#than those who fully know what's going on

[argonautsoul]

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts. 

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

 — Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding. 

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

[foxqueen-katarian]

I don’t think having connections to previous campaigns was the problem, I think centering your entire backstory around them was.

Orym has a tenuous connection to Kiki, and this manifests in knowing more about what’s happening in the wider political landscape (even if it’s just knowing who the players are). Orym is a fully functional person outside of his connection to Kiki. In fact you can remove his being a Tempest Blade from his backstory and just make him a standard Ashari and it all still makes sense.

Bertrand went to the Hells with VM, but other than being able to name drop them, he didn’t have much going on with them.

Ashton having Dunamancy Juice in his brain made for some interesting conversations with Essek, and Caleb, and the Bright Queen. But he had other shit going on between the Titans and trying to keep his suicidal robot friend alive, and finding out what happened to him as a kid, that if you took the Dunamancy Juice out there’s still something to dig into.

Laudna’s whole deal though is/was Delilah. You can’t separate her from that callback, you can’t ignore it. It’s there, all the time. And it means that on some level Laudna is a problem the Vox Machina needs to deal with, it means spending time in White Stone, it means interacting with Vox Machina. It means introducing those characters into C3 in a way that you can’t take back or move past.

And it’s funny, because the people I see complain the most about ‘Bells Hells getting sidelined in their own campaign’ are generally Laudna/Imodna stans. Your girl’s the one who opened that door, and once it was opened there was no closing it again.

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (5)

catch you when i can series masterlist ★ vernon x rockstar!reader who’s a foreigner in an international rock band 📼 part five, a.k.a the one where a choice has to be made

ⓘ international rockstar!f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, angst, best read in order + headcanons & addtl. content under the cut. final part. ♫ part one | part two | part three | part four. ✉︎ dedicating this to vernon!rockstar anon, forever n always. ♡

🎧 suggested/accompanying listening for while you read. without further ado.

🎧 — “it's a sunday night, a night never to be trusted for emotions. so, a lot of you guys are gonna head home and either receive texts in the dead of night, or actually compose them that are not going to be fully representative of how you feel for the rest of the day, for the rest of your week.”

This is what the press know:

Six months after the two of you went public, you and Vernon made the mutual decision to end your five-year relationship. While you both remain mum on the reason behind the breakup, insider sources claim that the pressures of a high-profile, public relationship got to you both. The two of you are committed to remain good friends despite the split.

Only one out of those three 'facts' are true.

This is what the fans know:

Vernon is Mr. Perfectly Fine. There are moments where the façade slips, like when his breakup is brought up during a fansign, or somebody asks about it on Weverse. But, for the most part, he does his job and he does it well. He performs. He produces. He looks like the breakup hasn't affected him at all.

That Vernon can still function is true. That he's unaffected isn't.

This is what you know:

Vernon will be better off without you. A long-distance relationship was never going to be easy. Add in the factor of coming from two vastly different entertainment industries? Yeah, the two of you would have never worked out. You're doing more harm than good. Breaking up with Vernon is the kindest thing you can do to him. He'll get over you eventually.

You are wrong on all accounts.

This is what Vernon knows:

He loves you. Plain and simple.

He wants you. He can't remember a time where he hadn't; he can't imagine a time where he won't.

He will let you leave, let you walk away, if you think that's what's necessary. But he refuses to think that it's right. That it's fair.

In a perfect world— or at least a world that's just a little bit nicer to the both of you— he would get to keep you.

That much is true.

🎧 — “your friends, and your brain, and your morals, and your conscience have all trained you not to respond. but i'm gonna go against the grain and i'm going to suggest that the next time you get a message from the one you love, the only person in the world you love and can't talk to, that you respond.”

11203km • 17m ♫ John Mayer - Edge of Desire

11203km [🎸] welcome back. Liked by 11203km

11203km never left. — 🐻‍❄️

🎧 — “life is just too short to keep playing the game. 'cause if you really want somebody, you'll figure it out later. if you love someone, don't say a word. just come over.”

[FIN.]

[flower-boi16]

Octavia’s reaction is 100% justified, actually

So I already made an entire reblog about this but I feel as if this topic is deserving of being its own post because the fandom’s reaction to Octavia has hit a new low. I’m just gonna paste what I said from this reblog here.

So think of this; young girl living in a home with a close relationship to her father. The father is always there to comfort the young girl and even sang a song when she was little as a lullaby to help her sleep due to having nightmares of her father not being there for her, telling her that no matter what, he’ll never leave and she will always be okay.

Cut to many years later, and, suddenly, things change. The father that the young girl held close to…suddenly cheats on his wife and starts obsessing over a random imp over her, even to the point of making sexual remarks about him around her even when she’s uncomfortable. Everything was turned upside down for her, the parents who previously loved each other now loathe on another, and now the father who held his daughter dear starts neglecting her in favor of this random imp.

Which leads the daughter to grow a fear that her father will leave her in favor of that imp, a perfectly understandable one given that it was established before that she has fears of abandonment. THEN when that father takes the daughter to a carnival that she hated when she was a child, he spends most of the day flirting with that imp on the trip that was SUPPOSED TO CHEER HER UP. The daughter gets fed up with this and runs off where the father follows suit. The daughter expresses her fears of abandonment to her father and asks him if he is really going to leave her in favor of that imp. The father says no, realizing his mistake and assures her that he’ll never leave her and decides to take her to a place she actually enjoys as a way to make up for that…

…and then cut to 17 episodes later where the daughter then witnesses her father THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY ON LIVE TELEVISION FOR AN IMP. He told her that he would never leave her, that he wouldn’t chose that imp over her…and he does that with no hesitation. Without even telling her. Octavia doesn’t know shit about whatever close relationship Blitz and Stolas have, to her, Blitz is just some random nobody imp that Stolas is for some reason horny over.

And this effectively cements to Octavia that, she doesn’t matter to her father. He really would choose an imp over her. Sinmass further drives this home with a heart breaking song Octavia sings that offers as a dark reprise of you will be okay, as Octavia sings about her resentment and heart break over her father betraying her trust, for LYING to her. She says she’ll never be the same now and fully accepts the fact that Stolas cares more about Blitz than her. And she then finds out that Stolas was taking anti-depressant pills, making her believe that she was just nothing but a burden, an obligation to Stolas this whole time.

If she wasn’t, why would he leave her without hesitation? It’s infuriating to me how the one time the show has good writting the fandom STILL makes insane arguments trying to defend Stolas.

Is Stolas allowed to form other relationships outside of Octavia? Yea, he is, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that Stolas was placing those new relationships above his old ones, he chose Blitz over Octavia, his daughter, his FAMILY.

”probably called her a million times” actually we saw him call once and Octavia was happy to answer until Stella wouldn’t let her, taking Octavia’s phone and mocking Stolas for trying to call her. Octavia doesn’t see the whole picture because SHE DOESNT HAVE THE WHOLE PICTURE! Stolas never communicated ANYTHING to her, not about what was going on between him and Stella, and not about his relationship with Blitz. Stolas didn’t give Octavia ANY information about what was going on and guess what? Seeing Stars and Sinmass show the exact consequences of that.

In Seeing Stars Octavia runs away to try and see the stars for herself because Stolas was focusing more on arguing with Stella than her, which leads Octavia to thinking that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her, and she wouldn’t have started believing that IF STOLAS COMMUNICATED AND TOLD HER ABOUT THE ABUSE DURING OF THEIR MARRIAGE. Therefore she would be more understanding.

And in Sinmas, If Stolas ever explained to Octavia at any point in the show the full context of his relationship with Blitz, that would, at the very least, make Octavia understand his decision. Yet he never did. Octavia doesn’t have the full context for ANY of these situations because Stolas for SOME REASON never communicated to her.

