined to nurture and grow into a blazing flame of redemption.

As she and (Y/N) stepped out of the library, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls, Minju felt a renewed sense of purpose. She knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but with (Y/N)'s support and her own unwavering determination, she was confident that she could overcome them.

The journey to redemption had begun, and Minju was ready to face it head-on.

The path to redemption was not an easy one for Minju, but with (Y/N)'s unwavering support, she was determined to make the most of this second chance.

In the days and weeks that followed their conversation in the library, Minju set out to systematically rebuild the trust and respect she had so carelessly squandered. It was a slow and arduous process, marked by skepticism and outright hostility from many of her former peers.

But Minju refused to be deterred. She knew that she had to prove the sincerity of her transformation, that mere words would not be enough to undo the damage she had done. And so, she set about making amends, one small step at a time.

She began by publicly acknowledging the wrongs she had committed, standing before the entire student body and offering a heartfelt apology. It was a daunting task, laying bare her past transgressions and vulnerabilities for all to see, but Minju knew that it was a necessary first step.

To her surprise, the reaction was not entirely hostile. While some of her former followers turned their backs on her, others – the ones who had borne the brunt of her cruelty – seemed cautiously receptive to her words. Minju could see the glimmers of hope in their eyes, a yearning for the redemption she now sought.

Emboldened by this cautious progress, Minju set out to make amends in more tangible ways. She used her family's resources to establish a scholarship fund for underprivileged students, ensuring that the doors of Evergreen would be open to all, regardless of their social standing.

She also volunteered her time, working tirelessly alongside her peers to organize fundraisers and community service projects, using her influence to mobilize resources and inspire others to action.

Through it all, (Y/N) remained a steadfast presence at her side, offering guidance, encouragement, and a much-needed dose of reality when Minju's progress threatened to falter.

"It's not going to be easy, Minju," he would remind her, his voice gentle but firm. "You've hurt a lot of people, and earning their trust back is going to take time and effort. But I believe in you. I know you can do this."

And with each passing day, Minju found herself drawing strength from (Y/N)'s unwavering belief in her. She could feel the walls she had built around her heart slowly crumbling, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose and determination.

It was during one of the school's annual charity drives that Minju's transformation truly began to take root. As she stood alongside her peers, sorting and packing donations for the local homeless shelter, she couldn't help but be struck by the sense of community and camaraderie that had once been the hallmark of Evergreen Academy.

Minju watched as (Y/N) worked tirelessly, his sleeves rolled up and a genuine smile on his face as he interacted with the other students. She marveled at the way he had seamlessly integrated himself into the fabric of the community, his once-aloof demeanor replaced by a genuine warmth and compassion.

And in that moment, Minju felt a pang of regret – regret for the years she had spent tearing that community apart, for the ways in which she had betrayed the very values that had once defined her.

Hesitantly, she approached (Y/N), her voice barely above a whisper. "(Y/N)... can I help?"

He turned to her, his eyes widening in surprise, but then a gentle smile spread across his face. "Of course, Minju. We could always use an extra pair of hands."

As Minju rolled up her sleeves and joined the effort, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. The familiar weight of her past transgressions still lingered, but in this moment, it felt as if she was finally beginning to shed that burden, to reclaim the part of herself she had so long ago abandoned.

The other students were wary at first, casting sidelong glances in Minju's direction, but as she worked alongside them, her genuine enthusiasm and commitment began to break down those barriers. Slowly but surely, she could feel the walls of distrust and resentment crumbling, replaced by a cautious acceptance.

And when the day's work was done, and the students gathered to admire the impressive pile of donations they had amassed, Minju found herself surrounded by her peers, their expressions no longer filled with hostility, but with a newfound respect.

(Y/N) stood by her side, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Minju," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Minju felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you, (Y/N). For... for believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."

(Y/N) smiled, his gaze holding hers. "I always knew you had it in you, Minju. You just needed to find your way back."

As they walked back to the dorms, Minju felt a sense of renewed purpose and determination. The road ahead was still long and uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope – hope that she could truly become the person she had always aspired to be.

And with (Y/N) by her side, Minju knew that she could overcome any obstacle that stood in her path. Together, they would rebuild the community, reclaiming the values that had once defined Evergreen Academy and creating a legacy that would endure long after they had graduated.

It was a daunting task, but Minju was more than ready to face it head-on. Her journey to redemption had only just begun, but she was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

As the weeks turned into months, Minju's journey of redemption continued to unfold, marked by both triumphs and challenges.

