#People are always such assholes about the way people talk

[vixen-flame]

Oh, I was extremely confused until that last post. I didn't know what "sneak feed" meant because your starting paragraph implies that you were just talking about the existence of Meat Alternatives in general, and the fact that they have some ingredients? (I couldn't tell the link till the last reblog.)

If this post was about allergies, then say it's about allergies. Some people may not care about cricket flour, because they're like "well, it won't kill me and it tastes the same. And the fact I had that reveal afterwards was actually a cool experience." Instead you should of been like, "you wouldn't want people to sneakily give you lead flour." or something (I was blanking so hard on poisons ToT).

In the end, just don't lie about what you're feeding others. And always always _always_ disclose what someone is eating _before_ they eat it. They can die. People have died that way. Don't be the asshole who kills someone because you were trying to do a cool reveal. It's never worth the risk.

(I entirely agree with your point, so please don't argue with me as though I don't. I just feel like the way you initially went about portraying your point was very confusing, and that's why you had to clarify in the end.)

EDIT: OH I JUST REALIZED THE "IN FACT..." MEANS THAT THEY'RE ABOUT TO GO ON TO SAY "what you ate just now was a meatless alternative." Still very confusing because why are you hiding the most important part of that quote/experience behind subtext? because without that realization it just sounds like they're talking about how good meatless alternatives are and then they were about to give like additional points or something? Like I thought at first the images were like ingredients that make it taste like meat, and when I realized it wasn't the "in fact..." was long gone from my mind (granted I do have ADHD and memory problems, but so does half of tumblr so)

“Meatless alternatives are getting so good, you should try them! I bet you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference! In fact….”

Please

Please

Please stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

I am willing to prepare and share a vegan meal with you, I’m willing to skip animal products in our group spaces.

Please.

Stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

[askthegirlbossau]

Charlie and Bryce are both women born into a society/were raised in a society that scorns them for being women in contrast to Diana! Does this effect the trinity’s relationship in anyway?

Ohohoho why yes I have thoughts about this

Diana, of course, has literally no frame of reference for sexism besides maybe being a little disconcerted when she sees men. She understands it because when she enters the world of men, she experiences it. However, even when people are awful to her, she's hardly ever in real physical danger, she's an Amazonian for the gods' sake. She certainly uses her power to protect women physically, and her blunt honesty to confront assholes, but it was not part of her formative experience so she'll always be a little removed from it. she provides new perspective for Bryce and Charlie, but on a fundamental level, cannot understand their perspective, and there are some awkward conversations along the lines of "why did you let that man talk to you that way?" And Bryce and Charlie sort of glancing at each other because why did they? But also, that's just...how you respond to sexist assholes? Why doesn't Diana understand this?

Charlie, on the other hand, was raised in a small midwestern town. Though she was raised with loving and pretty open minded parents, I find it hard to believe she didn't internalize some attitudes about women or their 'place.' Not even in an inherently hateful way, but in the sort of way that assumptions about doctors being men or a single parent being a mother can become insidious. When she moves to Metropolis, I think that she be came aware of a lot of her internalized biases, they're definitely still there but she's working on it. Because of her physical strength though, like Diana, she is rarely in physical danger. She experiences more of the mental effects of sexism, like comments about her appearance or assumptions about her work and intelligence. She reacts meekly to this as Charlie Kent, but as Superwoman is able to stand up for herself more. The problem is that she doesn't always realize when she needs to.

Bryce between the three of them has received the full brunt of like. Being A Human Woman. She's hyperaware of her gender (in a way that is unusual and possibly a trauma response) and how it affects the way people perceive and treat her. Her choice to fight crime is made with the full understanding of the gender-based violence she could face if her identity was ever to be revealed. She is frequently in physical and social danger, especially as 'Brycie Wayne,' where she can't use her full abilities to fight back, and on some level she definitely resents Charlie and Diana for not having to 'worry about' the type of violence that is so often targeted at afab people.

And in conclusion they should all get a big hug and a beach vacation.

[infizero]

silver hasn't changed - he's just been put in different scenarios (a silver character analysis)

something that constantly frustrates me when it comes to discourse over silver's character is that people either treat him as a total uwu soft boy, OR they overcorrect and treat him as some unhinged asshole.

silver's always been a mix of both, but here's why i think it feels like he's gotten "softer" to some people:

silver has ALWAYS had sort of two sides to him based on what situation he's in. he's this pure-hearted, naive kid who refuses to give up hope and who cares about people deeply.

but part of his naivety is that he's very headstrong when pursuing his goals, and tends to see things as very black and white when other people get involved ("you're either with me or against me" kinda thing)

silver is not one or the other, he's both. HE'S ALWAYS BEEN BOTH. in 06 you see scenes of him ruthlessly trying to murder sonic, but you also see scenes of his relationship with blaze, or him taking in the beauty of the nature he's never seen before.

and these sides of him are intertwined as well. the brash and aggressive way silver treats people in the rivals series, for example, stems FROM his naivety and social awkwardness. silver genuinely expects people to just believe him and let him do what he needs to do without question. so when people demand he explain himself, or get in his way because they don't understand what he's doing, he gets frustrated.

(i also just don't think that the rivals series is a good frame of reference to point to when complaining silver is too soft nowadays, considering that literally everyone in those games is like 50% more aggressive than they usually are lol. espio literally tells knuckles, his friend, to his face that he doesnt care that the master emerald is missing and won't help him find it)

anyways, getting more into specifics, 06 and the rivals games show off how silver acts when he's on a mission - he's brash, he's aggressive, and totally focused on doing whatever's necessary to achieve his goals.

his next appearance after that is sonic colors ds, where he's way more chill and casually talks with sonic. which makes sense because there's no reason stated for silver being there; he doesn't have a goal he's pursuing at the moment, so you're able to see that more relaxed side of him.

he's aggressive again in his next game appearance, generations, because he thinks sonic is an impostor - again, there is a specific reason for him acting that way.

forces i don't count because silver is so egregiously out of character there ("i'm an optimist but i'm also a realist" - dawg no the fuck you are not) but he's definitely not an uwu soft boy there

in team sonic racing he's definitely a bit softer which makes sense considering it's just. car racing. and in idw for the most part he's either chilling, or helping the others face a threat, so again there isn't really a reason for that aggressiveness to rear its head.

but we DO see it come out in idw more recently!! as soon as he thinks something's up with "duo," he immediately jumps to that anger and brashness:

these moments are pretty in line with the aggressiveness he displayed in 06 or the rivals series, which i think goes to show that his character hasn't really CHANGED.

it's just that more recently, he's usually been in lower stakes situations where that softer side of his is spotlighted, while during his earlier appearances that more aggressive side was what was spotlighted. but both sides have always existed, and both sides continue to exist.

tldr: stop complaining about silver being too soft please for the love of god

[ryuzakemo128]

Kintsugi: Chapter One: Red Flags, Why can't we see them?

Pairing: John Price x Female reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is the breadwinner, female reader is a sex worker, john price is an asshole to you, simon is there for you as a friend, John's secret affair mentioned, cheating suspicions, female reader has a secret apartment, pregnancy scare, arguement and yelling. Burned out female reader. Smut. Not the good kind sadly. Second warning for asshole john price. You will hate him. You are supposed to hate him.

Masterlist - Chapter List

Summary: “I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.”

I get what you're sayin' I just really don't wanna hear it right now Can you shut up for like once in your life? Listen to me, I took your nice words of advice

“I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.” You remarked into your cassette tape, another diary entry you keep from his prying eyes and another way to keep Price from using your own hurt against you. You don’t know what you did to earn it.

You mentioned your ex-boyfriend off handedly once and he blew up in your face. You waited for hours for him to come back home. You were crying your eyes out when he stormed out the door. It wasn’t like you were mentioning him to make him jealous either. You didn’t know what you did wrong.

He never told you why he was upset with you sometimes. He would always leave after a huge argument saying he needs ‘space’ and that you made things worse when all you wanted to do is to make things better. Nothing ever seemed to work for him at all. Nothing at all. You called Gaz and he would say he didn’t see him. But your hunch that Gaz was covering for him.

