#original source: the mirror

[elennemigo]

Benedict and Olivia Colman recently seen on set, filming "The Roses" 👀

[divorcedtom]

daniel molloy version of k3nd4llr0y’s logan roy rollin with the lgbt edit

[girlbob-boypants]

Sometimes people make story claims about WF and I get so...confused math lady

[villainanders]

TRYING to make a post abt the seb thoughts in my head but it’s incoherent

[ran-orimoto]

You guys, you should watch “The Lonely Castle in the Mirror” because it was an amazing experience. You all overrate Shinkai way too much when out there so many animated japanese films exist and they are so good.

Frontier spoiled me and gave me a softspot on films about lonely, troubled kids finding a place of comfort where they also find friends and grow up; about stories dealing with mental health and social problems in a whimsical, fascinating way. Still, the issues the kids in this movie have got are much more serious than the ones the Frontier ones deal with and the twists are so freaking nice, I swear. It gave me so much anxiety at a certain point and my throat closed up, but what remained after the watching was a sense of deep sadness and a fuzzy sensation in my chest. Who knows how many times I’ll watch it!

Moreover, there’s a stout bby who gives every girl he likes biscuits because he has trouble making friends. CAN YOU SEE WHAT I’M ABLE TO SEE.

He’s adorable.

[mihotose]

most underrated devastating thing about losing all my laptop data was that i downloaded a load of games from various places to play later and now i have no idea where i got them from to get them back

[cryolyst]

~

[demilypyro]

MLP lore lesson: This male hourglass cutiemark pony. Most fans of the show will know him, but I think this lore might be funny to learn for people who weren't part of the fandom at the time.

He was originally a generic townie that appeared in some episodes as a random passerby. The fandom decided he resembled David Tennant as The Doctor on Doctor Who, taking the hourglass cutiemark as a reference to time travel, and thus the fans named him Doctor Whooves. In fanworks, he was commonly paired up with "Derpy Hooves", another popular background pony, mirroring The Doctor's MO of traveling with a female companion.

Like many popular fan-interpretations of the background ponies, this fanon was eventually semi-canonized in copyright-safe ways in later seasons. They started giving him accessories that referenced different Doctors, such as David Tennant's tie and 3D glasses, Tom Baker's scarf, and Matt Smith's bow tie.

Finally, in the season 5 episode Slice of Life, he was canonically referred to as "Doc" and "Doctor", as well as researching time travel alongside Derpy Hooves, as clear nods to the fandom.

Though the character is usually referred to as "Time Turner" in official sources, there are at least a few instances of the character being officially referred to as "Doctor Whooves" or "Doctor Hooves", such as in figures and on a trading card. There is also a comic where he appears on a variant cover with multiple Doctor Who references, such as a Weeping Angel and a street lamp that resembles the Tardis.

[keferon]

Hey, I don't know if you're still open to answering questions about this, but if you are I am SO curious to know about what Tarantulas would be like the monster hunter au? Even if he's basically the same I'm really curious what the more mythical setting and Prowl being a golem would change (if it changes much of anything at all)

I love your art! It's a big source of inspiration to me

Oh, I've been asked this before and didn't have an answer last time, but now I do.

Tarantulas would be the ultimate weirdo, studying magic and Beastformers, but he himself would originally be a regular mech.

At some point he became so inspired by his research that he essentially invented a way to turn regular mechs into Monsters, and the first thing he did was turn into a spider himself.

He also, as in the comics, works with Prowl and he's one of the very few to know that Prowl is a golem and not a real mech, even though he looks and acts like one. This information actually gives Tarantulus a great idea to try to create a golem that is so elaborate and advanced that it is essentially a mech.

He decides to break every possible rule of golem creation to create Ostaros. While Prowl is essentially a hollow armor powered by magic - Ostaros is something like Frankenstein's monster. Tarantulas put him together, taking care of every little detail. He gave him a processor and internal components (and a transformation cog hehehe). Ostaros still doesn't have a spark, but he has free will, intelligence, emotions and all. And two modes. He can look like a normal mech, or he can transform into an insecticon.

Prowl is so fucking confused by the way, because he just walks into Tarantulas' lab one day and there's a completely random mech with a face that could be a mirror image of Prowl's. And Tarantulas is like, hey look, I created life and now it's your problem how and where to house him, because this kid needs to go to school.

(Prowl ends up sending Ostaros to Shockwave Academy to become a knight)

[winterarmyy]

Baby, Fever & Cuddles

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Y/N unexpectedly cancelled their date plan, Bucky’s troubled mind seemed to jump right into the worst case scenario, but the reality was not quite what he thought.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 3.5k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. fluffy and soft feels with our chubby!alpha!bucky.

P/S: My writing is quite rusty after months of not utilizing it, so forgive me for that. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky has been staring, or more accurately, glaring at the reflection of himself for far too long now. Completely distracted with the image on the mirror, he did not notice how his well-made bed is now crowded with piles of his clothing items.

Hoodies, jeans, dress-shirts and even the dinner suit that he got last year; they were all mixed up in an untamed way. He might need a couple of hours to re-organize those but it does not matter right now.

What matters is what should he wear for his second date with y/n? So far everything he tried on was either too fancy or too tacky. “For fuck’s sake, it’s just a coffee date. Just pick one and go, Jesus.” Bucky’s inner Alpha has been nagging him to get this over with, because he’s going to be late to the date, especially if he plans to pick-up a bouquet for her.

Now standing in his red Henley, which he deemed was appropriate, he could not look past the soft bulge on his stomach. The bright colour of the fabric did nothing to hide the unflattering shape of his belly. He twisted his body to the side and unintentionally grimaced at the sight.

Bucky instinctively sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide the extra fat of his body; giving a glance of the shadow of his past self when he was but a man with a well-built body.

Bucky sighed out the breath that held, and his belly naturally morphed into the original shape. He really can’t hide his imperfections; not his belly nor his prosthetic arm. As he stares at the source of his insecurities, he remembered the night of his first date with her;

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

His cheeks heats into shades of red and pink as the memories remind him of her; the softness of her skin against his palms, that cute little purr she made and her sweet scent that he was already addicted to.

Before the blood managed to rush further down to his spine, he shook off the unholy thoughts produced by inner alpha. Bucky glanced at the mess on his bed from the reflection of the mirror and let out a sigh before glaring at himself, “What are you so afraid of?”.

Now that he was standing in front of her apartment, Bucky suddenly remembered why.

His heart pounds, his palms were sweating within his leather gloves, his fingers fiddled with the delicate material of the bouquet wrappings. The second date is different compared to the first; there’s more expectation, which means there might be more disappointment awaits.

Not that he would be displeased with y/n but he is afraid that she will be with him. A few sweet words that she spoke on their first date might work to calm him down at the moment, but it is not enough to make his years worth of insecurity disappear completely.

Bucky gulped nervously as he lifted his hand towards the door; he knew that he was quite early from the promised time, but he couldn’t help it. As much as he is afraid of what will come, he was as excited to see her again. She had been occupying his mind like no other; he misses her. A lot.

When he was about to knock on the door, his phone rang. Slipping it out of his pocket, his phone almost fell from his hands, when he read the name on the caller’s placeholder. Y/N. He took a deep breath and slid the icon across the screen, “Hello. Hi” Bucky’s tongue was already tied with just two words out.