While her initial public apology had been met with a mix of lingering skepticism and cautious hope, Minju's unwavering commitment to making amends began to slowly erode the barriers that had once separated her from her peers.

She threw herself wholeheartedly into the various community service projects and charity initiatives that now dotted the Evergreen Academy calendar, using her family's resources and influence to amplify the reach and impact of these endeavors.

Whether it was organizing food drives for the local homeless shelter, spearheading fundraising campaigns for underprivileged students, or lending a hand in the school's environmental conservation efforts, Minju's presence was a constant and welcomed one. Gone were the days of her tyrannical reign; in its place, a newfound spirit of collaboration and camaraderie began to take root.

(Y/N) remained a steadfast ally throughout this process, his steadfast support and guidance a crucial lifeline for Minju as she navigated the treacherous waters of redemption. Together, they worked tirelessly to rebuild the bridges that Minju had once so carelessly burned, forging connections and alliances that would help to solidify her transformation.

But the road was not without its challenges. There were still those who viewed Minju's change of heart with a healthy dose of skepticism, unwilling to forget the pain and humiliation she had inflicted upon them. These were the battles Minju fought the hardest, confronting her past transgressions head-on and refusing to shy away from the uncomfortable truths that lay buried beneath the surface.

In one particularly poignant moment, Minju found herself face-to-face with Yuna, the very individual whose arrival had set in motion the events that had led to Minju's dramatic downfall.

The tension in the air was palpable as the two young women stood there, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. But to Minju's surprise, Yuna did not recoil or lash out – instead, her expression held a curious mixture of wariness and something akin to compassion.

"I... I know that what you did was wrong," Yuna began, her voice soft but resolute. "And I can't say that I've forgiven you, not completely. But I see the way you've been working to make amends, to truly change. And I... I respect that."

Minju felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yuna, I... I can't even begin to apologize for the way I treated you. It was unforgivable, and I know that. But I want you to know that I am truly, deeply sorry. And I promise, I will spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make it right."

To her surprise, Yuna offered her a tentative smile. "I believe you, Minju. And I'm willing to give you a chance – a chance to prove that you've changed, and that you're worthy of forgiveness."

It was a small, yet significant victory for Minju – a testament to the power of resilience and the possibility of redemption. And as she watched Yuna walk away, Minju felt a newfound sense of purpose and determination surge within her.

She knew that the road ahead would still be long and arduous, but with each step forward, she could feel the weight of her past sins slowly lifting from her shoulders. And with (Y/N) by her side, a constant source of support and encouragement, Minju was more determined than ever to see her transformation through to the end.

As the months turned into years, Minju's impact on the Evergreen community only grew. She became a tireless advocate for inclusivity and social justice, using her family's resources and influence to enact real, meaningful change. Her once-loyal followers, once blinded by her tyrannical reign, now looked upon her with renewed respect and admiration, seeing in her a leader worthy of their trust.

And through it all, (Y/N) remained a steadfast presence in her life, their bond growing stronger and more profound with each passing day. Minju marveled at the way he had always believed in her, even when she had been at her lowest, and she knew that without his unwavering support, her journey to redemption would have been all but impossible.

As they stood together, side by side, on the day of their graduation, Minju couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride and accomplishment. She had come so far, overcoming the darkest parts of her past to emerge as a true leader, one who was beloved and respected by her peers.

And as she looked into (Y/N)'s eyes, Minju knew that this was only the beginning – the start of a new chapter, one filled with endless possibilities and the promise of a brighter future for them both.

As the sun set on their final day at Evergreen Academy, Minju and (Y/N) found themselves standing on the steps of the main building, the warm evening air carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers.

The campus was alive with the energy of their fellow graduates, laughter and voices mingling together in a joyful cacophony. But for Minju and (Y/N), this moment felt tinged with a bittersweet edge, a realization that their time at this school – a place that had once been the epicenter of their lives – was now drawing to a close.

Minju turned to (Y/N), her eyes shimmering with a complex tapestry of emotions. "I can't believe it's over, (Y/N). It feels like just yesterday we were walking these halls for the first time, full of excitement and trepidation."

(Y/N) nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A lot has changed since then, hasn't it? For both of us."

Minju's gaze grew introspective as she contemplated the journey that had brought her to this moment. "You've been by my side through it all, (Y/N). I don't know if I would have had the strength to overcome my past without you."

(Y/N) reached out, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You did that all on your own, Minju. I may have been there to support you, but the courage and determination to change – that was all you."