And can people just fuck off with the whole “omg Octavia is such an immature/selfish teenager!” BECAUSE SHES NOT!! She’s not being a bratty, emotional teen for *checks notes* wanting attention from her father. Sinsmas is legitimately one of the best episodes of season 2 because it actually addresses Stolas acts as a father and calls him out for it, creating drama that doesn’t feel artificial for once and ends up being a step in the right direction for both Stolas AND Octavia as characters. But it’s sad to me that some people still miss blatantly obvious details like this.

Octavia is not a bratty teenager having a tantrum, she’s a girl that had her life turned upside down and is suffering through a divorce. I wish most of the fandom would actually see that.

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[morbethgames]

The Recoding of The Bureau is Finished

I’m done recoding the game. All in all, it was honestly about what I expected to be slimmed off once I got a good look at some of the scenes. As I expected, 90% of that were from the first 3 chapters. I am a mix of emotions after arduously spending hours upon hours replacing gender variables one at a time by hand. Which unfortunately, I couldn’t think of another way for doing it, because all of the characters were using the same gender variables instead of independent ones for each character.

I’m relieved it’s done. Disappointed in myself that I had to do it at all. Irritated that some people decided to put the game on blast for it rather than give actionable suggestions on how to fix it. Excited to finally be able to continue writing both the extra scenes that need to be written and the main story. I honestly don’t know which one I’m going to continue with first.

Please leave feedback.

There are still no doubt one or two spots with maybe 1-2k words each that could be slimmed down, but that would require a lot of work for very little payoff. So yes, I’m comfortable saying, the game is almost 400k words long in total. 85k words per playthrough. That’s not including the extra scenes in the stats screen, because randomtest doesn’t go in the stats screen (to my knowledge at least, someone can correct me if I’m wrong). So you still have to play the game roughly 5 times and choose different choices to see everything it has to offer.

Is the game smaller? A bit, yeah. Is it 100-150k? It’s more than double that.

Now, that doesn’t say anything for the state of some of the writing. If I have to read someone nodding, or smiling, or ‘slightly’, ‘a bit’, or ‘a little’ something in my own work again, I’m gonna jump out a window. Obviously, back when I started writing this, I was very much influenced by Wayhaven. I’ve since grown out of that idea. Since the game has taken on an identity of its own, and while I will forever be grateful to that series and continue to support it, there’s gonna be some changes in the final version of this game. Less of what I said above, less ellipses, and the flirting (especially in the beginning) will seem much more down to earth and believable for the setting it’s in, with a bit of wiggle room since this is still very much a YA game.

Please leave feedback.

The rewrite will not be happening until the first draft of the game is fully finished. I refuse to get stuck in a rewrite phase, mostly because I would just find it way too boring.

My patreon will continue to have static fiction on it, as well as sneak peeks into upcoming stuff. In case you’ve been missing it, Love In Stasis is up to Chapter 6 at this point, with more to come. I’m also thinking about potentially starting a horror static fiction.

I’ll be relying on people to playtest this new version of the game to tell me about any continuity errors, and gender errors, any anything errors. So please, play the demo. Let me know if you notice anything. I think if I’ve proved anything at this point, it’s that I act and fix things based on feedback.

And pettiness.

But mostly feedback.

Please leave feedback.

Last thing I’ll say; I’m gonna stop saying I’m bad at coding. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to implement the text boxes and fine tune them. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to code Golden Eyes. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to slim down the game that much from where it was. So it’s time I give myself the credit of someone who at least knows what they’re doing. I’m not adept at it, but I’m certainly not bad at it either.

I’m still expecting the game to end up over 500k words when all is said and done. It will not be one million words, but I’m actually kind of happy about that. This is proof I’m still working on this game, and the next time it updates, it will have new content. Thanks for those that are patient and stick around, your support does still genuinely mean a lot.

Please leave feedback.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

P.S. Please leave feedback.

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

[ryebread0605]

please please I beg you Jamil with a fetish for corruption please

Damn yall really got me exposing my kinks publicly lmao

I will warn, this could be read as dubcon so be aware! Continuing to read means you acknowledge this (as, in this, the reader is innocent towards sexual matters)

with that out of the way, enjoy!

You were a breath of fresh air in Night Raven College. Soft spoken, kind to everyone, and as sweet as honey. Your smile could make even Sebek smile back, even with his hatred of humans. But the one person who had his eyes on you the most was Jamil Viper.

To him, you were everything he wished he could have. Someone who had spent countless nights fixing up dishes for Kalim, someone who came to every one of his games and cheered him on (sure, you were cheering on the whole team, but you cheered for him the loudest in his mind). You represented a light in his life that he wanted. 

So why then did he sit here thinking of you in such crude ways? Why did he think of the sight of you beneath him, eyes blurred with tears of pleasure causing makeup to run down your perfect skin? Thoughts of you shaking and begging for more, not understanding fully what he’s doing but knowing you want more of it. He had to have you. He had to be the one to teach you. 

When an opportunity presented itself one night as the two of you were cooking for tomorrow’s party, he couldn’t let the chance go to waste. He started small, his hand lingering a bit too long over yours, soft brushes against your backside, pressing himself a bit closer than normal to you. You noticed but thought nothing of it as his movements had changed drastically since the day you met him.

But he couldn’t let you think it was a simple coincidence. He needed to let you know it was all intentional. He needed to give you a chance to reject him. To think long and hard about what you wanted to do about this. So he moved his hand to your knee, his fingertips sliding over your stockings, the lightest caresses. Your skin was soft and warm, and he just wanted to touch more of you. He needed to touch more of you.

“(Name),” he began softly, whispering into your ear, “aren’t you warm with all those layers on?” 

The question barely seemed out of place to you, it was quite warm in the kitchen afterall. So, with a bit of a nod, you slipped the cardigan you had on off of your arms and placed it neatly over the chair nearby. Jamil smirked at this, the look of pure innocence in your eyes only made the fire in his stomach grow more. 

He had to see more.

And so, a few minutes later as you turned towards him with the spatula he asked for, he ‘accidentally tripped’ and spilt vanilla extract down the front of your white button up school uniform top.

“Oh Sevens (name), I’m so sorry I’ll try to get it out” he knew full well what he was doing as he rubbed the stain further into the shirt, using the opportunity as a chance to feel your chest a bit. As the stain spread, he continued to fake being apologetic of the ‘accident’. 

“I’m so sorry (name), I’ll grab you one of my shirts and clean that one right away” he hated having to pretend and lie to you in the same way he had to lie and pretend to Kalim but in this case, he was actually gaining something from it. 

A soft laugh came from you as you simply smiled and unbuttoned your shirt, “it’s alright Jamil! Accidents happen, I’ll just be more careful next time!” He couldn’t believe his eyes as you innocently lay the shirt on top of your cardigan, now left in just a bra. He thought the most he would see was you in one of his shirts, and now he couldn’t ignore the tight feeling of his pants.

Sensing his discomfort, you turned to him and tilted your head, “is everything alright Jamil?” A thought, one so perverted and wrong, formed in his mind as a smile made its way to his lips, “actually my dear, I have a bit of a problem. And since you caused it, would you be the one to help me solve it?”

And that’s how you found yourself here, kneeling in front of him as he guided your head gently to take his cock in your mouth. It was a foreign feeling to you, but the praises he gave you made something inside you want more. And the way you looked up at him with those big, adorable eyes made him struggle to hold back. He knew he had to take it slow, and right now this was more than enough. 

He talked you through how to suck him off right, telling you which parts made him feel best and where to put your hands. The feeling of your warm mouth around his cock was heavenly, his head thrown back in pleasure and low groans of pleasure coming from his lips. 

“Just like that, you’re so good for me (name), just a little more~” he ran his fingers through your hair gently before suddenly pushing your head all the way down, a muffled gasp coming from your lips as hot ropes of cum poured down your throat before he pulled your head off his now not as hard cock. The way your tongue lolled out of your mouth when you softly panted, his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes staring right at him, Sevens it was addicting to see. 

“Now my dear, it’s my turn to show you how good things can feel~”

[truearchangel]

ㅤHe supposed that made sense and it seemed like Alastor had a very deep connection to Cannibal Town. One that went further than even just being friends with the local Overlord of the area. An interesting fact he was tucking into his back pocket.

