#there are many instances in which one side is right and the other is wrong

[bum-tan]

Honestly, I'm genuinely surprised that Cartman isn't the bicycle of the South Park Fandom and that the ships involving him aren't as enjoyed as other ships.

Don't get me wrong ! I love Creek and Stendy, and I believe they are popular in their own rights; I just find it weird that ships involving Cartman aren't nearly as popular as they could be, especially considering the fact that almost every prominent character has material and a bit of chemistry with him in the show.

For instance:

-Cartman's rivalry with Kyle and their complex frenemies/love-hate dynamic with intense interactions due to often conflicting morals and ideals, which is the base of many episodes. The fact that their very identities are complete opposite from one another, but they still share similar key traits such as being stubborn, egotistical, and driven. Their mutual obsession and the odd codependent nature of their relationship where they just have to one up the other. The constant back and forth where Kyle wants Cartman to change and become a better person, while Cartman wants to break Kyle and prove he is just as bad, if not worse than him. Of course, let's not forget that on the occasions where they do team up towards a common goal and set aside their differences, they work efficiently together. Moreover, they get along surprisingly well when they simply hang out and there is no clashing beliefs or morally charged disagreements. But what makes this ship truly interesting is that despite everything, it has been shown multiple times that they still care for each other, which adds even more nuance to their overall dynamic.

-His evolving relationship with Butters, that started off as extremely harmful and one-sided, is now a more balanced friendship. Butters, who is nice to everyone in general, is especially nice to Cartman and seems to hold him in high regards not just because/in spite of being afraid of him. He is more likely to choose Cartman's side every time there is a conflict and often provides unconditional support. As for Cartman, he has stopped tormenting Butters and he is even nice to him on some occasions due to Butters' loyalty. Furthermore, it has been shown that Cartman confides in Butters, which indicates a certain level of trust on his end, cementing that Butters is a close friend he can rely on. Of course their relationship is still far from perfect, but Butters isn't as naive anymore; he is now familiar with Cartman's cruel nature, having been personally subjected to it. Butters will stand up to Cartman when he reaches his limits and openly express his frustration at times because he no longer blindly chases after his approval. Nevertheless, he still sticks around and helps Cartman because he does care about him.

-Kenny being Cartman's best friend and arguably the one who understands him the most out of anyone in the gang due to their similarities like having the same humor, which usually makes Kenny go along with Cartman's antics, and the same interests (anime, video games, horror movies). The fact that they both have dysfunctional households (Kenny's troubled home with parents who always fight, and Cartman being the son of a neglectful single mother); as well as the fact they're both outcasts because Kenny is poor and Cartman is fat (poor, fatherless, his mom is a whore-) which are all things they can bond over. The occasional rivalry they have (the coon), though not as intense as the one between Kyle and Cartman, is still entertaining. How the show sometime hints at Cartman being aware of Kenny's multiple deaths and immortality (more consistently than other characters like Stan or Kyle, mind you) which adds more potential to their dynamic. Their mutual care for one another albeit in an unconventional way. Adding to all of that is how their relationship has its highs and lows, but they still ultimately remain close friends.

-The fact that Stan is one, if not the only person, Cartman is ever consistently nice to; while he may rip on him for having a crush on Wendy and for being too sensitive at times, it's never truly mean spirited more than it is to tease him. Most of the animosity he showcases towards Stan stems from him, more often than not, siding with Kyle during disagreements as Kyle is the most "reasonable" between the two. More proof of that would be how Cartman will sometime go out of his way to help Stan out when he is distressed, without any ulterior motives or grand agenda whatsoever. He will also encourage Stan when the latter forms his own opinion and acts on his own accord, all while disregarding others expectations. Of course, this is all only when Stan isn't getting in his way, because it's still Cartman we're talking about; but even then, it's apparent that he likes Stan, even if the other doesn't seem to particularly like him. They do have moments though where Stan seems to genuinely enjoy Cartman's company when the other kids aren't around. All in all, their dynamic is just as compelling as the others to explore.

-The episode where Wendy has a crush on Cartman and kisses him. That episode clearly shows they can get along when they work together and that Wendy can find him attractive. However, their overall relationship throughout the show is tense and antagonistic; Wendy is not scared to call him out and put him in his place for what she thinks is just, that alone makes her stand out to Cartman because she doesn't match the image he has of girls (His passive mom, other girls at school who'd rather just ignore him, the girls in the media he consumes etc.). While he usually dismisses Wendy or makes fun of her, he does feel intimidated by her, as shown in the episode where she beats him up. Cartman seems especially mean to Wendy since he dislikes being so openly criticized, especially by a girl. However, it can also be inferred that he respects her even if it's in his own twisted way. As for Wendy ? Well, she is frustrated with him mainly due to his obnoxious and bigoted behaviour, but doesn't harbour personal hatred towards him like Kyle. The implications and potential of their dynamic are what makes the pairing interesting.

Obviously there is also Cartman's entire relationship with Heidi before and after they started dating, which I don't think I even need to expand on as it was canon in the show and had its dynamic fully explored throughout season 20. All of this, despite Heidi not even being a recurring character, as opposed to the ones I previously mentioned along with others like Craig, and his friends (Clyde, Tolkien, Jimmy, Tweek, etc.) which, by the way, I could go on and on about as well (shout out to people who shipped or still ship Cartman's rare pairs).

Cartman interacted with almost every kid characters, and there are people who have shipped characters for less (Dip for example, which is also a ship I like so I am part of those people), so why not ship him sometimes ?

It's understandable that some fans just don't like Cartman due to how much of a bad person he is, (he is supposed to be hated. Afterall, he represents so much of what is wrong in our society), so it would feel wrong for them to put him under any other light than "horrible bastard". Other fans are just not comfortable shipping him in general since he doesn't fit the usual aesthetic as he is fat (I would argue that doesn't necessarily make him ugly, but I digress).

I for one think it's okay to like Cartman and it's worth addressing that ships involving him deserve more love. Does this mean I condone his actions and agree with his problematic mindset? No. I like him in the realm fiction only, and that doesn't stop me from exploring and playing around with his character in ways like shipping (wether romantic or platonic).

A ship isn't always "this would be so cute and nice, and it's totally canon!" Sometimes it's "This relationship is fascinating, and exploring it further would be really interesting." It's really fun too.

Got too deep there for a moment lol. Anyways, thanks for reading until the end if you're still here, and have a nice day. I'm out !

[o-craven-canto]

Tribalism 101

Our beliefs and policies should be judged according to Our best intentions. Their beliefs and policies should be judged according to Their worst outcomes. Similarly, Our slogans and symbols should be taken at face value; Their slogans and symbols should be scrutinized for any possible evil hidden meaning and embarassing associations.

If we are not as successful in our political and social enterprises as we'd wish, it's because we care too much about principles and truth to form any compromise, whereas They keep gaining ground because they are either hive-minded fanatics brainwashed with the same story, or because they are sociopathic opportunists without a single principle.

We act according to necessity and incentives; in the rare cases in which We did something bad, We were forced to by circumstances, and They provoked us in some way, and They hurt us first and did worse things anyway. They, on the other hand, do evil things because they chose to be evil for no reason.

We make essays and treatises in which we present arguments; They make screeds and propaganda in which they spout talking points. You have no need to take in consideration or even understand one of Their talking points, even to refute it; it's something that They would say, and that is enough to discount it.

If you read a story about one of Us doing something hideous, it's probably one of Them in disguise, or a meaningless random happenstance that They maliciously amplified, or a deranged madman acting without reason, and We can't be responsible for what deranged madmen do, can We? Actually, when you think about it, They are the ones to blame for exploiting such tragedies for their own gain.

If you read a story about one of Them doing something hideous, it's your duty to the cause to believe it and to accuse of treason anyone who doubts. The story clearly proves that every single one of Them is a dangerous maniac. It the culprit turns out to be a deranged madman with barely any connection to Them, well, you have to wonder what makes Them so attractive to deranged madmen. And if the story does turn out to be completely fabricated, it's really Their fault for acting in a way that made it believable in the first place.

If you see a contradiction between different statements or policies espoused by Them, don't waste time supposing there might be disagreements between individuals among Them, or that you might not understand in full Their beliefs. It's probably just because they are evil and stupid, so be sure to mock them loudly for believing contradictory X and Y, but don't bring too much attention to the fact that you believe not-X and/or not-Y, just in case those turn out to be contradictory as well.

We stand for empathy (except against bad people), safety (except for bad people), and freedom (except to do bad things). It follows, then, that They support cruelty, danger, and oppression, presumably because They are stupid and evil.

If someone both We and They agree to be evil praises one of Our ideas or policies, it's evidence they are good, because if even the Great Evil can see they're good, what excuse do you have? If the same praises one of Their ideas or policies, it's evidence they are bad, because what does it say about you if the Great Evil is on your side?

Only We are fully rounded human beings: if any of Them shares any interest or pastime with you, or if They seem to experience some of the common joys and sorrows of human life, it must be part of a devious plan to infiltrate communities of decent people and brainwash them into supporting Their horrible policies.

In fact, if looking among Our own ranks we find something truly indefensible, you may assume it was due to one of Them infiltrating Our movement to corrupt it from the inside. Just affirm how much you hate Them some more and you'll be sure never to fall in the same error.

Always remember: on every question, there are only two possible answers, one of which marks you as one of Us and the other as one of Them. If you are not maximally for Us, then you are maximally for Them. If you try to distance yourself from both extremes, it means you are a spineless fencesitting coward, which is exactly the same as being maximally for Them.

[blueteller]

You know... I often think about the fact that out of all events in TCF? Rescuing Raon was the most important.

It wasn't just because Cale got himself a "Draco Ex Machina" at his side that could use OP magic at his convenience. He could have used tools or Rosalyn's magic instead, at the beginning at least. We saw how he planned ahead and used an enchanted tool to make Taylor and Cage invisible to sneak them into the capital.

It wasn't just because through Raon, Cale was able to make connection with Eruhaben and later Sheritt and many other Dragons. They were important for their victory, but Cale could have gotten in contact with them through other ways – Pendrick, for example.

It wasn't just because Raon could detect things like dead mana or magical traps and disguises – even if Rosalyn wouldn't be able to, Cale would have probably figured out Alberu's connection to Dark Elves sooner or later. He already had suspicions about "a secret to his birth" before Raon mentioned the dyed hair.

Yes, those thing mattered, don't get me wrong. But, out of all the changes Cale made after his transmigration – saving Raon was the event that truly changed the whole game... not for the world, but for Cale himself.

Raon was, in many instances, the pushing force behind Cale's motivation to participate in various events. Slacker life? Cale's wishful thinking. But the motivation to actively get people involved – like Mary, for example. Raon was the one who cheered Cale on, kept him company through everything, especially the tough times. Raon was the one who, along with On and Hong, melted Cale's heart the fastest, getting this stubborn, traumatized man to admit they were "family". It's not that he wouldn't be a good man doing good things without Raon; but without Raon he would be in a lot more denial (even more than he already is!!) about why he is doing such things.

Raon represents everything Cale loves about his new life. The joy, the hope for the future, the curiosity and enthusiasm. Yes Cale often acts tired of (or freaks out over) Raon's antics or pretends to ignore him. But in the end... he never actually does. Cale never stops paying attention to him or tells him to go away.

Raon was the one who truly "got under his skin", so to speak. Cale wholeheartedly trusts and respects Raon. Of course, Raon is still a child under his protection... The reason why Cale always insisted on him staying hidden, throughout most of their adventures. I remember the moment Cale got the Dragon Blood Drinking Crown, and his first reaction was "let's throw this away/destroy it". The utter repulsion towards anything that could be a danger to Raon, despite how potentially useful such an artifact could be, logic be damned. Or that moment when they met the White Star for the first time, the villain telling Cale how he would kill the child and feed his heart to him – how Cale outwardly showed terror for the first time in the whole novel, instantly hugging Raon close to him and activating the shield to its fullest.

That's what really gets to me, you know? Raon's protectiveness for Cale is so obvious, but Cale is just as protective of him in return. I truly believe that while all relationships that Cale had shaped him as a person (just like the God of Death stated in his letter to him), the relationship between Cale and Raon is one that shaped them both in equal measure on both sides.

This relationship between them feels like fate, and that's no accident.

Changing Raon's fate was fundamental for saving the world, yes. But it equally important for Cale's own growth. An event which happened right at the beginning on the story, shaped the course of the entire future.

[sativariddle]

PLAN GONE WRONG ꒰ t.n. ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation. (9.6k+ words)

WARNINGS: insecurity, cheating!george, nipple play, instances of bullying, suffering with body image + struggles, and strong language.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.

SUMMARY: after theodore gets into a fake relationship with a ravenclaw to make daphne jealous, he finds himself tangled in something far messier than he anticipated.

theodore nott had it all — the looks, the intelligence, the friends, the money. and when it came to girls, he never faced a challenge. it was always effortless for him. but theodore nott wasn’t seeking heartbreak. i repeat, theodore nott was not looking for heartbreak.

but heartbreak found him anyway.

friday night, just after curfew: he took a walk through the abandoned astronomy tower. he hadn’t been looking for trouble — he wasn’t the type to seek out unnecessary drama.

but as he approached the shadowed figure near the entrance, the unmistakable sound of moans and groans caught his attention.

and then, a voice he knew too well.

daphne greengrass.

something in his chest twisted. it wasn’t like they had sworn undying loyalty to each other — theodore wasn’t naïve. but there had been something there, hadn’t there? some unspoken agreement between them, a mutual understanding that despite their lack of labels, she was his in a way she hadn’t been with anyone else.

apparently, at the obvious looks of it, that was all in his head.

because as he stepped closer, he caught a glimpse of her — pressed up against the stone wall, fingers tangled in the robes of some faceless, nameless guy who sure as hell wasn’t theodore.

for a second, he couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. just stood there, frozen, as something cold and heavy settled in his stomach. before he could stop himself, he cleared his throat.

daphne was startled, her body tensing as she pulled away from her mystery lover. blue eyes going wide with something that looked like guilt — but that couldn’t be right, because daphne greengrass never felt guilty.

"theo -" she started, but he was already turning on his heel, walking away before she could spin some pathetic excuse.

how can he be so clueless? after everything he did for her, you'd think the witch would finally see things clearly and not end up with some random no-life guy.

theodore didn’t go back to the slytherin dorms right away. he ignored all the portraits muttering at him, questioning why he looked so angry. instead, he found himself storming into the common room couches, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

he was halfway to the fireplace when a familiar voice drawled from the opposite of theodore. "rough night?"

blaise zabini, a spitting image of relaxation, was sprawled across the leather couch, watching theo with an infuriating smirk. on the other side of the room, malfoy sat by the chessboard, silver eyes flicking up with mild interest.

"she cheated on him," pansy parkinson supplied from her spot near the fire, where she was busy painting her nails black. she didn’t even look up. "saw the whole thing."

of course she had — pansy thrived on drama like it was her lifeblood. she was so nosy about his business that, at times, he almost wished the blood curse upon her. though, he always knocked on wood immediately after, just in case.

theo exhaled sharply, dropping into an armchair. "who was he?" he shouldn’t care. he shouldn’t care. he doesn’t care.

"does it matter?" draco arched a bushy brow. "the point is, she played you."

theo’s veiny hands curled into fists. "i don’t care." mattheo absentmindedly tossed a stress ball — stolen from one of his many hookups — between his hands, rolling his eyes every time theodore repeated that he didn’t care.

"right," blaise said. "which is why you look like you want to murder someone."

pansy finally looked up, the sway of her bob barely skimmed her shoulders, sharp gaze scanning theo’s expression. "you want revenge."

it wasn’t a question.

theo didn’t answer, but something must have flickered in his expression, because blaise clapped his hands together, looking positively delighted. "perfect. i have a plan."

from the tone of his voice, you’d think zabini had been waiting his entire life for this moment, his handsome smile curling at the edges with satisfaction.

“blaise, i just found out the girl i’ve been speaking to has been seeing other people behind my back minutes ago. how the fuck do you already have a plan?”

draco leaned back in his chair, smirking like he had been waiting for this moment. he had. “put it this way; we never exactly trusted daphne.”

”- could say… we planned for this,” berkshire added smoothly from his spot, finally speaking up as he tossed pieces of chocolate into the air, catching them with his mouth.

theodore stared at his friends blankly, processing their audacity. it should have pissed him off. but, if he was being honest? he was intrigued.

”…hurry the fuck up.”

blaise’s own grin widened. "we find you a new - fake - girlfriend. someone completely unexpected. someone who will make daphne lose her mind."

theo scoffed. "and who the hell would agree to that?"

no one in their right mind would willingly agree to this — if someone had come up to theodore and asked him to fake date them for revenge, he would’ve given them a strange look and walked away without a second thought.

"simple," blaise said. "we pick someone who has nothing to lose."

the process of choosing someone — anyone — wasn’t as easy as they made it sound. it had to be someone who would make waves, someone no one would expect to be tangled up with theodore nott.

so, the next morning at breakfast in the great hall, the group of six hissing slytherins huddled together.

"not a slytherin," draco decided. "too obvious."

"not a gryffindor," pansy added. "they’re too… annoying."

blaise tapped his chin thoughtfully. "we need someone smart. someone who won’t get clingy but also won’t back out at the first sign of trouble."