Minju felt a lump rise in her throat, her fingers intertwining with his. "I couldn't have done it without you, (Y/N). You believed in me when no one else did, and you never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself."

(Y/N) pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping her in a comforting shield. "You're stronger than you know, Minju. And I'm so proud of the person you've become."

They stood there for a long moment, the sounds of their graduating class fading into the background as they savored the quiet intimacy of the moment. Minju could feel the steady rhythm of (Y/N)'s heart, a soothing cadence that had become as familiar to her as her own.

As they pulled apart, their gazes locked, and Minju felt a surge of emotion that she had long since buried deep within her heart. The walls she had so painstakingly constructed – the barriers that had once protected her from the pain of vulnerability – had crumbled away, leaving her raw and exposed.

"(Y/N)," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know one thing. You've become more than just a friend to me. You're... you're my everything."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, and for a moment, Minju could see the same vulnerability reflected in his gaze. "Minju, I... I feel the same way. I've always felt this connection between us, even when everything else was falling apart."

Minju felt her heart racing, the weight of his words settling warmly in her chest. "Then... what does this mean, (Y/N)? Where do we go from here?"

(Y/N) reached up, his fingers gently caressing her cheek. "It means that we face the future together, Minju. Whatever challenges lie ahead, we'll confront them side by side, just like we always have."

Minju felt a tear of joy escape the corner of her eye, her hand coming up to cover his. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N). You've been my anchor, my guiding light, through it all."

(Y/N) leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "And I'll always be here for you, Minju. No matter what."

As their lips met in a tender, passionate kiss, Minju felt a sense of peace and belonging wash over her. The weight of her past had been lifted, replaced by a boundless hope for the future – a future that she would build, hand-in-hand, with the person she had grown to love more than anything.

The world beyond the walls of Evergreen Academy awaited, brimming with endless possibilities. And with (Y/N) by her side, Minju knew that she was ready to face it head-on, determined to forge a path that would continue to inspire and uplift those around her.

This was not the end, but a new beginning – a chance to write the next chapter of their story, one that would be filled with love, growth, and the pursuit of a brighter, more just world.

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Sixteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Jealousy, Angst, Possessive Behaviours, Syltherin!Boys, asshole!Berkshire, Kissing, Threats Of Violence, Weaponizing!TomRiddle, Dirty Talk.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As darkness shrouded the castle on the overly-anticipated Saturday evening, Tom guided you into the lively heart of the Slytherin common room, a space pulsating with carefree energy and laughter. Students adorned in their finest attire swirled around you, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices mingling in a chorus of revelry. The air crackled with the tang of burning embers, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow emanating from countless floating candles overhead.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Tom's friends sat at a secluded table, an oasis of calm amidst the storm. Their demeanor was poised, their laughter soft and controlled, setting them apart from the exuberant crowd. As you stepped closer, you felt like a solitary figure navigating the maze of social intricacies. Emily, who had promised to join you shortly, was notably absent, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Tom's hand in yours provided some semblance of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the lively chaos as he introduced you to each one of his friends individually. Every introduction was a meticulously choreographed ritual, marked by the graceful dip of heads and the soft rustle of silk against polished leather. Their smiles, though polite, held a hint of calculated charm, concealing a labyrinth of secrets beneath their composed exteriors.

In this enclave of refinement, Tom's circle stood apart from the rest of the common room. The casual revelry of the other Slytherins felt distant, their laughter and chatter forming a separate backdrop to the sophisticated symphony of Tom's world. The room seemed to bend to the will of this select group, accentuating the stark contrast between their cultivated refinement and the more carefree atmosphere of the rest of the room. Here, every gesture and word was carefully curated, preserving an aura of exclusivity. You could tell this was not something they did very often, so when they did, it was absolutely noticed--the rest of the room seemingly more tame in response, a stark comparison to the last party you had ventured in on.

This group represented everything you had ever dreamed of being a part of, all the aspirations you had ever hoped to achieve. Yet, your focus--or rather, your entire fucking mind--was elsewhere.

And the very reason it was elsewhere was seated amidst a circle of his elite friends-- Nott, Berkshire, Black, Zabini, and Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson at his side--Mattheo's intense gaze bore into you from across the room. His dark eyes, like orbs of obsidian, were sharp and penetrating, dissecting the scene meticulously, and no matter what the fuck you tried to do, there was absolutely nothing that could distract you from the feeling of his gaze, burning flesh wounds into your skin with each passing second.