ㅤAlthough he didn't think Alastor just frequented Cannibal Town because it was an easy place to get the food he wanted, he didn't know the other spent more time here for the sake of friendship. At an innitial glance, in the time they spent together, he had honestly thought that if Alastor did have friends—it wasn't very many. A fact he could relate to himself, and one that might still be true. Michael knew personally that when you had power? People tended to use you or abuse you for it.

ㅤHe wouldn't doubt that was something the Radio Demon was intimately familiar with either. Espeically with the way some demons seemed to watch him. Lustful, hungry.

ㅤWhen the question turned to being about Heaven it was something he latched onto easily, his posture straightening slightly as he turned his head a bit to glance in Alastor's direction. This was a topic that became more buisnessesque for him, something that was easy for him to ramble information off for.

ㅤ"When it comes to matter of Hell, when things like that are brought to my attention, you can guess it isn't for a purpose of just wondering what your favorite sinner to snack on is." Meaning, he didn't hear about Alastor to see if his radio show was interesting or not. "We, and I mean myself and my brothers obviously, met and voted on if I should kill you or not." It should make sense too. A new sinner? With power? Rapidly gaining more? Taking out some of the strongest overlords in Hell?

ㅤThat sounds like a threat.

ㅤ"I told them to wait, to see what you did with all the power you were claiming. If you went after Lucifer and he didn't kill you? I'd have crushed your soul without a single moment of hesitation. If you just continued killing overlords and sinners? Less work for us. If you tried to go for Heaven? If that was even a possibility? Death." He shrugged, as if he wasn't discussing Alastor's fate that had unknowingly laid in his hands.

ㅤ"Instead, you seemed to settle down, vanished entirely for some time, and I forgot that was even something to think about." Off of his mind that quickly, as if he had never been there.

ㅤ"Now that I've met you personally, I think you're funny. Clearly the entertainment form you have chosen is something you're good at. You have a very lovely voice, one that does work for radio, and a passion for what you do. A talented musician who should do more with that and when it's genuine—a very nice smile. I can see quite easily why people are drawn to you and I think that works for you. Perhaps to well, since I can see it's probably something you've taken advantage of before. How easily you lure people in."

ㅤPausing in his steps he turned to face Alastor fully. "But you could do to let some of those walls down. Since at the same time, as easily as you pull people in, you can push them away too."

"It says you are understanding of the fact that every living thing needs to eat in some way, shape, or form. And given that you brought the thing to life, it's your responsibility to feed it, regardless of what it requires to do so."

Easy as. Though he could not say much about what it meant for Michael to linger in Hell for longer than was strictly necessary. If his goal was to 'learn', then surely, he was learning quite a bit that he could take back. Had he not come to the conclusion yet that there was something worth saving rather than subjecting both realms to some manner of war?

Deeper than he wanted to go at the moment, head tilting slightly towards the other as he continued to walk at an even pace.

"Cannibal Town is one of the first places I discovered when I arrived in Hell," he stated matter-of-factly. "I think there is a camaraderie there that is hard to find elsewhere in the Pentagram. Consuming flesh is still a taboo in many places - so it makes more sense for individuals who engage in it to stick together. From there - and with Rosie's leadership - they've formed quite the community amongst themselves." And he an honorary member among them.

That Heaven had heard of him, however, was somewhat interesting. And not something that he had considered before, his ear flicking as he spared a sidelong glance down at Michael. He did not divert from his course, though he said nothing as the other continued, casual when he finally did speak, though there was a tenor of seriousness in his formerly casual tone.

"I am flattered."

As if he did not have a large enough target on him.

Briefly, his mind flitted to his mother. A practical Mother Teresa in her day - there was no question that she must have been in Heaven. Maybe not as anyone significant - not even a known individual. But she was there.

What he wouldn't give...

Alastor's claws gave a twitch, but otherwise, the thoughts remained secured in his head.

"And what did you think of me then versus what you think of me now?"

[trappedinafantasy37]

I went to a very old save of mine in which I knocked out Minthara in Act 1 and I talked to her again in the throne room. If you knocked her out, this is how she looks at you when she questions you:

She seems genuinely disturbed over your actions. Can you blame her? You were the one who knocked her out. You brought her harm for reasons that she cannot understand. She can understand someone killing her as that is what she expects of those around her. She will criticize your choice of sparing an enemy and showing mercy to someone you have greater reason to kill. Even though she has doubts about you, she shuts herself down, thinking she should be more grateful rather than doubtful of you.

You can tell her that you saw her as a potential ally, but she will call you a hypocrite as Gut and Ragzlin were not shown the same mercy, nor was any other True Soul.

You can even tell her, "You were simply too stubborn to die" as a means of trying to take any culpability off yourself. To try to turn the situation into a little jokey joke. However,

Minthara does not take it as a compliment and she knows you are full of shit. Even though you took the "good" path, she does not trust you.

Minthara understands mercy and even she believes some people are deserving of it. Sadly, she does not see herself as one of those people and is disturbed as to why you gave her mercy. There is no answer you can give her here that will make her trust you. She knows you went out of your way to spare her and only her, and that frightens her.

Remember, this is not the first time in which Minthara's entire army was killed right from underneath her and she was deliberately left as the sole survivor. Orin slaughtered all of her men in a blink of an eye, and Orin's "mercy" only brought her pain and torture. Later down the road, Minthara criticizes herself for not paying more attention to Orin when she first arrived at Moonrise. And so she is giving you a lot of attention, she is watching you, studying you, because she fears that you are going to hurt her the moment she takes her eye off you. Because you already have. Your "mercy" gave her a concussion, your deception had her found guilty of incompetence, and she was then subjected to even more torture by the Absolute in which she was given permanent brain damage. She is afraid that the only reason that you spared her, is because you want to torture her. Even when you show up in Moonrise and enter into her mind prison, she is expecting you to kill her and begs you do it quickly. She is not expecting mercy from you, only death. She is only in that predicament because of you. Why would she think for a single second that your mercy comes from a place of good intentions?

She knows fully well that she owes her life to you and that her life is entirely at your mercy, one you can revoke at any time. She doesn't trust you, she doesn't trust the rest of the companions, but she cannot leave nor walk away. There is no good way out of this for her and she's afraid of the cycle repeating. She is not going to make the same mistake again. Instead of her oath to you being from a place of affection, her oath to you comes from a place of fear.

[sludgekludge]

what are some of your most minor pet peeves with hellaverse?

this is a funny question. i like it

whining about silly things under the cut

the white on imps sometimes being scars and sometimes not throws me off because i can never tell what's meant to be subtle indications of a characters history (especially fun for bg designs imo) and whats like. a spot

i honestly think the main 3 in helluva have pretty good design synergy with each other and it makes me hate loona's design because she throws off every group shot

niffty being designed so similarly to the morningstars (stark white skin with red cheek spots) bugs me more than it should

it wasn't so bad in his first appearance iirc but ever since then asmodeus consistently gets drawn with a really tiny head and i can't not notice it

i struggle to really articulate why and this is probably dumb and snobbish of me but the form everyone gets where they get bigger and scarier being called 'full demon' just feels oddly juvenile to me. what does that even mean. full demon. are they like, half demon at their basic self? make up a cool word instead. it sounds like something i'd have written into my cool death reaper umbreon oc at age 9. i hate it. i dont even know why. it just sounds so dumb to me. like peak 'a child wrote this lore'. watch out guys im going full human (permanently injuring a muscle in my body because i stretched slightly funny while over the age of 25)

this feels mean to say but cherri's voice actor doesn't do a very good australian accent at all and it's incredibly distracting if you're even remotely familiar with how it should sound. similarly maybe it's just auditory processing issues on my end but i can't even tell what accent valentino is meant to have

his design is otherwise fine comparatively but i hate the eyes on pentious' tail. breaking up his shape and like. you slither on those. floor in your eye. at least 10 floor hairs in your eyes. i dont care if theyre just markings i hate them

remember when viv said vaggie's name wasn't vagina and then canonised her name as vagina (the only lesbian main character across both shows btw) and also instead of changing her name for real after she restarted her life from scratch she just changed the pronunciation instead of just the whole fucking name, so like clearly it bothered her just not enough to change it fully like she for some reason wanted to keep in part the name 'vagina' given to her by a misogynist man she hates-

i'm irrationally irritated that emily and sera's underwhelming. 'full angel' forms i guess turn up for a split second, it felt so weird and useless to reveal them now for nothing

in fact why is every angel we meet personally in heaven in s1 a normal humanoid even though there's a diverse variety of designs in the background. imo adam is the only one who has an excuse to just be some guy. furthermore where are st peters fucking ears. why were ears deliberately ommitted on his design and no one elses. he has no fucking ears viv

saint peter

[whateverisbeautiful]

I love waking up and reading your Richonne posts. You pretty much hit on every scene and I am so thankful for that.