About how you think I'm gonna die lucky if I turn thirty-three Ok, so yeah, I smoke like a chimney I'm not skinny and I pull a Britney every other week But cut me some slack, who do you want me to be?

You didn’t want to turn to Simon for advice but john left you without a choice. What wer5e going to do next? He wasn’t content with just small insults at your appearance it seems. It was going to a different level like stepping out of your relationship. The one thing you thought was going well for you.

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

“I don’t know what I did wrong, whenever I ask it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You felt awful about talking to your ex. But he knew you better than your current boyfriend it seemed.

You had tried everything to make it work with Price but it felt like you were just going around in circles. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. It’s like every move you made was wrong. You decided to give him the space he wanted, hoping that when he returned he would realise what he had and that he didn’t need to treat you this way.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You stated. “I need to find a new place of my own if he’s gonna keep actin like this. I don’t know what he wants from me and he just won’t use his fuckin words to say it either.”

You wonder where you went wrong in your life to get THIS kind of treatment. You never spoke back, never complained nor insulted him or looked elsewhere for comfort outside of your relationship. You pulled out of the apartment slowly enough to make sure he never caught on, last thing you wanted him to do is to catch on to what you were trying to leave him.

You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot

You made rain checks whenever he ‘tried’ to have sex with you. You knew what he was trying to do and you weren’t going to fall for it this time. You didn’t want to feel like you were slowly losing your mind.

You don’t still don’t know what you did wrong to deser5ve John’s cold shoulder as of late. You still tried asking about it. But he always says, “Nothin for you to worry about.” No ‘babe’ or ‘love’ like he used to speak to you.

You slowly started to miss those moments more as the days went on. It made you worry more so you stopped mentioning his hours away from home and you silently continue to seek out a new place to move into.

You didn’t tell Price about the new place you managed to find. You stopped telling him much of anything related to you or your work. You didn’t want another lecture on how you were ‘wasting’ money. Even though you out earned him in your chosen profession. Money remained a sore topic for the two of you.

Staring to move your things into it while he would be deployed. Piece by piece, you didn’t move any of you old furniture it would make things far too ‘obvious’ to him. It would alert him far too quickly.

That’s if he even noticed anything about you anymore. Or if there was anything wrong to begin with. The selfish cunt. No guarantee that he hasn’t noticed either. He wasn’t completely stupid sometimes. Might get suspicious about what you’re planning to do or planning to go. You would have to come up with a convincing enough lie to get him off your back.

Though if he already knows? He may try something drastic enough to keep you there. You just hoped you had enough time to give yourself space between him and the man you used to love. That you used to adore and cherish. Before whatever cause this….monster, this fiend to come out of him.

You showed Simon the new place you bought, it had two bedrooms, the master bedroom had an ensuite attached and a walk-in closet. The kitchen had a stainless-steel dishwasher, and the apartment building had laundry machines on the ground floor. You can always buy new furniture, and any old furniture will be sold when you get comfortable with living somewhere he doesn’t know of.

You didn’t want to hire a private detective on your own boyfriend, but you can’t help but feel suspicious of what he was doing in those long hours far away from you. You pitied anyone who had the misfortune of dealing with him. Even the people inside the same task force as him. The need to control everything won all the time.

You worked in your office like you normally done. Giving him his own branded silent treatment into his face. You weren’t going to give the right to hurt you more than he had done tonight. You were so tired of his shit.

You weren’t perfect far from it too. But whenever he was around you it was clear it was what he wanted from you. You continued to play dumb and you didn’t give him anything he ‘wanted’ from you.

“No. Do it yourself.” You remarked one morning.

John raised his eyebrow, looking at you like you had grown a second head. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat, his words dripping with venom.

“You heard me. Do it yourself. Clearly you don’t need my help. So, go on, do it yourself.” You stated as you walked upstairs to your office to continue your sewing on your dress.

John looked at you, his eyes wide with shock, “Is this what it’s come to? You’re just going to ignore me like that?”

“W-what’s the matter dear? Can’t handle your own portion of your responsibilities? Does he need his mother to write up a chore list?” you taunted from upstairs. “You know one thing a man can do that proves he’s a real man? Admit when he’s fucking wrong. You can’t seem to even do that anyway.”

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

As you finished the dress’s skirt velvet inlay for the next video, the amount of work you put into your pornographic content is both immense and taxing at times. As you didn’t want it to look like it was a cheap Halloween cosplay or cheap in general.

The main reason you earned so much is because of the level of care put into your craft. Your fans knew that and appreciated it. It was a stark contrast to the apathy John showed for your well-being. You had a loyal fan base and they were eager to support you. But that didn't matter to him.

Especially when he looked at the content you posted both behind the paywalls and the free teasers. He said it wasn’t real money. But you also pointed out that you sold pottery once a month online. You paid the bills, and you weren’t above reminding who earned more to be able to let him spend his income his own way.

Petty? Sure. But petty with a reason attached.

By the time most of your most expensive work gear is moved to the apartment, you were only living there now and cleaning up to a meticulous degree in total silence. As you cleaned the living room carpet with the deep cleaning machine you bought for the occasion. You were dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, showing off the tattoos that danced along your arms and your stomach.

You had dinner in the slow cooker since seven in the morning. You didn’t bother to set the table since it was just you and your thoughts. You weren’t expecting him to come home early tonight. You hoped he’d stay out for as long as possible.

When he finally decided to come back home. You had placed his dinner into separate containers. You were already asleep on the couch. The plush pink eye mask over your eyes, the matching pink silk pyjama set. The chunky, thick blue-grey crocheted blanket you made last year keeping you warm. As the unicorn shaped nightlight provided enough light in case you needed to use the bathroom.

You had a doctor’s appointment coming up sometime in the next month or two. You don’t exactly remember if it was next month or the month after that. A full body check up to make sure things were in working order. You had done one every three months. The job demanded that you were healthy physically and mentally.

You paid for these yourself, despite living inside a country with healthcare. You paid for medical insurance anyway. It was one of those private healthcare insurance things you paid a good chunk of your money for. You decided to go for the best of the best, and with John’s current mood swings? You weren’t going to take any chances with your health.

What if you were pregnant would he finally be excited that it had finally happened? Would he confess to his affair to another man or woman? All of these thoughts spun around your heard like ballerinas. You didn’t quite understand where his hostile started and if it would ever end.

You felt like it was your fault for not being strong enough to put your foot down. To demand what you did wrong. Why did he seem so fine with it if he felt otherwise? What made him feel this way? If he wanted to break-up why did he wait so fucking long?

You always felt like he was rushing things in this relationship. Especially when he found out about your career, your little side hustles which contributed to your cushy amount of money. But you weren’t perfect, you weren’t even close. From far away the illusion of perfection is there. But once you peak through the cracks they’ll see how many imperfections you got.

What were you supposed to be?

What are you supposed to be?

Everything is spinning out of control. Cliché advice doesn’t work when he doesn’t want to fix himself.

You were either too messy or too fucking clean. Either way he hated how you’ve been. You could be keeping the house clean, but he’ll comb through just point out a spot where you have ‘missed’. Like he knew what to do to make you so pissed at him.

Pushing all the buttons built inside you in the right order, the right way to get you annoyed with him., It was like he had some kind of sick satisfaction when you broke down in tears. Not because you were sad or even upset. You just had so much anger built up inside you that you couldn’t contain it all.

“I feel so fucking disgusting that I even still want the guy that way. It’s like he knows that about me.” You confessed to Simon during one of John’s solo operations. He knew he would have freaked if he knew Simon was inside his home while he wasn’t there.

“Its not nearly as weird as you might think, humans are supposed to be complicated. You’re not a simple creature, love. And neither is he.” Simon remarked. He didn’t have to say much to get his point across.

“He wasn’t so closed up before. He used to be so open minded about these kinds of things.” You remembered, talking about how John Price used to be before things went to shit after almost eleven months dating him.

Simon nodded his head, “Looks like you’re going to have to make a decision soon, love. You can’t keep living like this forever, hiding and tiptoeing around him.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment coming up, if he hasn’t spoken up by then, or by the time most of the house is back to how it was when I first moved in. I’m breaking up with the guy.” You remarked.