While his friends engaged in lively conversations, Mattheo's attention was solely fixated on you and Tom. His focus, both laser-sharp and predatory, traced every movement, every touch, every nuance of your interactions with his brother. The air around him crackled with an unspoken tension, his lips pressed into a thin line, a manifestation of the restrained emotions churning beneath his composed facade. It was as though he was dissecting the scene before him, his mind processing every detail with the precision of a master strategist, all while his dark eyes remained fixated on you, as though he was scared that he'd miss something if he looked away.

As the night bore on, you began to grow more comfortable amidst the sophisticated chatter--getting to know a few of Tom's friends fairly well, discussing ambitions and graduation plans without even being offered a single drink. You honestly thought things had been going well, almost far too fucking well--until Tom excused himself momentarily, his eyes meeting yours from the seat next to you as he prepared to make his exit.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice low and confidential, his eyes flicking to his brother across the room, before returning to you. "I noticed Mattheo watching you...why don't you go say hi? I should only be a few moments, I'll join you when I'm finished."

"Oh, no-uh..." you hesitated, knowing that Berkshire was present, a fact you couldn't ignore. "I don't think it's a good idea, Tom, me and-" you began, attempting to voice your concerns, but he cut you off with a soft, reassuring kiss.

His lips pressed against yours, brief yet meaningful, before he pushed up from the table, leaving you in the midst of the party, alone.

As Tom's figure disappeared from view, you caught another glimpse of Mattheo from across the room, his gaze intensified, his stormy eyes ablaze with a potent mix of irritation and complete fucking fury--something you've seen in his eyes a few times before, but never like this. He sat slumped in the chair, his form swallowed by the shadows, his tousled curly hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The dim light caught the sheen of frustration on his sharp features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth. His fingers tightened around his drink, the muscles in his hands flexing with the effort to suppress the simmering anger bubbling within him.

You knew him all too fucking well at this point to know that he was not bloody happy, and you weren't entirely confident that approaching him was at all the right move at this moment. Yet, you weren't sure what else you were supposed to do.

But before you could dwell any further, Blaise's eyes, a glimmering shade of obsidian, met yours from across the room. His lips curled into a playful smile, beckoning you over to his group with a subtle yet irresistible gesture. Despite your inner turmoil, the unavoidable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach, you excused yourself from the table and began to hesitantly make your way through the crowded room, every step feeling heavier as you approached the circle of Slytherin boys.

Mattheo's presence never relented, slouchily seated in the love seat, legs spread far too fucking wide, his intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, seemed to dissect every movement, scanning every inch of your body as you moved, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your semblance of composure.

As you drew closer, Berkshire, always the instigator, couldn't resist the opportunity to unleash his venomous tongue. "As if you're going to call her over here," he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Didn't know our circle was open to charity cases."

The rest of the Slytherin boys, visibly inebriated and riding the wave of arrogance, chimed in with smirks and condescending remarks, reveling in their camaraderie at your expense. It was a calculated display of power, a reminder that you were the outsider in this exclusive circle, a pawn in their powerful game.

Suppressing your frustration, you took a seat next to Blaise, your eyes darting briefly to Mattheo, who watched your every move with an intensity that sent your heart racing. The air crackled with tension, and you felt like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves, each one waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Yet, amid the arrogance and hostility, Blaise's charm provided a temporary shield.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the discord. "They're always like this. Besides, you look stunning tonight, little raven. Don't let them get to you."

Despite Blaise's efforts to calm you down, to deescalate the situation as best as he could, Berkshire persisted, seemingly unable to control himself.

"I hear you're quite the favourite of the prodigy," he sneered, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Must be thrilling, being the chosen one for a night."

Malfoy, ever the arrogant asshole, added his own twist. "Or maybe she's just a distraction," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "You know how Tom likes to keep himself occupied, especially when the stakes are high."

You parted your lips to say something, to defend yourself in any sort of way, when another voice cut through the air, cutting you off before you could even attempt to force out a syllable.

"Tom's little plaything, isn't that right?" Regulus’ words were laced with arrogance, his voice like a low growl. "Who would have guessed."

Blaise shot Regulus a warning glance, his eyes urging him to rein in his hostility, but the damage was done. The room felt suffocating, the weight of their words pressing down on you, threatening to crush your resolve, and you couldn't hold your tongue any further--if they wanted to play with fire, you were going to make sure you were the one holding the matches.

A derisive chuckle escaped your lips as you assessed the Slytherins before you. "Jealousy, gentlemen, is a rather unflattering shade on anyone," you remarked, your gaze settling on Berkshire. "I'd refrain from it if I were you, Berkshire, you're already hard enough to look at as it is."