Could you go over maybe a 2 part take of what you think had happened during the months of them getting to know each other during the prison times. Also, the months they got close together in Alexandria before they became official. Since, the show robbed of us seeing those scenes. I would love to hear your detailed theory on it because you know these two characters so well!

A 2-parter? You’re speaking my language, anon. 😋 Thank you for this message. 🙏🏽 And for some reason my mind read this ask and added in “a detailed play-by-play” of what I think happened and so that’s pretty much what I ended up writing. Starting with Part One - the time in between Seasons 3 and 4 at the prison that led to Rick and Michonne being like this in the season 4 premiere ⬇️💗:

I always like to think about what specific context from the actual show could most inform these type of unseen scenarios and then shape what I envision from there. So I first started thinking about where Rick and Michonne landed in the season 3 finale. 

If I remember correctly they both rode in the car together after saying their goodbyes to Andrea, and Daryl drove the bus. I feel like that car ride might have laid another small stepping stone toward growing Rick and Michonne’s fondness for each other. I don’t imagine that they even talked much in the car because it was a somber vibe after losing Andrea. But I can picture Rick seeing Michonne quietly emotional in the car, and for reasons he’s not fully aware of yet seeing her upset affects him and his want to comfort her is stronger than he’d expect.

I can picture something like when they pull up to the prison after Woodbury, Rick just lets her know that Andrea isn’t the only one who thinks it’s good that Michonne found them. And the silence after is so clearly his “I’m glad too.” But you know how back then Rick tended to say something that felt like it was almost going to be a profession about his fondness for her but then he’d sorta retreat - I think he’d do that and just add that they all are glad she’s with them. And Michonne would just give an appreciative smile and walk away because she’d still be pretty heartbroken over losing yet another person she cared about. 

Then I think going forward, that loss, on top of the loss of her boyfriend and baby, makes Michonne maintain a friendly distance from everyone in team family for a while. Like she’s always keeping herself busy by independently tending to tasks that help around the prison, going on runs, and trying to track down The Governor. But Rick still keeps an eye on her from afar.

And if I remember correctly, because it’s been a minute since I’ve watched these seasons, Rick and Michonne both weren’t members of that new committee that was formed. So I can imagine that maybe there were times when some of the other people closest to them were in meetings or away which may have prompted Rick and Michonne to chat a bit more - but still keeping it light and brief, not having extended conversations yet. Perhaps both would find themselves observing each other at times - Michonne seeing Rick out farming, Rick seeing Michonne out taking down walkers around the prison’s perimeter. Except maybe not watching her with binoculars this time lol.

Then, going off of info from s4, I think during these months that we didn’t see something that might’ve slowly but surely made Michonne lessen some of her lone wolf ways is when Daryl asks her to join him on runs. She agrees to go with him and they build a friendship.

And then whenever Michonne is back at the prison she starts getting closer to Carl too because they bond over things like books and comics. And perhaps Michonne and Carl especially bond when she brings back a bag of candy for him after one of her runs. They share some together and learn Michonne doesn’t mind the stale M&M's, and that becomes a running joke between them. 😊

So with Michonne getting closer to two of the people closest to Rick - Carl and Daryl - that starts bringing Rick and Michonne around each other more often too in a more social context. And this is where that crush we saw had clearly formed by the s4 premiere really starts taking root.

Like Michonne and Carl build this really natural, lighthearted, playful rapport and then it leads to Michonne lightly joking with Rick too. I picture that Rick is a bit bashful around her but they still occasionally have that flirty subtle-but-not-subtle “must’ve been something else then”/“you want to drive” type exchanges.

And Daryl definitely peeps these moments at times and knows you don’t even have to be an observant tracker to pick up on the stuff between Rick and Michonne. But he keeps those observations to himself...for the most part lol.

Michonne has playful banter with Daryl too but subconsciously she can feel that her exchanges with Rick feel different. And Rick loves it whenever Michonne spends time with them around the prison. It feels like family. 

Other TWD scenes that I think give a glimpse into what that time between s3 and s4 might've looked like are when Rick asks if she’s okay after she hurts her ankle, and when Rick washes up and asks if Michonne needs help with cleaning up those walker bodies. Lots of exchanges like that going on. Showing they care and like each other but are moving slowly toward really getting close.

And through these exchanges - of which it’s rarely ever just the two of them in private because Carl or people are usually always around - Rick and Michonne start to pick up on more and more things they like about each other.

I like to imagine that perhaps whenever the community had some downtime in the evenings or nights, it’d so often end up being Michonne, Carl, and Rick hanging around each other. With Judith there too sometimes, who Michonne seems to keep this subtle distance from as the baby triggers too painful a wound. 

But when Michonne starts to really care for them and feels herself getting closer to them - finding herself thinking about Rick and Carl while on runs and looking forward to their little exchanges - she starts going out further and further to look for the Governor - and subconsciously, part of that is to distance herself.

Rick isn’t crazy about her going off alone to find a certified madman but only really shows his disagreement in facial expression and maybe an occasional remark to Daryl about how he wants her to be safe. (And Daryl knows Rick wants that and more when it comes to Michonne, ijs.).

Maybe one time Rick does mention to Michonne that she doesn’t have to go out so much or so far but she’s adamant that it is something she has to do - hence why she makes that “It’s worth a shot" comment when she’s talking to Rick and Daryl in the s4 premiere.

She might already know Rick feels a type of way about her going on these missions cuz he briefly mentioned it before (and because he can't help but wear his emotions right on his face lol), but her subconscious also knows that staying around Rick too long is too vulnerable and wakes up too much within her that she thought died a while ago. 

Finally, I picture that there’s one night when Rick, Michonne, and Carl are just enjoying some downtime chatting together as usual but then either Carl falls asleep or somehow he leaves to talk with one of the kids around the prison and it’s a rare moment where it’s just Rick and Michonne together.

And that night they start talking on a more personal level. They don’t divulge their life stories or anything because I don’t think they really deep-dived into getting to know each other like that until the second half of season 4. But in this conversation, they do open up just a bit more and give more insight into how they think and operate, which they refreshingly find to be quite similar. And in the areas they learn that they’re different - they find that refreshing too.

And I like to think that their talk on this one night was one of those things where -  you know how people say they were conversing with their person in the early stages of getting to know them and they just never wanted the moment to end and they could have stayed talking to that person forever and damn near do talk to them for more hours than they realized? It was like that. 

Rick and Michonne both know in the deeper parts of their psyche that spending that time together just felt right. Falling for each other is still something they're doing subconsciously rather than cognizantly at this point, but what they are aware of is that they do enjoy each other a lot. And how right it feels to spend time with each other also subconsciously scares them a bit. Almost like it’s too right too fast. So those walls go right back up after that conversation ends and they don’t really get a chance to talk on that personal of a level again until the prison falls.

Even though deep down both of them really would like to have that time together again, and low-key Rick is so eager for another chance to just be around her like that, that just hearing her riding back from one of her outings has him springing up from his farming session with Hershel in order to run and greet her and ask if she’s going to stay a little while. 