"that leaves hufflepuff and ravenclaw," theo muttered. "- hufflepuffs are too soft," pansy cut in. "we need someone with a backbone. someone unexpected."

that’s when blaise’s gaze landed on you.

you were sitting at your usual ravenclaw table, nose buried in a book, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in the world outside your pages. dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, lips pressed into a firm line: nothing like daphne.

blaise smirked and leaned toward theo. "trust me. she’s perfect."

the group of slytherins turned, their gaze following blaise’s eyes until they landed on you. like a pack of snakes hunting a lone eagle, as if they could snare you with nothing but a hiss.

theo wasn’t convinced at all. "her?"

"think about it," lorenzo said smoothly. helping blaise’s case. "she’s not involved in house politics. she doesn’t give a damn about us. and best of all? daphne won’t see it coming."

mattheo hummed, watching you. "she’s kind of… lonely, isn’t she?"

"exactly." blaise grinned. "which makes her interesting."

theo studied you for a long moment. he’d seen you in passing before, always tucked away in corners, watching the world with those sharp, observant eyes. you weren’t the type to seek attention. you weren’t the type to need anyone.

you were stunning, of course, lost in your book, completely unaware of the six slytherins staring at you.

you weren’t daphne. but maybe that’s exactly what the plan needed.

you knew something was wrong the moment blaise zabini dropped into the seat across from you, flashing a grin that balanced precariously between charm and devilishness.

blaise zabini did not sit with you. neither did draco malfoy, who slid into the chair beside him effortlessly, nor pansy parkinson, who leaned over your table as if she were about to offer you an illegal dragon egg. lorenzo berkshire opted for the desk itself, perched on the edge, smirking down at you. mattheo riddle dragged over a random wooden chair and flipped it backward, resting his arms on the backrest as he settled in. and then there was theodore nott — standing behind them all, arms crossed, fingers ghosting over his biceps, his expression carved in boredom, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

you sighed, snapping your book shut. "no."

blaise’s dark eyes closed and opened — blinked. "you don’t even know what we’re going to say."

"i can guess," you replied dully. "and whatever it is, the answer is no."

"hear us out -"

"i’d really rather not."

who could blame you, honestly? the six of them were bullies — bullies. cruel, ruthless, and known for doing horrible things. so when they all sat down, your first instinct was that you were their next target.

draco sighed dramatically. "we’ve been sent here against our will because theodore is apparently incapable of having a simple conversation with a girl."

over draco’s shoulder, theo shot a glare at the back of his platinum head. “nott, i can feel your ugly eyes boring into the back of my head. cut it out,” malfoy said, not bothering to turn around.

“fuck you. people actually love my eyes, especially the blue,” theo retorted.

“they’re lying. it’s the ugliest color i’ve ever seen,” pansy chimed in. theo shot her a look. “we have the same color eyes, dumbass.”

“no,” pansy replied, blinking dramatically. “yours are ugly blue, mine are pretty blue, and they’ve got a little brown in them. yours are just plain ugly blue.”

the slytherins began bickering among themselves, while you stood there, staring at them, before clearing your throat. you seriously did not have time for this.

the bickering came to an abrupt halt as all eyes turned toward you. theo turned back to his friends, rolling his eyes.

“i could have handled this myself.”

"sure you could, sweetheart," pansy sarcastically grinned. "that’s why you stood outside the library like a lost first year for ten minutes before we had to drag you in."

you raised an eyebrow. "should i be concerned?"

theo clenched his jaw and looked away, which was honestly kind of funny. he was clearly uncomfortable, but that wasn’t your problem.

"look," blaise said, leaning in conspiratorially. "daphne cheated on theo -“

“- we never dated,” theodore replied flatly, as if that somehow helped his situation. “then why the fuck are we here right now?” mattheo shot back, tilting his head up to glare at theodore.

“because we were still something, and i thought she knew that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. blaise rolled his eyes, turning in his seat to glare at each and every one of them for cutting him off.

once the group finally shut up, he exhaled sharply and turned back to you, picking up right where he left off. “- we want revenge. and what’s the best way to make an ex lose her mind?”

"i don’t know," you said. "move on with your life?"

theodore made a noise like you had just suggested befriending a dementor. "don’t be stupid." you shot him a glare. if there was one thing a ravenclaw couldn’t stand, it was being called stupid — because that couldn’t be further from the truth. and ravenclaws know the truth — are supposed to know it.

blaise smirked at how easily you were already irritated, but then quickly reminded himself that they had to play nice if they wanted you on board with their plan. forcing a more charming smile, he said, “we want you to pretend to date theo.”

you stared at them.

then laughed. hard. "oh, that’s cute… no."

theo exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “fucking told you,” he muttered before letting out a slow breath through his nose, unfolding his crossed arms. “this is a complete disaster.”

"you’re a disaster," pansy corrected before turning back to you. "we get that this is a little out of nowhere, but think of the opportunities here. you get to hang out with us."

"that’s not the selling point you think it is."

blaise’s grin never wavered. “okay, how about this? you get to make daphne furious, and it’ll piss her off even more since theodore never made things official -“

“- if you weren’t together, then you have no right to be mad -” theodore shot you a scowl, blaise ignored you, continuing to talk. “that’s when he’ll introduce you as his girlfriend, and watching her rage will be objectively fun. plus, you get protection - no one messes with theo’s girlfriend.”

"fake girlfriend."

“so, you’d do it?”

you sighed, rubbing your temples. “definitely - fucking - not.” you could never bring yourself to do something for this group of bullies.

even sitting at the same table had you itching to get up, you had already tried slipping away, your fingers fumbling with your hair in nervous agitation. “and, besides, i’ve been talking to someone…” you continued, your voice softening. “i wouldn’t want to mess it up, especially since i’ve liked him for so long. i don’t want to ruin anything…” you trailed off,.

there was a beat of silence.

"i’m sorry, what?" parkinson screeched.

berkshire’s expression lit up with delight. “oh?” draco curled his lip, clearly irritated by the fact they had been rejected by a ravenclaw. “who?”

you crossed your arms, debating whether to answer. but then you figured, why not?

If they were going to harass you about theodore, you might as well be honest.

"george weasley."

chaos erupted.

“you’re joking.” mattheo looked like he might actually be sick. “ew…” he trailed off, and you shot him a pointed look, catching the sass in his tone.

"a weaslette?" pansy gasped, clutching her chest. "you like a weaslette?"

“weasley.”

“weaslette.”

“weasley.”

theodore spoke. "you have terrible taste."

you shrugged. "he’s funny, he’s kind, and he doesn’t barge into my library time with schemes."

blaise leaned back, shaking his head in amusement. "did not see this plot twist coming."

"you’re all being dramatic," you said. "and the answer is still no." pansy groaned. "come on. we’re offering you the role of a lifetime!"

"i don’t want the role!"

theo looked at you then, sharp, blue eyes scanning your expression like he was trying to figure you out. and then, very quietly, he said, "you really like him?"

“yeah. i do.” for a brief moment, something flickered across his face — his hope fading — and then he turned back to his friends.

"drop it."

draco blinked repeatedly. "excuse me?"

"she said no," theo muttered. "we’re done here."

pansy gaped at him. “are you seriously letting this go?” didn’t he want revenge? didn’t he want to see daphne burning with hate? "it’s a stupid plan anyway," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "find another way to piss off daphne."

you weren’t the jealous type. at least, that’s what you always told yourself. but as you stood there in the courtyard, watching george weasley lean in just a little too close to some hufflepuff girl — smiling at her in that way he smiled at you — jealousy hit you like a bludger to the gut.

it was ridiculous. just yesterday, he had his arms wrapped around your waist, kissing you — no, devouring you — and yet, here he was now, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing at something she said.

the sound of it made your fingers curl into fists.

is this how nott felt when he saw daphne? did he feel that same ache? did the jealousy twist into something that hurt so fucking badly? had he been suffering like this?

nope. you weren’t doing this.

you were so, so so mad.

to think you’d been defending his sorry ass to the slytherins. fuck george. fuck him.

eagles and snakes rarely got along, but once the lion steps into the fire, the eagle and the snake have no choice but to unite and fight.

spinning on your heel, you stormed off, your pulse pounding in your ears.

before you even realized where you were headed, you found yourself marching straight into the slytherin common room — grateful that a second year girl had mumbled the house password just in time, allowing you to slip in before the portrait closed.

you walked right toward the biggest assholes in the school.

blaise, draco, mattheo, lorenzo, and pansy were sprawled across the leather couches, looking like they owned the place (they did), while theodore leaned against the fireplace, staring into the flames like some brooding poet lost in thought.

the second they saw you, blaise sat up, smirking. “to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

you exhaled sharply. this meant lowering your guard. this meant keeping your stubbornness in check. this meant swallowing your pride.

“i’ll do it.”

pansy played dumb. “do what?”

“the fake thing.” you crossed your arms. “i’ll pretend to be theodore’s girlfriend.”

for a second, there was silence.

“oh my god,” pansy gasped, clutching her heart. “it finally happened.” she was absolutely certain you’d never agree. completely convinced that this whole ‘getting back at daphne’ scheme was now a forgotten idea they wouldn’t bother with anymore.

blaise spoke. “what happened to not wanting to mess up that little thing you’ve got going with weaslette?”

you glared at him. “shut up.”

berkshire snorted. “fantastic.” something obviously went wrong. it didn’t take a genius to figure out.

theo, on the other hand, looked at you with mild suspicion. he knew that look. how could he not? he’d had the same one when he’d caught daphne pressed up against a wall, some idiot practically sucking the life out of her. “you’re sure about this?”

no. this was stupid. this was reckless. this was exactly the kind of thing that would blow up in your face.

you squared your shoulders. “yes.”

pansy clapped her hands together. “perfect. but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

you frowned. “what does that mean -”

“makeoverrrrr,” she announced, standing up. her robes swished with the motion, and the excited smirk that played on her pink lips made her look all the more eager.

you took a step back. “absolutely not.”

“oh, absolutely yes,” pansy countered, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the girls’ dormitory.

the boys exchanged glances, their interest blossoming at the mention of ‘makeover.’

they leapt to their feet, scrambling to follow the two of you, barely able to contain their amusement as they trailed behind, looking far too entertained.

once everyone had emerged into pansy’s dorm, it was clear it had the chaotic charm of a girl’s haven.

clothes were strewn across the floor, some crumpled, some tossed haphazardly over the furniture. a half open wardrobe displayed a jumble of dresses, skirts, and shiny, sequined tops begging to be worn. on the vanity, papers, makeup, and empty bottles of perfume cluttered the space, and a few framed photos of her and her friends sat crookedly among a mountain of beauty products.

the walls, covered in posters of various dark haired models, all seemed to have a shade of lavender in the lighting.

theo spoke. “is this really necessary?” for the first time, you actually found yourself agreeing with what came out of his mouth.

“shut up, nott. we’re creating a goddess.”

pansy shoved you onto a vanity stool and stood behind you, eyeing your hair with barely concealed horror.

“first things first,” she said, yanking your ponytail out with a single, ruthless tug. you winced as your hair fell over your shoulders.

pansy hummed approvingly. “that’s way better.”

you scowled at her through the mirror. “you could’ve asked nicely.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

blaise, now lounging on her bed, smirked. “i’m enjoying this already.” you wanted to roll your eyes because, of course, he was.

pansy chose to ignore him, rifling through her wardrobe before shoving a pile of clothes into your arms.

“try these on.”

you eyed them. “why do i feel like these have no fabric?” the materials in your hands felt light and flimsy, and panic slowly crept in as you imagined trying them on, only to look absolutely hideous. every time you glanced at yourself in the mirror, it was the same — you hated what you saw. you found yourself angling your body, staring at your stomach, picking apart the parts you so desperately wished you could change.

what if they thought your body wasn’t good enough? what if the clothes made you look awful? you knew you shouldn’t have eaten anything for dinner last night.

“because they don’t.”

fifteen minutes later, you had gone through at least five outfit changes, each one more questionable than the last. the first was a ridiculously short dress that barely covered anything.

you stepped out of the bathroom, arms crossed over your chest. “i feel naked.” the dress was incredibly short, and the neckline was just as revealing, offering no coverage for your chest at all.

draco smirked. “that’s the point.”

theodore had been uncharacteristically quiet, barely glanced at you before muttering, “next.”

the second outfit was a tight leather skirt and a top that required more trust in fabric than you currently possessed.

blaise let out a low whistle. “now we’re talking.”

you dryly responded. “i will strangle you.” theo, again, didn’t react. just gave another, “next.”

the third outfit was… well, you weren’t sure you could even call it an outfit. it was basically a glorified bralette and a pair of shorts that might as well have been underwear.

you stepped out, glaring. “pansy. be. fucking. serious.”

pansy sulked. “fine. we’ll dial it down.”

outfit number four was surprisingly decent — tight jeans, a fitted black top, and a green coat that made you look effortlessly cool.

draco tilted his head. “that’s… not horrible.”

blaise nodded. “it says, ‘i’m hot, i know it, and i don’t need to prove it.’”

theo finally looked at you properly, eyes scanning your outfit. all he said was, “that’ll do.”

you raised an eyebrow. “that’s the best approval i’m going to get?” you had just put on a damn show for these assholes, one outfit after another, parading around in pansy’s clothes.

theo smirked. “obviously.”

pansy clapped her hands. “alright, lesson one of fake dating 101: now that you look the part, it’s time to act the part.”

you slumped in the vanity chair. “what does that even mean?” you knew what it meant but you tried to stall them.

theodore rolled his blue eyes, already seeing right through your act. “it means you need to carry yourself like you actually belong here.”

blaise leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “no more shrinking into the background. no more avoiding eye contact. and for merlin’s sake, no more walking around like a lost library ghost.”

“i do not -“

“you do,” theo interrupted, arms crossed, fingertips ghosting over his biceps.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “well, excuse me for not strutting down the corridors like i own the fucking school.”

“that’s exactly what you need to do,” pansy said, standing up. “confidence is everything. now, let’s start with posture.”

that was the thing — you didn’t have a shred of confidence in you. you’d never had it, not when it came to anything other than studying.

pansy grabbed your shoulders and yanked them back so suddenly you nearly toppled over.

“ow - pansy!”

“straighten your back,” she ordered. “head up. chin slightly tilted, but not too much - you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard.”

mattheo dabbed in. “think of it like this: you’re not looking at people. you’re looking past them. like they’re beneath you.”

you scoffed. “that sounds like how you look at everyone.”

“exactly,” theodore replied, cutting in for mattheo. “glad we’re on the same page.” you rolled your eyes in his direction.

pansy nudged your chin up with two fingers. “perfect. now, when you walk, you don’t rush. you glide.”

lorenzo let out an exaggerated sigh, propping his chin in his palm. “this is going to take forever.”

theo, who had been watching with an unspoken expression, spoke. “stand up.”

you hesitated but obeyed, standing in front of him as he slowly rose to his feet. “alright,” he said, eyes locked onto yours. “walk toward me.”

you furrowed your brows. “that’s it?”

“that’s it.”

you started walking.

immediately, all six slytherins groaned.

“are you serious?” malfoy scoffed. “what is that? a power walk?”

“you look like you’re late for class,” blaise added.

pansy shook her head disapprovingly. “we are fixing - whatever that was.” she stood beside you. “watch and learn.”

then, with the kind of grace only pansy parkinson could pull off, she strolled forward — shoulders back, hips swaying slightly, every step measured and deliberate.

when she reached theo, she tilted her head and smiled up at him, as if he were the most fascinating person in the world. it was so natural, so effortless, that it made you feel small.

a wave of insecurity hit you like a hurricane, and for a second, you wanted to back out of the whole thing. everyone’s eyes were on you now, waiting to see if you would follow her lead.

“see?” she said, batting her lashes. “effortless.”

you crossed your arms. “yeah, well, i don’t naturally look like a goddess.”

pansy winked. “not yet.”

for the next thirty minutes, they had you pacing back and forth across the common room. every time you thought you had it down, someone would find something to correct.

draco was the first to point out that your shoulders were too stiff, while blaise let out exaggerated sighs whenever you dared to glance at the ground. pansy swatted at your arm whenever you fidgeted, and mattheo would grow more tense each time you didn’t do exactly as they asked. meanwhile, lorenzo started chatting with another slytherin nearby, totally oblivious to the chaos unfolding in front of him.

theo, however, just watched. occasionally, he’d mutter a quiet, “again,” forcing you to restart.

by the end of it, your feet ached, and your patience was running thin.

“how is walking this difficult?” you groaned, flopping onto the couch.

theodore chimed. “because you’ve been walking wrong your whole life.”

before you could throw a pillow at him, pansy clapped her hands. “now that we’ve covered walking, let’s move on to behavior.”

blaise beamed. “my favorite.”

you narrowed your eyes. “why do i feel like i’m not going to enjoy this?”

pansy ignored you and continued. “rule number one: confidence isn’t just about how you move. it’s about how you speak, too. no more snapping immediately. no more second guessing yourself.”

here she goes again with the whole ‘confidence’ thing. you wanted to remind her that every time someone disagrees with you, your first instinct is to defend yourself. it’s why you come across as feisty, snappy, and on edge.

but instead, you just bit your tongue.

mattheo leaned back. “and if someone talks to you? you make them work for your attention.”

you frowned. “that sounds exhausting.”

theodore shrugged. “it’s called being desirable.”

“or insufferable.”

“same thing.”

pansy waved a hand. “we need to work on your interactions with theo.” your stomach twisted slightly. “what do you mean?”

she smiled. “darling, if you’re going to be his girlfriend, you need to know how to act like one.”

theo sighed. “this is unnecessary.”