“Hi, Bucky.” she greeted with softly. That alone was enough make his heart skipped a beat. “Hi, y/n.” Bucky could not control the dreamy undertone in his voice, if only she could see the soft haze in his gaze, “What’s up?”

“Really, Bucky? ‘What’s up’?” he mentally scolded himself for this choice of words. A brief silence followed his question. “Was that… hesitation?” a thought popped at the back of his head. “Ummm, listen, Bucky…” her voice dripped with uncertainty.

Bucky’s fist around the stem of the bouquet got a little tighter when she continued, “..I’m sorry. But, I think we should cancel our plans today. Umm, some, uh, something came up and I think I can’t make it...” Her cryptic reasons were just a buzzing sound in his ear now.

What was he expecting? That this time it’ll be different? He’s finally gonna have the happy ending he deserves? No. Of course, not.

“What was I thinking?” Bucky’s head slightly lean forward as he try to recollect himself, “I understand.” He replied. y/n quickly apologised for her sudden decision but Bucky was not really listening.

He was just trying to clear out the dark clouds in head by leaning his head to the apartment door. But when his hand was trying to support his weight against the wall, he accidentally pressed the doorbell.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath. Panic arose when y/n asked if he could hold for a minute while she get the door. “No wait! y/n don--”, a few milliseconds later, the door was wide open, revealing the omega who's been occupying his mind for weeks.

“Bucky?” Her eyes widened; shocked at first but morphed into a pleasant smile. “You’re here?” she was awfully in glee to see the alpha, especially when she saw the pretty bouquet of carnations in his hand. But the joy only lasted for a short moment, until she realised, “Don’t tell me you were already here when I called you…” a soft gasp came from the smaller, her eyes glistening with guilt.

Bucky thought that there’s no way to go about this other than telling the truth, “Yeah. I’m sure you have a good reason to cancel our date. And since you’re here, umm, here.” hands trembling, he extended the bouquet towards her, his gruff exterior softened by the shy smile on his lips, “….for you.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed with delight as she accepted the flowers, “Awww, Bucky.” She held the soft petals towards her face, inhaling the spicy clove-y scent. Reminded by the time she first met him, the corners of her lips curled upwards into a tender smile before looking up at him with a sparkle of alluring mischief in her gaze.

In that split second, something was triggered at the back of Bucky’s mind. It seemed like he had seen this view before. In fact, it is almost identical. Including this very moment, when she tiptoed upwards, her tender gesture of cupping one side his chubby cheek and her soft lips pressed on the other, "Thank you for the flowers, alpha." She whispered against his skin.

A pleasant shiver crawled all over his body, his cheeks heated up and his ears reddened. Bucky’s eyes soften into a hazy gaze that if she look closely, she might see hearts twinkling in his ocean blues.

He wanted more. More of her lips, more of her gentle touch. More of her.

When the omega looked up at him with that sweet smile on her lips, his inner alpha was ready to pounce on her and it was all from just that one innocent kiss, “You’re welcome, doll” His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her body close to his, “Glad you liked it.” He returned her kiss with his own, a gentle grab on the side of her head and a loving kiss on her cheek.

The omega purred in delight to his gesture, her hand instinctively went to grab on his shoulder; literally melting in his embrace when she lost her stance.

Good thing Bucky had his arms securely around her because if not she would’ve ended up on the floor. Bucky chuckled amusingly when he slowly led her body to lean back, almost dangling on his arm, as his kisses lingered on her jaw.

Before the sounds of their soft laughter could spread, the loud shrieking sound of a crying baby coming from y/n’s apartment startled both of them to a freeze. y/n was quick on her feet, “Oh no, Daisy.” she gasped as she broke out from Bucky’s loose grip.

“Come on in, Bucky.” she shouted when she entered the living room area. Bucky didn’t reject her offer, and stepped into the foyer. Closing the door behind him, he saw how some of her shoes were organised at the entrance; he quietly took off his shoes and slipped into one of the fuzzy guest slippers that was laid on the side.

Stepping further inside, he realised that this was his first time in y/n’s home. He felt a wave of warmth enveloped him like a comforting embrace. His eyes wandered around the corridor, noticing the photographs on the wall; each frame a snapshot of cherished moments frozen in time. Smiling faces gazed back at him, capturing the essence of love and laughter that filled the air.

As Bucky entered the living room, he was met with the sight of y/n tenderly coaxing a crying baby into calmness; swaying the little bundle to the rhythm of her quiet lullaby. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle scene, though he knew instinctively that the baby wasn't her own. Any other normal person would’ve thought the opposite. But the lack of semblance in their scent gave it away.

y/n glanced up, a mixture of apology and relief in her eyes. "This is Daisy, my next-door neighbour's baby girl," she explained, her voice soft with concern. "Her mother caught a high fever all of the sudden, and Mr.Scott is out of town for work.”

Bucky’s steps stopped when he reached by y/n’s side, “The couple is not from here. They just moved from the UK a few months ago. They don’t have any family here.” Bucky silently listened to her explanation as his eyes peered at the baby in her arms; now calmed and curious of the tall stranger next to y/n.

“I volunteered to care for her while the mother went for a checkup at the nearby medical centre." y/n explained as she softly wiped the remaining tears on Daisy's cheeks, "I'm sorry," y/n continued, her tone tinged with guilt. "I know it's selfish of me to cancel our date because of this."

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lips. “I could’ve suggested a day care or something. But instead, I took the job.” She chuckled when Daisy babbled some incoherent words.

Bucky quickly intercepted her before she could come up with other lines of unnecessary explanation. He shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "No, don't be," he reassured her, his gaze softened as the baby chortled gleefully. "I can see why it's hard to resist."

The atmosphere shifted into something else; sweet and warm until the sound of the oven timer went off. "And that would be my lunch burning," y/n remarked, relief evident in her tone. Without missing a beat, she passed Daisy into Bucky’s arms, and he instinctively cradled her close.

It was his first time holding a baby. He knows that babies are small, I mean everybody knows that. But he never realises how light they are. No wonder people say they are fragile.

When Bucky’s hand reached to touch Daisy’s cheeks, he realised that maybe handling a baby with leather gloves and jacket was probably not the best idea. He skillfully took them off while cradling the baby close to his chest.

When he was done stripping to Henley, he brought his fleshed finger and poked Daisy’s round cheek.

It's the softest thing he ever touched, he could not believe it. So, he does it again and again. Apparently it is amusing to Daisy that Bucky was playing with her cheeks, the little sweetheart squeal and chortle every time he poked his finger on her. There was no denying the fact that Bucky’s heart was tugged in several different directions whenever she shrieked in joy.

Bucky momentarily lifted his gaze and observed the chaos unfolding in the kitchen with a sense of understanding, then turned his attention back to baby Daisy, who gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "How about I stay and help you babysit little Daisy?" he suggested, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Seems like you could use a helping hand."

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, touched by his offer. "You would do that?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I don't see any reason not to," Bucky replied with a shrug. "We're…" his words halted when he thought about it, "…mates. No, not yet." his mind spoke. Stumbling over the word as he corrected himself. "You, You're my girl, after all."