And that’s my take on what I think happened between Richonne in the time between season 3 and season 4. 👌🏽😌

And Anon, you know you’ve tempted me with a good time by asking to have a part two about the time between No Way Out and Richonne’s canon episode The Next World. So I'll try and have a (possibly less lengthy 😅) Part Two on the way soon. 😊

[multifandomloverthrowaway]

What Sky’s Character Should Have Been

(And why her and Viktor needed to be canon.)

This is LONG, and just my opinion. Please be nice!

In storytelling, each character, each scene, and each literary device is crucial for the advancement of the plot. If any is over or under utilized, the story remains cluttered or incomplete. That being said, it truly is a tragedy how horribly the characters, especially the Zaunite characters, came to be treated in season two. The characters and arcs set up in season one are butchered, and Viktor’s story is particularly disappointingly miswritten by the authors and misrepresented by the fandom, and we see this in the narrative and to a certain extent even fan treatment of Sky.

Sky is a ghost. Her presence, while tangible in the story, is not fully realized to the audience. We do not get to know much of her besides her interest in Viktor and a small flashback indicating that they knew of each other in their youth. Thus her existence and her death are ultimately unsatisfying; we do not know enough about her to be able to connect with her, and so she is ultimately only perceived to be an object to propel Viktor’s descent, even though we do not know much of his feelings towards her either. This is an unfortunate misuse of her as a supporting character, especially when it has a good potential reason to exist other than to solely be Viktor’s love interest.

Before understanding what Sky can represent, let us first define her in the context of the setting, particularly in relation to the characters that she supports. I have touched upon this in more detail in my Viktor character analysis posted, but for the TLDR:

It is clear that Jayce and Viktor are foils to one another. The difference in their opinions on Hextech sets them up to be a parallel to an important aspect of the class struggle set up in season one: Even when the oppressed are “good enough” to compete with their privileged peers, the resultant treatment by the oppressor between both is starkly different. Where the privileged will be lauded and commemorated, the oppressed will only be served minimal acceptance and approval. Thus, their characters and how they interact with one another, as well as the characters of their immediate mutual contacts and their own corresponding interactions, should serve explore this struggle further, especially when it comes to Sky, Mel, and Heimerdinger.

So Sky, like Viktor, should show how Piltover can misuse Zaunites against their hometown. However, to keep her character separate from him, unlike Viktor, who loses himself getting out of this trap and back to Zaun, Sky must be lost to trap itself. She must show just how inhumanely far Piltover will go in exploiting Zaun to maintain its subjugation over the latter. Like we see with other innocent Zaunite background characters that are killed by Piltover on the battleground, Sky must represent those that are killed in softer, more covert methods: through the extraction of Zaun’s finest intellect and the resulting false diplomacy. We must eventually see how Piltover indirectly kills her for being Zaunite, even though we know she is killed by Viktor and the Hexcore.

Sky then needs to have a fleshed out background that indicates of her optimism, grit, and innocence. It does not have to be as in depth as that of the main characters, but the audience must be shown the following:

Her academic prowess that indicates how she can capture sponsors and spin her botany research to help Zaun into something that Piltover thinks it can also benefit from. From which councilors or patrons does she benefit? How and why?

Her motivations for Zaun. What does she view an ideal Zaun to be? What would its relationship with Piltover be? We know she wants to make it better by creating natural greenery, but why does she choose to do so in Piltover? What pushed her to apply to the academy?

Her relation to Viktor, the only other known Zaunite at the academy. Did they interact more than that one time in the river? Were they friends or mutuals? How did Viktor help her get a position as his assistant and why? We know she is fond of him, but what about the other way around? What are their experiences at the academy like? How do they interact with casual prejudice? Do they stick up for each other? Do they find support in each other?

We must see her struggles to successfully obtain funding and traction for her own research due to Piltovan pushback and prejudice. (In this case, she must be in the same research group as Jayce and Viktor, but no longer their assistant as a decade is far too long to remain as such. She will be tied to Jayce’s name but not under him or Viktor.) This needs to be shown to contrast Jayce’s ease in becoming a councilor and gaining enough authority to push out Heimerdinger to further his and Viktor’s research. We need to see her project take the back seat because it is not the project that Jayce is directly tied to. We must see her have to to be careful and planned in who she talks to, how, and what she is able to get from them. This would provide a perfect parallel to Mel and about how being outsiders provides challenges when it comes to change; one being born into power with an imperialist upbringing and getting past Piltovans gracefully to a councilor position to invite it, and the other having no power and so relying on the street smarts and a resource seeking mindset from a more impoverished background to scavenge for it… yet both using the same methods (smooth talking, strategic connections, etc.) to do so.

We need to also know her relationship with Zaun and her perception of Piltover. She must be shown to nurture her feelings about the unfair treatment of her home into a more determined and optimistic view of potential equality and diplomacy, and their growth over time with her and Viktor’s research and their duty to represent Zaun. We should see her friendship with Jayce. We should see her interact with Mel and Heimerdinger. This not only lets the audience sympathize with her by empathizing with the struggles she faces above and her defiance in face of them, but also contrasts Viktor’s internal anger about Zaun and Piltover that he lets fester with his growing ailments and erasure of academic and technical contributions. This contrast sets her up nicely to symbolize the “good that could have been” in the relationship between Zaun and Piltover, and thus by extension, between Viktor and Jayce - hence her initial role as their assistant, and something that is cast aside as each character grows more towards their goals rather than the partnership.

This also sets her up to personify Viktor’s humanity. We’ve seen them meet. Let us see them study together, build things together, perhaps even fend for essentials together. Let us see how and why Sky fell in love with the Viktor from her youth. Let us know of Viktor’s endearment of her as we see him choose her to be his assistant. Let us see how they interact after facing prejudice from Piltovans and band together. Let us see her meet him when he’s on the hospital bed. Let us see her and Viktor be protective of and vulnerable with each other as they face the enemy. Let us see them bond just like we have seen him do so with Jayce. With Sky, we can see Viktor’s insecurities and his empathy like no other character can; in her we can see what makes him human.

This is integral to Viktor’s character and his arc. Whereas Jayce can actively work towards a future for his life with Mel and his career outside of Hextech, Viktor does not have the same luxury due to his illness. He cannot pursue anything but Hextech because his life and the lives of his people are on the line due to Piltover’s control. And that is precisely why when Sky loses her life due to the technology, it isn’t just Viktor that kills her. It’s Piltover’s waste, Piltover’s luxuries, Piltover’s unfulfilled promises that do. And Viktor realizes that after. Sky, in all her optimism, is fundamentally what Viktor could have strived for had he not let his anger and urgency spiral. As a mirror to Mel and Jayce, Sky is not just Viktor’s past but also his hopes for the future. And he realizes that he and Zaun has lost what could have been.

By giving Sky agency, we see just how much she could have done for the plot. But seeing how much the story fumbled Viktor, it’s not surprising to see her get “fridged” twice. I hope I did her justice!

If you’ve read this all, you deserve all the desserts. Thanks for reading!