Berkshire's lips curled into a sneer, his arrogance on full display. "Well, well, we've got ourselves a little spitfire, haven't we?" he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Someone really needs to fix that attitude of yours...perhaps I'll let Tom know, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to fuck it out of y-"

Mattheo's eyes turned icy, his rough voice slicing through the air like a blade of frost. "Berkshire, I suggest you keep your filthy mouth shut before someone decides to shut it for you," he said, his tone frigid and devoid of any warmth. "Let's start the fucking game, yeah?"

Mattheo's attempt to restrain his anger only made his words sharper, emphasizing the dangerous edge lurking beneath his composed exterior--Blaise, seemingly sensing the danger rolling over the horizon, nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat as he scanned around the circle.

"Absolutely, let's get on with it," he chimed in, his tone more playful now. He turned his attention to Nott, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Nott, truth or dare?"

Nott, appearing unfazed by the tension that had just unfolded, raised an eyebrow and smirked back at Blaise.

"Dare," he replied confidently, his demeanor cool and collected.

Blaise's grin widened. "I dare you to snog the next person who enters this common room."

Nott chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the challenge. "Piece of cake," he said, leaning back casually, his eyes scanning the room for potential targets.

You caught yourself smiling at his causality, but when you noticed a familiar blonde haired girl walking in, her eyes scanning the room as though she was looking for someone, your heart stalled.

Blaise's voice cut through the silence. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Yes." You said, raising a hand to wave her over as her sight finally landed on you. "It is..."

Emily hurried over, her eyes widening in curiosity as she settled into the seat next to you, giving you a small greeting. The room seemed to hold its breath as Theodore stood up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, perfect timing," Theodore said, his voice smooth and confident. "Emily, was it? Lovely name. I've been dared to kiss the next person who enters the room, so I must inquire, do you have a boyfriend, and would you be amenable to participating in this little game?"

Emily blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Um, no boyfriend," she stammered, her gaze shifting nervously between Theodore and the expectant faces around her. "I guess...I mean, if it's just a game, sure, I guess that's fine."

The tension in the circle seemed to heighten as Theodore closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Emily's lips. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as he leaned in, his hand finding her chin, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in a brief, almost chaste kiss. The atmosphere crackled with a strange mixture of anticipation and awkwardness, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a fleeting moment--one that felt as though it lasted forever, noticing his jaw tense and his eyes darken as he glimpsed your mouth, and then, as Theodore pulled away, a sly smirk played on his lips.

"There we go, a perfect dare fulfilled," he said as he reclaimed his seat, leaving Emily looking slightly dazed. "And that's how it's done, boys."

Theodore's triumphant tone hung in the air, echoing his satisfaction at successfully completing the dare. Emily, looking slightly embarrassed but surprisingly amused, exchanged a bewildered glance with you. It seemed like Theodore had a natural talent for both charm and mischief, a combination that made him rather unpredictable.

Blaise let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Well played, Nott," he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and approval. "I think we could all take some fucking notes."

Theodore's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned his attention to Malfoy, who sat back, looking unfazed despite the intensity of the situation.

"Malfoy, truth or dare?" he asked, his voice dripping with calculated curiosity.

Malfoy, never one to back down from a challenge, arched an eyebrow. "Dare," he declared, his confidence unshaken.

"I dare you to serenade the group," Theodore proclaimed with an impish grin after a few moments of thought, his eyes flicking toward Pansy. "And Pansy here gets to pick the song."

You couldn't stifle the smile that crawled its way across your face as Malfoy's expressions dropped, Pansy sitting up straighter against the back of the couch as though she'd just been abruptly woken up from a slumber. As she pondered her thoughts for a moment, a sly smile crawled across her lips while she turned her attention to Malfoy.

"I heard this charming Muggle song recently. 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis Presley, do you know it?" When Malfoy groaned, reluctantly nodding, her grin widened. "Perfect. Sing it, Malfoy, let's see if you can capture the essence of a true romantic."

Malfoy, never one to shy away from a challenge, dropped the grumbling act and accepted the dare with a smirk. He stood up gracefully, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with an air of confidence. The room fell into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Malfoy launched into the Muggle love ballad, his voice slightly off-key but filled with an unexpected sincerity. Each word spilled out in an earnest attempt, and despite the imperfections, there was a genuine effort in his performance. The room was soon filled with laughter as Malfoy's melodramatic rendition took an unintentionally humorous turn.