Simon raised an eyebrow at how you were putting the house back to how it was before you moved into it. The only difference is that you wouldn’t leave things unrepaired or maintained.

“Why bother with the appointment if you’re just going to leave him?” Simon questioned, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Full body check up remember? I still get one every three months. Four times a year.” You answered taking a sip of your earl grey with lemon and ginger tea.

The last thing you want is to drag some poor child into this whole mess. You don’t know how he would react to the news of it.

To think months ago you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

Only for your relationship to sour this quickly.

Over the weeks Price was deployed, you got the plumping fixed, the light switch and plug covers replaced by an electrician, the toilet and shower head replaced. You didn’t care if price wouldn’t appreciate the thought going into his house.

This was done selfishly not selflessly. Though your definition of what made someone hopelessly selfish was always different from his. Not that you cared anymore.

You replaced his couches and threw out his old, ruined ones into the large tip you rented one morning. Price barely recognised his own home when he came back home from deployment again.

From the old grey ones to dark crimson red ones, with charcoal grey cushions on them. A new cow’s skin rug on the floor. New light switches and plug covers. Painted the living rooms a deep blue-grey shade that made everything else pop. The kitchen had new cabinets and new appliances. It was a stark difference from what it used to be.

Price walked upstairs to the bathroom to see how you changed that too, the tiles were changed to a beige on the walls with black on the floor. The shower was now a glass cube instead of a shower curtain. The sink was no longer a pedestal sink, but a modern vanity with lights around the mirror. The bathtub was replaced with a walk-in shower that had a bench and rain shower head.

Other changes he took notice of where all his things were in the master bedroom, organised, hung up, ironed, folded, washed and put away. Everything was clean and in its place. The bed was made with freshly washed linens, and you had even gone so far as replace the mattress. It was a new king-sized memory foam one with a fancy cooling system that would be heavenly to sleep on.

As you fucked yourself on his thick cock for behaving so well? His rough hands on your hips. You continued to ride him with your luscious hips. Wide-eyed, rock hard and stunned. Your mind was elsewhere about hoping he didn’t do anything other than put a condom on. You didn’t know if you still wanted to have his children when he was treating you this way.

Your body betrayed your every thought, every moan you made were made from your lips. You felt your pussy tightening around him. He had to be feeling it too, his grip on you tightened and his thrusts became more erratic. Enjoying letting out his most primal nature into you. Feral and unabated. \

Only you knew he wouldn’t provide aftercare when he was done with you and you always had to finish yourself off in the bathroom as he passed out in his bed. You don’t know if you could stand him anymore. You didn’t know whether you could wait any longer.

Tags: @night-girl-301 , @evans-dejong , @persephone-kore-law

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter please let me know!

[romantic-misty]

about this kind of posts... I finally have to say smth because I'm annoyed both ways:

(sorry OP, I don't wanna offend you - I wanna offend some sort of ppl)

you shouldn't tell people your (actually human's) basic needs, if you need to beg for bare minimum it's not your fault they don't show effort nor even ask anything because it doesn't cross their mind to do simplest things somehow, they're just egoistic non caring assholes and you repeating yourself won't help much

some ppl can't truly guess some stuff which means they also can not question you on the matter they have no idea about so sure! speak your mind - tell 'em what you like and hopefully they will understand and remember - nobody is a telepath and you should inform others about your thoughts from time to time instead of forcing them to always jump around you or else "they don't give a fuck about you" or smth as it's probably untrue

just because EVERYONE doesn't mean you also have to be like this - if someone is manipulating/forcing you to do things you don't wanna because it's "normal" - believe me, it's not and even if - you have a right to be "weird" so different

not everyone has to say YES forever to something, people have moods and change their mind, remember to explain or at least tell someone you aren't in the mood or changed your mind but also don't forget asking each other if someone is into smth at the current moment unless otherwise specified like "you always can hug me unless I tell you to stop" and such, mistakes and accidental crossing boundaries happen but most important thing are good intention and a lot of discussing, don't break someone's trust constantly proving it wasn't a one time thing

if you weren't assertive enough and someone took advantage of you - don't blame yourself for not saying NO (especially if they were constantly making you feel unsafe to actually stop them or brainwashed you into thinking you want this etc.) - they should check if you're fine with smth and not use the fact you froze and was unsure or didn't have time to set certain boundaries, topis should also continue after certain actions and you can go back to it anytime! no matter what others say - it's never too much for the right person <3

you doing something you hate or what even traumatises you to meet someone's needs because it's compromise... no, it's not - if you're not enough for someone doesn't mean smth is wrong with you - it's probably not a match and that is ok! you will be loved elsewhere by being yourself, if someone cares more about their needs than hurting you with them then they're not a good person (yes, it's mostly about sexual needs) - and no, cheating isn't a proof you didn't give them enough, they can always leave but they're cowards and want to have both :)

if you sh or have depression - don't assume no one gives a shit about you just because they don't question you when you say "I'm fine" - harsh truth - even tho I totally understand why you say that phrase still nobody has to do anything besides accepting it - they might feel like you don't wanna talk about it as it's either personal or you don't trust them enough and maybe just prefer to take your mind out of this as topic is triggering so they won't risk making you feel even worse, say the truth or tell them why you don't wanna talk about certain things because lying to people might make them truly believe you, they have their own issues too they can be occupied with, they can be simply tired and even feel hurt that you don't want to open up to them or show their respect in this way and let you have space - you don't know what's in their mind so if you assume smth about them then think how they feel when you decide to hide the truth from them - as I said, you still have reasons and maybe right to but it doesn't make them immediately evil for not doing more/what you want without you actually TELLING them, I know it's hard and scary and some don't even deserve to know but there are those who truly love you and will understand and will help/support you - you're not a burden! I am aware you don't wanna worry anyone but you can as it's part of being a friend/partner/family and if someone acts like an ass towards you by calling you an attention seeker - they are the problem, not you

silent treatment is manipulation and if you try to show you being offended by that instead of trying to talk things through first you are not good, sorry not sorry

balance is everything but ppl don't wanna meet half way EVER so...

your needs motherfucker do you speak them

[ode-to-fury]

I have not said anything about Mythal/Solas since I finished the game cause there are a lot of very big emotions going on there for people but I would like to say that I hate the way they brought Mythal into the game. I hate it so much. It doesn't make any sense with the Mythal/Flemeth we've seen since Origins and it doesn't make any sense with the Mythal we see in the Crossroads. She should have been a massive bitch and I stand by that. She should have been so unapolagetic about commanding Solas to join her it should have made me angry. Instead what I'm angry about is them trying to pass of the piece of Mythal that Morrigan has as "the benevolent mellow piece" because what the fuck do you mean. I'm replaying origins rn and I am a Morrigan/Amell truther until the day I die and (even when you don't romance her) hearing her talk about herself and how Flemeth raised her is... heartbreaking? I thought I could accept that she'd take Mythal's spirit but actually I can't. I can't accept it the only way I can see it happening is if she drank from the well and Mythal's spirit attaches itself to her after Felmeth dies like a little parasite and they're both SO angry about it (kinda like spite/lucanis) because what do you mean she forgave Flemeth? Morrigan would spit in her mother's face on her deathbed. You could make the case that in the past she always knew Flemeth would be back somehow but I don't buy it.

Anyway that got away from me a little bit what I actually wanted to say is I think they should have made the piece of Mythal a part of the battle against Elgar'nan. And it could also be better like that because you could have had Elgar'nan confronting what he did to his wife (who I assume he loved at some point???) instead of just... being an asshole as his whole personality. It could have been a thing between him and Solas too where Elgar'nan is maybe able or not able to confront what he did to her and Solas then in turn is/isn't depending on your choices throughout the game... idk why they were trying to make her this benevolent mother/lover figure to Solas the Mythal I knew in the first three games was fucking shit up all over the place and also chasing templars and chasind around in the korkari wilds for fun before killing them and I want that Mythal to confront her shitty ex-husband even though she was just as shitty. I am loathe to bring up bg3 in a dragon age discussion but in this case I do think it's trying a little too hard to be gale/mystra and I don't think they got it right because we have the context of the other games.