“it’s necessary,” pansy insisted. “what if daphne doesn’t believe any of this because the chemistry is so bad you wouldn’t even be able to convince a first year?”

silence.

yeah, that’s what she thought.

pansy turned back to you. “alright. let’s say you and theo are walking down the corridor. you see weasley. what do you do?”

you clenched your jaw. “i’ll stick my middle finger at him and yell, ‘fuck you -“

the five slytherins groaned in unison, while lorenzo turned away from the random slytherin he’d been talking to, catching the collective sigh of disbelief.

pansy rubbed her eyes. “no. that’s later. you laugh at something theo said, touch his arm, make it look effortless.”

you glanced at theo, who looked as bored as ever. “and what exactly is he saying that’s so funny?”

theodore’s bored expression flickered for a moment before morphing into a slight smirk. “nothing. that’s the point.”

you exhaled sharply. “great.”

“practice,” pansy ordered. “theo, say something. anything.”

theo arched a dark brow at you. “you walk like a baby deer.”

you blinked. “that’s supposed to make me laugh?”

draco grumbled. you are insufferable, he decided. “it’s not about the joke. it’s about the reaction.”

you rolled your eyes but tried again. forcing out a laugh, you reached out, lightly touching theo’s arm. blaise breathed out. “that was painful.” lorenzo nodded in agreement. “i think i cringed into another dimension.”

you shot them both a glare. “you try fake laughing on command.”

pansy sough dramatically. “it’s fine. we’ll work on it.” she turned to theo. “you, mr. tall, and emotionally unavailable, need to at least pretend to be interested in her.”

theo’s lips twitched. “emotionally unavailable?”

“you know i’m right.”

he shook his head but turned back to you. his sharp eyes met yours.

“okay,” he said, voice softer now, more intentional. “let’s try again. one last time.”

you swallowed.

you never really looked into people’s eyes, not really. you barely made eye contact with anyone — it felt so awkward to you, so you’d always find yourself looking around, trying to avoid it when someone tried to hold your gaze.

but you’d never seen eyes like his.

at first glance, they were just blue — bright, captivating blue. but as you stared deeper, into their beautiful depths, you saw something else.

“green,” you muttered breathlessly before you even realized it.

it was theo’s expression that changed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “what?” he asked, the words slipping from his rosy lips.

you remembered when pansy and draco had told him his eyes were an ugly color back in the library, during that conversation where they tried to convince you to take theodore’s offer of being his fake girlfriend to make daphne jealous.

“your eyes,” you murmured softly. “there’s a ring of green around them.” by the way his expression remained unchanged, you could tell he either hadn’t heard or simply chose to ignore it.

instead, he stepped closer, just enough that you had to tilt your head to look up at him properly. “i’m going to say something, and you’re going to react. not like you’re acting. like you mean it.”

you exhaled sharply.

so, he hadn’t heard? “fine.” you were ready to leave anyway.

theodore’s eyes gleamed. then, in the same casual voice, he said -

“your laugh is terrible, sounds like a dying hyena.”

you let out a real laugh — short and surprised — and smacked his arm lightly.

“oh, fuck you, nott.”

he smirked. “see? that was convincing.”

pretending to be theodore’s girlfriend seemed easy in theory — until the stares that had once passed over you without a second thought now fixated on the two of you. hand in hand, you sat at his table, surrounded by his friends, his touch settling effortlessly at your waist.

daphne was seething, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she glared from the end of the table. you could feel the heat of her gaze, the subtle flare of her nose.

george, on the other hand, didn’t look at you — not once. but that was fine. it had to be. because you weren’t finished yet. you were still unraveling, still learning, still becoming.

and the group of slytherins were determined. the training stretched on for weeks — anywhere they could catch you, they did. in the common room, the library, even the great hall. pansy would stop you mid bite to correct your posture, blaise had you repeating ‘effortless’ laughter until it started to sound like a dying cat, and draco would dramatically critique your eye contact as if you were his lead actress and he was the most unsatisfied director in history. mattheo was constantly instructing you on what to say — and more importantly, what not to say. and lorenzo made it his mission to steal your bacon from your plate whenever he got the chance.

and then there was theo.

he never gave long winded critiques like the others. he didn’t smirk and throw in unnecessary jabs like blaise (kind of) or roll his eyes like draco. instead, he watched. observed. and when he spoke, it was always something sharp, something that made you think.

like now.

“you’re too self-aware.”

you looked up from your book, grateful for the brief moment of peace. the slytherins had given you a break — pansy and draco had run off to sabotage a gryffindor’s potion, blaise had found something more entertaining (likely something with luna), and mattheo and lorenzo had disappeared to the kitchens.

you thought you had escaped to the library in peace, but clearly, you were mistaken.

theo had found you anyway. he leaned against the opposite side of the table, fingers brushing over his biceps like he always does, watching you like he was solving a puzzle, like he always does.

you raised a brow. “and that’s… bad?”

“yes.” he pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down like he had nowhere else to be. “every move you make, you’re thinking about it too much. the way you laugh, the way you walk, the way you talk to me.”

you scoffed, closing your book. “well, sorry for not being naturally gifted like daphne.”

theo shook his head. “you don’t have to be daphne. you just have to look like you know you’re wanted.”

you stared at him, a sarcastic laugh escaping your lips. “right. because that’s easy.” the truth was, you didn’t know how to look like you were wanted — no one ever had, not for anything, and certainly not for you. it was easier to avoid them, to keep your distance, than to try and be something you weren’t.

“it is,” he said simply. “if you stop caring so much.”

you huffed, leaning back in your chair. “that’s rich coming from you.” his brow arched. “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you act like nothing fazes you,” you said, tilting your head slightly, studying him with narrowed eyes. “like you don’t care about anything. but you do, don’t you?”

of course, he did. you could see it now, even if he hid it behind that calm, indestructible facade. why else would he go through all this trouble, dragging you into this mess, playing this game with daphne? it wasn’t just about her. it was about proving something — maybe to her, maybe to himself. he wanted her to pay, to feel the weight of her own mistakes, and that made him care.

and the worst part? it made him feel weak. vulnerable. and you could tell he hated that more than anything.

you knew it. because you were experiencing the same thing.

a flicker of something crossed his face.

gone in an instant.

“this isn’t about me.”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s exactly about you,” you said, voice dripping.

theodore leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “try something for me.”

“that sounds dangerous.”

he ignored you. “when you walk out of this library, don’t look at the ground. don’t think about your steps. just move like you own the place.”

you jeered. “i can’t just flip a switch and suddenly be -“

theo tilted his head, his gaze dragging over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. it was as if he was reading something beneath the surface, something you weren’t ready to share. you shifted uneasily, feeling small, like a kid again, hyper aware of every inch of your body, the parts you hated, the parts you tried to hide.

the air felt thick, so fucking—

“you’re beautiful, you know.”

silence.

your breath caught in your throat. the words came out so smoothly, so casually, like he was stating a simple fact. like of course you were.

you searched his face for any sign of teasing, but there was none. just something unknown. something quiet.

your pulse skipped.

fuck, why did it do that.

and then, because you refused to let him see how his words rattled you, you forced a smirk. “that was terrible flirting, nott.” it was perfect, though, you thought. you wanted to tell him that, wanted to admit it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to you, believe it or not.

but you couldn’t — not when he was looking at you like that.

theodore exhaled a small laugh through his nose. “that wasn’t flirting. that was proving a point.”

of course, it wasn’t flirting — he was just testing you. why would theodore nott, easily one of the most handsome people you’d ever (and unfortunately) laid eyes on, call you beautiful?

as if someone like him, or anyone at all, would actually mean it. even the boy you once believed loved you — george — proved you wrong the moment he went behind your back.

theodore leaned back. “see? you’re thinking about it now. about yourself. the way you look. the way i see you.”

you hated that he was right. but why was he so right? why was he able to read you so easily, so effortlessly, like he knew every hidden thought before you even said it?

theodore stood, sliding his hands into his pockets. “just… try it.”

you exhaled, rolling your shoulders back. “fine. but if i trip and embarrass myself, i’m killing you.”

he smirked. “i’ll take my chances.” as he started to turn on his heels, you almost yelled, but before you could, he muttered, “if you ever need help with anything, i’m free whenever.”

with that said, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting there — annoyed, intrigued, and just a little bit breathless.

you sat alone in the corner of the ravenclaw common room, the letter in your hands trembling slightly. the parchment felt heavier than it should, and yet you could hardly bear to look at the words printed on it. but you had to. you had to face it, even if you didn’t want to.

the letter was from your parents, and it was a disaster.

we can’t even begin to express how disappointed we are with the way you’ve been handling things at hogwarts. this is beyond the point of disappointment, actually — it’s outright failure. it’s one thing for us to hear about your so called ‘struggles,’ but it’s another thing entirely to see the results: your grades are nothing short of pathetic.

we’ve given you everything: the best tutors, the best resources, and access to opportunities most people could only dream of. yet, here you are, barely scraping by. how are you letting this happen? your teachers have reported that you’re barely passing, if even that. how many times do we have to remind you that this is your future at stake? you have no right to waste it.

your lack of effort is shameful. you used to be our pride and joy, the one who had potential. but now? we can’t even recognize the person you’ve become. you’re giving up on your own future. you’re choosing to throw it all away, and for what? you’ve shown us that all your talk about ambition and success is just - talk.

we don’t know what’s more disappointing: the fact that you can’t seem to manage the most basic of subjects or that you don’t even care. if you had any self respect, any ambition, you would have been putting in the work, not coasting by. instead, you’ve become lazy, unfocused, and frankly, unworthy of the opportunities you’ve been given.

do you realize how many people would give anything to be in your position? and yet, here you are, throwing it all away. you’re failing us. you’re failing yourself. you need to get it together, and you need to do it now.

we’re not sure how we can make it any clearer — this is unacceptable. there’s only so much we can do from here, but don’t think for a second that this will go unnoticed. get your act together. if you don’t, don’t bother coming home. we won’t be waiting for you. we expect to see better results when we hear from you next. consider this your final warning.

disappointed,

mother and father.

you were failing your classes at hogwarts. not just one or two, but most of them. potions, charms, transfiguration.

your parents were more than disappointed. they didn’t even bother to sugarcoat it this time. the harsh words cut deeper than any curse could have. - you’ve always been the clever one, the one with potential, - they wrote. - you’ve been given everything - what are you doing with it? - the pressure suffocated you.

every single one of their expectations wrapped around you like a suffocating coil. their disappointment was so real, it was all you could feel. your throat tightened, and a sting behind your eyes blurred your vision.

the tears were there, just waiting to break through. but you didn’t want to cry. you couldn’t. you weren’t allowed to.

you’re nothing but a failure. you have to keep your grades up. you have to be perfect. you weren’t allowed to disappoint them. you wouldn’t be failing if you hadn’t gotten caught up in this stupid plan.

if you weren’t so hurt by what george did, you wouldn’t have done this at all.

but the damage had been done. you’d let yourself get caught up in something that distracted you, that took you away from the one thing you were meant to focus on — your studies.

and now, every time you looked at the grades on your parchment, you saw their voices on the page. you weren’t just failing your classes — you were failing them.

when you and theodore had pretended to be a couple, you thought it would at least make george feel something, make him jealous. but he never seemed to care. the only one who had been affected was daphne — her jealousy was as obvious as the clenching of her jaw whenever you and theodore were near. and yet, that was it. it had all become nothing more than a farce.

a joke.

still, the slytherins continued their lessons: how to act, how to speak, how to dress. what to say and what not to say. they molded you into something that didn’t feel like you, and you couldn’t stop it.

the pressure was crushing, overwhelming, suffocating. every night, you stared at your homework, knowing you should be doing something — anything — but you just couldn’t bring yourself to start.

you slapped a mental ‘later’ on it, telling yourself you’d get to it soon, but soon never came.

by the time you finally mustered enough energy to focus, your eyelids were already too heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, leaving you to drift into a sleep with the work still undone.

you weren’t supposed to be a part of some stupid drama filled plan. you were supposed to be the one who passed your classes, the one who made your parents proud, who got things right for once.

instead, you were drowning in expectations that weren’t your own, and the worst part was — you didn’t know how to get out.

here you were - failing.

the sobs came before you could stop them. you crumpled the letter in your hands, pressing it to your chest as if the parchment itself could hold you together. it didn’t. the tears spilled freely now, hot and unrelenting, rushing down your cheeks as everything inside you cracked.

you were alone. you always had been. never had siblings. never had anyone to lean on. no one to share your struggles with.

hogwarts was supposed to be your escape, a place where you could make your own mark, but all it had brought was failure and loneliness.

then, like a faint whisper in the chaos of your thoughts, you remembered theodore’s words.

‘if you ever need help with anything, i’m free whenever.’

you had never really let anyone in. you didn’t know how to. you didn’t know how to trust, how to reach out to someone when everything inside of you screamed to stay closed off. but right then, in that moment, everything felt too heavy, too overwhelming.

you didn’t care anymore. you needed someone. you couldn’t be this broken by yourself.

your legs carried you before your mind could catch up, moving on their own.

you barely registered the walk from the ravenclaw common room to the slytherin common room, your mouth mumbling the password the slytherins had given you in week three.

you were there in an instant — standing outside theodore nott’s door. theodore nott’s fucking door, the door of the arrogant slytherin who tossed anyone aside without a second thought unless they showed him respect, a cruel boy.

the thought made you want to turn on your heel and leave right then and there, but your heart pounded in your chest, the frantic thumps reverberating in your ears, urging you to stay, to face whatever this was.

you hadn’t even thought about what you were going to say. how could you? you didn’t know how to explain the chaos in your mind, how to put into words the suffocating weight of expectations, the crushing loneliness.

you knocked softly, almost hesitantly.

three minutes went by before the door opened, and there he was. theodore, looking every bit the usual detached, cold version of himself. but something flickered in his eyes when he saw you.

a question. a hint of concern. without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter.

the room was empty, and you didn’t bother asking where the others were. you didn’t really care, though a part of you felt a strange relief that it was just the two of you.

when he spoke, his voice remained steady, but his eyes searched yours, as if trying to piece you together in real time. the usual sharp edge in his tone was absent — replaced by something almost… soft? “what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t say it. not with words.

instead, you let the sobs come again, louder this time. it wasn’t pretty. you didn’t care. you couldn’t control it anymore.

his hands were at your shoulders in an instant, his touch tentative but comforting. but you pushed him away, too much of a mess to be near anyone.

it’s so fucking strange — one minute, you crave someone’s presence, desperate to stop being alone, and then, when it’s actually there, you push it away.

“i don’t - don’t know how to do this, theo,” you managed to choke out between gasps. “i can’t - i’m failing. i’m not good enough. my parents -” you cut yourself off, too afraid to say the rest. too afraid to admit that you’d always been nothing more than a disappointment to them.

theodore didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze softening as he watched you crumble. he didn’t say anything at first. instead, he just watched you, as if giving you the space to fall apart.

he took both of your hands, guiding you to the edge of his bed to sit and collect yourself. when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, carrying such an uncharacteristic rawness that caught you off guard.

“you’re not the only one who feels like that,” he said softly. “i get it. the pressure… from your parents, from everyone around you. it’s… a lot.” his eyes flickered, a brief moment of vulnerability passing through you both. “you’re not alone in this, you know.”

you didn’t know why, but hearing that — hearing him say that — made something inside you crack open a little more.

he wasn’t perfect. you knew that. but maybe, just maybe, he understood.

“my father,” theodore continued, voice lower now, as if sharing a secret he’d buried for too long. “he always told me i wasn’t enough. that i’d never be good enough. that i was too much like my mother. and when i couldn’t live up to his expectations… he would shut me out. he’d… pretend i didn’t exist.” his eyes met yours, and you could see the pain in them, the hidden scars from years of being told he was worthless. “it’s not easy… feeling like you’re nothing more than a disappointment.”

you swallowed hard, your throat aching as his words wrapped around you like a quiet understanding. he wasn’t offering you pity.

“i’m not going to say it gets better, because it fucking doesn’t. but that doesn’t mean you have to be alone.” he was offering you something else — something rare.

he was offering you the truth.

he understood. he knew exactly what you were going through. you weren’t alone anymore. for the first time, you weren’t alone, and it felt so, so good.

both your eyes were still locked on each other, silent, the only sound being the slow exhale theodore let out through his nose.

“golden,” he said suddenly.

your brows furrowed, confusion spreading across your face. “what?” the words slipped out before you could fully process them.