His eyes, though, couldn't escape the challenge in Pansy's choice of song. As he sang, they occasionally flicked toward her, acknowledging the audacious choice. The laughter and amusement echoed around the room, mingling with the bittersweet undercurrent of emotions that danced in the air.

Amidst the laughter, Mattheo remained as serious as ever, his eyes continually locking onto you. For a brief moment, your gaze met his, and in that exchange, a torrent of memories flooded your mind--past moments shared in secret, a connection that had once felt unbreakable. The juxtaposition of Malfoy's performance and Mattheo's unwavering stare stirred something deep within you, a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and an unspoken longing that lingered in the pit of your stomach, leaving you both captivated and unsettled.

As his show finally came to an end, Malfoy took a bow, the circle erupting into a laughter-filled applause. As he returned to his seat, Pansy wore a satisfied grin, clearly happy with her choice, and Theodore looked especially pleased, reveling in the success of his dare.

"Quite impressive, Malfoy," Theodore remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your secret talents never cease to amaze us."

Malfoy simply shrugged, his usual arrogance back in place. "Naturally," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a subtle smile. "Now, who's next? How about you, Ravenclaw, truth or dare?"

You felt a sudden knot tighten in your stomach as Malfoy turned his attention toward you, his silver eyes sharp and calculating. The weight of the room seemed to press down on your shoulders as the spotlight shifted onto you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each more precarious than the last. Truth might lead to questions about Tom or Mattheo, both topics you desperately wanted to avoid.

So, with a forced nonchalance that barely masked your anxiety, you replied, "Dare."

You hoped against hope that the dare he gave you wouldn't plunge you into deeper waters, although the mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes suggested he had something particularly devious in mind--and of course, you most definitely were fucking right.

"I dare you to go into the broom closet with Berkshire for fifteen minutes."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at Malfoy's audacious dare, your voice laced with incredulity.

"Are you completely mental?" you scoffed, glancing at Berkshire, who seemed equally stunned. "There's no way I'm voluntarily locking myself in a broom closet with him for fifteen minutes. We will undoubtedly end up tearing each other's heads off."

Berkshire, never one to miss an opportunity to mock, chimed in, "Yeah, I'm not signing up for a murder-suicide pact tonight, thanks."

"What's the matter, Raven? Afraid of a little close quarters?" Malfoy, clearly enjoying your discomfort, taunted, "you two certainly have no problems running your mouths at each other in public. I think a little private meeting might be good for you."

You clenched your fists, trying to rein in your irritation. "I promise you, I'm not afraid...I'd just prefer not to be expelled a few months from graduation."

"Fine, fine...you're a bloody baby," Malfoy retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Since you're so picky, how about Mattheo instead. He's not scared of a little closet, are you, Riddle?"

Your eyes darted to Mattheo, his expression stoic, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. The room seemed to tighten around you, a sense of foreboding settling in your bones as Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his eyes glittering with concealed anger as he put down his cup and stood up. The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Fifteen minutes," he said curtly, his gaze fixed on the broom closet. "Knock when it's up."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his determined stare. There was a whirlpool of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher--anger, frustration, or maybe something entirely different. As he gestured toward the closet, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

With a deep breath, you stood up, your eyes never leaving his. You walked toward the closet, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back. The door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the darkness enveloping you as it closed shut behind you with a soft click. Inside the closet, the air was close, your breaths mingling in the confined space as you stood facing each other with hardly enough room to turn around if you tried to.

The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension between you almost suffocating. It was a daring game, one neither of you had expected to play, and now you were trapped together, the world outside the closet slipping away into nothingness, the tense energy in the room vibrating through your bones as the  silence grew to be unbearable, neither of you daring to speak.

Finally, Mattheo spoke, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder in the night. "You let him kiss you."

His words weren't a question, but weren't really a statement either--it was as though he was repeating something, reading something off a sheet of paper, trying to make sense of it, each syllable carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he was grappling with a reality he couldn't quite accept. Your pulse increased, your lungs stalling, his tone laced with something you couldn't quite place--accusation, curiosity, or maybe a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," your throat felt tight as you admitted your actions. "I did."

It was a confession, a truth you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. The darkness seemed to amplify the weight of your words, and you could almost feel Mattheo's gaze piercing through the shadows, seeking answers. And even though you could hardly see Mattheo's face in the darkness of the closet, you could smell the hint of alcohol radiating off of him, not as strong as it usually was, but still enough to make your head spin. Mattheo's breath, warm and laced with the remnants of the party, washed over your face. His next question sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, echoing with frustration and confusion. "You said you don't-"

"I don't." You cut him off, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Not at fucking all."