Tldr: Mythal should have been used in the confrontation with Elgar'nan not Solas (and that could have led to a decision Solas makes) also free my wife Morrigan

[bobodemais]

hi, I would like to ask how the characters relate to each other in your au, what kind of relationship do they have

I'll try to resume as much as I can, since I'm not in the mood to be too much specific on each sprunki relationship... Althought I can be more specific on any sprunki duo that you guys want, just ask on inbox!!

CHARGES DOWN BELOW!!! (ALOT OF STUFF, with alot of orthography errors.)

First of all, everyone """kinda""" likes Tunner, but not in a way of him being a good person, but more an authoraty. (even though, there are some sprunkis that genuiely enjoy him, like Gray and erm... uhm... Sky?)

Wenda and Pinki really respect each other, not only as friends, but as both persons that increases on eachothers life in a good way. (Kinda, I imagine they like Marceline and Princess Bubblegum, but way less dramatic and with way less death involving it.)

Jevin and Pinki are kinda of "what you do is amazing, and you're and incredible person". Kinda simple, way much then you'd expect.

Jevin and Oren are kinda son and dad? Oren is just chill around with Him, somehow. Maybe it's 'cuz he's the only one that actually gets him.

Durple and Fun boy get to be amuzed by eachtoher everytime they have an conversation, even though they always talk, they still find an new thing about eachother everyday. (It has been 2 years already and they still learn from each other).

Wenda and Garnold are cousins.

Oren, Simon and Fun boy are brothes (Fun boy it's adopted)

Jevin and Tunner got to be the official responsibles of sky.

Garnold and Clurk takes care of fun boy (they see eachother as family now)

They just stare at each other on the street and get awkard.

Pinki and Oren date. Not even the other sprunkis know how due to Oren's personality.

Vineria and Owackx are married (exactly 1 year)

Clurk and Garnold are dating.

Oren and Raddy are queerbait.

Pinki and Wenda are dommed.

An untentional love triangle. I will not go any further on this.

It's kinda hard to see, but there ya go.

Pinki is besties with Wenda and Jevin. Although Jevin and Wenda knows are chill about it.

Raddy and Gray are good friends (they get eachother)

Jevin and Owackx are bffs, two chill guys that talk about life alot.

Tunner and Simon are one sided relationship.

Brud and Clurk are besties. (Garnold is a bit jealous)

Somehow Durple understands Simon better then anyone else (the coldest human vs the harmest robot)

Raddy is basically friends with everyone who's open enough to talk with.

Even though Vineria ain't bffs with neither Wenda or Pinki, she's still part of girl's grup.

Gray tries to be friends with people but alot of ppl thinks he's weird (poor guy it's just autistic...)

Sky is basically Tails, so everything envolving robotic amazes him. That's why he loves Durple.

Somehow the only actual friend Tunner has is Wenda. Heh....

Wenda 'n Simon are buds, sometimes they talk. They're pretty much chill.

Alot of beef. Most of sprunkis dislike Wenda and Simon.

Most reasons for W is 'cuz she is scary for them, for Oren it's 'cuz he's an asshole.

Pinki and Tunner mutually dislike eachother, but for 0 reasons.

Like I said before, Oren it's kinda of an emotionall asshole who kinda hates everything and everyone. (He basically have a beef with everyone)

Everyone fears Wenda. Like I said, there ain't an reason further then "she's weird".

Even though Vineria is friends with pinki, she fears what she can do (lore, not going any further on this topic).

Sky just doesn't get a good vibe from Pinki.

Vineria kinda fears Jevin, he's way too chill and sweet about everything, he looks more mystherious than he actually pretend to be (only on her perspective...)

Tunner CAN'T feel safe around most sprunkis. He's terrified with the idea of anyone getting an deep conection with him. Even though this idea is impossible (since he still tries to talk genuiely with a very few sprunkis) he's still pretty much reserved "Trust no one and you'll never get in danger".

No one really got to know Tunner better. And with all of that, he's still somehow pretty sociable.

+ EXTRA!!!111!!

Uhm. Yeah? it's literally it. Besides from respect, family and neutral. They relationship is pretty much complicated to say at least (on this alternative reality of course) 0_0

That's it! Hope you have enjoyed.

Remember, if you want any of those sprunkis to interact, send the request on inbox <3

[moonshynecybin]

been on an old press conferences binge and we talk about how marc always zendaya laughs at everything vale says and does but vale is almost equally bad… definition of “i laughed at his jokes so he’d let me hit” except horrifically enough i think he genuinely finds marc funny???? and that’s how you know it was true love because marc is many things but funny is towards the end of the list. and this doesn’t really stop after sepang like the amount of times he tries to hide his smiles in his collar or behind his hand or under the rim of his cap is. sickening.

i was actually thinking about this the other day in the sense of like. this is what kind of fundamentally makes them work as a couple for me... because there IS obviously this sort of high melodrama inescapable falling out that is horrible and nasty and ten years on clearly dogs their steps and circulates in their brains over and over like someone has turned the washing machine on high, AND they both have a twin ruthless streak that makes their interactions with the competitors around them (and each other) calculated and tense and occasionally explosive, plus they have this joint wagon-sized reputation for being little assholes who dont really care about how certain aspects of their actions effect others (AND EACH OTHER!!! the callousness of someone who knows that they are more powerful than someone else, either in terms of speed or media control). BUT. they are also both just really, deeply, genuinely silly. like they are goofy. marc tiptoes out of his box so you dont hear his clown shoes squeaking kinda guys

and crucially its not an artifice! its not purely a performance !! though it can certainly have elements of that, its just. i mean most of the time when we see them interacting with other people (and for a bit, each other) theyre laughing ! hard ! or at least smiling, and while they go about it in different ways (vale more classically a prankster vs marc just wiggling his body in a semisexual manner) they both love to make other people smile and feel that sort of positive attention and be this object of delight to others. and for a brief time the person they wanted to delight the most was each other, and what makes it REALLY crazy is that it didnt go away overnight and they both have to DEAL WITH THAT.....

[plunderbunny]

I'm a cishet man, so that of course colors my perceptions of these kinds of things, as well as my anxiety and depression in general, but I think it might be useful to offer my perspective here about this kind of thing.

My primary friend group is predominantly queer, and outside of that friend group many of my friends are queer, so the vast majority of my social interactions these days is in mostly LGBTQ groups or with queer people. I love them all dearly, but there are many, many occasions when I feel like there is a kind of... Enforced distance between them and me, based largely on my orientation and gender identity. When my queer friends say things like "are the straights okay", or spend time with straight family members in bad relationships and complain about "spending time with straight couples, where is the love?", or praise media by saying nothing other than "it's so gay" as though that gayness itself was an indicator of artistic and moral quality, or get frustrated by random people out in the world being jerks and complain about "cishet assholes", or groan and boo and complain when movies or games have straight couples in them, or say they would "rather die than play a man in a video game" (even as an exaggeration), or furry friends joking about how I "still think I'm cishet, how cute", or any number of other similar tiny things, it makes me feel as though I'm less important, less loved by them, less valuable or worthy of consideration, simply because of my orientation and gender identity, things entirely out of my own control.

Now, I'm not stupid, I know that they're not often saying these things to me specifically, or trying directly to put me down. When they say these things, they're generally talking to a queer audience, and from what I can tell these things are generally meant as an expression of LGBTQ support and/or an expression of frustration with being part of a minority group that faces all kinds of discrimination, bigotry, and oppression. But knowing that doesn't mean that it doesn't make me feel less loved by these people that I care about, just because I'm a cishet man. I think that there are ways that they could make similar shows of support and love for their LGBTQ friends without potentially alienating or othering their cishet friends, in the same way that I do my best not to alienate and other my queer friends. Which, full disclosure, I know that I'm not always the best at, ESPECIALLY in the past! People are always learning, I don't expect perfection from anyone (except myself but that's the depression talking again lol).

I don't think it's quite to the level of "irrational hatred" of men that OP was talking about, but more on the level of a bunch of little microaggressions that sit in my head and add up over time and make me feel like there's an impassable gulf between myself and many of the people I love. Yes, I understand that my queer friends don't have the enormous privilege I do of not being judged and hated by much of society based on just their identity, but I don't think that that makes me deserving of less respect just because I happen to share an identity with many of their oppressors.