“your eyes,” he continued, his blue eyes — with a hint of green — looking directly into yours. “there’s gold in them.”

it was the same thing you had said to him weeks ago in the common room, assuming he hadn’t heard — assuming it hadn’t mattered enough to linger in his memory.

he was so close now, so so so close that you could feel his breath mingling with yours. just one more move, and your lips would be touching.

up close, he was even more breathtaking — sharp cheekbones, a bottom lip just a bit fuller than the top, a faint flush warming his skin. and those eyes — unfairly beautiful, impossibly enchanting.

he was deep in thought — you could tell by the way his lips parted, as if he were on the verge of speaking.

a thought came to his fogged up mind: had he ever mentioned that gold had always been his favorite color?

he had inched closer, your lips barely grazing — just a breath away, but not quite touching. when he didn’t pull away, you inched closer, closing the gap between you.

your eyes fluttered shut as your parted lips met his, your bottom lip resting between both of his. his nose brushed lightly against your cheek at the angle.

his lips were slightly chapped, but god, he kissed like no one else.

the warmth of his mouth against yours sent a shiver through you, slow and soft at first, as if testing the waters. when he deepened the kiss, hands cupping your face, thumb gently brushing along your cheek — it felt like everything around you had paused, just for that moment.

he pulled away briefly, pecking the corners of your mouth before coming back once more to the center.

his hands were then on your waist, pulling you closer, his touch burning against your skin as if he, too, needed someone. someone to anchor him, someone to remind him that he wasn’t the only one suffering.

you shifted slightly, lifting your hips and swinging your legs gracefully on either side of his waist.

your movements were slow, conscious, as you straddled him at the edge of his bed, feeling the warmth of his body underneath you. the closeness was overwhelming, and for a moment, you paused, your breath mingling with his as you tried to steady yourself.

you start by grinding against him slowly, your hips moving in a circular motion that makes him groan deeply.

he can feel his arousal growing, pressing against you through the thin fabric of his pyjama pants.

his hands slide up your sides, caressing your curves before returning to your hips, encouraging your movements. your teeth sink lightly into his bottom lip as you continue torturing him with your rhythm, alternating between slow teases and quick grinds.

“fuck.” he lets out a strained whimper, his clothe hips bucking slightly beneath you. you can feel how hard he is getting, how much he wants this.

you kept moving against him, both of you still fully clothed, the friction sending shivers down your spine. one hand tangled in the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his skin, while the other gripped his shoulder for balance.

your hips rolled, chasing the intoxicating pressure, and your lips parted as quiet, breathy sounds of satisfaction spilled from your pretty mouth.

theodore effortlessly lifted you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you across the room.

with a firm grip of your thighs, he set you down on his desk — the very one he used for homework and late night reading — now repurposed for something entirely different.

your back of your thighs met the chilled wood of his desk, a harsh difference to the warmth of his body pressed in between your thighs. his hands, firm yet obedient, traced their way beneath the fabric of your shirt, pushing it upward with slow thinking, gathering the material just above your chest.

at the sight of no bra, theodore felt his breath catch, his body reacting instinctively.

his lips followed a path of their own, trailing down the column of your throat, lingering at the sensitive dip of your collarbone. each kiss was unhurried, as if he was memorizing you — mapping out every sharp inhale, every shiver, every place his touch set you alight.

and when he finally leaned back, just enough to look at you, his breath heavy against your skin, there was something in the way his eyes roamed — the kind of gaze that made you feel utterly seen, utterly wanted.

is this what it meant to be wanted? to be desired, claimed in a way that left no room for doubt? if so, you were sure you could carry it with you — this feeling, this newfound assurance — walking with the kind of effortless confidence the slytherins held in awe.

because now you knew. now you understood what it meant to be wanted. theodore dipped his head down, his gaze never wavering, locking onto yours with a passion that made your breath hitch.

his lips parted as he took your right breast into his mouth, the heat of his tongue sending a tickling sensation down your spine.

his other hand found your left breast, fingers teasing the hardened nipple — rolling, pinching, tugging just enough to make you arch off the desk, your chest pressing further into his mouth as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking firmly, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud.

one hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers lazily threading through his hair, tugging ever so slightly as if grounding yourself in the moment. your other hand clutched the edge of the desk, knuckles paling with the pressure, desperate for something to hold onto.

a quiet whimper slipped past your lips, but he didn’t stop, didn’t ease up — not until his lips finally released you with a soft, wet pop.

without pause, he moved to the other, his mouth just as eager, just as worshipping, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you, like he was starved and you were something he’d been deprived of for far too long.

he looks up at you again, his eyes filled with lust as he switches back and forth between your breasts, his hands and mouth working in team.

he can feel you arching your back further, trying to push more of your flesh into his hands and mouth.

a soft, breathy “mm…” slipped from your parted lips, the sound delicate yet intoxicating. the slow, whiny moans sent a dizzying rush straight to theodore’s already fuzzy head, making his pulse quicken.

he wanted to hear more — needed more. so, with a flicker of curiosity and desire, he decided to try something new.

he pressed himself closer, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he spread your legs wider, claiming more space between them. your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, locking him in place.

with a slow touch, his palms skimmed up your torso, cupping your breasts and pushing them together, molding them beneath his fingers as he admired the way they framed against his hold.

his left hand abandoned your creamy skin, bringing his palm up to his mouth, wetting it with his warm saliva.

he releases one of your full breasts, only to push them back together, creating a valley between them. he begins to glide his moist palm slowly up and down your cleavage, creating soft, wet sounds.

he maintains eye contact, watching your reactions - the involuntary shivers, the quickening breaths.

you don’t know why, but you don’t mind the eye contact. normally, it would make you shrink away, but now, it feels like you’re drawn into the depth of his gaze, unable to look away as he toys with you.

“ohh.” breathy whimpers spill from your lips, filling the dorm as theodore quickens the motion of his saliva-slicked palm, gliding over your breast and occasionally rolling his thumb over the sensitive peak.

he watches, entranced, as your nipples grow taut and swollen from the unwavering friction, droplets of his spit clinging to your delicate skin like tiny diamonds.

theodore leans in closely, breathing cool air over your heated nipples, causing them to react with a sharp squeeze.

but then, a wave of overwhelming emotion surged within you — this wasn’t real. this couldn’t possibly be real. he liked daphne, and you liked george.

you had come here thinking it would just be talking — but how could you not want to feel theodore when he looked so godly, so fucking good?

still, that didn’t mean he had to see your body. you hadn’t known theodore as long as you’d known george, and even then, with george, it never went beyond kissing — it never felt right.

but right now? right now, you felt so heated, so dizzy with it.

your parents had just told you to focus, had just screamed through letters for you to do better.

so why were you here?

confusion gnawed at you. why did his mouth resonate with such beauty, making your heart ache with every sound? and how could he look so delicious, cheeks flushed with a delicate rose, lips slightly chapped yet so irresistibly inviting?

it all mashed down on you, suffocating, like a storm you couldn’t outrun.

the closeness, the sudden shift from everything you’d known, the vulnerability that had slipped out — it was too much.

you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think clearly.

with trembling hands, you pushed away, your heart hammering in your chest, thoughts tumbling over each other like a chaotic wave. “i’m sorry,” you breathed, the words barely escaping your lips, not sure if you were apologizing to him or to yourself. “- i can’t do this.”

it was as if a blanket had been lifted, the haze in your mind dissipating with each blink. clearness crept in, sharp and unrelenting. you swallowed hard.

before theodore could react, you yanked your shirt that had bunched up at your collarbone back down, pushed him away, spun on your heel, and walked out, the door clicking shut behind you.

theodore didn’t shout a protest, nor did he chase after you. instead, he stood there, trying to catch his own breath, his chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm.

you didn’t know where you were thinking. you didn’t know what you were doing. all you knew was that everything felt too much to handle, and you couldn’t stay there with him — not with your head in a mush.

[simpforsolas]

i wrote up this whole rant yesterday about how I didn't find the Solas arc satisfying in this game, and seeing the ama and interviews today, I think I understand why that is lol.

yes, Solas carried this game. Yes i loved every time he was on the screen. yes his arc made me cry. NO it was not satisfying. and i'm just gonna go ahead and copy paste my rant explaining my feelings the best i can.

(i wrote this yesterday before all the revelations)

Solas's writing wasn't successful to me not because I think he was written out of character, necessarily. I think that every individual instance of his character being written on-screen was fine, but to me, his character was missing the wider context that put the isolated actions we saw of him in the game into perspective

The entire point is that the Dread Wolf/Fen'Harel persona that we see is a mask he wears. And that's fine, I like it! But what makes a mask interesting is to see what it's masking, and Rook doesn't really get to see that unless you choose the reedem ending. I guess what I'm getting at is that I craved to see more Inquisition-style Solas, in particular Trespasser Solas who was so remorseful but stuck in his ways, who stuck to his path but said stuff like "I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend." All these different sides are real sides of Solas, but because the game didn't really show us all these sides then we're left with a lopsided picture and now I have to deal with all these fools misinterpreting him all over the internet

I can still interpret it my way well enough, but the thing is that's my interpretation and it's a valid interpretation of the source material itself, but other people's interpretations are also valid because the game didn't really get more into his motivations other than "it's all mythal." But if you go back to inquisition, you can see how passionate Solas is about his ideals! His banter with other party members and his approval and dialogue you get with him really suggests that he actually CARES about his goal at an idealistic level, it's not just about regret. I like the regret! I like the history with Mythal!! I just wish it was more of something in his backstory that shaped him to who he is today and is something he needed to work through in order to finally see things clearly, instead of being the one magical thing that had to happen for him to get his "redemption"

I'm also rather frustrated that the right answer was just going straight back to the status quo, when we KNOW the veil is falling apart and shattered and an unnatural wound inflicted on the world that turns spirits into demons, prevents the world from achieving the magical/technological wonders it once had, keeps elves from immortality, and creates this fear and class difference between mages/non-mages and people who understand the fade and those who don't. Like when I replayed Origins i was struck by how many plot points are basically "the veil is weak here which means that there are demons here and they killed hundreds of people!!!!!!" Things like that are still going to be a problem hello why was none of this addressed 😭😭😭 I wish we could've validated the problems Solas's plan resolved to fix instead of saying "you just need to move on man this is just you taking your issues out on the world" because it WASN'T THAT

'm also really frustrated that we don't see a SINGLE big plan of Solas's go right because I know my man, I BELIEVE in my man, I know that he was smart and clever and had wins!!! I don't mind him fucking up but when all we ever see of him are major fuck ups it annoys me because COME ON. He's the DREAD WOLF. He knows how to make plans and carry them out. He saved thousands of slaves during his time, he fought and won countless battles, he locked away the Evanuris! Sure things fell apart in the actual veil part but he was able to trick all of them and did succeed in locking them away. The only thing we actually see him accomplish in this game is escaping regret prison, which is instantly seen as less cool because Rook gets out after like five minutes, and taking down the archdemon which was pretty hot but that wasn't about trickery, that was him engaging in straight up physical fighting in his wolf form. Anyway it frustrates me because now people in the fandom can rightly laugh about him being stupid and having bad plans. Yet I can't help but go back to inquisition and listen to his advice, dialogue, etc, and he's always so thoughtful and wise! So i just find it hard to believe that this man is incapable of taking a win. even if he kept all the Ls in this game but they had included a few more wins i wouldn't even be mad but it was literally just a collection of Solas's Ls and it frustrates me because I think he's better than that

i'm just worked up about this because i've been seeing takes about solas from people who used to like him but this game made them hate him, and the fact that the source material from datv as an isolated game actually supports their perspective is driving me insane. cuz if you ask me a lot of solas's character and motivations between dai and datv are actually at odds with each other. even if the surface characterization is absolutely on point, there was just so much context and scope that we're missing in this game. i can't handle it

[skull-fvcker]

Morality

❥ Yandere! Arcane Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: cross-posted from my ao3. Old fanfiction from 2021, written way before season two. Thought I might as well post it here—the final episode broke me, by the way.

Summary: Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition. Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

Warnings: 7204 words, MDNI, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, viktor is delusional, yandere viktor by the way, dubious consent(he coerces you), unhealthy and one-sided relationship, gender-neutral pronouns used for reader, no usage of y/n, gentle sex, set in season 1

In all honesty, Viktor did not know how it started or when it got out of hand. It started as a simple fascination and he had treated it as such. Nothing was wrong with that, he was a man of science after all. It was in his nature to feel drawn to things that he did not quite understand. Many years have passed since that day. Before his strange obsession came into his life. Honestly, now that he was alone to think about it, had it ever come into his life at all? Or, by some force of nature, he had forced it into his own life? The ever-changing flow of time halted the very moment Viktor had initially realised that he had more than a problem on his hands.

Viktor thought of himself as a man with morals. He was not the best person, yes, there are plenty of others that shone brighter than he did, but he found his value in his work and ethics. That being said, nothing about him was right. His work had been clogged for year's now; the chaotic office space merely setting as a permanent indication that he had slipped too far this time. Above all else, he had guaranteed himself that his work came foremost, give or take a few instances in which it did not. This case was different, however. A disturbing accomplishment that, when asked initially, he wrote off his findings as evidence, or even lack thereof. Whether or not he was believed, was foreign to even him.

Directly adjacent to his cluttered working place—being neat had long passed his troubled brain, hadn't it?— lie his crutch, sat in such a way that it may fall at any minute. Viktor paid it no mind, at least not at first, but looking over his notes and the observations that he had written down, an idea popped up within what was left of a comprehensive state of mind. Of course, how could he have been so oblivious to forget such a thing, it was written clear as day in these scattered notes. His nimble, cold fingers grasped at the end of his crutch and he tugged it over and dug it into the floor while it enabled him to stand.

Viktor's book laid sloppily in his hand, page open in clear view. "Yes," he breathed, "I suppose this will do." He closed the withered book and shoved it between his left arm and clothed side. Periodically, an opportunity was difficult to come by. He had to do the best with what he had been given, though an itch in his brain told him that: why settle for fine, when you can go beyond?

The aforementioned person that he mentioned, the obsession - the two had never even met before, Hell, Viktor was certain it never even knew of his existence. It was ostensibly a normal upper city citizen with no strange qualities, nothing special about its behaviours nor its personality. It was normal. But it made him feel bizarre inside. He could effortlessly correlate it to that of an over-easy egg slowly cooking within a skillet until the yoke bursts for seemingly no reason and tarnishes the taste of the egg entirely. Just like that, it was ruining him. Granted, neither of them seemed to be eggs, but he believed the metaphor to fit rather well. Humanity always seemed to be so fickle, so easily swayed and broken. Just like an egg.

No matter the weakened disposition he had, nor the lingering scent of death he had become accustomed to, nothing prepared Viktor for the way his certain obsession made him feel. He was intelligent enough to not let these be known, oh, how he would hate the way that Jayce would assume the worst of his sentiments. Would he? Jayce had changed rather strikingly since the first day the two had met. Nevertheless, Viktor never seemed to be the man for love, much less protection of those around him.

Moreover, he was sure that with such dehumanising language and behaviour, nobody would hear his side of the matter. After all, calling the object of your affection an "it," and "thing," definitely does not look good for your compassion. Still, it gave him a reason to humanise his behaviour—if his obsession is not seen as equal, then what's the issue, exactly? To be blunt, it served no purpose other than to make him feel better since not a soul knew of this but him.

Sure, it did not occur to him that he would have strayed this far, but sometimes you have to do what you can to keep someone safe. He was in no state to protect someone on his own, he knew this far too well, he could never protect anyone with this sickly, frail body of his. That is why kidnapping was an absolute must. Reminiscing of the past did no good but to open up older wounds that set themselves up for failure, but the first day they had formally met was an exhilarating experience.

When they had seen him, there was a quizzical expression plastered on their face, and they even confused him for a council member of all things—never attentive, he presumed—but upon realising who he was, Viktor found himself met with immediate scepticism. Viktor could not fault them, it was something he knew all too well, though, maybe he should have saved his anguish for another day. The way their warmer hand held onto his own when he reached out to shake it. Their hand was soft, softer than his at least, and much less calloused. Smaller. Yet, their fingers did not hold the appearance of his own; on the contrary, they looked healthy. Healthier than him.

Of course, with someone who seemed to not have any imperfection, how was Viktor not supposed to fall for them, much less become intrigued with their very existence at that point? Humans were so fickle, he knew very well with how his body had grown to become sicker, but they seemed so robust, so self-sufficient. It was just like any other person, nothing too special but it stood out to him and that was what mattered.

It hurt him, really it did, to see them gawk at him with betrayal, to seem so frightened of someone who wasn't even strong, to begin with, but love came with sacrifice and even if he couldn't help everyone, then he would try to help them the best that he could.

Viktor revolted and fought against his rationality, he really did, he tried his absolute best to make sense of both his actions and what he had done. Within the months, he had thoroughly convinced himself that it was for the greater good, for the safety of his obsession; to keep them isolated from others. It was not the healthiest choice, he would acknowledge at the time, but now he may argue that it was the only thing he could have done upon meeting them formally. He just could not let them go.

Months had passed since that day, but it was fun to reminisce sometimes. Besides, it was even better that, when he had the time, they were someone in which he could spoil with every day. Yes, Viktor took things slow and always was sure to leave them be, yet give them company, but watching them stare at him with a look that he could hardly even decipher anymore, left him breathless. And he didn't even know why.

That very thing forced him into the very dilemma that he is in now. Standing in front of a locked door with a flawlessly crafted key lying in his tremoring hand. It was from excitement, he knew it was. It was like this was his own secret sanctuary where he hid his most precious desire and treasure, his perfect obsession that wept behind locked doors. It was the same every day, no matter how long he would stare.

The door opened with a slight rasp, the only other noise being a stifled sob and the sound of scuffing against the floor, then the buoyancy of bedsprings. His stiff body staggered against the sturdy cane, his hunched over body barely allowing the light to pool in around the walls of the door frame. Every day seemed no closer to his objective. He didn't even know how he had done this. Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition.

Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

"Good morning, dear. Have you slept well?" The sounds of chains screamed in his ears when he spoke. All these years and his lover still has not gotten used to their living state. "Ehh... I have already assured you. Good behaviour is rewarded, please understand that this is an absolute must to keep you safe." They were terrified. Of him. Isolation was a punishment and he could never help but feel dreadful about them being punished for things out of their control.