The words spilled out, tinged with defiance, but beneath that was a current of vulnerability. You knew the truth of your feelings, but convincing Mattheo seemed like an insurmountable task in the darkness.

"Then why?" he pressed again, his tone more insistent, as though he needed you to unravel this mystery for him. "You're playing him...you're playing him like a fucking flute, yeah?"

His accusation hung in the air, a challenge, a plea for an explanation that made sense of the tangled web of emotions between you, and for some reason, all it did was further your anger.

"Does that bother you, Riddle?" you hissed, your voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. You shifted your weight, locking eyes with him, your gaze narrowed and intense. "Did you think you were the only one capable of playing games? Or maybe you think it’s only okay when you do it?"

The words carried a raw edge, a blend of defiance and accusation, challenging him to confront his own actions and hypocrisy. Mattheo's throat worked as he swallowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Raven, you're playing with fire-" he began, his voice a low warning.

"Don't even go there," you cut him off, your words dripping with venom. "I am the shape you made me, Mattheo...filth teaches filth..."

Your voice trailed off, the darkness of the closet adding weight to your words. You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of his parted lips and furrowed brows, a mix of frustration and barely-restrained anger etched on his features.

"And even still," you continued, your tone biting, "I could only dream to be as skilled at it as you are."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite place, as your words hung in the air like a heavy fog. The anger and dread that had gripped you moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by an almost palpable tension. His energy shifted, seeping out of the closet through the cracks in the door, leaving a lingering, painstaking atmosphere in its wake.

You stood there, anxiety coiling in your chest, completely unaware of how close the two of you were until this very moment. His presence loomed over you, a silent force that you couldn't escape, and yet, a part of you didn't want to. His chest rose and fell with each intense breath, the confined space amplifying the weight of his proximity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and even if there were, you found yourself rooted to the spot, knowing that not even a fucking fire could force you to move.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, either." He whispered.

You paused. “You-“

"You haven’t left my mind…not even once." His words hung in the air like a sinful confession, catching you completely off guard. “Do you know how fucking annoying that is, Raven? Having to act like you’re not haunting me at all seconds of the fucking day?”

Utter shock seized you, your body tensing involuntarily. You stared at his face, desperately searching for any signs of deceit, but found none.

���The mind works in funny ways,” he said. “Memory…memory taps a fucking gun to your skull and demands you bring back the dead…meanwhile, the dead is out kissing my fucking brother in front of me…”

His gaze bored into yours, raw and unguarded, leaving you utterly defenseless against the truth he laid bare.

“I know we called things off, I know I used you in the beginning, I know I was a fucking asshole to you, and I’m…I’m fucking sorry..." his body seemed to vibrate with restrained emotion, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he was waging a war within his mind. "There’s so many girls out there, Raven...so fucking many that I could distract myself with, but it would do nothing...it's your body, it's your fucking pussy on my mind..."

Each word hung between you, heavy and charged with unspoken longing, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. "Matt-"

Mattheo stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his chest almost brushing against yours but not quite daring to touch. The tension between you crackled in the air, your every nerve on edge. His eyes, dark and searching, drilled into yours, seeking answers to questions you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

"Were you thinking of me?" His voice was a low rumble, an undercurrent of intensity underscoring his words. "When you're with him...every time you close your eyes, who do you see?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers trembling at your sides. The room seemed to spin, the air growing thin as your lungs struggled to draw in oxygen.

"You." The word escaped your lips, a fragile admission that hung between you, heavy with the weight of truth. "Always, always you."

Mattheo exhaled, his breath rushing out like a dam breaking, as though he had been holding it in, afraid of your response. His lips parted, wetted by a tongue that seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"That's right..." he murmured, his voice barely audible over the racing of your hearts. "You know I'm your best-kept secret, Raven...why don't you show me like you know and believe it..."

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, a challenge and a plea, leaving you suspended in the moment, torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could be.

Your voice wavered with a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're drunk, aren't you, Mattheo..."

"I'm not drunk." His reply was swift, like a crack of lightning. "I've barely had one fucking drink, I'm as sober as I've ever been...and even if I hadn't quit all that shit, there'd be no way I could drink tonight anyways."

Your breath hitched, your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke. "Why?"