"straw(wo)men, youre gonna make other trans girls scared youll turn against them" is really fucking wild for a trans woman with a huge platform to say.

[do-u-know-this-autisticcharacter]

Do You Know This (non-canon) Autistic Character?

Propaganda

>Miles Edgeworth is socially awkward. While his attitude in court is confident and outgoing, when you interact with him in a casual context he is... Not like that at all, being harsh and cutting even when he is trying to be polite.

>At some point, he approaches the protagonist by walking up to him and glaring, before going, "Say something, Wright, I'm not good at small talk."

>He has a strong sense of justice since he was a small kid, and a strong interest in the law, and following the rules properly.

>He is canonically a big fan of the Steel Samurai, a children's show of which he keeps a figurine in his office. I believe his connection with this show is further explored in the investigations games, which I have not played.

>He keeps his tea carefully categorized by place of origin. >He struggles with facial recognition, which is implied in the original trilogy (in which he can't recognize the face of the twin of a defendant he prosecuted) and later confirmed (in a quote in Dual Destinies).

>Furthermore, in Dual Destinies he is asked if he is sure he isn't a robot for his apparent failure to understand human emotions.

>He didn't really have any friends as a kid, until he met Phoenix. This goes to show that his issues relating to peers are not necessarily a result of trauma, but something he was born with.

>He is really into chess, to the point his very thought process is illustrated through chess pieces. He basically processes conversations as though they were a chess match.

>He is an "asshole atheist" archetype, always trying to be logical and find the truth through proof, even if he hurts people in the way. Even when he tries to be tactful, like when talking to Phoenix about his desease ex, he is not too good at it, saying "her metabolic processes are a matter of interest only to historians."

Anything else

>While not canonically autistic, he *is* neurodivergent in canon, as he has PTSD. He has nightmares, is afraid to go into elevators, and has severe panic attacks / flashbacks during earthquakes, all relating to a particular traumatic event. I don't think it is necessary for them to mention this diagnosis explicitly for us to understand he has this disorder.

>He makes me really happy.

[cassandralexxx]

Bro just remembered why are so much of my friends opps.

today at lunch UNPROMPTED my friend was like “why don’t you have an accent like your mom” and it’s like it was so out of nowhere for no reason. And I was like wdym so she was like your mom has a Spanish accent and when I was like I don’t really notice it I don’t think it’s that strong she was like “that’s because you live with her”. that honestly had me pressed bc like first of all my moms English is amazing she is like completely fluent and has not had any problems in the OVER 20 years she has lived in this country. But also like English is my first language wdym why don’t I have an accent of someone who’s esl.

[bean-spring]

People complaining about Mel not liking Viktor and being "mean" to him as if this guy didn't hate her guts too and wasn't constantly rolling his eyes every time she opened her mouth.

[eternalbuckley]

ZOYA MY LOVE HELLOOOO????!!! THAT WAS SO GOOD !!!!!! so delicious and hot i'm- yes just YESSSSS i love this

a few reactions i had while reading:

And that infuriated Mattheo, because no matter how hard he worked, no matter how good he was, he never got the praise. He never got the recognition he deserved. Never got the praise he craved. It was always about his last name. Riddle. At the end of the day, he was just Voldemort’s son, a son of a monster, a reminder of a legacy soaked in fear. People didn’t see him for who he was or what he’d accomplished—they only saw his bloodline, his father’s sins, the deaths that followed him.

lemme hug my poor baby :(

But Mattheo? Mattheo listened. He saw the way your voice changed, the rhythm of it when you spoke, how it picked up when you talked about things that mattered to you. The way your breath hitched when you were nervous, the way you fidgeted, the little shifts in your body when you got caught up in something exciting.  Mattheo Riddle noticed every fucking thing about you. Every. Damn. Thing.

yup that's my man 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” he whispered, his hand moving to your neck as he brought his face closer to you once again, this time only a few centimeters from your neck, his lips just millimeters away. “Hmm?” he hummed, a provocation, you noticed, his calloused hand tightening slightly around your neck as he placed a light kiss on the spot, almost as if testing the territory.

"hmm?" sdfgsdWg— i'm nothing but a slut

Mattheo finally looked up, and when he noticed his asshole rival looking at the scene angrily, he moved his face away from your pussy, smirking in your boyfriend’s direction, while both of your orgasms ran down his chin, falling onto his sports jersey, showing your boyfriend that Mattheo had fucked the way he was never capable of.

fuck yes-

𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY: in wich mattheo knew that the best way to piss off his quidditch rival was to fuck his girlfriend. WORDS. 5K+. english is not my first language. N/A. literally edited this 3 times.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, face slapping, rough sex, porn w// plot, pnv sex, fingering (f!receiving), aged up characters, hair pulling, unprotected sex, dirty talk, infidelity (reader cheats on her boyfriend), pussy slapping, spitting, making out.

masterlist -> navigation

It wasn’t that Mattheo hated him—no, hate wasn’t a strong enough word. It was more than that.

Mattheo despised him. The smug bastard had spent years turning Mattheo’s life into a personal hell. Every time they faced each other on the Quidditch pitch, he made it his mission to overshadow him, turning every match into a game—his game. It wasn’t enough to win; no, he had to humiliate.

Every cocky grin after a game, every pointed remark, every stupid joke that made the whole school laugh—it all stuck with Mattheo, eating away at him. It wasn’t just the humiliation; it was the way the bastard seemed to enjoy it, like making Mattheo miserable was his favorite pastime. And it worked. Every time he strutted off the pitch like he owned the place, Mattheo was left grinding his teeth.

Mattheo could handle a loss—hell, he wasn’t above admitting defeat when it was deserved. But losing to him? To someone who could barely hold his own on a good day? That was a different story.

It wasn’t about skill. It was never about the game with him. It was about making a show of it, rubbing it in like he’d actually earned it, like scraping out a win somehow made him untouchable. And that made Mattheo’s blood fucking boil.

Every time it happened, he could feel the humiliation sinking deeper. The bastard would parade around like a king, lapping up the attention, making sure everyone knew he’d won—even if it was by sheer dumb luck. It was humiliating, to say the least.

The idiot couldn’t just play the game. No, he had to make Mattheo feel small while standing on the podium, taking all the praise like he deserved it—like he actually earned it. But he didn’t. Merlin, he never fucking did.

He was average at everything he did. Most of the goals he scored were thanks to others guiding him like he was some damn toddler; the guy couldn’t even stay balanced on his broom without looking like he was going to fall off at any moment. It was embarrassing to watch. And Mattheo was sure he had heard it from a few of the players on his team that the idiot was late to practice almost every day.

He was overrated in every sense of the word. Yet, somehow nothing ever changed. Everything stayed exactly the same.

No matter how many times Mattheo outplayed him, no matter how many matches he dominated or goals he scored, the brainless bastard always ended up in the spotlight, receiving compliments that didn’t even belong to him. It was insane how the whole school fawned over him like he was some god.

The guy was an untouchable, an untouchable piece of shit, but still untouchable. Teachers, students, almost everyone seemed to worship his ass, and the more they praised him, the more power the idiot seemed to get and the more self-centered he acted, which only made Mattheo even more pissed off.

The idiot didn’t even work for it. Everything was handed to him, like the world decided he was going to be the best, and nothing could change that. They treated him like some fucking golden child, and he ate it up like it was his due.

And that infuriated Mattheo, because no matter how hard he worked, no matter how good he was, he never got the praise. He never got the recognition he deserved. Never got the praise he craved. It was always about his last name. Riddle. At the end of the day, he was just Voldemort’s son, a son of a monster, a reminder of a legacy soaked in fear.

People didn’t see him for who he was or what he’d accomplished—they only saw his bloodline, his father’s sins, the deaths that followed him.

He hated every fucking bit of it. His idiot rival was constantly showered with praise and compliments, while Mattheo was stuck with pitying stares, whispers of fear, and the way everyone treated him like a damn outcast. He wanted to beat him up.