"When can I go home?" was the concern they always pleaded with whenever they saw him. Viktor tried to not let it get under his skin, really he did, but the knowledge that they did not want to be with him weighed heavy on his mind. He loved them, they had to recognize. Their eyes were so passive; it reminded him of when he had first seen the mutation, Rio, when he was a young boy. Curiosity, distress; panic. They just did not understand this yet.

Perhaps all the days that he merely sat there and stared at them with a desolate expression thoroughly destroyed the way they would perceive him, or how he would blatantly ignore their tantrums and screaming, tapping his fingers along the edge of his crutch like a patient father waiting for their child to calm down. Of course, Viktor never mistreated them. The most he did was further isolate them, which explained the absolutely pitiful state that they were in right now.

Reluctance to accept the changing future will result in the fear of what's to come. He understands it's different from what they were used to. But one must adapt to their surroundings and become accustomed. Viktor has already sacrificed so much for them; when was it their turn to return the favour? The ever-changing future is something he will never know for certain.

Viktor sighed, watching them press their body against the nook of the room where their bed had been so delicately placed. The bedsheets had been sent into a state of disrepair, and certain pillows seemed more shapely than the rest. From clutching them too tightly, he inferred. It was adorable.

"This is your home," It was no wonder that they attempted to squeeze themselves farther against the wall when he staggered closer. "I don't have any food this time, I'm afraid," he stood right at the side of their mattress, directly in front of trembling form, his eyes fixated on the plate that sat adjacent to the bed, at least a few days old now. "Though, I'm glad that you, ehm, were able to finish your last meal. Good job." A sigh escaped him after the carefully placed praise fell from his lips and, upon staring hastily at them, he recalled the fear blending within their wide eyes. "However," he found himself fumbling over his words, "I know that you've been a little, eh... downcast, as of late so I have decided that I am going to offer you something that I'm sure you would love," he paused, almost reluctant to reach forward and stroke the hair behind their ear. Hesitant to touch them lovingly.

This situation was a troublesome one, of course, it would be, but he was not a fool in the matter. He read up on numerous articles simply so he can keep things safe for them — falling for one's captor, he had thought about it, yet the turmoil often sets in when he realises that they hadn't developed such a thing just yet. Had he not been too kind? Perhaps, it was the chains around their body? Particular disorders of the mind were so hard to force into existence; was that such a terrible thing to wish for? They looked as if they served more as a pet than anything else, honestly. But that's love, this is just his love. Viktor was well aware that a plethora of things regarding both he and his health weren't precisely right, particularly in concerns to other people. Honestly, staring at them in such a miserable state made him feel almost remorseful.

They must feel so trapped, not to mention secluded, after all, he was never able to spend as much time with them as he would have preferred. He wondered, did they feel imprisoned in their own body, too? Probably not in the way that he did, but it was a suspicion that lingered in his mind. He set his hand on the side of their face unexpectedly, and they jolted back. Granted, he was certain that his hand was freezing. But, Hell, it appeared as if they had almost whimpered at his touch. Still, he had never done anything to harm them, he's only keeping them safe. The images of the mutation Rio sitting in a tank of fluids that he knew all too well now, the thought of it being kept alive despite its pleas not to. Such lengths are just an experiment to preserve life. He understood, now. Not in the way that he should have, but he did.

Maybe that was how they felt. Like a trapped animal, frightened and alone. But they have him, they may not want him, but he is there.

Viktor's knees buckled as they pressed against the edge of the mattress, gently hoisting one after the other to get closer to the horrified individual hiding from his affection, which was already something which he never exhibited frequently.

"I want you to understand," he ran his thumb along their cheek with feathery soft touches, "I know you still don't understand why I'm doing this, or why you're here but rest assured that it's all out of genuine love." When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission. "Alone. You're lonely and you're scared. I know how you feel. But you're special," their eyes met Viktor's for but an instant and it sent shock waves down his spine. Don't ask permission. "You're special to me, and that is what truly matters at this moment." They were about to cry. Correction, they were sobbing. And it was all his fault. Emotional turmoil mixed with the trauma enforced within them made this happen - because of Viktor.

And despite it all, Viktor could not help but feel proud of his accomplishments.

"Please," their name rolled off of his tongue like a loose screw in his brain, though more akin to a prayer. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, please." Their disobedience irritated him and sent his nostrils flaring, but he didn't allow that to show outwardly. They were already so skittish, why would he threaten them further? "Mm, I will reiterate it as many times as you desire: good behaviour is rewarded. If... If you're good—for me—then, and only then, will I allow you to go outside." His words set off a fire in their brain, he could tell how their breathing unexpectedly halted and they went completely tight-lipped. Was that all it took for them to settle down? An effortlessly broken promise?

Right, they were at their wit's end, weren't they? Their emotions override their rationality. The sunlight would be good for their health, after all. Quite frankly, the thought was unsettling, Viktor didn't want them out of his sight, but if it would make them satisfied then he could make configurations for such a thing. Though, he would have to be cautious to not allow anyone to see them. What if they tried to... escape, in a sense? It was dangerous, he would have to think about it thoroughly.

"Do you mean it?" They said, suddenly. Their head was raised aloft and their wide eyes stared directly at him. "If I'm good... I'll be able to go outside? It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's been months," they were optimistic. Why was it so unbearable to see them so miserable?

For all but a juncture, Viktor felt himself at a loss for words. There was no telling whether or not he would be able to keep that promise, but he could try. They just need to learn to embrace change and adapt, maybe they will forget about it in due time. "I mean it," he said without thought, "you have my word." Did they, truly? You should not make promises that you are incapable of keeping, but just this once, the way their expression lit up and how the tears fell from their eyes, made Viktor feel as if he had done something right this entire time. Without a single word, his hand slowly lowered from their warm cheek, his gangly fingers running alongside the edges of the collar that adorned their flawless neck.

In pursuit of great, we failed to do good.

How would Viktor feel if someone had done this to him? It was a rhetorical question; nobody cared for him enough to go to such drastic lengths to proclaim their love. Therefore, this couldn't have been an unfair thing for him to do. "We must adapt to change," he spoke softly as his fingers danced around their trembling jaw. "You must adapt to change." His voice dropped an octave, gaze falling back onto their face. He had adapted to this change flawlessly fine, it was them that had to figure out how to. They were ultimate perfection in his eyes—there was just one, little issue...

"What are you doing?" Their voice quivered. Viktor's hand slipped down to their collarbones, pinching against the soft fleshy prison.

"Ahm, eh, I am... feeling you, merely. Nothing more," their breath hitched at his actions. "Unless you want me to do more?" An unexpected whimper came from them, in which he did not know if it was good or not, but knowing them, it emanated from apprehension. "I love you, you know that. I would never force you to do something. Think of it as a friendly suggestion," Viktor's blunt fingernails found themselves becoming caught on the neckline of their shirt. "So, will you let me?" There was a pause between them. Most importantly, the air seemed to grow still. Tension so thick that you could slice it in half with a knife.

They shifted but didn't give Viktor a clear yes or no. In all honesty, they seemed to be dismissing him altogether. He could feel their body heat begin to amplify, a telltale indication of both their embarrassment and if he dares say desire. A relatively foolish notion, he was well aware, however, that did not mean anything in his mind, not in the current time. The future could come later, and his life may pass him by. But the future does not exist, does it? Not until you make it so. If he didn't take satisfaction in the opportunity that he had right now, then it may never come up again.

Nevertheless, he took the chance and leaned forward, inch by inch until his face had pressed into what was seen within the crook of their neck. Their skin was soft, warm; pulsating. "I am obsessed with you," both of his hands set themselves upon their shoulders, thumbs clutching against the blade of their clavicles. "I am, truly. My devotion, my love, my obsession for you—that will be the only thing that will never change no matter the year to come. You may push me away all that you desire, but I will come back to you. I love you." His chapped lips pressed in between their jawline and neck, a chaste kiss that he allowed to linger on their skin. They didn't even bother pushing him away. They had the strength to, yet abstained.

We failed to do good.

"Understand my efforts," his voice was barely above a whisper, "you must have seen them. Make sense of my love for you." His grip on their shoulders tightened, but he knew it would never be enough to harm them. It wasn't as if he wanted to injure them in the first place, either. However, it was short-lived, and Viktor's hands fell from their shoulders to their bound wrists, and straight down to their tremoring hands. "I have always wanted to do more with you—to be what most would consider a "couple" yet you keep pushing me away." During his rambling, Viktor heard them mumble something under their breath. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm sorry," they whispered. For the first time, it seemed that they were apologising to him so sincerely, maybe with actual suspicions that something may transpire if they were to not apologise. It was startling, but a chance to hear their voice was satisfactory for Viktor. There was a lingering breath that he could feel tickle the back of his neck, coupled together with their heaving chest. They were scared.

We have to make it right.

Viktor felt his heart hammer against his rib cage, a knot forming in his throat bitterly. This clammy feeling in his chest was unneeded. "Well," he spoke with a sharp exhale, "do you know what would make me forgive you?" As if he hadn't already forgiven them, to begin with. Upon feeling them nod slowly, Viktor pulled away from them and hurried his hands from their own, to their neck. His touches were faint, but loving. Held a certain edge to them, hinted at with a distinct emotion. "I'm very sure you're aware of what I'm getting at," his breathing picked up, just as theirs did, and for a few instants, it seemed that theirs was in sync with his own. To his surprise, they shifted and nodded in agreement, but did not vocalise it.

Anxiously, Viktor proceeded to slowly creep his body forward, even closer to them than he was before. He felt his heart thumping against his rib cage, the wind being knocked from his lungs as he shakily exhaled. Viktor was not the type of man for sex, he never had the time to do it; but when it came to his little obsession, why not indulge? Their consent was dubious at best, but at this point, any hint of acceptance was promising enough for him. He struggled to rationalise his thinking but instead was only met with a cluttered mess within his brain. Viktor couldn't concentrate on anything other than them at this moment. It was just the two of them, and that was all that truly carried weight to him.

His kisses against their skin were light, virtually non-existent, but the genuine love that he harboured for them persisted despite their shuddering breathing; despite their apprehension. Viktor's lips pressed against their tender jawline until he finally met the edges of their lips. His hands were twitching, cupping the sides of their face with his thumbs caressing the skin underneath their eyes. This would be their first kiss together. Would they reciprocate it? He sure hopes that they would in some way, they don't seem to have any reasoning as to why they wouldn't. He pulled back momentarily to stare at them, only to notice that they weren't looking at him at all. That would be okay.

"You're mine," he breathed as he pressed his lips against their own once again. Viktor felt as if his chapped, thin lips were being engulfed by theirs—though, theirs were equally as chapped as he were. He made a mental note to up their water intake. The kiss did not quite feel the way that he visualized it to feel—he thought it would have felt more romantic in a sense. Moreover, he would have believed that they wouldn't be chained to the wall in such an intimate instant. But, good behaviour is rewarded. This was temporary, they knew that, as did he. Just as the kiss was about to end, he felt them lean into it and press their lips into his own. That, above everything else, made him feel like the blessedest man in all of Piltover. Of Zaun, anywhere.

"I love you more than anything," confessed Viktor as he pulled away from their lips. "I'm glad that you're mine." And he meant it.

Their breath hitched just as it constantly did when he touched them. Maybe it was the fact that his hands were gradually examining their body, tilting across every crevice, from where their midsection concave whenever they'd instinctively suck it in out of humiliation, to the quiver of the skin around their navel when his fingers ran along the sensitive region. Viktor's hands were underneath their shirt, his wiry fingers eagerly squeezing the skin. They squeaked at first, his hands were frigid after all but eventually unwound though not peeking at him. Viktor wished that they would look at him like a person rather than an oddity.

The hem of their trousers huddled against their hips, hiding away the most intimate part of their body that only Viktor was allowed to see. For a moment, he looked into their eyes for the right to go ahead, but upon being avoided, Viktor merely yanked them down with enthusiasm pulsing through his veins. His thumbs pressed between their navel and hipbones, in an almost comforting gesture. But it wasn't as if they cared in the long run, however, he could hear their hitching breath. Through dirty-minded thoughts, Viktor's right hand loomed above their sex while his other clasped against their hipbone for support. He was actually doing this—something that he had just as much as dreamed of for years.

"Please," their whiny voice startled his thoughts. "Just... be gentle with me," they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight him at all. That's good. Viktor was sure he had neither the strength nor the energy to deal with it.

His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub below, threatening a gasp from them. "I'll never hurt you," he rubbed their hip in synchronisation with his sensual touches against their sex. "I promise, I will do what I can to make you feel pleasured." His breathing picked up as arousal trickled down his spine like that of the emotions that he loathed. "I want... to see the inside of you. All of you," he spoke aloud, a hint of longing in his tone which he had shoved back this entire time. He wanted them to comprehend his love to its full potential.

Viktor's face pressed against the crook of their neck once again, shifting his hips as he closed his eyes. They were making noises, now, their chained wrists clicking against the harsh metals as they lifted their hands to dig into his back. Secretly, he had hoped that they would call his name. He knew that they knew it. They've spoken it countless times before. Granted, it was always in a fit of rage or hysteria which followed, "I hate you," and, "You ruined my life." But they knew his name at the very least.

Moreover, they were unravelling at the seams. They liked this just as much as Viktor did. They loved him, they had to. Lust and love were on a thin line, so closely drawn together yet had such distinct differences. Could the same be said about obsession? Maybe so, but that did not mean much by this point.

"I love you," he breathed into their neck, his warm breath no doubt sending shivers down his spine or so he hoped. "You feel so soft, so pretty..." His fingers toyed with their sex, jerking in sporadic movements which caused their hips to buck against him, further spurring him on. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? Like I—" his breath hitched when their hands clenched the fabric of his vest, "Like I own you?" For once, they actually agreed with him.

"Y-yes," they let out a pitiful, rueful whine more akin to someone who was used to this sort of thing. But that was inane. They belonged to him. "It feels—It feels really good, I..." Their hips were rolling now, eagerly trying to accept his love rather than pushing it away like they always had been. They were accepting change. They were adapting. "Jus—just like that, please, Viktor—"

And at that moment, time seemed to halt.

They said his name, not out of pure spite or anger, not from him doing something they did not like, but in pleasure. The pleasure that he was inflicting on them. "You're doing such a good job, So good for me," it came out as more of a wheeze than praise, though there was a hint of worship hidden within it. "Are you going to come soon? I want you to come undone because of me. I love you," his lips returned their place at their neck, his crooked teeth nibbling onto their soft skin, further forcing out a reaction from them. Just from their responses and noises alone, Viktor felt as if he was going to come any second now instead, and he hadn't even touched himself. All he could feel was his dick beginning to strain against his dress pants.

It was getting so hot and stuffy, surely he should take off his vest and dress shirt soon. The things that they did to him were things that he didn't even expect. The love he harboured, the desire he held—they were his weak spot. This precious creature. Viktor felt his breathing pick up as he pulled his teeth away from their neck, their delicate skin caught between his incisors.

Once more, slowly, his fingers gently danced around their sex, forcing himself to concentrate and try to block out the absolutely lovely noises that they were emitting. The noises, be as they may, were provided to him involuntarily, he attempting to reject the wail of pleasure that came from them. The squelchy sound of their fluid pooling around his fingers met his ears, giving a sick taste of satisfaction. His left hand clenched their skin a little too tightly for even his standards, the wiry fingers of his right hand working against him, deliberately circulating apart and snapping concurrently, a shudder running down his spine at the howl they made along with the response their body offered. Devoiding much of a thought, Viktor pulled his left hand away from their hipbone, dragging the appendage straight to the front of his dress pants, fumbling with both the zipper and hem in an attempt to pull it away from his groin.

"Oh," he heaved as he pulled away, ignoring the whimper that came from his lover in front of him. They wanted this. They needed this. Needed him. "Would you mind if I tried..." The words died in his mouth as soon as they came out, his left hand hovering above his concealed groin. Surely, they would say yes? They seemed a bit dazed, though perhaps it was his fault for not allowing them the relief that they were so close to acquiring. "I want to... feel you. I may not last very long," he fished his dick out of his boxers, feeling his face heat up to the point where he was sure it was red. "Do you want to?"

They made eye contact with him this time. The humanity, the want, the greed and the fear shone in their eyes brightly, but nothing could cover the telltale signs of love and lust. Viktor already knew the answer, they didn't even have to answer him, he already knew what it was going to be by their reaction alone. This was the key to their heart.

Now, at first, Viktor would not lie when he said that it made him feel a bit shy, or nervous—the thought of them seeing such an intimate part of his body, one of which he knows can be heavily judged based on size, was nervewracking to him. But the lack of disgust in their eyes—or maybe it was hidden between a thick cloud of lust—made him believe otherwise. They liked what they saw, and hopefully, nothing would change the way that they saw him. Their approval is what he strives for. However, that does not exactly matter with how far things have gotten. How many times has he repeated that phrase in his head?

The silence was deafening, but it was enough for Viktor to shuffle forward and shift his weight onto his somewhat good leg, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as he used his free hand to pull down their trousers. After this, he would be sure to give things a thorough wash. "Can you come closer?" He asked as he pulled his hand away. Please come closer.

He hadn't expected them to listen to him, nor to actually push themselves off the wall just to get closer to him, but, at the same time, he was not complaining. "Good job," he praised, his hands returning to place on their hips. Their skin felt so warm, but Viktor could still feel the reluctance radiating off of their perfect form. Now, this was just a question of whether or not he should go through with It. If he should finish claiming them.