A blush spread across y/n's cheeks at his words, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Plus, I think little Daisy wants me to stay," Bucky continued, “Don’t you, flower?” his smile grew as the baby chortled and gurgled in agreement.

So, both of them took the role of being temporary parents while getting to know more about each other. If Steve was there to see this scene he’d tear up from how beautiful it was. The way they naturally tend to each other’s every need and how natural their chemistry clicked.

It was so effortless, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle finally finding their perfect fit. From the moment they stepped into the cosy haven of Daisy's world, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared connection that transcended mere words.

And the time flows like a gentle stream, Bucky and y/n found themselves swept up in the rhythm of their newfound relationship, even in the chaos of taking care of Daisy. Hours and hours passed, and when the sun set in the horizon, they nestled on the floor, a makeshift fortress of pillows and blankets cocooned them from the harsh reality of the outside world. Daisy, the tiny bundle of joy they were entrusted to care for, lay peacefully cradled in y/n’s arms.

As Bucky watched y/n’s gently sway with Daisy, he couldn't help but marvel at the tenderness in her touch. Her eyes sparkled with maternal warmth, a sight that stirred something deep within him. He had never seen such a sight before – so serene, so utterly captivating.

Daisy, in her innocence, reached out with tiny hands, her curious gaze fixating on Bucky’s metal fingers. With a playful gleam in her eyes, she chomped down on the cold material, eliciting a surprised yelp from Bucky. y/n chuckled softly, her laughter like music to his ears.

"Looks like Daisy's taken a liking to you," y/n remarked, her voice soft and affectionate.

Bucky grinned, gently wiggling his fingers out of Daisy’s mouth. His swift movement to wipe the string of saliva from Daisy’s mouth makes it look like Bucky was an experienced father, "Seems that way. Guess I'll have to watch out for that scary toothless mouth of hers."

The moment stretched on, each passing second filled with a quiet intimacy that seemed to enveloped them in a world of their own. Y/n leaned back against a mound of pillows, Daisy nestled contentedly against her chest. Bucky lay beside them, his gaze drifting between his omega and the sleepy child cooing on her chest.

Y/n's gaze lifted, her eyes meeting Bucky’s with a soft, shy smile playing on her lips. As she nestled further into the warmth of Daisy's soft head, a gentle blush crept across her cheeks, adding a rosy hue to her already radiant complexion.

In that moment, Bucky found himself lost in thought. He couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washed over him, a fleeting memory of a similar scene with another woman.

It can’t be. She was a beta and y/n is an omega. It would be impossible. But what if…

"What’s on your mind, Bucky?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet as she settled Daisy into her crib for a nap before sliding back into his arms. Bucky wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"I was just thinking..." Bucky began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Yes?" y/n's voice was a soft melody, laced with curiosity as she looked up at him. Bucky hesitated, unsure how to articulate the thoughts swirling in his mind. "Have we met before?" he finally asked, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

A playful grin danced across y/n's lips as she teased, "I don't know. Have we?"

Bucky felt a pang of surprise at her cheekiness, but he pressed on, recounting the memory of rescuing a girl from a dangerous situation in a park. "I can't help but see similarities between her and you," he admitted, his browdls furrowing with concern. "So, you think that I'm her?" y/n's tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

He hesitated, grappling with the uncertainty of his own memories. "I'm not sure...I never saw her face," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, a mischievous glint in her gaze. "Took you long enough to notice," she quipped, her words laced with humour.

Shocked with the revelation, his words stumbled, "But, but she's a beta, and you're..."He trailed off, his voice trailing as he struggled to find the right words. "An omega. Always was, still am," She finished for him, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"But your scent?" Bucky questioned, his confusion evident in his voice, “It changed?”

"Scent blockers," She explained simply, her tone softening as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from his face. "It's a long story, we'll get there soon enough. But for now..." She trailed off, her gaze meeting his with a warmth that sent shivers down his spine. "How have you been, Alpha?"

Bucky felt his heartstrings pull at the affection in her words, and without hesitation, he pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he inhaled her scent deeply. "Better. Much better, 'mega," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Bucky briefly pulled away from her, their eyes locked in a silent exchange and he felt a surge of tenderness wash over him, his heart swelling with affection for this beautiful woman who had stolen his heart. He reached out instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair away from y/n's face, his touch as gentle as a whisper.

As Bucky leaned in closer, the soft brush of his breath against y/n's lips sent a thrill through her. His eyes, filled with a gentle intensity, held hers captive as he closed the distance between them. With a tender touch, he pressed his lips softly against hers, a delicate caress that ignited a spark between them.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as their lips met in a sweet and innocent kiss. She felt a rush of warmth flood through her, enveloping her in a cocoon of bliss. His kiss was like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day, soft and inviting, yet undeniably electrifying.

As they melted into each other's embrace, she lost herself in the sensation of his lips against hers; his hands rubbing the naked skin underneath her shirt.

While she was floating in the clouds, Bucky was at the brink of his sanity. He wanted to make his claim on her, to have her entirely to himself. and when the kiss deepened, he couldn’t contain his needy growl. His thick thigh naturally settled in between hers, gently guiding her hips down and her heat against the layer of his jeans.

Y/n herself could feel the steady beat coming from between her thighs, she was pretty sure Bucky could feel it too. Of course he could, and he enjoyed the symphony of longing and desire that pulsed against his thigh. If she ever snuck her tiny hands on his crotch, she would know how much he enjoyed her soft lips; and her pretty princess part.

Just as things began to heat up, a soft whine emanated from Daisy's crib, breaking the spell and bringing them back to reality. They pulled away from each other with shared laughter, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they realised they had been caught in the act by their tiny charge.

She glanced over at Daisy with a fond smile, her heart swelling with affection for the little interrupter. "So much for a second date, huh?" she joked, her tone laced with amusement.

Bucky met her gaze with a grin of his own, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I wouldn't want it any other way," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity; they shared a final kiss, a promise of more to come, before turning their attention back to Daisy, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

As they settled back into their makeshift nest on the floor, Bucky and y/n knew that their love story was just beginning – a tale of unexpected encounters, stolen kisses, and the sweet promise of a future together.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: im in my soft feels latelyyyyy and i miss this couple 😭 anyway, i hope you enjoyed this short fic 🤍

[zomyoo]

⠀ 𝗝.𝗪𝗪 ━ the vampire i loved 。

you fell asleep reading your all time favorite fantasy book, wishing you were born in its universe. when you wake up, you realize you're no longer in your bedroom.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: smut included! biting, mentions of blood and blood sucking, teasing, overstimulating, pet names, mirror fucking, multiple rounds, unprotected sex.