[genderqueerdykes]

hi um. i’d like to ask you for some advice, since it seems like a lot of people come to you when they need it. i’m a trans girl who’s been taking estrogen for 2.5 years but. i’m just so disappointed and unhappy with what hrt has done for me. i feel like i’ve been completely taken over by doomerism from me constantly comparing myself to other transfems both online and irl, and from spending too much time on trans reddit (i’m sending you this ask instead of writing another vent post on r/mtf). through this i’ve convinced myself that i will never be happy with my body, or that i’ll never have real boobs or a feminine body at all. i really really don’t want to give up hope, but it just seems so far out of reach, and i’m stuck down here in this inky abyss. what do you do in dark times when you need to regain hope, but you can’t do it yourself?

first of all, i wanted to say i'm sorry that you're feeling this way. medical transition is a very finicky thing. there is no way to predict what will happen and when, so it's okay to feel just. completely bummed the hell out when you're not seeing the changes you hoped for yet. i definitely see how it can be crushing, especially when you know your body needs to look a different way for you to be happy. it's important to consider people look a lot different irl than they do in photos and videos. camera lenses can only capture so much. pictures and videos can be edited. it's hard to compare yourself to something like that

& i did want to say that you're definitely not alone! there are a lot of girls in your exact situation. with everyone responding to HRT differently, you'll see girls who get changes right away, and girls where it takes a long time. changes with HRT generally happen very slowly, way slower than the eye can perceive, so it's okay if you feel like nothing is happening. your body just may need more time to adjust

have you ever increased your dose? if not, that is totally an option! you may also want to look into progesterone if you find that you're not happy with your breast growth after some time. it's best to look into progesterone first to make sure it's right for you, as it will affect more than just breast growth, but i wanted to throw it out there as an option! if you're not on an androgen blocker, this could also potentially help you

for both estrogen and testosterone HRT, it can take a minimum of 5 years for people to begin seeing the effects they were desiring. 5 years, minimum! that's a very long time, comparatively, you are very early on in your journey. the effects you want to see may just come along further on down the road. i know it's easy to fall into the trap of comparing yourself to others. it's good to remind yourself that they are not you, they do not share your genetics. they look like them. you look like you. it's okay that you don't look like those people- they're not you.

it doesn't make you any less of a woman just because you haven't seen these changes yet. there are plenty of women who look just like you, cis, intersex, trans, genderqueer, and otherwise. there are many cis and intersex women who don't "pass", and it doesn't make them any less of a woman: the same applies to you, and every trans girl. dysphoria can be a real pain in the ass and make things harder than it needs to be. it's okay to not be content with where you're at now. it's okay to be frustrated that you're not seeing the changes you want to right now. many, many trans people feel just the same way you do.

you may feel awkward and uncomfortable right now because you're literally in a transitional phase. think about when teenagers go through puberty, about how awkward they look and feel. cracking voices, bodies that are "in the middle" and not fully developed. that's what you're going through at the moment, and its okay. it just takes time for things to fully settle in.

what i would suggest is trying to find ways to do some self care that affirm your gender that don't involve your appearance. validating yourself in other ways is extremely important. building yourself up takes time. if you feel insecure about how you look, it's okay. you can start building your confidence in your identity and gender in other areas of yourself, first, then move on to your appearance. try to spend time with people who respect you for who you are, no matter how you look. try to surround yourself with people and things that affirm you

i hope you start seeing those changes you want to see soon. if you need more advice, feel free to ask! if any other trans girls on E have any advice for the asker, or relate to the experience, please feel free to chip in with some feedback on this ask, or by sending an ask! due to being intersex, i was taking estrogen and progesterone despite not wanting to, so i was not cataloguing what was changing or anything like that, so i can't speak from personal experience there despite having been on E HRT in the past.

take care of yourself for now. try to go easy on yourself, you're still in your coocoon. the day where you emerge as a butterfly is on its way, it just takes a little time. please feel free to come back any time. i hope we can get some good insight for you

[hampsdesu]

Well, since you blocked me, my beloved Axel, I'm just going to have to reply like this. Oh well, you took the cowards way out, but i can't fully blame you. It must be hard to wake up with people bringing you to accountability, right?

Anyway, you said something in your last reply about me calling you a bad author and allat. I genuinely think you can do better. My friend (who was an avid fan of your work) also believed you were better than this, but alas. I wonder why you constantly have to copy-paste stuff from others? Even in your own "official" if the lovely bones. Although you did acknowledge the description was copied, you didn’t want to acknowledge that copying a description from an article that is subject to copyright is a bad idea, especially when it was written by that articles author with her own words that you took for your own, and what? Do you think putting it in italics does anything for that? Does it do it any justice? Do you think quoting stuff from books and not citing them ANYWHERE as content that was used in the snippets themselves is right?

I really think you're capable for more, as you're very protective of your work, but all those micro plagiarisms just paint you as the same old copycat from before, a shame on the whole community that spends hours and hours coming up with their own words. I pity your readers who, despite all, try to read your work, for they won't know what came from you and what you stole from someone else.

[immoral-stranger]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 // 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑. 💋 “I can get a little drunk, I get into all the don’ts but on good days I am charming as fuck.” – Tove Lo, Moments.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None except alcohol and drunkenness.

A/N: Sike, you're getting the first letter tonight. It's cute as fuck. Dedicated to all my girlies (gn) who get Tove Lo drunk when aiming for Pitbull drunk.

Charles wasn’t sure why he had agreed to go out tonight. Monaco’s nightlife, as dazzling as it was, had become an overplayed record to him. Especially during the summer with all the tourists. He remembered being freshly turned 18 and discovering it (legally) for the first time. It had been magical. Now it was a done deal, a well-rehearsed story, knowing how it would go from beginning to end. Maybe that was why he actually preferred spending time on his yachts or on some small remote resort on some small remote island during his summer break from the racing calendar. 

Alas, here he was, tipsy from an overly sweet cocktail in a VIP booth at Jimmy’z. His friends were having fun, as were his friends’ friends and whoever else could get close enough to leech on, knowing that Charles was definitely the one paying the tab. It seemed to be the primary talent of those people, sticking close enough to the rich and the famous to get something for free out of it. 

Charles found it braindead. 

He sighed, swaying half-heartedly to the DJ’s relentless house music. Was he even a fan of house music? He didn’t think so. Between the thumping bass, the flashing strobe lights, and the endless game of shouting over the noise just to make small talk, Charles felt tired.

Maybe he was getting old. But he hadn’t even hit thirty yet. Could you have a quarter-life crisis at 27?

It got to the point where he started counting down the minutes until it would be socially acceptable to excuse himself for a “bathroom break.” The moment came, and Charles seized it, weaving his way through the dance floor. He lingered in the queue for the toilets longer than necessary, opting for a stall over a urinal so he could sit in peace. He didn’t even need to pee. He just wanted to be alone. His head was spinning slightly from the alcohol. Not drunk, not even close, but his famously rigorous fitness regimen had turned him into something of a lightweight. Not that he’d admit it.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he navigated the narrow corridor leading back to the main area of the club. That was when he felt it—a tug on his arm, insistent and clumsy. Before he could fully process what was happening, he was yanked backward and down onto a bench. Or a sofa. One of those little black pleather-clad, trashy club furnishings. 

For a fleeting moment, he considered all the reasons he hated being famous. Whatever was about to happen—selfies, autograph requests, or an inebriated declaration of undying love for Ferrari—he was sure it would test the limits of his patience.

“Hi!” a voice chirped. “Are you busy? No?”

He blinked. Sitting beside him was a girl—young and lively, a light shining in your eyes as you spoke excitedly. Or maybe just drunkenly. You had that half-glazed look of someone balancing precariously between charming and completely hammered. You spoke English. A tourist most likely. Dressed up nicely. Not like you had another choice. It was Monaco. 

As Charles was too shocked to answer, you continued talking in a heartbeat. 

“Great! Not busy.” You clasped your hands together as though you’d just agreed to the most wonderful thing in the world. “You…” you announced grandly, pointing at him, “are going to help… me.”

“I am?” Charles asked, caught between amusement and disbelief.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, as though this were obvious. You leaned heavily on Charles’ shoulder for support, your words tumbling out in a rush. “Okay, so. Here’s the situation: I lost my bag. Then I lost Emma while looking for my bag. And now—” you gestured dramatically, nearly toppling over even when sitting up—“I am stuck here. No bag, no Emma, and way, waaay too much tequila in my system.”

Charles stifled a laugh. “And you think I can help?”

“Of course!” You nodded vigorously. “If you find my bag and Emma, then this—” you gestured vaguely at yourself,—“this will no longer be a problem.”

“If I find your bag?” he found himself repeating. 

“Mhm, then you can come here to me again,” you slurred your speech a little, nodding again like your head was constantly stuck doing it. “With Emma and the bag and no problems.” 

“You can’t do it yourself?” 