The rattling chains served as a constant reminder for them to not fall out of line, and Viktor was sure that they did not want to do such a thing, especially not so close to salvation at this point. Steadily, Viktor felt their thighs wrap around his hips, and though the pressure and their weight being shifted onto him were agonising, he tried to force his way through it. The way that he could feel the tip of his dick press against them—that was like pure ecstasy. He never thought the day would come when they would grind into his lap so sensually, and act as if they had never tormented him for years to come.

"God," there was a slight plea laced within his velvet tone, "I need to be inside of you. Please," as much as Viktor loved them, he could never trust them to be the one providing. Not with how their behaviour had exhibited... less than desirable traits. "Will you allow me? We could finally become one in a sense. I just want to feel your insides around me, I want to feel your body heat against me." Whether or not they found pleasure in Viktor's begging, they offered him a response anyway:

"Shut up," was what they said. "Go ahead."

And with that, Viktor found himself slowly pushing their body down into the mattress, further ruining the bedspread and sheets that weren't even properly fixed in the first place. They still seemed reluctant, as their tone even harboured a certain edge to it, but hell, Viktor could not fault them. He feels nervous, too, of course, he does. Pulling down their trousers fully to their calves, he felt a knot grow within his throat. The thought of someone else doing this to them caused bile and jealousy to rise within his empty stomach, curling and screaming in the back of his mind, yet he pushed it aside in favour of much kinder thoughts.

A part of him wished to be able to twist and manipulate this circumstance, but he knew he didn't want to do such a thing - Viktor wanted nothing more than for them to just become wholly his and only his until death would take hold of them both. And even then, that would not split them apart nor dwindle his love for them. "I'm going to..." There was a brief pause, embarrassment etched across his face, "Er, make love to you," he spoke aloud, though it was more as if he was convincing himself that he was going to, rather than informing them.

There was little to no resistance when Viktor pressed himself inside, but it was such a foreign feeling that he could not help but whimper at the sensation. They were warm on the inside, and not the mention that their body would occasionally clench around his dick. His golden eyes gaped at their face, eyeing the expressions that they would make, all the way until the hilt of his dick finally pressed against their pelvic area. This was embarrassing.

Shamelessly, Viktor pulled back his hips, only to snap them forward with a moan. He tried his best to keep quiet, however, with the way that they started breathing heavily with their knees pressed up against the sides of his thighs, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. They were perfect, they felt perfect - on the inside, the outside, no matter. He hunched his body over their own, using the strength in his arms—what was left of it, anyway—to keep himself up. Viktor had no clue how long he would last, nor how his body would allow him to continue. But with how it felt, he hoped it would be long enough.

"You—you're... You're big," they suddenly confessed, a slight whimper escaping with the moan that left them. Fuck, they sounded so adorable like that. "Don't... Stop, please—"

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine at the blatant praise that fell from their lips shamelessly, it seemed so heinous, almost as if they were trying to get him going. "Ah..." Keep talking. "You, ah—you think so?" He panted as his hips snapped forward once, then twice. Was he drooling? Shit, he was drooling. "You feel so good on the in—the inside. So warm, so inviting. I would never... want to stop," a particularly loud moan escaped him, which seemed to be a hybrid of both a moan and wheeze. His lover didn't seem to notice nor care, however.

Why would they ever want to leave when they have such luxury in their life? Here they were, underneath Viktor with their eyes clenched tightly, hands balled up in fists as strings of moans escaped their bitten lips. They looked gorgeous like that. It even made Viktor feel powerful to know that he was able to make them feel such a way. Nearly impossible, he thought, if they weren't tied up and reluctant to accept him, they might have tried something devious and that would have ruined every single thing that Viktor had planned. Still, they're accepting his love.

His rhythm wasn't exactly straight nor following any set beat. Viktor felt as if his movements were sloppy and skewed, choppy thrusts and shuddering muscles that he was surprised had lasted this long. He could feel himself growing close, but he couldn't allow himself to unless they had, first. They mattered more than anything else.

"D... Darling," he nearly cried out, "I love you so much—" One of their hands threw itself behind Viktor's head, tangling their fingers within his messy locks of dark hair, gently tugging him forward. A shock ran down his spine at the gesture.

"I know," they breathed, "I know you do." Were they feeding into his delusion and leaving him to feel as if they felt the same, or did they genuinely love him at this moment? The way their eyes slowly peeked open was complete bliss for him, the irises that stared directly into his own with blown-out pupils—love.

He felt his sloppy movements speeding up, all while his body became sore from the extended movements, and all while this happened he felt the drool collect on the edge of his lips, dripping down his chin to their shirt, wetting the wrinkled fabrics. It didn't matter how ruined it would get, Viktor made a mental note to give them an even better shirt. Nevertheless, a knot coiled itself within his gut, curling around his navel and shooting a cramp up his spine in an almost pleasurable manner.

His bottom lip caught itself in between his incisors, muffling a forthcoming moan. "Are you—" a choked moan. "Are you clos—close? Please—" There was borderline whimpering in tone and he could not help but feel embarrassed for it, but the trembling person below made him feel a little better about his childish worries. They nodded without speaking, staring at him through thick eyelashes. They were gorgeous.

Viktor smiled, and it met his eyes. "So am I."

It was blissful, for him, at least—everything seemed perfect and in order as Viktor's right hand clasped around the side of their waist, squeezing the soft, malleable flesh: pliant. His breathing picked up, as did theirs, but he was determined to stretch this out for as long as he allowed himself to. As he closed his eyes tightly, Viktor felt his thumb dig into the dip between their stomach and hip bone, causing a red indentation on the soft skin. Through his pleasure, he could hear the loud sound of their moans below, as well as the sound of skin slapping against the skin; the squelch of genetic fluids mixed. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound, his head falling against their chest, forehead pressed directly above their heart. Their clavicle, he presumed. They felt so good, he didn't want to stop, but he was so close.

"Viktor—" they cried out, suddenly, "I'm g—going—" there was a loud, rueful cry, followed by a high-pitched whimper. He could feel them clench around his dick, and then they had come. This sent him over the edge. Viktor lifted his head weakly and pressed his lips against their own, his saliva smearing all over their mouth and cheeks. He moaned into their mouth, pressing his hips forward one more time as his hand clenched their skin, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He emptied inside of them, the muscles in his thighs twitching and convulsing, his dick soon going limp thereafter.

For a moment, Viktor caught his breath, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Tears pricked his vision when he opened his eyes, and the slobber dripped from his lips. His legs felt as if they were stuck in mud, but how did they feel? As he lifted himself, Viktor stared down at the person below him, completely covered in the afterglow. I came inside, that was an accident, he thought, but they looked so cute like that.

Much like before, Viktor felt a knot form in the middle of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each calculated swallow and breath.

Viktor felt breathless, but he felt as if that was to be expected. He stared down below at the barely visible person he had claimed just a few moments prior; his vision betraying him. He rests his forehead against theirs, a promise of devotion. "What can I do to make you love me?"

"Let me go," they whispered in a soft croon.

"You know I cannot afford to do that. You're mine."

[centrally-unplanned]

This was a good post, and I see it is making the rounds it deserves - Statecraft is a pretty top notch publication after all. It nails the many weaknesses of what Doge is doing from the lens of a center-right writer who could be inclined to sympathy, while also noting the places fake news on the "critique" side have spread, which is valuable to do.

I do like the point it crystalized that a lot of people were viewing DOGE from the lens of what Vivek Ramaswamy was saying about it, because pre-launch he did 80% of the coherent, long-form talking (while Elon shitposted). Now, unlike Ruiz I understand Vivek to be an intellectual lightweight, the 2020's Paul Ryan in putting a thinking man's sheen on the aged scrap metal that is the typical Republican talking points. But those talking points are at least somewhat a coherent philosophy, an actual action plan identifying real weaknesses in government. I wouldn't expect Vivek's DOGE to *be* a net good, but I completely agree it *could* have done a lot of good. But then he was forced out at the 11th hour, and the DOGE we got is unconcerned with all the parts of that vision that had any merit.

Something I do want to critique the post about, and this connects to my Tepid Critique of Tanner Greer post, is this line:

But I should also point out that we've covered the failings of USAID in depth: for instance, our conversation with Kyle Newkirk, who ran procurement for USAID in Afghanistan. If you dug into the story of American aid involvement there, what you found was report after report from inspectors general and the Government Accountability Office blasting USAID for the same issues: inability to track where money was going, refusal to subject itself to Congressional oversight, and a lack of long-term planning... ...Readers can come to their own conclusions about who is politically or morally responsible for the aid pause. My point is that the dynamics that led us to this moment have been a long time brewing.

In between those lines is a bunch of other failings of USAID. And to be clear, those failings are legion - many government projects in USAID (like many government projects generally and many private corporate projects as well because life) have been anything from inefficient to boondoggles. So what Ruiz sketches out is that USAID has both stacked up failures, making it earn the ire of some Congressional Republicans and think-tank skeptic types, and those failures have a political bent, often angering Republicans over things like abortion services. And that these failures culminated in the org being attacked; something a better run org, a more bipartisan org, could have avoided.

This is a sketch of a form of intellectual history that is, alas, almost certainly false. Elon Musk, Donald Trump, have never read a USAID accountability report about Afghanistan reconstruction operations in their life. They probably do not know that USAID was even there. The critiques of USAID generated by the alt-right twitterati do not, in any way, stem from academic critiques of its bureaucratic inefficiency. They stem from hating foreigners and deep state conspiracy nonsense. The "argument" Elon musk was setting up for taking down USAID was that it funds ~The Cathedral~ in the US via grants to left media orgs taken from misreading and lying about spreadsheets. There is almost zero intellectual lineage between these strains of thought outside of a generic anti-state libertarianism (that the movement otherwise completely rejects when it is convenient for them).

The idea that USAID could have "saved" itself with better internal management is an illusion center-right types want to believe in because it "both-sides" the issue and gives them hope that there is reasonable critiques at the center of all of this, that the center-right ideological space is still "in charge" but perhaps afflicted with an overzealousness one can temper. And it isn't wrong in the sense that many individual Republicans are those people, who is "dominant" in an admin can shift, that could happen. But it is, fundamentally, a plead trying to justify a sort of "here is how Elon can still win". He can't, the things he is doing are not a "step 1" to better ideas. They are simply destructive waste with a dash of pretty-much murder.

If they stop doing destructive waste and proceed to try to fix the damage they dealt, many will go "ah, see, this was the plan the whole time". Which is 100% going to happen and is very much going to piss me off. It is a lie, and I do wish people like Ruiz (who again is otherwise a great writer and thinker) would have the clarity to see that trick ahead of time.

[charlotteharlatan]

Do you ever think about what would have happened if Mary Hodges (formerly Mary Loquacious) hadn’t interrupted Crowley and Aziraphale’s “intimate moment”?

Because I do. I think about it a lot.

First off, the way that this shot is set up is perfect. Mary - Mary who had a key role in the whole “Antichrist shuffle” fiasco, and who is a walking reminder of the approaching apocalypse that will separate Aziraphale and Crowley - is literally coming between them. The show is full of these beautifully simple, yet easy-to-miss moments that only last a few frames.

Now, on its surface, this part of the scene mostly plays as humorous because Crowley and Aziraphale are sexless-by-default, non-human entities who just happen to come across to most humans as a very aesthetic queer couple. So naturally, Mary makes the same assumption as every other human that so much as glances in their direction, and isn’t that a laugh?

Except that…she’s not actually wrong about it being an intimate moment. Not just in the physical sense, although I think this is the closest we see them physically get in the whole first season (not counting being literally inside each other’s corporations, I suppose).

But it’s intimate in the emotional sense too, because Crowley is worried and stressed about having lost the Antichrist, and now on top of everything else he’s got Aziraphale calling him “nice” and poking at some very old wounds (if he’s so “nice” then why did he Fall?). And Crowley is also probably *frightened* - they’re inside a former Satanic convent that kept regular contact with not just Crowley himself, but also Hastur, and probably other demons too. For all Crowley knows, someone from his side could still be lurking about; they could overhear and get them both in big trouble.

And as if all that weren’t enough, I don’t think I’m imagining a healthy dose of frustration with Aziraphale in the mix either. Just a few minutes prior, the angel essentially tempted Crowley into miracling the paint stain out of his coat, and then broke their rules by saying “thank you” for it. Aziraphale has spent at least the last few centuries sending him some very mixed signals and we can see that Crowley is done with them dancing around each other. That game was more or less fine before, they had time, all the time in the world. But now, in just a few days, all the time in the world will be ENDING. And yet here’s Aziraphale, playing the same game as always, acting like nothing between them has changed, even though they both know better.

So yeah, it all comes to a head in that moment, and Crowley (sort of understandably) loses it a bit. He won’t actually hurt Aziraphale and they both know that, but he has to get across to the angel SOMEHOW that he’s experiencing some Big Feelings. And he doesn’t have a whole lot of options as to how to do that. He’s too worked up to communicate effectively. So he goes with the wall slam. This causes an emotionally charged situation which we’re primed to think will have an emotional payoff - the camera pulls in close, a dramatic transition, drawing us in to the tension of the moment right along with Crowley and Aziraphale.

And then there’s Aziraphale, who…doesn’t defend himself at all. Aziraphale, who is kind but far from defenseless, who used to guard the gate of Eden with a flaming sword, who was supposed to fight in a platoon of angels in the final battle. He’s no pushover, and yet he lets himself get literally pushed over. It doesn’t even seem to occur to him to stop Crowley, not even as he’s wrinkling his precious coat.

And maybe this is just my read of this scene, but Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley coming into his personal space is interesting in and of itself. He doesn’t act as if this is the first instance of Crowley being that close to him - and it is CLOSE. Their lips are centimeters apart. Their noses are touching.

And one might well say that all of it happens so fast that Aziraphale is caught off guard and freezes up, but as so many have already pointed out about this scene, just after Mary interrupts he looks…blatantly longing, and then more than a bit put out.

And after Crowley lets him go, he casually fixes his clothes and goes straight back to bickering. Which may be partially a defense mechanism, because they don’t have time to talk about what just happened, there clearly won’t be any emotional resolution right now. But really, wouldn’t “you go too fast for me” Aziraphale be more rattled if that were truly the first time they had crossed that physical boundary and shared space like this? He looks affected, certainly, but quickly shakes it off.

And, to take it one step further: Aziraphale knows Crowley. He knows what words are likely to set him off. He has an established pattern of having Crowley do things for him, based on Aziraphale’s own prompting (see also: wordlessly asking Crowley to help Hamlet become a hit). Aziraphale does as much tempting to get Crowley to do “nice” things as Crowley does to get him to do “naughty” things. All of which is to say, Aziraphale may have actually been baiting Crowley here, but the bait is just a little too effective, and Aziraphale isn’t fully prepared for the intensity of the response he gets. But there’s a strong case to be made that by calling the demon “nice,” he’s looking to get a specific reaction out of Crowley. Again, not the healthiest form of communication, but it’s what they have in this context, because honesty would be too dangerous.

Which brings me back to my point: it IS an intimate moment, in more ways than Mary could have possibly realized, and what if she hadn’t walked in on them? How would Crowley have finished his sentence that got cut off, and how would Aziraphale have responded to it, to Crowley’s outburst of emotion, or to their proximity?

Maybe he would have gently and politely pushed Crowley away - but to me, something about his expression and body language says he wouldn’t have. Because Aziraphale is tired of dancing around this too, actually, and in the heat of the moment, he may just have closed the distance. Especially if they’ve had “intimate moments” before this one.

And between you and me, I think they did, and I think it was after Crowley saved Aziraphale and his books during the Blitz. It’s a solid explanation for the increased tension between them in the holy water scene.

Anyway. This meta has been sitting in my drafts since before the first trailer came out, S2 is only nine days away, and I’m clearly very normal about all of this.

[lightlycareless]

I teased this a while ago and then never mentioned it again. The sequel for this work over here.

warnings: hs au. satoru is a jerk and naoya does not like him. he's like a ghost of your past he wont leave you alone. minimal proofreading.

enjoy!!

Your relationship with Naoya after the first date had been, fortunately, incredibly gratifying.

From the oceans of gifts he’d give you almost religiously, with many you have yet to open, to the weekly (if not daily, all depending of your school workload) dates in whatever place was trending…

It was safe to say that your parents were right. Something better does come along, and oh, did that notion make you happy.

But not more than what Naoya has made you. Throughout your whole life, you’ve never been happier than by his side—and you could not wait to see what the future held for the two.

Unless…

“Hey, Y/N—Can I talk to you for a moment?” Suguru says after appearing from what seemed thin air, interrupting one of the scarce moments you had with your boyfriend in between classes… much to Naoya’s annoyance.

“No.” he responds before you could even muster a reaction. “Can’t you see she’s busy with me?”

Suguru was briefly acquainted with the quickly growing rumors surrounding your and Naoya’s… fervent relationship. How both, even with less than a few weeks of being together, seemed virtually inseparable. To the point where if one was missing, all anyone needed to do is search for the other.

But was persisted the most out of these allegations was your beloved boyfriend’s possessiveness. Which you apparently did little next to nothing to control, except when it came to those you considered close ones and those he personally deemed trustworthy (in other words, nobody)

That included Geto, and his currently absent pair.

“It won’t take long.” Suguru insisted, now looking at you, as if silently urging you to put a stop to Naoya’s silly charade.

“I already said—”

“Why?” you interrupt Naoya, gently taking his hands with yours and squeezing it in reassurance. He dejectedly squeezes back, letting you know he was to calm down… but only if Suguru gave him a convincing reason to do so.

“Satoru wants to talk to you.”