⟢ vampire!wonwoo x collegestudent!reader ⠀⠀—⠀⠀𝗪𝗖: 2,656

read part two here.

your jaw dropped at the gut-wrenching ending of the book you had borrowed from your friend. the whole novel had your toes curling and kept your underwear wet, how could the ending be the total opposite of the lewd feeling you once had? tears formed at the corner of your eyes, threatening to drop as you processed the death of your favorite character. you understood that the author had to make the ending as memorable as the plot was, but you never knew, or even thought they could do such a terrible thing to the character everyone loved.

you had been reading this series for a few years now, and you had finally finished it. you thanked the lord and remained grateful to your friend for having and allowing you to borrow the last book. being a college student, you barely had money to feed yourself and the job market was really demanding, so how the heck would you be able to afford any of your hobbies?

you closed the book to avoid staining it with your tears and sunk into your bed, sadness taking over your body. you had made up a whole story of your own with him; you were both married and lived in a castle hidden in the depths of a large forest with two black cats but the author killing him off just crushed all your dreams.

he was only a character, sure, but he awakened your love for vampires and the desire to be one yourself, you couldn’t just let that go. you stared at the poster on the ceiling, his beautiful face causing you to get more consumed by your sadness. with a sigh escaping your lips, you decided to go to bed, actually eager to fix your sleep schedule, which will probably last till you obsess over a new book.

awokened by the sound of chirping birds and a cold breeze coming in contact with your skin, you slowly opened your eyes, confused as your gaze fell upon trees and not the man who haunted your dreams. you sat up, the leaves beneath you rubbing together to create a noise, which was one of the two sounds that could be heard in the forest you somehow ended up in.

“what the fuck...” you whispered, standing up from the concrete floor as you looked around, the path looking a little too familiar. you couldn’t exactly recall where you had seen or heard of it, but you knew where it led and you began walking down it. using your hands to cover your exposed arms, you rubbed them, eager to feel warm.

the scenery was one you had never seen before. trees with little to no leaves and crows sitting on their branches hovered over you and the environment was completely dull, submerged in the heavy fog. in the distance, you could see a lantern, which was the first and only source of light you had seen since you magically teleported into this alternative universe.

as you walked into the depths of the forest, the lanterns multiplied, it was like they were leading the way, lighting up one by one. you found yourself fascinated in front of what could only be explained by witchcraft, no modern science would be able to replicate something like this.

soon enough, you saw something peeking above the trees, with the silhouette it created, you assumed it was a castle, or at least a building similar to one. as you approached it, you were faced with a type of architecture you would love to see more of; vertical proportions, pointed arches, external buttressing, asymmetry and long stained-glass windows.

you were very much fond of the gothic style it had and in awe of seeing right in front of your eyes. you had seen similar buildings before, but none compared to the originals. you snapped out of your thoughts and decided to walk in, certain you were drawn here for a reason.

as you pushed open the door, you peaked inside, seeing nothing but darkness, which you were never afraid of up until now. the emptiness of the room before you sent chills down your spine, and you could sense a presence in there, which made you freeze in place, wondering if you should step in. perhaps you had made the wrong choice by following those lanterns.

“come in.” a deep voice echoed from across the room, causing you to flinch and turn your head towards the direction of the sound. not wanting to anger whomever invited you in, unsure what they were capable of, you did as told and shut the door behind you.

a light in the middle of the room suddenly turned on, it was dim but it sufficed to see most of the furnitures scattered around the room, some of them covered with a white cloth. however, that was the least of your concerns, your eyes wandered around the room, adjusting to the areas that remained in the darkness in hopes of finding a human silhouette, though you doubted anything in here would share that in common.

suddenly, you felt a strong presence behind you, and before you could do anything, you felt yourself getting embraced. “i’ve been waiting for you.” the manly voice spoke once more before its owner sniffed you, buring his head in your neck and licking your skin.

you weren’t so sure how to feel about everything that had happened in the past few seconds. a random man had his arms wrapped around you, kept going on about how much he’s been waiting for you, and constantly sniffed your neck like your scent was enchanting him.

“okay... who are you?” you questioned, trying to break away from his grasp, which only grew tighter the more you fought it off. at your question, the man turned you around so you could see his face, and you almost fell on your knees as you did so.

“...won..wonwoo?” you screamed, pinching yourself to make sure you were not dreaming. “how the fuck are you still alive after getting killed off? and how the hell am i even talking to you right now? you’re a god damn character in a stupid book.”

“my love, if i was only a character, would i be able to do this?” he asked, gently placing his right hand on your back, using his strength to pull you in close, then placed his left hand on your chin, lifting it up as he looked into your eyes before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

you were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, your sudden move causing him to smirk and bite your lip. you slightly opened your mouth, which was enough for him to slip his tongue in, intertwining it with yours. you would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on, one of your biggest fantasies was happening and you weren’t even sure if it was real.

the man slid his hand underneath your silk buttoned up shirt, the coldness of his touch made you flinch, but it was quickly replaced with pleasure when he began squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. you were still in your pajamas, so you didn’t have any underwear on, which made everything easily accessible for him.

you moaned in his mouth, wanting more than his touch. you had been craving this man since you set your eyes on the book cover, desperately wishing he was real, wishing he would touch every single part of your body with his mouth, fingers and his cock. speaking of, you wondered if he was as big as the author described.

“wo..wonwoo plea..please...” you managed to let out, your voice muffled in the heated make out session you both had going on. he pulled away from the kiss and in a second, he removed your shirt, exposing your uncovered breasts, which he stared at whilst biting his lips. “they’re so beautiful.” he spoke, a red tint appearing on your cheeks as you slowly slipped out of your shorts, completely denuded before him.

he licked his lips at the sight of your naked body, his gaze trailing from up to down, taking in the view of your perky breasts, the goosebumps that formed on your body due to the sudden change of temperature, your thighs touching eachother, and your swollen cunt that wanted nothing but him. “touch yourself.” he commanded, and you laid down on what you assumed was a sofa, spreading your legs wide for him to see.

you put two fingers in your mouth, sucking them before your inserted them in your pussy, pulling them in and out as fast as you could. your free hand was on your breast, squeezing it as you imagined it was him. you threw your head backwards, breaking the eye contact you held with him, as you moved faster, your moans and the sweet noise of your wet cunt took over the room. he wished your sounds reached him directly, so he could be the only one able to hear them.

as he watched you, he couldn’t help but want to touch himself as well. he threw his clothes off his body and took his hardened cock in his right hand, stroking it alongside your constant moans. “wonwoo....” you cried out, literally going insane from lacking his touch.

as you moaned out his name, he walked over to you and shoved his cock in your mouth. your eyes widened at his length but that didn’t stop you from wanting to take him fully. the hand you used to massage your chest was now wrapped around his cock, and you were moving your head back and forth to please him, all while looking into his eyes.

his moans sounded so sweet. it wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely enough to make you cum. as you did, he began throatfucking you, wanting to reach his climax as well. “fuck..you feel so good.” he mumbled, a loud groan escaping his mouth as he cummed into yours.

after you swallowed his seeds, you got on your knees and kissed him, his hand reaching forward to grab your ass, lifting you up. as you wrapped your legs around him, melting underneath his touch, he sat on the sofa and you began grinding his cock, letting out soft moans. you buried your fingers in his hair, and slowly slid his cock in. “oh my god.” you uttered, your words followed by a loud moan as his length made it all the way in.

you began moving, taking it a step at a time to make it enjoyable for the both of you. as you moved faster, he kissed your neck and trailed down to your breasts whilst resting his hands on your hips. he felt too good and you enjoyed yourself way too much. riding his dick felt like heaven and his obsession with your body sent you straight to paradise. he made sure to touch you everywhere and it excited you even more. some of the things he did were very specific, it was like he had been reading you and knew all of your turn ons.