“Exactly!” You pointed at him, impressed, narrowly avoiding touching his dimpled cheek with your long nail. “See, you get it. You’re a lifesaver.”

You seemed to have no idea who he was, and you were definitely drunker than you had first led on. He saw it in the way your body slumped and in your bloodshot eyes. Your hair was messy, your makeup smudged, and your dress a little wrinkled. And you were undeniably funny, totally capturing and taking over the conversation without letting Charles speak. 

He helped you to lean against the sofa, getting himself out from being your human crutch. Still, he couldn’t find a way out of being your lifesaver. 

“All right,” Charles sighed. “What does your bag look like?”

“It’s black, sparkly, and small. Like… impossibly small. A wallet with delusions. But I bought it in Paris—”

“Okay, I got it.” Charles suppressed a smile. “And Emma?”

“Tall. Blonde. Looks like she’s judging everyone but will absolutely cry over a military homecoming.”

“Right. Tall, blonde, and emotionally complex. Got it,” he repeated. “Are you sure I can leave you on your own?” 

Charles stood from the sofa, glancing at you as you leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m fiiiiine. I just need the room to stop spinning.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Enthralled by your giggle and the way you looked sort of fairy-esque with glittery eyeshadow in patches around your eyes. There was something magnetic about you, even in your dishevelled state. He couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t also slightly concerning—a young woman alone in a drunken state. You were a happy kind of drunk right now, but he had a feeling that might change quickly. 

With a final look at you, he set off into the chaos of the club. Back underneath the strobe lights and the pulsating music. Back between the warm and drunk bodies of others. Somewhere, a girl in a sparkly dress was yelling about her ex to anyone who’d listen, and he thought for a fleeting moment how easily you might have been her—except you weren’t yelling. You’d asked for his help.

He heard his friends yell after him from their place in the VIP area, probably wondering why he’d been gone for so long. But Charles was on a mission—to find a minuscule bag and a blonde woman in a crowd of not that many bags and way too many blonde women. 

The bag was easier to spot than he expected. Its sparkles caught the light as it lay abandoned, right by his feet on the dance floor. That seemed too good to be true. He picked it up, the thing so small it felt absurd in his hands. What could you even fit in here? A debit card? A single lipstick?

Charles didn’t mean to pry, but he opened it to make sure it actually was yours, and much to his surprise, he found a debit card, some spare euros, some sort of makeup product, a tampon, and a driver’s license. Fuck, you were the kind of person who looked gorgeous in official portraits. And he knew your name now. Maybe he should’ve asked for that before he decided to agree on being your knight in shining armour. 

Emma, however, was more elusive. Verging on needle in a haystack territory. He scanned the floor and the booths, getting nowhere. Looking for a girl as equally lost as you were turned out to be harder than he thought. Everyone fit so well into the orchestrated act of nightclub hierarchy that no one looked out of place. 

Admitting defeat, Charles turned to walk back to the corridor outside the toilets, hoping to find you exactly where he left you. Before he could even round the corner, he heard your voice cut through the noise. 

“I know, Emma. I know that I do this all the time and that it scares you to death.” 

Your tone was half-pleading, half-explanatory, like you were trying to win a debate and console her at the same time. The sound of it made him stop in his tracks, curiosity anchoring him to the spot.

As he edged closer, you came into view, seated exactly where he’d left you. Beside you stood Emma, arms folded tightly across her chest in a way that broadcast equal parts frustration and affection. She was, as Charles had guessed, tall, blonde, and distinctly more polished than you at the moment. Similarly dressed but with an air of sharp control. 

Emma was the kind of person you’d send in to fix a mess—not become part of one. Clearly switched into full mom mode, she had already given you a glass of what Charles prayed was water and had tied your hair into a haphazard ponytail, probably anticipating the worst-case scenario of tequila-induced disaster.

Charles lingered just out of sight, gripping your little sparkly bag as if it were a trophy. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your voice was unmistakable and loud enough to rival the DJ. 

“I get a little drunk and I get into all the don’ts, but on good days? I am charming as fuck, and you love me for it.” 

Your voice, slurred but insistent, filled the hallway. You reached out toward her, your hands wobbling in the air until she sighed and took them. Emma sighed, her annoyance cracking just enough for Charles to catch the tired laugh she let slip. It was the kind of laugh that said, Yes, I love you, but you’re impossible, and I have considered leaving you in a bush once or twice.

Charles smiled to himself, your declaration replaying in his mind. Charming as fuck, indeed. He wasn’t sure if the grin tugging at his lips was due to the absurdity of the situation or the undeniable truth of your words.

He wasn’t invisible, after all, so when you were done with your exclamation to Emma, your gaze easily landed on Charles, standing somewhat pathetically, waiting just a few metres away. The moment your eyes met his, you lit up like you’d just remembered something incredibly important.

“And look!” you exclaimed, pointing toward him. Drunk you had a thing for pointing. “I had this… hot guy here to help me. He’s found my bag! You, sir, are a lifesaver.”

You’d just managed to call him both “hot” and “sir” in the same breath, and Charles wasn’t sure if it was because you didn’t know his name or if you were trying to drive him completely insane.

Emma’s head whipped toward Charles, her face shifting from surprise to a kind of restrained horror as recognition dawned. Her posture stiffened again, her folded arms tightening. While you hadn’t known who Charles was, Emma definitely did. 

“Y-you roped Charles fucking Leclerc into looking for your bag?!” 

“A what now?” you mumbled, looking between the two of them with confusion written across your face.

Charles stepped closer, handing you the bag like a peace offering. “I am… a Charles Leclerc.” 

“It’s a thing?”

“No, it’s my name.” 

You squinted at him, as though trying to decide if this explanation satisfied you. Then, with a dramatic sigh, you let your head fall back against the wall. “You should have led with that,” you pointed out. “I need to sit down. Oh wait—” You gestured weakly at your own position. “Already doing that.”

“Charles Leclerc,” Emma said, gesturing toward him with an incredulous sweep of her hand. “Formula 1 driver? Like… literally one of the best in the world?”

“Ohhh, right. We’re in Monaco,” you mumbled to yourself. 

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something about you being impossible. Then she straightened, looking at Charles briefly before her gaze shifted to the dance floor. “I’m going to find the others and tell them it’s time to go. Don’t let her wander off again, please.”

Before Charles could respond, she disappeared into the crowd, her blonde head bobbing toward the pulsating lights. He watched her go, unsure if he’d just been handed a babysitting gig or a challenge. When he turned back, you were studying him, your head tilted slightly.

Charles hesitated, then he sat down beside you again, leaning back against the worn pleather as he looked right back at you. Up close, the club lights caught in your hair, making it shimmer like an accidental halo. He wondered if it was the alcohol in his veins or just the moment, but you looked… luminous.

“So, what now? Bag found, friend located. Mission accomplished,” he asked, almost proudly, as he relaxed further into his seat. 

You drunkenly fumbled through the belongings inside your bag, in disbelief over everything being there. “You really did solve all of my problems… Thank you,” you said softly, a hint of genuine gratitude creeping into your voice.

He smiled, his amusement softening into something warmer. “You’re welcome.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze slower now, more deliberate. “It makes sense that you’re famous,” you said finally, as if you’d unravelled some profound mystery. “You’ve got a really pretty face.”

Charles chuckled completely unguarded. “I think that’s the tequila talking.”

“Nope,” you said, grinning with certainty. “That’s all me.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn in by your confidence, your complete lack of pretense. On top of the almost sticky pleather sofa, he could see your hand move tentatively, dancing over the fabric, aimless yet perfectly intentional. He wasn’t thinking when he grabbed it, intertwining his fingers with your own, but it felt right—and something innocent that felt this right couldn’t be wrong. 

“I think you were right,” he said, not scared to look you in the eye. “About you being charming as fuck.”

“Good,” you replied, raising your glass of water in a mock toast. “Because I think I’m keeping you here for a while.”

“Still too drunk to walk?” he teased. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” you declared, each syllable landing like a punchline. 