But the worst part? It wasn’t the wins. It wasn’t the way the bastard walked around like he owned the fucking place. It wasn’t even how everyone seemed to kiss the ground he walked on. No, the worst part was that he had you.

You. His precious girlfriend.

It wasn’t just that he had you, no. It was the fact that Mattheo had noticed you long before your brainless boyfriend ever did. And truth be told, it was because Mattheo saw the things your boyfriend never cared enough to notice. He saw how you laughed with your stupid friends in the stands during the matches, how you cheered when someone scored a goal, too distracted to even notice if the person was from your own house.

Mattheo noticed the way your brows furrowed when you were confused in class, the small crease on your forehead that made you seem so real, so human. So easy to ruin. He saw how your lips curved into a smile whenever you talked about something you loved—something he was almost certain your boyfriend never even noticed.

The scumbag always too busy looking at himself to care about what you were saying, too caught up in his own reflection to actually listen to the things that made you you.

But Mattheo? Mattheo listened. He saw the way your voice changed, the rhythm of it when you spoke, how it picked up when you talked about things that mattered to you. The way your breath hitched when you were nervous, the way you fidgeted, the little shifts in your body when you got caught up in something exciting. 

Mattheo Riddle noticed every fucking thing about you. Every. Damn. Thing.

And how could he not? You were fucking irresistible to his eyes, like a fucking magnet drawing people to you, pulling them in, making them want you. And Mattheo wasn’t any different. He craved you. He craved you so much that every time you were in the same room, he had to hold his breath, trying to keep himself in check, or else his cock would tear right through his pants. 

He wanted you so fucking badly, it made him ache, but still, you weren’t his. You belonged to an idiot who couldn’t even know what to do with all that.

You were his trophy, his pretty little prize to show around like a fucking object, more like a shiny thing he could flaunt to boost his already inflated ego than an actual human being. And maybe that’s all you were to him—a thing to fuck and show off, but not someone to cherish. Just another accomplishment that his pathetic success brought him.

Mattheo was sick of it. It wasn’t just the way your bastard boyfriend treated you—no, that was long past the truth. It was the fucking audacity of him, thinking he deserved you at all. If he couldn’t even catch a damn Quaffle properly, how the hell could he know how to protect you? How could he possibly know how to fuck you properly?

He didn’t. And Mattheo couldn’t for the life of him understand how you could see anything in a guy like that.

Mattheo stormed through the corridors, his Quidditch uniform pulling tightly against his exhausted, sweaty body. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, still seething after the match he had just won against your boyfriend. It had been an easy win—your boyfriend was a joke without anyone else carrying him—but the anger still burned inside him. He should’ve felt good about the victory, but all he could focus on was how much it pissed him off.

He knew exactly what the bastard of your boyfriend would do when he left the locker rooms. He knew. He’d come straight to you, expecting you to lift his spirits like you always did: riding his dick until he was completely satisfied, making you do all the work while the fucking idiot didn’t even move his hips.

But this time, Mattheo would be quicker. He’d find you faster, and unlike your boyfriend, he wasn’t going to treat you like some cheap consolation prize. No, he planned on using you as a victory prize, almost as valuable as the points his house had just won.

He had taken his win, so it was only fair to take his consolation prize, right?

He thought so, so that’s why he didn’t think twice before slamming his fist against the door, the sharp sound of wood cracking under his hand echoing through the quiet room while his palm smacked against the sturdy surface, the force enough to make the door rattle in its frame, and making you jump at the sudden noise, your heart racing in surprise. Before you could process what happened, the door swung open again, and there, standing in the doorway, was an angry Mattheo Riddle.

And for a moment neither of you spoke.

Nevertheless, you could feel his eyes on you, shamelessly scanning your body, and for a moment, you felt vulnerable, as if you were standing naked before him. Still, he didn’t look away; instead, he crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his gaze fixed on you, already calculating how to draw you into his plan.

Yet he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he noticed the blush creeping across your cheeks and the way your eyes darted, desperate to avoid his. You looked so pretty, so easy to ruin.

“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?” His voice cut through the silence, startling you. You blinked, your gaze stubbornly fixed on his strong chest. The way his sweat-soaked uniform clung to every muscle was distracting—too distracting, and you noticed his dark curls fell messily over those piercing brown eyes, and for a brief, shameful moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

What the hell are you doing? You scolded yourself, your cheeks growing more red this time with shame.

You cleared your throat, lifting your head slightly to meet Mattheo’s gaze. His brow already arched as you looked, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he watched you closely. He knew his plan was falling into place, and so was yours.

“Yeah.” You stood up, trying to keep your voice steady as you looked at him. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

Mattheo scoffed, knowing full well your boyfriend was probably sulking in the locker room, making a scene about his loss and fishing for sympathy. He took a step closer to you, and it took everything in you not to back away or, worse, lean towards him. “He’s coming, he’s coming,” you kept repeating to yourself, almost like a desperate reminder that you had a boyfriend.

“Sure he will, sweetheart,” he said, the mockery in his tone impossible to miss, his eyes raking over you from head to toe again, a pretty little thing like you waiting for an idiot who doesn’t even know how to use his dick—sad, really. “He’s so reliable, isn’t he? Always putting you first. Always showing up for you,” he added sarcastically, smirking even more as you swallowed, knowing he had hit a nerve.

Mattheo’s words hit you like a slap, but the worst part was how much truth they carried. You bristled, refusing to acknowledge your failed relationship, and narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s none of your fucking business, Riddle,” you hissed, gripping your wrists tightly as he took another step towards you.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk anything but friendly. “Isn’t it? I think it’s exactly my damn business.” His voice was calm—too calm—like he was savoring every second of making you realize the bastard was not all that. But even with that collected tone, you could still see the same anger in his eyes. 

“You’ve been letting him walk all over you for too long, haven’t you? Always waiting, always hoping he’ll finally see you… really see you.” He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, his dark gaze still piercing into yours. “But he doesn’t, does he?”

You swallowed hard, the tightness in your chest making it difficult to breathe. You knew he was right; the frustration of always coming second to your boyfriend’s ego, of never feeling truly seen or satisfied, was frustrating. But you weren’t ready to admit it—not to him.

You knew who Mattheo was—the son of the dark lord and a top player on the Slytherin Quidditch team. But that didn’t matter to you, not when your boyfriend filled your head with his hate for him, always trying to be better than Mattheo, and deep down you knew he would never reach that goal. Your boyfriend had recognition but no real talent. He always hid his insecurities behind a false confidence and a big ego, caring only about himself and putting others down.

He was a piece of shit; you couldn’t deny it.

You lifted your chin, trying to stay calm and ignore how close Mattheo was getting, his gaze intense, like a predator eyeing its prey. “I don’t need you to tell me about my relationship.” You shot back, trying to hold your ground, though his words still gnawed at your mind. Yet Matthew wasn’t looking into your eyes. No, his attention was lower, fixed on the curve of your hips, like he was already claiming it as his prize.

He lifted his gaze from your curves, his smirk deepening as he seemed to enjoy the way you squirmed, desperately trying to defend a lost cause like your brainless idiot of a boyfriend. “You don’t, huh?” His voice dropping, growing darker. 

“Then why the hell are you still waiting for him? How long have you been sitting here, staring at that door like he’s gonna show up and treat you right… fuck you right?” He paused, letting the silence hang between you, thick and heavy. “You know he never will, at least not the way you want, sweetheart.”

You blinked, over and over, not realizing how he had moved closer until he was standing right in front of you, too caught up in the way your heart seemed to race at his previous words, the way they sliced through your mind. You knew he was right; you were just a precious little thing for your boyfriend to show off, nothing more, and the bastard never knew how to properly use his dick on you.

Mattheo didn’t flinch, his eyes darkening as his smirk widened. He took another step toward you, finally stopping just in front of you, making your heart race, your knees almost buckling as you noticed his Quidditch uniform clung to his body with every movement.

“It’s the truth, and you know it,” he said, his voice low. “Every time he brushes you off, every time he acts like he’s too busy for you, too busy to actually care. But not me.” He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “I see you. I’ll use you how you deserve to be used, and I won’t make you feel invisible.”