“i..i’m so close...” you breathed out, and he used a finger to draw circles your clit. the sudden overstimulation caused you to grab his shoulders and bury your head on his chest, jumping faster on his cock until you reached your high and eventually released.

“shall we go upstairs?” he questioned, lifting you up as you nodded your head, a little shocked at his ability to still want to continue. he had a lot of stamina, and you adored it.

he laid you down on the bed, turning you on your stomach so you could face the mirror right in front of the both of you. honestly, you had never been in this kind of situation before, and staring at yourself while getting fucked was something you were definitely willing to try, perhaps it could awaken something in you, just like the man playing with your clit started your attraction to vampires.

“wonwoo, do you have fangs?” you questioned, looking at him through the glass. he truly was pretty, you could stare at him all day. “indeed i do, why do you ask?” he said, staring back at you as he gestured for you to get on all fours, and you did as he demanded.

“i would l—” you began, instantly getting cut off as he continually licked your cunt, those small innocent licks turning into him completely getting drowned in your pussy juice. he sucked and swallowed, hungry for more. eating you out and creating circles on your clit weren’t enough, he had to slid in his tongue and eat you from inside. he wanted to devour you completely, your taste was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of it.

you never thought seeing your cum on his face would turn you on so much, but it did. he swallowed the parts he could and cleaned the rest off with a tissue, which he had a box of in his room for whatever reason you did not wish to know, it was never mentioned in the book.

soon enough, he aligned his cock with your cunt, gently rubbing your clit with his tip. you couldn’t stand the teasing, you wanted to feel him inside you, now. it did not take him long to realize you were needy, you had been moving your hips along with his cock, signaling that you were ready for him.

he smirked before shoving his cock into your cunt, a long sigh escaping your mouth as you tightly gripped the sheets. he slowly began thrusting into you, stretching your insides so his cock could fully fit in. when he felt you clench around him, he moved faster, pounding your beautiful pussy and taking in your moans.

he grabbed you by the hair and lifted your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “watch how slutty you look.” he uttered with no response. you were too busy getting rawdogged and fucked with no remorse to pay attention to his words. your eyes rolled back and your back arched as he slammed his cock against your walls with force and speed, filling up all of your needs and darkest desires.

“w..wonwoo...nhh...” you whined, slowly reaching your climax, your body trembling from the amount of pleasure you were feeling. it was too much for your head to handle but not too much for your body who yearned for more than just a dildo to bear.

the man spinned you around, shoving his cock as deep as he could and placing his mouth in your neck, sucking your skin to place his mark. his fangs made their appearance, and though you couldn’t see them, you could definitely feel them on your skin. he licked your neck before biting it, sucking your blood that was to be mixed with his.

he placed his hands on your hips, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he was close. “cum with me baby.” he seductively whispered in your ear, his words followed by a moan you could die to hear. you placed your hands on his shoulders, your grip tightened and your head throwed back as you came on his cock and him in you.

you breathed out loud, not able to contain yourself. you were drained and sure you would never be satisfied by anything less than what he did to you. the man kissed you on your forehead and laid next to you, pulling you into an embrace.

you woke up feeling sore, your head spinning and eyesight blurry. as you were able to see clearly, you had been faced with the same poster you sticked on your ceiling, a sigh of disappointment escaped your lips as you realized it was all a dream.

.... or was it?

dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/saradika-graphics this was NOT proofread, i absolutely hate reading my own shit, and the ending was rushed, please bear with me!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ copyright © 2024 zomyoo, all rights reserved

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

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

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[mythalism]

i realized the other day after posting about this fan theory that, at this point, it is basically talked about in fandom as if its canon, and newer fans might not understand why. my goal today was to explain the theory and all of the evidence we have for it in inquisition to give people a better understanding of why this has become so ubiquitous, and to hopefully have something to look back on in two months with that "apollo gift of prophecy" dodgeball meme when veilguard proves us right.

very important before i get started: this is not my theory. i didn't make it up. unfortunately, i also don't know exactly who did and if it could even be traced at this point. this is something that many people have believed for a long time, and i'm not the first to write about it. there are a lot of great posts and essays that speculate on this theory, and what it could mean for solas's character going forward.

PLEASE feel free to contribute thoughts, or link to posts you have made yourself or seen before in the replies/reblogs!!! much of my own experience with this comes from long before this account existed, so i dont have exact sources but rather random, amorphous fandom knowledge of this theory and what major arguments have circulated in the past 10 years. this post by @sammakesart and this post by @mrs-gauche went around recently and both touch on this theory and i highly recommend them both! i know @corseque has also written about this theory multiple times over the years.

i was first introduced to this on tumblr when it started gaining ground in the fandom after the release of trespasser in 2015, predominantly due to a couple of lines of cole dialogue from trespasser, so that is where we will begin.

shoutout to @daitranscripts and the dragon age wiki for the dialogue

this line of cole's is basically the foundation of this theory, and what is cited most often. i'm not entirely sure if the theory existed before trespasser, but if it did, i dont remember it being well-known or widely accepted like it is now.

this line is usually interpreted to suggest that solas, who would have been a spirit of wisdom/pride at the time, took a body and came into being as an elf at mythal's behest. this is also the line that suggests solas himself once wore vallaslin, and that he removed it himself using the same spell he uses on a romanced lavellan thousands of years later, but did so clumsily the first time and left the scar we can see on his eyebrow.

first i want to acknowledge what are pretty much the most damning indications of this theory

solas means "pride; to stand tall" in elvhen, according to world of thedas vol. 1

the dread wolf form we see in murals, written descriptions, and of course, in real life in the veilguard trailer, bears a pretty clear resemblance to pride demons:

most notably, in the face and eyes. yeah i dont really have anything else to say about those lmao it's pretty blatant

overall, inquisition tells us a great deal about spirits, and gives the player an alternate worldview through which to understand them, distinct from the chantry/circle narrative presented previously.

solas himself, along with cole, has a lot to say about the nature of spirits throughout his dialogue and banter with several characters. one sentiment that he espouses repeatedly is that spirits and demons are the same thing, but demons are a spirit corrupted and perverted away from its purpose.

Solas: They rarely seek this world. When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter. Wisdom and purpose are too easily twisted to pride and desire

During All New, Faded for Her:

PC: Solas, you said your friend was a wisdom spirit. Solas: That is not its natural form. It has been corrupted. PC: Corrupted? Solas: Forced to act against its original purpose. What did they do, what did they do, what did they do?

second, that spirits and the fade are a mirror, and reflect the waking world. specifically, that spirits reflect the perception and expectation of a mortal, and adapts accordingly. belief makes reality.