Well, there goes his one and only chance.

“Leave.” Naoya says, peeling away from you and stomping over to him. “Now!”

“Naoya—" you gasp, holding him back by the arm. “Wait!”

Suguru isn’t intimidated by his anger, he’s had to deal with far more embarrassing instances via his everyday companion; if anything, he’s amused by how instinctively you reacted to his emotions. It’s like you’ve grown used to it, and truth to be told, he found it quite pitiful.

You always seemed a bit more… selective—no, dreamy when it came to your potential partners. If you were to settle down, Suguru suspected it would’ve been with someone like Nanami; and he wasn’t ignorant of the crush you once had towards himself.

Not that he was ever considering indulging those emotions, but this example serves to show just how vastly different, and better, your options were when excluding Naoya.

How can he know this wasn’t an elaborate prank, to… well, get a rise from those around you? Surely, you didn’t start dating the kid with the worst reputation at school for a whole month just because you actually liked him. Or to get back at the one that wronged you—with someone infinitely worse!

Did you?

No. He can’t believe it. No one can.

Not even Satoru.

“It’s not worth it” you quietly insist, and your words are what Naoya needed to finally calm down. Taking a deep breath as he returns to your side, but his annoyance still remained, as seen in his prominent frown.

 “Consider it.” Suguru adds. “He really wants to talk to you.”

“…Why now?” you slightly concede—you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that a part of you itched to know why Satoru decided to waltz back into your life after so long. After giving you all those indisputable, clear messages that he didn’t want anything with you.

Why now?

Now that you’re nothing but happy and loved, why did Gojo decide it was appropriate to come back?

“Just talk to him, please.” Geto insisted one last time before turning around and leaving the two to discuss what sourly transpired.

“You’re not going to talk to him, are you?” Naoya huffed, offended that not only Suguru dared to walk up to the two uninvited, but with the intentions to relay that stupid message from your ex, Satoru; he hadn’t forgotten all the vile things he’s had others enact on you simply because he wasn’t intelligent enough to appreciate what he had.

What he once used to partake in too, but those days are long gone—and he’d be foolish to let you go too!

Though what anguished him the most… was the likelihood of you accepting such invitation. His mind already spiraling into the worst possibilities yet whilst waiting for your answer.

“No.” you quickly respond, shaking your head as you appear to not even give the thought a second of consideration. “I don’t want to know anything about him; nothing at all.”

Naoya exhales, as if a weight is suddenly lifted from his shoulders. You smile.

“Did I worry you there for a bit, Naoya?” you jest, standing on your toes and kissing his cheek. “You have nothing to worry about, you’re the only one in my heart.”

And while those words were intended to cheer him up, Naoya could still see that beneath your eyes, worry lingered. As if you hoped those words would also steer your doubts clear, or at least keep you from earning Satoru’s unwanted attention again.

But unfortunately, even when continuously rejecting Suguru’s insistences, Satoru himself did not dwindle. If anything, he became far more persistent, pushing you to finally agree.

“You’re wrong if you think I’m going to let you go talk to that idiot after all he’s done to you! You shouldn’t even give him the time of day!”

“I’m only doing this because I want him to stop, not because I want to…” you murmur. “I really couldn’t care less about whatever he has to say—but I’m not going to let him ruin what I have, again!”

Naoya’s still not happy about your decision, but at least he knows that your heart is in the right place, even if Satoru’s presence slowly began to chip away at the security he felt on his relationship with you.

…

He just hopes he isn’t right.

“I’ll call you when it’s over.” You say once dropped off at the place your conversation with Satoru was to happen, a café you chose—Satoru needed to budge if this was to happen, and thus, here you were. “…wish me luck.”

“I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

You give him a tight smile.

“I know. But… I don’t want you to forget that, no matter what happens, my feelings for you will never change.” You say, gently pulling him down to place a chaste kiss on his lips “Also! Don’t eat anything without me, I want to get lunch together.”

Naoya chuckles, before seeing you enter into the establishment, leaving him distraught, worried that his relationship might not be the same once you return, even with your reassurance.

The best thing he could do at this moment is get distracted, he supposes, clear his head a bit until your so-called meeting with Satoru is over. So, while silently wishing time went on faster, Naoya heads into the st0res with no real purpose outside of buying things he thinks you might enjoy.

Before deciding it was best to postpone such purchases for another moment, preferably when he knows for certain he will still have a girlfriend to dote on.

From there, though he promised to wait for you to eat, he still didn’t stop himself from getting a bite. Just a little something to control his rising hunger to when he inevitably meets up with you again—and so, he heads to one of the nearby food stands, waiting in line to order and subsequently pay…

Only to be pulled out of his thoughts by hearing a surprisingly familiar voice calling out his name, prompting him to swiftly turn around and inwardly groan when finding out who it was: one of Gojo’s friends. The one he never registered in his mind outside of ugly and unlady-like, as well as a heavy smoker that might be the first one to die in his generation if she keeps going at it like she normally does.

“Hey, Naoya. Didn’t think I’d find you here at the mall.” Shoko says, walking towards him. “Not without Y/N, at least. You always struck me as the kind of guy that would have an assistant or something to get him things.”

“Didn’t ask.” Naoya responds immediately, making Shoko widen her eyes before shrugging.

“Yeah, you’re right. Anyways… I guess Satoru did manage to get Y/N to talk to him, didn’t he?”

Naoya’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Did everyone just know about this???”

“Not really. I think I know around the same as you. If not a bit more.”

“You’re lying, you three are essentially inseparable”

“Alright, I’ll tell you everything I know—but not without payment, of course. Come, buy me something to drink and we’ll talk about it.”  

Naoya would rather not, but when in need of knowledge more so in these dire times, he couldn’t afford such luxuries.

“—Want anything?” Shoko asks, glancing back at Naoya once going through the menu of the nearby boba place she was once recommended to visit. Good thing she technically didn’t spend a dime if she ended up not liking it.

“To talk about my girlfriend.”

“Right.” And after getting her drink, the two head over to the nearest available table, with Naoya wasting no time nor curtesy to sit down first. There was no time to waste, the mere existence of his relationship was on jeopardy! “Well, what do you want to know that you don’t already know?”

“Why he’s so suddenly all about Y/N when he clearly didn’t appreciate her??”

“I wouldn’t say so necessarily.” Shoko responds, a statement that causes Naoya’s chest to tighten a bit.

“What do you mean? Didn’t he cheat on her?”

“Weren’t you his devout follower? Surely, you should know by now…”

Naoya wouldn’t call whatever relationship he had with him that of a follower, it was mostly a one-sided obsession that limited his knowledge to his insecurities and the sidelines, such as your presence, which he acknowledged through a subtle attraction but never more than that.

Not even now that the two are dating did you dare to talk, nor he to pry, about just how deep your relationship with Satoru went.

But he could imagine enough, and surely after all that… you wouldn’t accept him back, would you? After all the tears you shed for him—

Or did he underestimate his grip over you?

“Oh, so you really don’t know.”

“I’m not interested in other men’s business” Naoya responds with a half lie. “I simply don’t have time for that.”

“Ah, so you don’t want to know why Satoru is suddenly seeking her out? What their relationship consisted of? How they met, or… how they fell in love?”

“Love?” Naoya repeats, as if offended. No, more like… in disbelief. He’s not even gotten to hear such profession from you, but you already done so with him?

His fears weigh heavier on his mind.

What happened before him?

“I’m not saying that there are any chances of the two getting back together after that stupid thing he did, but you should at least know what brought them together in the first place—it might be a guideline for the future.”

“How… how did they get together?” Naoya eventually concedes, his pain and curiosity forcing him to do so. “When?”

They got together just short of you starting high school, but you knew him from years before. When you were nothing short of a child—and Satoru, roughly the same age, as well.

A mischievous, a bit crude, but somehow charming kid you soon became smitten by; there was just something about him that you couldn’t stray your eyes from, following him like a stray puppy to whatever adventures he’d get into.

Satoru didn’t give you much attention in return, though there were moments he’d come to appreciate your company; specially those where you’d follow his lead without much complaint, being one of the few kids that follow his every word and beyond that he could trust.

But feelings didn’t get involved until much later, after one small interaction with him made you look at him differently; thought him handsome instead of cute. Charming instead of funny.

“How do you know all this? Did she tell you?”

“No. I was there, kind of.” Shoko responds. “It was quite entertaining to see everything go down, really. But nice too, Y/N seemed really happy to follow him around, and I think he was quite happy with that too.”

Naoya’s heart tightens.

“I mean, they did everything together! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone learn so much about a topic so quickly, or that they’d be able to keep up, just so they’d have something to talk about. Satoru went on and on and on about Digimon, and even though she didn’t like it, she became an expert for him!

Just a bunch of nerds gush about whatever geeky interest they haed, but it eventually gets tiring, you know? And a bit ridiculous too. But hey, if they’re happy…”

Naoya is aware of your enthusiasm when it comes to your preferences, you weren’t exactly the quiet one once becoming comfortable...

But almost as if this were Shoko’s intentions, Naoya couldn’t help but compare his experiences with Satoru’s; a perception that led him to wonder if you’ve done the same—when the two do things together, do you ever think back of those moments you were with him?

Conclude that you weren’t having much of a good time, like with Satoru?

Was Gojo a much better listener? Far more doting that he ever was…?

“I still remember how excited she was when he got a GameCube, Y/N virtually spent almost every day with him just to play.” She continues. “I don’t think I got to see either of them for a whole week.”

Naoya feels his heart become unbearably tighter, such a sharp constriction he felt lightheaded, out of breath.

Because whatever Shoko said, it just pushed him further and further into the undeniable truth, the one he never wished to accept…

It was a misfortune what happened between you and Satoru, but in the end, deserved each other.

It was simply a matter of time to see so.

“I really don’t know why he went ahead and did that. I mean, she seemed to be the only one capable of tolerating him—even the nasty bits, never putting up a fuzz! And believe me, not even the most desperate girls that swarm him are up to that task.”

He’d soon learn that most of the places you have taken him were initially introduced to you by Satoru.

Like the arcade, the fair, sometimes the mall but most definitely your favorite pastry shop which he’s become a frequent customer just to indulge your after-school cravings…

Naoya hadn’t done anything impressive to claim an “advancement” over the man he now despises.

Perhaps he hadn’t even done much to obtain your affections, after all.

“I don’t want it to sound like she’s not happy with you, I mean, I can see how much she enjoys being with you and all—it’s just…”

“I don’t want to hear anymore.” Naoya suddenly says, barely giving Shoko a second glance before he storms away from her, heading straight towards your location.

He’s careless if his reputation is tarnished, the talk of the school the day after once Shoko decides to divulge the tantrum he seemingly threw the moment he didn’t like what he heard.

But he just couldn’t do it anymore; he couldn’t take the constant belittling of his relationship—of him.

Naoya knew he wasn’t precisely the best person when it came to a lot of things; he’s not particularly likeable, nor popular (in the right sense, at least). Sometimes it’s straight up impossible to get along with him. But when it related to you, he tried his best.

To please you, to make you happy, to be a better man.

Because for the first time in his life, he wished to strive for more than his own selfish desires.

He wanted to create something where he could be happy, without judgment, without caring what others thought, and share it with you.

Yet, after these conversations… it was just too easy to understand you’ve already made up your mind, or that at least Satoru was trying to lean you towards him—Because why else would Shoko approach him in what seemed to be a feeble attempt of putting him down gently?

Naoya should’ve known that nothing good ever lasts in his life, if anything, he’s glad to have experienced what true love felt, even when fleeting.

And just as he arrived, you were already outside. Satoru’s presence nowhere to be seen, for which he was grateful; Naoya wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle another blow like this.

…

Might as well get this over with.

“Y/N, I—”

But before he could say another word, as soon as you catch notice of him, you rush to his side, swiftly and strongly wrap your arms around him, pulling him down to the level where you could crash your lips over his and kiss him—an action that feels desperate given the roughness of your hands, bittersweet behind your impatient lips, but overall desolate in the tears sliding down your cheeks.

Once you pull away and Naoya is able to discern something is wrong, worry does not hesitate to etch his features, your boyfriend more than ready to jump in and do whatever necessary to remove such anguish.

Yet, it’s not necessary—because your words will act as the final assessment, the last proof he needed to understand your heart is not easily swayed away from that it considers their soulmate.

“I love you.” You say, trying your best to hold back your lips from trembling, yet came out as a quiet sob. Naoya had to ask.

“Are you ok?”

“I… I’m just hungry.” You breathe, sniffling as you tried to quickly wipe your tears away—Naoya wins you to it by gently pressing his thumbs against your skin, cupping your face and keeping you close. “You—you haven’t eaten anything, right? Remember, you promised! let’s—Let’s get something to eat, ok? I’m starving!”

Naoya stares at you for a few seconds, but then, he smiles.

Undoubtedly, a part of him greatly wishes to know what happened, hear all that you had to endure in the form of that fool Satoru; know just what stupidities he dared spew at you in hopes of getting you back.

But just one look is all he needed to understand that perhaps, some things, are simply better left unsaid.

Because acts prove much stronger than words. And your continuous devotion to him in the following years, erases any doubt he ever had of his worth.

Obviously, only you would have such effect on him.

“Let’s get you something, princess. Before you get all grumpy on me.” He teases, making you chuckle; but instead of refuting him as you usually do, you simply take his hand, sighing as you briefly rested your head over his shoulder to then continue off where you left off.

also known as the shoko was trying to tell naoya that he's a much better boyfriend than satoru but came out weird lol. (essentially shoko was like: y/n had to cater to him, but now it's the other way around but she actually feels like it's reciprocal so good for you naoya)

y/n got a bit emotional at the end because satoru did come back to her with the intentions of rekindling whatever relationship they had but it just made her realize how happy she truly is with Naoya and even said I love you for the first time.

:) I hope you liked it nonetheless 💖

[alwaysanundertone]

What could possibly go wrong?

Barty Crouch Jr x fem! reader

word count: 1k

part 1 , part 2

You loved the library.

Being addicted to reading and learning, and also not having many friends, made that place your personal heaven.

So today, as any other day really, you were seated on an armchair in the very back of the library, a Dostoevskij novel on your knees. Being a Saturday night, it was so quiet, the only sounds being the rain hitting the windows.

However, your peace was interrupted by a certain Slytherin that seemed to be getting a tad too comfortable around you, in your opinion.

“Hey love, what are you reading? But most importantly, why are you reading on a Saturday night?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Crouch”

“Oh come on Y/N, you don’t have to pretend you hate me. I know you find me, in fact, really sexy”

You widened your eyes, a pink hue suddenly coloring your cheeks.

Even though you found Barty Crouch Jr unnerving, you couldn’t deny how hot he was, or how he, unfortunately for you, had a way with words.

You didn’t know why, but he always seemed to get you flustered. Maybe it was his confidence, or maybe his fluffy hair that you just wanted to touch, or maybe just the fact that he seemed to be the only one that actually wanted to get to know you.

“… I think you’re not listening to me. Got lost dreaming about me, baby? Why settling for daydreaming when you have the real thing in front of your eyes?”

Now you felt your ears starting to burn. “Yeah Crouch, keep believing that, I won’t stop you”

“Yes, I think I will keep believing that. If the colour of your cheeks is of any indication, I think that you must really like me”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin that was desperately trying to grow in your lips.

“Anyways, you must know that I’m hosting a party in the Slytherin dungeons, and I find it really rude of me to not be present”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because, being your knight in a shining armour, I’m here to rescue you from boredom! Come with me, be my guest at my party”

You widened your eyes. “You are really going insane if you think that I’ll be attending a Slytherin party”

“Why?” He gave you what you assumed was meant to be his take on puppy eyes, when really it looked like he was about to have one of his eyes pop out of their socket.

“Why? Well, for instance, look at what I’m wearing”

He looked at your joggers and your hoodie. “Well, princess, even though you’re still beautiful, I will come with you to your dorm, where you’ll be able to change, and then you’ll be coming to my party”

“Well, I don’t know anyone from your House?”

“Exactly! Perfect way to introduce my future girl to my friends!” You stared at him, mouth agape.

“But… But-“ You really had to get ahold of yourself. “But I’m socially awkward! And I’m having a really great time here with my book” He looked over at your 800+ pages novel, a brow quirked. “And I don’t smoke, nor I ever have drank any type of alcohol! I don’t even know how to dance! And parties aren’t really for-“

You stopped mid sentence, while you were giving him a piece of your mind he just took your hand in his and tugged it, now you were in his arms.

“Ok Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to drink, you don’t have to smoke, you don’t even have to dance in order to have fun at a party; if you want to do those things and are a bit shy to do them alone, don’t worry, you can do those things with me. You won’t be alone, I will be sticking to your side for the whole night.” You tried to protest, but he put a finger on your lips. “I noticed you don’t have many friends in your House, which proves that Ravenclaw aren’t really as smart as they pretend to be.” You tried, again, to say something, but the shushed you out, again. “I know you have this whole “do not speak to me or I’ll bite” vibe going on, which is really sexy, but even Reg has us! So give us a chance, and you’ll might end up with a new group of friends!”

You stared at him blankly. What hurt the most is that he was right. You didn’t have many friends, and during the first year you were really sad about it, not knowing what you were doing wrong. So you built an armour, you pretended that you didn’t want any friends, because pretending hurt less than accepting the fact that you were, in fact, alone.

So now, having Barty read you out like that, and caring enough to try to convince you to come to a party, made your heart melt a little.