You weren’t stupid; you knew the difference between Mattheo and your boyfriend. Even though both saw you as something to be conquered, at least Mattheo knew how to use his cock. The temptation was there, the promise of finally being noticed, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t because he cared.

It was all part of his plan, and you were falling deeper into his trap.

His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The touch was light—almost innocent—but it sent a shiver down your spine, nonetheless. and you knew it wasn’t innocent at all. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice faltering as you tried to hold on to whatever little control you had left.

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” he whispered, his hand moving to your neck as he brought his face closer to you once again, this time only a few centimeters from your neck, his lips just millimeters away. “Hmm?” he hummed, a provocation, you noticed, his calloused hand tightening slightly around your neck as he placed a light kiss on the spot, almost as if testing the territory.

Fuck, that was easier than he thought, and at this rate he was going to get hard in no time; he wanted to feel your pussy so much.

“Riddle,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to sound firm, yet the way you were trying to stand betrayed you. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he shot back in a whisper, his mouth still close to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes bore into your face, craving for you to finally break, for him to finally claim you as a prize, to finally piss off your boyfriend and show you how a girl like you should be fucked. Yet, he knew he had to wait; wait until you were so absorbed in him that you wouldn’t want to turn back.

“Mattheo…” First name, good.

He chuckled, his breath coming against your neck, sending vibrations through your body. His left hand was now on your stomach, while his right rested at the back of your neck. “Tell me something, sweetheart. When was the last time he touched you like this?” he asked, his hand sliding down to your skirt, gently caressing your thigh.

You try to ignore the way your own body was responding to his touch, his breath, the traitorous wetness between your legs growing, making you feel a bit ashamed, as you knew he could feel.

“I—” you stopped, the words catching in your throat, your breathing growing heavier as his hand continued to caress your thigh and his mouth lingered on your neck, leaving small kisses on your sensitive spot. You were too lost in the sensation to even remember that your boyfriend could walk in at any moment.

Mattheo chuckled against your neck, gently pushing your legs further apart as he looked at you, noticing the way you trembled against his body. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction—not just from the sight but also from the realization that you were already so lost in his touch, there was just a little chance you’d turn back now.

You sighed visibly, your eyes remaining closed as you were too lost in the touch and embarrassment to even look at him. However, you couldn’t help but let out a small scream when, with a sudden movement, Mattheo pushed you against a small desk, positioning himself behind you. His hand still squeezed your neck, but this time lifting your chin slightly, holding you like a trophy.

“Such a needy girl,” Mattheo murmured in your ear, his groin pressed firmly against your ass, making you bite your lip as your cunt clenched at his words. “So needy already, and I’ve barely touched you,” he mocked, the hand that had been on your thigh now sliding to your stomach, his fingertips prodding you teasingly.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, your head spinning as he pressed his groin even more against you. Fucking bastard.

“Shhh,” he shushed you mockingly, almost chuckling as you kept your eyes closed, trying to curse him. “Don’t be so mean, sweetheart. I’m about to give you what that fucking bastard doesn’t have the balls to do,” he whispered in your ear, giving a small bite to the lobe of your ear as he did so.

You didn’t respond; instead, you pressed your clothed ass against his hips, making him groan as he felt his quidditch uniform tighten around his cock.

Mattheo continued to rock his hips against you, his right hand tightening its grip on your neck and tilting your chin up, exposing your face to the small window of the room. His fingers on your right hand pushed your skirt down, and before you realized it, both your skirt and panties were already at your heels, causing Mattheo’s smirk to widen even more as he saw how wet you were.

“You’re so wet already,” he chuckled against your ear, his fingers trailing down your lower stomach, almost reaching your already dripping cunt. “Such a desperate little thing you are,” he mocked you again, his hips pressing into your bare ass. “He doesn’t fuck you properly, does he?”

You held your breath at his provocation, a small part of your rationality returning after the truth he had spoken. Your nails dug into the desk in front of you as you tried to process what was happening, struggling not to look at Mattheo’s fingers still trailing along the lower part of your stomach.

For a moment, a part of your mind sobered, the image of your boyfriend flashing through your thoughts. A wave of hesitation threatened to take over, and you almost gave in to the doubt, but before you could pull back, Mattheo’s hand landed firmly against your pussy, the sound echoing through the room. The sharp sting caused you to gasp, but before you could even recover, his fingers slid deep inside you.

“Mattheo!” You moaned his name like a prayer, gasping for air as his other hand moved to your hair, pushing your head towards his shoulder as his finger continued to fill your wet cunt.

Mattheo chuckled, his hips pressing and rubbing against your ass as his fingers moved in and out of you without any delicacy, and he felt his cock getting harder as your pussy squeezed his fingers, making him imagine what it would be like when it was wrapped around his cock, squeezing it until he filled you with cum.

“That’s it.” Mattheo said in your ear, his grip on your hair tightening as his fingers thrust, making you moan and move your hips even more. “Such a pretty slut.” He moaned as well, feeling your bare ass rocking against his clothed cock.From the frantic movements of your hips, he knew you were close to your orgasm, which only made him more satisfied.

Holy shit, he barely touched you, and you were already a mess; your boyfriend was a joke.

“Oh my fucking God,” you moaned louder, the pain from his grip on your hair almost fading as his fingers hit your sensitive spot, making you clamp your legs together. “Mattheo!” You breathed out, your nails digging deeper into the wooden desk in front of you, and you bucked your hips against his clothed cock as your vision began to blur.

“Jus like that,” he groaned, moving his hips and fingers in the same ruthless rhythm, the wet sounds of your pussy muffled only by the sounds of your moans. “Cum,” he commanded, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he did. You moaned louder, your legs shaking as you obeyed his order.

Your eyes opened, and you looked down, trying to control your breathing, which only made you moan louder as you watched Mattheo’s cum-soaked fingers slip out of your pussy with a wet sound. Feeling his smirk against your ear, his hips now grinding slowly against your ass.

Mattheo looked at your state, the sweat sticking to his forehead and making his hair cling even more. His eyes fixed on his fingers for a few seconds, your essence evident on them. He should be satisfied right now, on cloud nine—but he wasn’t. Not yet.

His eyes scanned over you again, taking in your flushed cheeks, the marks on your shoulder, your tangled hair. You were a mess—a hot mess—but it still wasn’t enough. No, quite the opposite. You were a mess, but not a crying mess, and that’s exactly what he wanted. After all, you couldn’t be his trophy if you weren’t used the right way, could you?

Well, that’s what he thought.

His hand pulled your hair back further, which made you let out a sudden scream and widen your eyes, the previous adrenaline still present throughout your body, and although you were tired, your pussy throbbed even more with the sudden pull.

“What are you—...?”

“Do you really think this is over, pretty thing?” He asked, his voice filled with mockery as he pushed your hair even more, his other hand still soaked with your cum. “A slut like you needs more to be satisfied, especially if she’s not being fucked properly.” He groaned into your ear, and you almost moaned at the dirty words.

With a sudden movement, Mattheo turned you to face him, his hand still gripping your scalp, and sat you down on the wooden surface, spreading your legs so he could position himself between them.

You looked at him, your pussy blinking in anticipation as you watched the way his sweat made his Slytherin uniform stick to the defined muscles of his chest, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight.

“Do you like what you see?” Mattheo asked, his grip on your hair still firm, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw you nod. “Such a pretty girl.” He paused, his eyes still fixed on your face. “Open your mouth.” His voice was firm, and you, too lost in your previous pleasure, obeyed him without hesitation.

Taking advantage of the opening, Mattheo brought his free hand to your mouth, his fingers covered in your cum, making contact with your tongue. Neither of you could control the moan as your tongue rolled around his fingers.

Mattheo stared at the scene for a few seconds, as if hypnotized by the sight. However, the hardness of his dick quickly snapped him back to reality, reminding him of what he needed from you. In an instant, he pulled his fingers from your tongue and used them to open your mouth. Before you could fully react, he took the opportunity to spit onto your tongue and pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.

You both moaned into each other's mouths, your taste present as tongues and teeth collided eagerly, both of you wanting to take control of the battle that your mouths were trying to win at all costs.