On Ostagar:

PC: I've heard the stories. It would be interesting to hear what it was really like. Solas: That's just it. In the Fade, I see reflections created by spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic Wardens lighting the fire and a power mad villain sneering as he lets King Cailan fall. The next, I see an army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause. PC: And you can't tell which is real? Solas: It is the fade. They are all real.

and third, that spirits are people.

solas expresses concerns over what the breach does to spirits at multiple points, including here with cassandra.

he also regularly argues in favor of spirits personhood, and passionately pushes back against characters who argue the opposite, such as dorian:

as well as the inquisitor themselves, should they choose certain dialogue options:

PC: You trust these spirits not to possess you the first time you accidentally make a wish? Solas: Do you trust your friends not to turn on you? (authors note: LMFAOOOOOOO) PC: Well, yes, but they're people. Solas: Ah, of course. PC: You know what I mean. Solas: Are people only people because they are flesh and blood? Solas: Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair not his wit? PC: They're not defined by their bodies, but they do have bodies. You need one to be a person. Solas: A demon possessing a corpse has a body. PC: A living body. Solas: A demon possesses a living mage to become an abomination. PC: They didn't make that body. They just took it over. Solas: Technically your mother created your body, with some help from your father, one assumes. PC: You've thought about this. Solas: On occasion, yes. OR:

PC: Spirits are bound by their nature. You said it yourself. They're shaped by contact with real people. Solas: Just as Leliana was shaped by contact with Divine Justinia, as those who serve the inquisition are shaped by you. If I change your mind in this conversation, does that mean you're no more real than a spirit? OR: PC: Im certain you have some rhetorical trick ready to counter anything I say. Solas: It's likely. I've had a lot of time to discuss the question with people. Or "spirits", if you prefer.

aside from this entire conversation being hilarious and very fen'harel coded, i think its notable that his enthusiasm and snark here is distinct from the way he engages in other debates, where he is often clinical and detached. on the subject of spirits, however, we get a lot more emotional investment from him - it feels personal. as he says, he's thought about it. on occasion.

solas having originally been a spirit adds helpful context for his insistence on spirit's personhood despite modern thedas's completely contradictory beliefs, and also helps inform his worldview more generally, especially in regards to elves.

one of solas's most heavily criticized aspects is his disdain for modern elves and the dalish. and i agree, it's fucked up and he is an absolute ass about it at nearly every opportunity. however, his feelings regarding the elves sometimes seem... strange, even in the context of him being an ancient elf.

keeping in mind cole's line from trespasser, that he "did not want a body", as well as another cole line from trespasser:

most people infer that there is some sort of resentment on solas's end for him having to become human at mythal's request. it seems as if he was turned away from his purpose. wisdom forced to be pride.

cole's personal quest, which shows solas passionately arguing to keep cole a spirit, supports this. it is almost as if he is trying to prevent cole from the same fate that was forced upon him.

throughout the quest he says things such as: "This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing." "A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them." "You would alter the essence of what he is." "It is good that he is not entirely changed, however human he becomes."

most telling of all, i think is this line at the end of the quest if you elect to keep cole as a spirit.

Varric: "He could have been a person." Solas: Possibly. Would that have made him happier?

OUGGHGH.

clearly, for solas, the answer was no. being a person has not made him happier.

regardless, solas still values spirits as fundamentally equal to people despite their differences and worthy of the same freedoms, self-determination and respect.

this kinship with spirits, however, might help explain his disdain for elves, in a way i find to be more satisfying than "all ancient elves are assholes" and more in-line with his character overall.

it seems as if solas doesnt see himself as separate from modern elves because he doesnt see himself as a modern elf, but that he doesnt not see himself as an elf at all, but rather as a spirit.

solas infamously says, following halamshiral if you bring up briala:

"I'm sorry, I was confused. I do not consider myself to have much in common with the elves."

the inquisitor has the option for several responses, and although most of us probably pick the one that tells him to fuck off, the others are more telling:

PC: Nor should you. You're not defined by the shape of your ears. They're not your people. Solas: No, they are not. OR PC: Who do you have much in common with. Who are your people? Solas: A good question. Solas: I joined the inquisition to save the world. Regardless of who "my people" are, this was the best way to help him.

"not being defined by the shape of your ears" and solas's immediate identification with the statement and approval of it sticks out to me. it seems like he's just being racist, and he very well might be, but in the context of this theory, it can also be interpreted as him disliking being "defined" by having a body at all, or any physical characteristics, consistent with how he resists the idea that varric and cassandra are defined by their own physical characteristics.

if the player insists they want to help the orlesian elves even if he doesnt, he still has something interesting to say:

Solas: Stop Corypheus. That will do for a start. It speaks well of you to feel for the oppressed. Help them for that. Know them for what they are.

this is not the only time he equates all oppressed groups of thedas to one another, defined by their shared subjugation rather than the real, in-world divisions such as race and religion. it's also interesting to consider the relationship between oppression, as a situation that evokes certain emotions in those who experience it, such as pride. as solas says of ostagar, spirits there were drawn to the emotions of the soldiers there. are spirits of pride drawn to situations of oppression, where pride is needed for liberation?

solas's failure (or refusal) to recognize the reality of how oppression functions in modern thedas along lines of race and ethnicity specifically is one of his biggest flaws, but it continues to fit with this theory, as it is consistent with that same sort of single-minded, spirit tunnel-vision that we see from spirits and demons. i would also assume that he considers spirits to be part of this monolithic group of "the oppressed", considering the spirit slavery/bondage practices in tevinter and nevarra, both of which he criticizes.

i do believe, however, that to equate all of solas's unfair derision of the dalish to him identifying with spirits over people, rather than ancient elves over modern elves, would be too generous and an oversimplification. its also clear how much of his anger towards the dalish comes from... wait for it.... his wounded pride.

solas is prideful. when he is faced with pride in others, he becomes defensive, even nasty. when his pride is challenged, often by others pride, he becomes almost unrecognizable. the dalish specifically rub up against his pride, in the most specific of ways that grate at his most cherished qualities and that disregard his own perception of himself. the thing he is most proud of, leading a slave rebellion against corrupt tyrants, erased from history entirely. branded a traitor instead, while those he fought against are worshiped as saviors for millennia.

Solas: I have joined my fair share of causes. But when I offered lessons learned in the Fade, I was derided by my enemies... and sometimes by my allies. Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say something isn't worth listening to. Over time, it grinds away at you.

its also possible, considering what we know of the nature of expectation creating reality for spirits, that the dalish framing of the dread wolf actually does indeed make him worse - more arrogant, less compassionate, more ruthless, more cunning, more of a liar. a spirit being perverted into a demon based on the dominant perception of it.

perhaps the most interesting tidbit about solas of all which supports this theory, is that this phenomenon of expectation shaping his nature, making him more prideful or more humble, is not exclusive to the world of thedas, but also occurs on a meta-level with the player by proxy of the inquisitor.

a 2020 interview of trick weekes, solas's writer, says this pretty much verbatim.

"Solas mirrors. If you approach Solas from a place of humility and say, "I want to learn from you," Solas will bend over backwards to tell you how flawed he is and how he's just coming at this from his own limited understanding. If you come in with ego, Solas is genetically incapable of not bristling when he sees your ego... because he can't not do that."

this is fascinating for like 7 million reasons, but most notably for the language trick uses that i believe to be incredibly revealing. first, solas himself talks about how spirits "mirror" the real world multiple times. second is the way in which they speak about solas's mirroring as innate, uncontrollable, and involuntary. he is genetically incapable of not mirroring. genetically incapable of not bristling at someone else's pride. this being a genetic incapability implies, pretty unambigously, that he is a spirit. we dont know of any people in thedas who have pride in their DNA. except. you know. pride demons.

pride is his purpose. he cannot turn away from it or betray that purpose to pursue something else. he cannot change his nature simply by wishing. if he were to attempt it, he would be corrupted.

trick offers this information as an explanation for player's extremely varied perception of solas when playing the game, and it perfectly mimics the way solas himself talks about spirits as being created by a dreamer's expectation of them.

when asked about his friendships with spirits, he says:.