He laughed loudly, letting the chaos fade into the background, his hand grounded in yours, feeling more intimate than any drunken kiss had ever done.

Charles wasn’t dreading being in the club on a Saturday night for once, not counting the minutes until he could leave without being called boring. Instead, he found himself thinking about where you might go next—and wondering if he could come along. Even if that was a hotel room after-party or a rented apartment in Nice. You were more interesting than anything else Monaco could offer right now, and filer à l’anglaise would leave the leeches to pay for their own enjoyment. 

Thank you for reading, hope this is a good introduction to what the rest of the love letters will be like! Please comment, like, reblog, bombard me with messages, I feed off that stuff 💌

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send

(if i haven't tagged you it's because your age wasn't visible for me to verify on your blog, i keep that as a precaution even if i'm not always posting smut)

[oceanicwriting]

a deal.

summary: for weeks, rumors of a new drug have been circulating in the halls of hogwarts. your friends, curious about the stories of those who have tried it, send you, a hufflepuff prefect, to buy it. your surprise is great when mattheo riddle himself is the mysterious seller... although the boy's luck was greater.

pairing(s): dealer!mattheo riddle x fem!hufflepuff!reader

a/n: english is not my native language! i didn't check this work twice, and it was inspired by a clip of "babygirl" movie hehe

pure tension, mention and use of drugs

ㅤㅤㅤ—why should i do it? —you say complainingly, putting on your cape—. what if i make a mistake and they makes me disappear with a spell?

ㅤㅤㅤ—don't be exaggerated! —one of your friends exclaims, smiling to calm your nervous gaze. it wasn't working—. you have much more character than any of us...

ㅤㅤㅤ—besides, you're the best at defense against the dark arts.

ㅤㅤㅤ—just go.

ㅤㅤㅤyour gaze travels between them one last time, and you nod while you adjust the black hood on your head. if you had had the courage to refuse, everything would have been much easier for your nervous system, but you didn't.

ㅤㅤㅤthe girls had been obsessed for weeks with trying a drug that was going around among the students of hogwarts. according to your classmates, who dared to try it, the effect was like going up to heaven and returning to mortals, christening the pill as "the road to merlin". you are not sure how they managed to convince your friends, but it was much easier to convince you.

ㅤㅤㅤthe hiding place of the mysterious seller was on the fifth floor of the castle. according to your friends, you had to find a perfect mouse house and press the highest stone. when you get there, without having met any teacher, you look at ground level for what would let you in.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you find it, everything happens just as they told it, opening the wall to a hallway with lit torches. when you are fully inside, the wall returns to its natural state, leaving you trapped in that place. walking down the length of the corridor, you come to an old wooden door that swings a little, making the hinges creak, muffling the sound of your unsure steps.

ㅤㅤㅤbefore entering, you take the handle of your wand, resting in your back pocket, and sigh all the air trapped in your lungs. Then, gently pushing the wood, you feel a strong, musty aroma take over your nostrils and spider webs break in your head. it seemed to be an old classroom because of the tables built into the wall, while right in the center sits a boy with wavy hair. he hadn't even flinched at the sound of your presence, and it makes your skin crawl.

ㅤㅤㅤ—hello. —only then you see how your companion's back tenses. you try not to let the simple reaction interfere with the courage you've built up to get there—. i'm here to buy something.

ㅤㅤㅤa thread of smoke rises from his head, and the chair makes a loud squeak as it's dragged against the floor. he was getting up with exasperating slowness.

ㅤㅤㅤ—of all the people in this place? —he says, his voice rumbling like an endless echo—. you?

ㅤㅤㅤand he turns, giving the mysterious face the shape of mattheo riddle. on his lips there's a disinterested and arrogant smile that flips your tight stomach. your heart had stopped for a second because without knowing him at all, you knew the reputation a riddle had.

ㅤㅤㅤ—interesting —he says, leaving the cigarette in his fingers in the ashtray on the table. he begins to advance in your direction with a predatory slowness—. who told you my secret?

ㅤㅤㅤ more than a request, it is an order that leaves no room for refutation. attracted by the sound of his voice and the way his small eyes study you, you feel that you must answer truthfully or he will catch you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—answer me.

ㅤㅤㅤ—the weasley twins have told my friends. —you whisper, tightening your hand on the wand.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo stays completely silent, looking you up and down with amusement. he had observed you many times before in the halls when you were alone or accompanied, in the library when you were trying to memorize something for potions or in the courtyards when you were playing with your cat. he saw you every time at dinner, hoping that you would notice it... but you never did.

ㅤㅤㅤhe loved the way your hair moved when you walked and the exquisite way your uniform fit your figure. it wasn't a surprise to dream about you every night, because he was sure that just by tasting you, he could become as addicted as all those who went in search of drugs.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want to buy something for yourself, princess?

ㅤㅤㅤyou don't answer, because you weren't interested in getting high on who knows what, but your friends wouldn't let it go either.

ㅤㅤㅤ—or are you doing what you always do? are you following orders? —you frown at his questions, trying to understand what he means. you're motionless because you somehow know he hasn't finished speaking—. tell me, do you want to try this or not?

ㅤㅤthe small white pill is placed in front of your eyes. mattheo can notice the doubt in your scared expression, putting it back in his closed fist.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i don't know what you're talking about. i-i just came to b...

ㅤㅤㅤ—what I mean is that... i think you like to be told what to do, or am I wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤhis hand tightens on your arm, the one that was tightly holding the wand in your pocket, and with a sideways smile, he forces you to let go of the object. your shaking hand doesn't go unnoticed by him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—y-you don't know what you're saying, riddle.

ㅤㅤㅤ maybe you should have thought it through better because your words manage to light a flame inside the boy. although you had no way of knowing it. mattheo caresses the fabric of your cape before pulling it hard and beginning to push you into the room gently. you wanted to say something, run, hit him, or react, but there was something much stronger than your own will burning you from within.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so if i order you to kiss me, you won't do it? —your whole body stiffens with the sound of his voice behind you, pushing you closer and closer to the table—. i want you to take a seat there.

ㅤㅤㅤyou can't ignore the way your whole body reacts to the boy's deep voice, less when you turn around to try to regain your dignity. his carefree smile, demanding gaze, and wide body only intensify the wave of unknown sensations.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i said take a seat.

ㅤㅤㅤyou do. the hardness of the old wood presses against your butt, releasing a soft creak. mattheo looks at you, fascinated and excited by the obedience you've shown. although his thoughts are elsewhere, he tries to keep his head on what he's really wanted from you all this time.

ㅤㅤㅤhe searches for something under the table, then places a small, clear plastic bag right in front of you with three small pills. all three are different colors and don't look as dangerous as you'd imagined. when you direct your hand to your pocket, he quickly stops you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—can you help me... —his hand approaches your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten into your face—. let me repeat it, you're going to help me. i should ask you if you want, but i'm not interested in knowing what you think. i need someone like you, princess.

ㅤㅤㅤhis gaze runs over your entire body quickly, and he smiles, satisfied with the way your breathing quickens at the scrutiny. mattheo, in his head, has two options: you remain terrified of his presence or you react to his voice. he liked to think it was the latter.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no one would suspect someone as correct as you, right? no one will notice that you are working for me. —his hand travels from your cheek to your hand, slowly traveling the entire length of your body—. besides, aren't you the best in your group in defense against the dark arts?

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want me to help you sell... drugs?

ㅤㅤㅤyou don't know what face you must have made, but mattheo can't hold back the laughter that escapes his lips.

ㅤㅤㅤ—yes. —his hand takes your chin delicately, but his gaze couldn't be more demanding and serious—. and i want you to be clear that it's not a request, princess. you're going to be so loyal and... useful to me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you try to refuse, say something to let him know your disagreement or move out of his sight, but it's not allowed. mattheo was being so serious that it scares you a little when he stops playing and orders you to leave. you don't know why, how or when you would have to meet him again, but somehow you hope it won't be soon.