Mattheo’s hand pulled your hair harder, taking control of the kiss as you moaned against his mouth. He mirrored your sound; however, while you were completely lost in the kiss, Matt had already pulled his waistband and boxers down to his heels, his hard cock exposed as he struggled to control himself, fighting the urge to fuck you right there.

Yet, he couldn’t control himself—not when your pussy looked so fucking pretty, not when the anger was still beating against his ribs, and not when he was still waiting to make the trophy completely his.

Mattheo gripped your hair even tighter, pulling you out of the kiss with surprising strength, making you moan in annoyance at the loss of contact. However, that moan quickly turned into one of pleasure when you felt another slap on your pussy, signaling for you to open your legs. This one was stronger, the wet sound reverberating through the walls. 

Yet, you obeyed quickly, spreading your legs to give Mattheo the opening he needed to finally enter you and claim the trophy he felt he deserved.

You looked at his dick anxiously, your sensitive cunt throbbing. Mattheo grabbed your leg, placing it over his shoulder, and without a single warning, he slid inside with a single thrust between your wet folds, and a loud moan escaped your lips at the sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight," Mattheo groaned, feeling your tight walls squeezing his cock as he thrust even harder.

Fuck, he was big—too big, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, since the only dick you were used to was your boyfriend’s. And, honestly, you sometimes wondered if it was just for decoration.

Mattheo’s grip on you tightens harder, his breath coming in low gasps and whimpers almost as loud and scandalous as yours as he continues to push his cock deep inside your soaked folds, making the sound reverberate through the stone walls of the room. The sound echoed through the stone walls of the room.

You didn’t hold back, moaning and whimpering as you moved your hips with him, too lost in the sensation to care about your boyfriend.

Mattheo knew exactly what he was doing, stealing you from that worthless piece of shit you called your boyfriend and claiming you like a damn trophy. The satisfaction of finally having his hands on you, feeling your body around his, was like a fucking victory prize for him, an intoxicating one.

Yet, you didn’t care that you were being used as a pawn, not when you were being filled and used like a slut by a cock that actually did its job.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered, moving your hips even harder, making Mattheo groan and moan loudly and mimicking your actions, moving his hips with the same roughness as you, thrusting even further inside you. Your arms behind you, resting on the table, and you could feel your leg getting sore on top of Mattheo’s shoulder. You didn't care, though, as you continued to dig your nails into the table, leaving a mark.

“That fucking idiot has a bitch like you and doesn’t fuck her the way she deserves,” he growled, anger visible in his voice, his dick still moving inside your desperate, wet cunt, your flesh almost shining. “Such a good fucking cunt,” he murmurs, gripping your leg even harder, the sound of your moans only fueling his ego.

He wasn’t just fucking you, you notice; the son of a bitch was claiming you in ways your boyfriend could never even dream of.

Mattheo took your leg off his shoulder abruptly, slapping your thighs roughly and then moving them apart so he had more access to your soaked pussy that was proudly swallowing his fat cock, which made him increase his movements even more, his fingers gripping your waist as he moved inside you, his brown eyes focused on yours for a few seconds.

"Mattheo!" You continued moaning his name loudly, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. You were so lost in the sensation, so caught in his intense gaze, that you had to close your eyes, shutting them tightly as you tried to regain control.

But that only seemed to anger him even more, and without warning, he thrust harder into you, and in the next instant, his hand came down, slapping your face with force; the sound echoed through the room, making your head snap to the side, the force leaving a mark on your skin. 

You moaned once more, opening your eyes and focusing on him again. Your pussy throbbed from the sudden contact on your cheek, and for a moment, you couldn't help but curse yourself under your breath, the sensation making you even hornier than before, your walls clenching even tighter around his cock.

“What a pretty little slut, squeezing my dick like this,” he moaned at the way your pussy tightened around him. “Look at your pathetic state,” he laughed through his nose, watching the red mark on your cheek. 

His hips slammed harder against yours, making you moan when you felt his dick hit your sensitive spot, and he mimicked the sound when he felt you tighten around him, letting him know you were close to orgasm. You looked at him completely as you rocked your hips against his, trying to ignore the burning sensation his hand left on your cheek.

He looked fucking glorious; the way his curls clung to his forehead made him look even more irresistible. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his muscled chest was still covered by his Quidditch jersey, and you couldn’t help but feel a little off, knowing that your boyfriend’s team lost to the house of the man who was fucking you right now.

The force in Mattheo's deep and rough thrusts increased, and you tried to use that to your advantage to try to take off the Slytherin jersey; however, when he noticed that your hands were going towards his uniform, Mattheo laughed dryly and brought his hand back to your hair, grabbing it and pulling you back, thrusting his dick harder into your pussy.

“No, no,” he forced a chuckle, trying to control a moan as he felt himself getting closer to his orgasm, the force on your scalp getting stronger. “I’m going to wear this fucking jersey until you cum.” He gave another deep thrust, and before you could even complain, he crashed your mouths in another bruising but sloppy kiss.

“Mattheo, please!” You moaned into his mouth, tears falling down your cheeks, making him smirk even more as he kissed you roughly and pressed his cock on your hole even more, satisfied that he was finally making you a crying mess and satisfied that you were so lost in the pleasure of his cock that you let him take you as a trophy, making you forget about your brainless boyfriend.

“Fuck, I’m close too, sweetheart.” He responded by thrusting even harder into your pussy, and not even ten seconds later you came moaning loudly against his lips, your pussy wetting his cock with your cum as you cried out.

Mattheo broke the kiss, moaning loudly, his goal accomplished. His mouth went towards your shoulder, biting the skin as he continued to thrust, guiding himself to orgasm. His hand tightened even more in your hair before finally cumming, filling your pussy with his release before taking it off you.

Both of you tried to control your breaths, your hearts still racing. Mattheo looked at you, his breathing still heavy, yet before you could come to your senses, he kneeled before you, his hand leaving your hair as he placed both of his hands on your thighs, looking at your expression, your eyes closed. 

He licked a small part of your mixed orgasms, causing him to groan against your folds. The two of you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at the scene with his jaw clenched.

Mattheo finally looked up, and when he noticed his asshole rival looking at the scene angrily, he moved his face away from your pussy, smirking in your boyfriend’s direction, while both of your orgasms ran down his chin, falling onto his sports jersey, showing your boyfriend that Mattheo had fucked the way he was never capable of.

And when your boyfriend finally stormed off, Mattheo turned his attention back to your pussy, not even warning you about the unrequited appearance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmured against her pussy, enjoying his victory. Because, in the end, being a trophy was better than being a consolation prize, right?

And after all, Mattheo Riddle always took good care of his trophies, and you wouldn’t be the exception.

©mattnott 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

first time writing full pnv… how do we feel? sad tbh 😔

for @asvtrials @astrxq @bucksplum @earth4angels my favorite beta readers, i love you all!! 🫂

and for @leona-hawthorne who was the first to know about this idea, i love you! 💕

comments and reblogs are appreciated and help me a lot, so feel free to interact 🫶🏻

edited but not fully corrected.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[mad-hunts]

i like how barton went from being like... a hippie in terms of how he viewed sex in his early twenties, then kind of abstained from it for a few years / became sexually repressed, which... definitely isn't such a good thing. BUT then he became even more of a freak (and i do mean that in the good way this time LOL) around the time he started residency because WOW is that shit stressful. though that was also unfortunately around the time when he really started to spiral as well 😬 but we don't need to talk about that ahahhh

like the way this man learned how to express his sexuality REALLY came full circle in the end considering he was like 'yeah, back in the early days that i was in college, i was a freak. but now i'm not anymore... though do you want to see me do it again anyway?' like 💀 JSJSJ if he weren't so demented, i'd almost be inclined to say good for him, y'all LMAO feeling comfortable with your sexuality and perhaps even having a bit of fun with it (though maybe too much in barton's case, because he literally weaponizes it in order to lure in his victims. BUT once again, we don't need to talk about that right now psshhh. i actually fully intend on talking about that in the tags NGL) is more often than not a good thing after all

[b-rainlet]

The way women experience horror is so much more interesting than men