PC: You're saying that you became friends with pride and desire demons? Solas: They were not demons for me. PC: Meaning? Solas: The Fade reflects the minds of the living. If you expect a spirit of wisdom to be a pride demon, it will adapt/ And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the spirit? They can be fast friends.

i just love how perfectly this reflects every fandom argument that's been had on twitter about solas for the past 10 years. like seriously.

random twitter user: you like that guy!? but hes a [demon]!! solas stans: he wasn't a demon for me

and it is true; people who are pretty deep into the games often know what solas is like to a low-approval inquisitor, but it can be shocking for new players to see what he is like at the other end of the approval spectrum, whether that is someone who hated him seeing the tenderness with which he kisses a romanced lavellan goodbye to remove her anchor in trespasser, or someone who romanced him witnessing the cruelty and detachment which with he grabs a low-approval inquisitor to yank off their anchor. he becomes almost an entirely different person based on how the player treats him.

for all that solas, in true spirit form, reflects the perceptions of the players, he has plenty of pure pride-demon vibes on his own, independent of player expectation. he is not just proud, or made proud as a mirror for player/character pride, but he often even goes as far as to act in ways that mimic how we have seen from spirits more generally, as well as pride demons specifically.

the wiki states:

"Spirits are not complex in the sense that they seize upon a single facet of human experience, and this one idea becomes their identity.[3] They are formed as a reflection of the real world and its passions.[10] A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose. For instance, a hunger demon will attempt to feed on anything it crosses,[4] and a spirit of justice will stop at nothing to uphold its name”

along with further reinforcing solas's tunnel vission as characteristic of spirits, he does indeed intentionally attempt to stoke arrogance in others, as well as test characters to see if they are vulnerable to arrogance and power-hungriness. this is probably best exemplified by his banter with vivienne, versus his banter with cassandra.

i mean this one is self explanatory. cmon.

but it becomes especially interesting when compared to his interactions with cassandra, of whom he starts out very distrustful of. however, through their banter, he immediately begins to test her for indications of her inclination towards arrogance and desire for power:

cassandra passes solas's tests and earns his approval through her humility, curiosity, and willingness to give up power for the greater good. as a result, solas softens considerably towards her, and becomes more evocative of wisdom than pride, offering her advice when she asks, though very humbly:

"i would hardly presume" is actually hilarious considering how he does presume. ALL THE TIME. but it shows the extent of this "mirroring" that trick mentions, when compared to how he speaks with vivienne, who does not pass his tests of pride: notice how his jabs at her specifically target her pride, the things she is proud of about herself, and tear them down:

he tells her that her position in the orlesian court is unearned, that the freedom she is so proud of winning for herself will come to an inevitable end, and that her resistance to demons does not make her special. its absolutely BRUTAL.

its especially important to note how little bearing vivienne and cassandra's backgrounds have on solas's perception of them. vivienne is a circle mage, a group of people who solas deeply sympathizes with, and believes should be freed. meanwhile cassandra is effectively templar, a group whom solas despises and finds unjust, and has been complacent in the oppression of mages that solas is so vehemently against.

and yet? it does not matter. he measures their worth based entirely on their propensity for pride.

it’s worth noting too, keeping in mind Solas’s almost uncharacteristic reverence for cassandra’s faith in the maker and (take this with a grain of salt because it was david gaider and he said via forum post….) that there are actually two types of spirits that become pride. wisdom, and faith.

"A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose."

what we DONT know: pretty much everything else about this. what was the process like? at what point in history did he take the body? how was that body made? was it stolen? did he start as wisdom and turn into pride later? did he always oscillate between both? was he corrupted by what was asked of him, to fight, as his friend was in his personal quest?

i could continue talking about this forever, probably, especially with how it manifests in the solavellan relationship and what it suggests for solas's story in veilguard, but ill cut it here for both my own sanity and yours. but first, a few fun dialogue bits that strike me as very pride-demon coded but didn't fit anywhere else in this analysis.

in conclusion:

[daftmooncretin]

I’m not sure if this is a hot take or not but oh my god in terms of character depth the show has completely eclipsed the original books. obviously lestat was always an insanely fleshed out character because anne rice was obsessed with him but tbh armand, daniel and louis have been given more depth in this 5 episode run then in what 14 books of the vampire chronicles? i mean armand was already a fascinating character to begin with and assad takes what he’s given from the source material and just creates a whole new being with his performance!! plus the additions to his backstory and relationship with louis add a lot i think. but daniel and louis in the source material? they had none of the original armand potential! louis was a white plantation owner.! plus he was incredibly whiney and i always found him flat and kind of two dimensional in the books. how the writers and jacob anderson managed to create the perfect horrific anomaly that is our louis from that…? fucking astounding to me. and daniel??? book daniel is a fine character, sure. but the layers the show added by letting daniel move on from his first encounter and grow into eric! daniel add so much to his charcter!! ITS THE WAY OLD AND YOUNG DANIEL CONTRAST EACHOTHER COMPLETELY AS INTERVIEWERS YET ARE STILL COMPLETE EMOTIONAL MIRRORS OF EACHOTHER. ITS THE WAY THE DYNAMIC BETWEEN THE VAMPIRES AND 70’s AND PRESENT DANIEL SEEM LIKE OPPOSITES AT FIRST BUT GRADUALLY WE SEE ITS BEEN THE SAME BETWEEN THEM THE WHOLE TIMS. DANIEL IS STILL TERRIFIED AND DANIEL IS STILL BRAVE DESPITE IT. HE’S STILL FUCKING SIMULTANEOUSLY PRISONER AND JUDGE. he’s the idealistic boy high off his mind and he’s the cynical dying old man and he’s both and he’s neither. (can you tell daniel molloy is the most fascinating and tragic character in this show) ITS SUCH A FUCKING FANTASTIC PARALLEL. anyway i love you amc iwtv. you are doing such a good fucking job. also thank you eric. i love you eric. your performance both haunts and captivates me eric.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This house. I kinda love it. The wood and stone 1970 home in Kirkland, IL deserves someone who will keep it original and take care of it. 2bds, 3ba, 2,500 sq ft, $495k. Look at this architectural masterpiece.

The roof from inside.

This flooring is made from large log rounds and river stones.

The owners have already moved out, so it's very empty and dark on the main floor. It needs a new family.

Down here is a large carpeted rec room with a wall-size stone fireplace.

Oh, how nice, they left some bar stools. (You know how I love when things convey.) What is that on the side of the bar- is that a game, or part of the bar?

In this little room that has doors to the garden, they left a bench that looks like it came off of a covered wagon, plus some wall decor.

There is also a lovely shower room. With guest towels.

The main living area is on the 2nd level. Beautiful demi-lune hall table and mirror.

And, a nice faux tree.

It's a very large open space. There is plenty of room for dining furniture. I hope they didn't just stage it, so all this stuff will be moved out. Nooooo! Look, there's even a little pumpkin on the table.

Another beautiful big fireplace.

And, look at the kitchen. What thick marble counters.

This is nice.