Mattheo emitted a low chuckle, but it lacked any warmth, carrying a sinister edge that sent shivers down your spine. "Because, if I was drunk, I wouldn't have been able to control myself...I would have knocked my own brother out fifty fucking times over without even a second thought…not a fucking soul in that room would have been able to stop me..."

His words hung heavy in the air, an ominous promise that draped over you like a suffocating cloak, leaving you with a chilling realization that the tangled web of your past was far from unraveling.

"You fucking ruin me, Raven..." his voice was a low, guttural whisper, dark and haunting, sending a shudder through your limbs. "That stare...it makes me fucking want things..."

Your eyes widened, his words wrapping around you like a vice, constricting your thoughts.

"Things...like what?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible.

Mattheo ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, the veins in his hands standing out in stark relief, a silent testament to the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, were now clouded with a raw, primal desire, a longing that had been hidden for far too long.

"Things like my fist in your hair and my cock in that pretty fucking mouth..." he growled, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Things like bending you over in the middle of that party just to show every asshole out there who you belong to..."

Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning out of control, unable to comprehend anything except the burning desire that consumed you.

"Holy fuck..." the words escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "Mattheo, I...."

Mattheo's eyes, darker than you'd ever seen them, searched yours desperately. "Can I touch you, Raven?" he pleaded, his voice a raw, heartfelt plea. "Please, let me fucking touch you."

In response, you barely managed to nod, your throat tight with anticipation. And then, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that made up for all the lost time, all the weeks of distance and silence. His kiss was passionate, demanding, a fiery reunion of lips and souls that ignited a wildfire between you two. His hands, warm and possessive, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, sealing the gap that had kept you apart for far too long.

In that moment, every wall you had built around your heart crumbled, the fragments falling away like ash in the wind. You surrendered to the storm that was Mattheo Riddle, his touch setting your skin ablaze, his kiss a tempest that swept you off your feet. He was your drug, your haunting addiction, an irresistible pull that defied reason and logic. No matter how far you tried to run, no matter the crazy measures you took to stay away, you always found yourself right back where you started--entangled in his arms, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of his presence.

Mattheo broke the kiss, his hands gripping you as if he feared you might vanish into thin air. His lips trailed down to your jawline, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I can taste your fucking pain, Raven...is that because of me?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you admitted, your vulnerability laid bare before him. "Having experienced both, I'm not sure what hurts more...intense feeling, or the absence of it..."

"The absence...without a fucking doubt," he whispered, his touch on your skin sending electric sparks through your veins. His presence felt overwhelming, his breath warm against your neck in the dimness of the closet. "I know he's good for you...I know he's every fucking thing that you need...but I-"

"No." Your hands tightened around his neck, nails digging into his skin. "He could be fucking everything and more...he's just...he's not you."

Mattheo's teeth grazed your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine as your words spun in the silence between your bodies. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Better men could have you, Raven...I won’t deny that," he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. "But they'll have to get through me, now...I will leave such a fucking imprint on your soul that anyone you entertain after me will have to physically know me in order to fucking attempt to understand you..."

His declaration felt like a promise, an unspoken commitment that bound you to him in a way that transcended mere words. In that moment, you realized that you were not just giving in to desire; you were surrendering to something far more profound and all-encompassing. Mattheo wasn't just another flame to be extinguished; he was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving behind scorched earth and a desire that defied reason.

You pulled him closer, sealing the unspoken pact with a fervent kiss, letting the intensity of your emotions guide your actions. In that dim closet, amidst the whispers of Slytherin secrets and the echoes of your tangled past, you found solace in Mattheo's arms, embracing the chaos that came with wanting someone you shouldn't, knowing that in the end, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the consequences.

The air in the closet felt charged with a potent blend of desire and desperation as you pulled away, gasping for air. The intensity of the moment coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. Your eyes locked onto Mattheo's, your voice raw and unsteady, yet laced with conviction.

"You might be bad…so fucking bad for me, Mattheo," you whispered, your words hanging in the small space between you, "but I fucking want you...there's no one else..."

“Fucking hell, Raven…” Mattheo let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slithering up to grip your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. His stormy eyes bore into yours, his voice a gravelly murmur, carrying the weight of his emotions. “You’re my little devil, aren’t you?”

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

"I'm in deep, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm and sweet. "Merlin knows we both feel it...you hold my fucking fate, so seal it…”

With those words, you closed the distance between you yet again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, his hands slithering down to grip your backside with enough force to make you groan into his mouth. And just as things began escalating, just as your hands were trailing their way down the front of his body, reaching for his belt, there was a knock at the door.

"Fifteens up."

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