Quite a huge living space.

Very large primary bedroom is off the main living area.

It has a lovely stone en-suite.

Most of the rooms have access to the deck around the house. This is the 2nd bd.

It's quite large, too.

And, a lovely en-suite.

From the deck, you can see the beautiful property, which includes a barn.

Look at how large the barn is. The barn can be used for horses or a workshop, plus the empty 2nd fl. has lots of potential. The little cabin has a fireplace and can be made into a guest house.

Looks like a place for a hoe-down, to me. It's huge.

The cabin's in rough shape, but it has electricity and a water source.

Lovely 5 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/35444-Irene-Rd-Kirkland-IL-60146/61689101_zpid/

[riddlerosehearts]

thinking about how people who watch the emperor's new groove and somehow come out of it shipping pacha and kuzco, or thinking yzma only became evil when kuzco fired her and that she would've been a better ruler than him, are both so wrong in so many different ways and are also missing one of the things that i absolutely love about the movie. which is that, the way i see it, pacha and yzma are counterparts. as parental figures to kuzco.

like, just to get this out of the way first, yzma was a dismissive asshole to a peasant whose family was starving. and yeah, if kuzco had been in her place he definitely would've also done that, which... is why she would not be a better ruler than him. she'd just be the same because they're both horrible people in the exact same ways. her reaction to being fired is to plot murder, and as soon as his funeral is over she sets everyone to work on replacing paintings of kuzco with paintings of herself and covering the palace with imagery that makes it clear that it's all about her now. i'm not even sure why this is a discussion tbh.

and also, kuzco is literally a teenager. he's barely 18 years old. source: in the movie, yzma says at his funeral that kuzco was "taken from us so tragically on the very eve of his eighteenth birthday." she also claims in the movie to have "practically raised" him, to which kronk replies "yeah, you'd think he would've turned out better". and sure, she could be exaggerating, but what evidence do we have that she is? we learn absolutely nothing of his parents, who are never mentioned even once in the movie, or of anyone else who could've raised him, and she's his advisor who for some reason sees no problem with attending to royal duties in his place. most likely because she's his regent. also, i'm not exactly a fan of the sequel tv series "the emperor's new school" but it does have something that backs up my point: kuzco is revealed to be an orphan and just before his father went and got lost at sea, he asked yzma (who was also his advisor) to take care of kuzco if anything happened to him. so, yeah, the writers who worked on the series clearly thought that yzma genuinely did raise kuzco, and nothing in the movie contradicts this.

and i find the idea of her being his only parental figure for pretty much his whole childhood incredibly interesting because, and this also goes back into why she wouldn't be a better ruler than him--she mirrors him as a reflection of what would've become of him if he'd never met pacha. they're both incredibly arrogant, power-hungry, selfish, and cruel, with a tendency to blame their problems on everyone but themselves. yzma was even originally going to have her own reprise of kuzco's theme song "perfect world", which i really wish had been kept:

[ID: Lyrics that read:

I'Il be the sovereign queen of the nation And the chicest chick in creation I'm the cat with all the cream and ooh-la-la This deadly concentration Will put an end to my frustration Now this perfect world begins and ends with moi

What's my name? Yzma, Yzma, Yzma Yzma (what's my name?) Yzma, Yzma (What'd you say?) Yzma (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) Yzma. End ID]

(this song can be fully heard in "the sweatbox", the documentary about the making of the movie, and is also on youtube btw)

anyway, i'm sure yzma would not exactly have been the most nurturing or hands-on guardian, especially given that she and kuzco don't exactly treat each other like family. but it makes a lot of sense to think that her behavior influened kuzco's throughout the years. and for the entire movie, she remains determined to kill him. when he tries to reason with her and admits that he should've been nicer, she says the same thing to him that he originally said when he fired her. she never grows or changes and in the end, she hurts the one person who was willing to stand by her (and even then, kronk had never fully been on board with her plan) and he ends up trying to crush her with a chandelier. kuzco on the other hand is able to realize the error of his ways, come to regret who he was in the past, and start taking steps toward being a better person. his theme song gets a reprise where it's changed from a song about one person being the center of the world to a Power Of Friendship song. why? because, as i've already mentioned, he has pacha.

pacha, who similarly to both yzma and kuzco is in a position of authority as the leader of the village but unlike either of them is gentle and humble. who isn't afraid to stand up to kuzco and be honest with him even though he's the emperor, who agrees to take him back to the palace but has no obligation to be so helpful, kind, and caring toward him--and just about every reason not to be--and still chooses to be anyway. pacha who is 45 years old (also stated in the sweatbox documentary) and can see that kuzco is practically still a kid, not a single day over 18, who has time to grow and change. pacha, who already has a wife and two kids with another on the way, but practically treats kuzco like one of his own. who acknowledges that if kuzco dies all his problems will be gone and then still worries about him and goes out of his way to rescue him after he wanders into the jungle. who sees kuzco shivering at night and covers him with his poncho, who carries him when he's genuinely too weak to keep walking, who refuses to give up on him even after repeatedly being betrayed by him because he believes there's good in everyone.

also, while yzma ends up repeating kuzco's harsh words of dismissal as she tells him of her plans to kill him, kuzco had previously repeated pacha's words that "nobody's that heartless" after he saved pacha's life. and as the movie progresses kuzco and pacha's relationship becomes more and more equal and is constantly contrasted by moments of yzma being cruel and unappreciative of kronk's kindness. a good example of this is how kronk is constantly being forced to carry yzma everywhere on his back while yzma literally walks all over him and steps on his hands when she gets down, whereas when pacha briefly carries kuzco after the latter collapses he tells him he'll have to walk the rest of the way later and kuzco doesn't even protest.

idk if i'm even explaining well what i'm trying to say here. but basically, if yzma actually raised kuzco and contributed to his current behavior, then she and pacha both are figures who guided him and helped him grow. only yzma helped him become the tyrant that he was at the start of the movie, who was selfish and callous and saw everyone else as beneath him. whereas pacha helped him see the value in being selfless and considerate of others. and in the end, yzma is stuck as a cat and nobody is concerned about her. kronk has found a new job that makes him genuinely happy, while kuzco has decided to build a hut on the hill next to pacha's and effectively joined his family. in the sweatbox documentary it's even mentioned that chicha and the kids were at risk of being removed from the film, but it was decided that they needed to be there because having just pacha as a single guy who lived alone wasn't interesting enough--kuzco needed to go from having basically an empty world where he had nobody to being able to come together with pacha's whole family. and i just think that's incredibly satisfying and beautiful. it also leads up to one of the few things i really do enjoy about the emperor's new school, which is the fact that during the show kuzco moves in with pacha and chicha and pretty explicitly thinks of them as basically his parents while he's like a son to them.

idk. i feel like my mind went in a million different directions while i was writing all this. but i guess i just think that for all of the praise the emperor's new groove gets for its comedy and for how hilarious yzma and kronk in particular are as a duo, the movie also has a lot of genuine heart that gets overlooked. kuzco's character growth and his unique dynamic with pacha is, for me, really what elevates the movie from just a funny movie that i like to one of my favorite disney movies. and i wish more people appreciated that aspect of it and saw it as a found family story in the same way that treasure planet, brother bear, and lilo and stitch are all found family stories.