“Okay”

The smile that grew instantly on his face was something so beautiful, that you had to stop your own smile from forming.

“Okay! Fantastic, we have to hurry! The party already started!”

In a blink of an eye you were on his back, him speeding outside the library, and you trying your best not to make a sound, in order to not be caught by Gazza.

While he waited patiently outside the Ravenclaw common room, you were frantically putting together an outfit. You didn’t want to stand out to much, but you didn’t want to look underdressed. You opted for a pair of low rise jeans, a black corset and put your hair in a slick back; with lots of jewellery, you thought you looked okay.

When you finally joined Barty, he stared at you in awe.

“What? Not enough? Too much?”

He shushed you, again. You were getting kinda annoyed with all of this shushing.

“You look amazing, I swear you have to teach me how to put on eyeliner”

You rolled your eyes playfully, as you started to speed walk to the Slytherin dungeons.

New year new you, right? What could have possibly gone wrong?

[vivispec]

Hello there! I'm not even sure how to start. So I felt very disappointed by DA:TV, because of various reasons. Not trying to dampen the mood, I am super happy for you if you actually enjoyed the game! If you do not mind, could you list the things you liked/loved about the game? Help me see the "bright side"? Just gush a litte about it, I could use some positive input around my favourite gaming series of all time. :') thank you <3

Absolutely! For me, I think I always figured I was going to like this game, even if it wasn't my fave of all time? Trick Weekes always writes characters/quests that I like, and for me, story/characters come before anything else. I liked Andromeda, flawed as it was. Even if the gameplay was mediocre, I was certain I'd find something I'd like.

But the gameplay wasn't mediocre. It was actually really, really fun. I played Spellblade, and honestly, the gameplay might be a highpoint for me. I don't really like action gameplay, I tolerate it. I loved this, though.

The biggest thing that really sold me is the fact that the big choices in this game are difficult in a way Bioware has been trying to capture since Origins, but I don't think they've ever nailed until now (except maybe in Mass Effect). Even in Origins, when they had big choices like what to do with Connor, or how to deal with the werewolves, there was always a cop out choice. There isn't one in this game, so far as I can see. At the end of EVERY companion quest there was a choice I couldn't choose, something that made me wonder just what would've happened if I'd picked something different, and don't get me started on the endgame. The endgame was brutal :')

I love the characters, too! I do think some of the writing can get a bit campy or be a bit on the nose, I think some subtlety is lacking for certain characters especially in the beginning, but once shit hits the fan just about every companion has their gutwrenching moment. I felt for every single character in this game, during their act 2 personal quest moments. In all the other games there was at least one character I just couldn't care about, but even the ones that I thought wouldn't tickle my fancy snuck up on me. By the end, I loved all of them so much. I only wanted more.

I like Rook, too. I think I can see how their characterization might be disappointing, though. I think the key for me and my friend @sweetmage was finding the right Rook to play. We both had lots of concepts and while I plugged in the right one first, I know they struggled until they found the right one. Rook is kinda like Hawke in the way that they have a bit of personality already and a defined character path, which can get in the way of true RP. Once I stopped fighting it and let Rook be Rook, I liked the game a lot more, and I liked my character a lot more.

Then there's lore. Oh, lore. I have listened to or read every codex. I have a treasure trove of theories I keep locked in my head. All I need is a corkboard and some red string. Getting to see so many of those theories come to fruition? Things they've been teasing since Origins, that I picked up on when I was 12? Absolutely magical! Some of it I think they bungled--there's one reveal I've been waiting for for 15 years that I found in a note, not codex, on a bridge in Minrathous, no fanfare or anything--but the majority of it punched me right in the face with so much force I had to pause the game and do a little pacing. I won't get into specifics for spoiler reasons, but seeing all those little dots connect? seeing when I was right, and when I was wrong? SO euphoric for me!

A lot of the things I didn't like, too, like making the Crows less shitty--so easy to headcanon around, in ways that don't contradict canon! It's one of my favorite things to do, it feels like a puzzle to me, making everything that is for certain and everything I want fit together. That one, for instance, Zevran totally gutted all the shitty Crows, and left only the good ones :)

I will say, it's clear they were trying to wrap things up. I got the sense while playing it felt that they didn't want to leave any loose threads in case this was their last DA game, so that felt a bit rushed. But I loved it. To me it was a love letter, saying goodbye. Wrapping everything up in a nice little bow. I've always struggled to choose a favorite game in the DA series, they all do something I love so differently that I can't pinpoint one singular favorite, and I think this one is right up there for me, tied for 1st place with the other three games. Like DA2 and DAI I think it could've cooked just a little bit longer, there's a lot of potential for it to be a 9/10 game imho if they'd smoothed a couple of things out, but there's a lot in there for me to love.

Thank you so much for the question, I hope the wall of text will help you see a bit of the light haha. I don't mind that people didn't like it--that's just how it goes sometimes, and I think there are a lot of valid criticisms to be had. For me I was just super bummed that it was the only thing I was seeing online. I'm following lots of positivity now, so the occasional disenchantment is not a problem. Idk if it'll work for you, but @sweetmage was similarly disappointed until they streamed it with a friend, and then just having someone there to converse with it on really helped them to enjoy it. I hope you can find something to love in it, too!

[kataraslove]

as someone who has recently read the reckoning of roku, it’s really not the anti fire nation propaganda that a certain subsection of fandom is making it out to be. yes, gyatso says those words to roku, but he’s angry - at both the world and at himself for the death of his sister. he later apologizes to roku. the book does not paint gyatso out to be in the right, and neither does it paint all fire nation citizens to be in the wrong. the narrative even makes a distinction between the good fire nation citizens (ta min and roku) and prejudicial fire nation citizens (sozin, primarily), and some morally ambiguous ones like dalisay, but they’re more or less abolished from any accountability for partnering with sozin.

avatar the last airbender does not do a good job at displaying much of the context associated with the crimes of the fire nation, aka the climate and perspectives that justified sozin eradicating the air nomads and many of the benders in the southern water tribe. we know from avatar that sozin wanted to conquer the rest of the world for fire nation domination and expansion, but we’re not given much insight into the causal factors that allowed him to conduct genocide and colonialism, beyond “he was able to do it all in one day with the power of the comet,” and “he was a very bad man.”

the reckoning of roku provides the context for all of that, the factors that contributed to sozin’s blood-thirst. which means seeing sentiment from sozin that view the air nomads - and their pacifist ways of life - as inferior and below human. the novel doesn’t particularly attempt to humanize sozin, not in the way that other medias do when exploring the backstory of their villain. at the end, the takeaway from the novel is that sozin is on the road to becoming the ultimate fascist we all know him for, but this time we’re provided more context into how he became that fascist, and why roku hesitated to kill him.

is it more critical of the fire nation than most of the franchise? yes, i would say so, and having a filipino author be the one to offer that commentary is an excellent decision by avatar studios. but the extent of the critique is still more or less along the lines of “this one guy was truly the operations behind it,” which is still consistent with what we’ve seen in atla. there’s nothing too radical introduced in terms of colonial theory, unlike what parts of the fandom are saying.

which leads me to my final point: if this is how badly a subsection of fandom (aka fire nation worshippers and zutara shippers [not mutually exclusive]) are reacting to the simple notion exploring how sozin committed genocide, then they’ve hit further rock bottom than i can imagine. not only that, but this type of reactionary behaviour risks alienating other parts of the fandom; for instance, fans of the avatar novels who otherwise would have given the ship and the shippers grace.

in other words, many of these hardcore shippers “criticizing” the roku novel have no one to blame but themselves if their behaviour leads to the alienation of regular fans. this loud subsection of fandom is so caught up in their one-sided, imaginary fantasy where everything in the franchise somehow revolves around aang/kataang vs zuko/zutara, that the Evil Bryke are always targeting them, to the point that they’ll fail to realize that the fire nation and fire nation characters are often absolved from accountability across the IP, and the fire nation is explored much more than the other nations are.

[devnmon]

dating sadie adler, kisser of women hcs ♡

obviously i had to do this for my bbg sadie. she deserves MORE appreciation and if nobody will write for her I WILL!!!! i gladly will. i love her, so enjoy these! luv u all!

[also just pretend this is historically accurate bye!]

Sadie is a very intelligent woman... she knows how to hunt, how to use a gun, who knows what else is in that brain of hers. She must have so many hidden talents and skills, and you intend to find out what.

Though her addition to the group was somewhat abrupt, you and Abigail do your best to make her feel welcome. You aren't sure if Sadie feels the comfort that you hope your words provide to her at first. Once the group moves to Clemens Point, you find she's coming out of her shell little by little. You see it in her pristine new outfit when she returns from a run with Arthur, and the way she holds herself is much different than before.

This new version of Sadie Adler was fiery, confident and stickin' it to the man– you quickly found out not to get on her bad side. Though you think you'd let her do anything to you if it were the right situation.

The minute Sadie realizes what she's feeling for you is more than platonic... it takes her back a step. She never thought she'd find someone other than Jake to want in that way– but here you are. You're always at her side, perfect to her, and she will protect you like her life depends on it. When she silently swallows her feelings and pretends she doesn't care, you notice.

You all but have to drag her out of camp in the middle of the night to get a minute alone with her; otherwise there's prying eyes and others whose attention you really didn't wish to grab.

Once the two of you are alone you'll go off on how she's been avoiding you at every turn, rambling on and on like you'd done something wrong. "What happened to you?" you'd ask. She sighs and goes "You happened to me."

"I've been a fool. Do you hate me? What have I done?" statements flow from her when she notices you're silent, staring while she stutters over confessing her feelings. It's at that point you shut her up by kissing her and you can almost hear the sparks flying from the two of you. There's a big ass smile on her face afterwards and she kisses you in between her smiles. Sadie Adler is a smitten fool for you.

She's observant, patient and good with her hands. That is: she teaches you how to shoot a rifle, since you're more comfortable to ask her. She gladly shows you, and when you think you've got it, her arms surround you from behind to adjust your aim– and you're blushing. After she takes her hands away, you're flustered by the loss and silently begging for her to put them back.

Will match outfits with you nonchalantly as a statement to your relationship with her. Like say you're wearing an outfit with blue or white, she'll wear a blue scarf and her white shirt to match you. She'll even give you a piece of her jewelry to wear in that instance, or get you a piece of your own to match hers. Sadie's sentimental & cute like that!!!

Sadie will also leave you notes secretly, to which you fawn over every time. She also definitely gushes over the ones you leave her, when you compare her to the sweet flowers you pick for her. [Arthur noticed how hard she was blushing one time and got curious, she's had to read your notes in private ever since!]

Definitely gets veryyy touchy and affectionate when she's had a few drinks. She's slurring out "Heyyy pretty girlll I know where you can find a nice place to stay for the night..." in your ear and you have to excuse yourselves in *attempt* to get her to sleep.

Sadie is definitely the type to say "i owe you a hundred kisses" if you had a bet with her about something. Usually it was silly, harmless contests that either of you could compete against each other in playfully.

Sadie also introduced you to pranks, which she loves to pull on the other guys. One time the two of you messed with Arthur, sending him silly letters from someone named "Hugh Janus". The two of you tried to hold in your laughs when he got frustrated and yelled out "WHO THE HELL IS HUGH JANUS??" in camp unprompted.

Sadie is a huge cuddler at night, intertwining her whole body with yours to keep warm, especially when it gets chilly at night. There's not a smidge of space to have for yourself, it's shared with her always. Other examples of this are her linking her pinkie finger with yours when you're standing around the group. She loves physical touch so much that she'll do anything to have her skin on yours no matter what; if it's riding on the back of the same horse, or pouring her a drink, she's making some sort of contact. It's her way to say "I'm here & I love you". She's such a sweetheart to you.

NSFW

Yeah Sadie is a top this Sadie is a top that... may I suggest... she's a switch. On rare occasions, Sadie Loves being on her knees for you. She's a real freak like that. She'll beg and beg and beg until you cave and give her what she wants: you.

“Please, stop teasin’ me, just give me what I want. You know I’ll return the favor, sweet girl.” Her raspy voice, her gentle commands, her pretty thighs spread for you..

But when she's in control? Oh it's absoluuutely over for you. She'll praise you constantly cause she knows it's what you want to hear. “Doin’ so good for me, pretty girl. C’mon, let me hear you, use your words. I know you can.. Such a good girl.”

Her soft little whimpers & pleas as she climbs higher & higher. she’s so desperate for release & your touch, she’s basically sobbing for it. her eyes never leave you once she hears the same needy whine come from your side of the room, wanting to watch you come undone from the sight of her spread out for you.

You can't tell me she doesn't get off on you pulling her hair when it's in a messy braid. You love to run your fingers through it and grip, but it's too hot out for that. Plus she thinks it's easier for her braid to be pulled, and fucking loves it.

Her skilled hands could make you a whimpering mess, easily. She knows her way around, and boy if she isn't good at what she does.

"There you go, you got it, takin me so well..." in that accent of hers.. You'll fold every time. “Oh, look at you, pretty girl. Fallin’ apart for me so easily. D'ya know how whipped you got me?" Yeah, she's a lady who knows how to drive you crazy.

Then again... she's a goddamn tease. Especially if you've been bratty? Oh it's over for you. She feels your body up and down, making you work for any other sensual touches by begging. It's music to her ears. She lovesss to make you work for it.

She'll take her time for however long edging you with her fingers, then her tongue, and once you've had about two orgasms from just that, she sticks her strap inside you and gets another.

For aftercare, she'll ask you if you're feeling alright and lay with you after she cleans you up. Usually the both of you fall asleep afterwards, or take a bath or a shower before you do. Her brown eyes shine in the light while she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheeks while you lie together.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hey there! I love your writing and especially with Mk, and so I'm just here to drop by and ask you if I could have some Mk angst, preferably with a female!reader, but if you want, go with a gn!reader. I don't really mind which format, do whatever's easiest for you!

What I have in mind is where reader realizes that Mk is literally- in figuratively way- destroying himself with work, hero duties, and romance. Not wanting that, reader is trying to break up with the chaos incarnate to lessen his load.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I understand if you don't want to do this, just wanted to drop by!

Pairing: MK x fem!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Being in a relationship with the world's hero isn't all sunshine and rainbows. There are many responsibilities that come with it. So, making a decision like this would help you two in the long run…right?  Warnings/Tags: Post s5 spoilers YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, angst, hurt/no comfort, and breakup. Word Count: 1300+ words 🍜 - I like the way you think anon...ur evil >:)/pos

"Can…can you repeat that for me? I don't think I heard you right." 

"I'm breaking up with you." 

"Ha..haha, hehe, you're funny! That was a good one, cutie! Really got me there," MK wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced around the park you two were sitting in. "Now, what vendor are we gonna hit today? Y'know I think I wanna try that-" 

"MK." 

MK grimaced before turning his gaze onto you. You took in a deep breath before letting it out and with one hand stretched to rest on his arm.   

"Did I…did I do something wrong?" MK's voice trembled as he spoke, his own hand reaching up to land on top of yours. 

"Oh goodness, no-" You reassured as you took his hand in yours. "-nothing like that." 

 

"Then why?"

Exactly. Why were you ruining an almost picture perfect relationship for no apparent reason? And so out of the blue? I mean, your boyfriend just got back from his nth time saving-the-world expedition and that meant he had a lot more time to spend the peaceful days with you. So…why?

—🍜—-

You stirred the remaining noodles in your bowl, the lukewarm soup brought an unexplainable comfort to your cold palms. With a few glances toward the door, your unease grew as the seconds ticked by. 

"He's supposed tah be 'ere twenty minutes ago," Pigsy's voice grumbled from within the kitchen. "I got way too many orders for him to be messin' around wit my time-" 

"-I'M HERE, I'M HERE-...Oh! Pookie!?" MK's gaze landed on you as he staggered from the door he slammed open. You called out his name with the same amount of adoration as he walked up to your side and planted a wet kiss on your forehead. 

"I'll be right back after I finish up here," MK promised as his smile trembled from the strain of keeping it up. You merely raised a brow at the state of his messy hair, gloomy vibes, and overall…stressed look? 

"Oh, we don't have to do anything tonight if you're not up for it-" 

"-NO, ahem, no worries, my love, I'm A-okay! Just be ready for your feet to be swept when your prince charming comes back!" MK blew a few kisses and winked in your direction before collecting the orders from Pigsy and hightailing it out of the shop. You and Pigsy watched as MK almost tripped out of the door. 

"Is…he always like this…?" You glanced at your boyfriend's father. Pigsy sighed as he ran a hand down his face, his brow creased from a multitude of things causing him headaches; his son being a major contributor. 

"You don't know the half of it, kid." 

There were a few more instances where you felt like MK was speed-running for the entire duration you two were supposed to be spending time together. Whether it was on dates, hanging with Mei, or even just bumping into each other. Your interactions were sweet, short, and to the point. Sometimes, MK's love bombing was downright suffocating. One time you could barely get out of bed with how hard he hugged you during movie night. 

The following weeks were a whirlwind of craziness that you were, unfortunately, caught up in. Watching your boyfriend hop in a truck and run away from a confrontation between a celestial and…was that the monkey king? 

Whoever that was, you were already sprinting back home to avoid getting yourself in harm's way.

That was the last time you saw MK for a while until two weeks or so later. By the time MK and co had returned, you had already decided what you were going to do moving forward. The answer was clear as day in your mind and made the most sense. After all, MK didn't need anything else added onto his plate of responsibilities and he certainly didn't need you. 

Sadly, your heart was still (and still is) conflicted. 

—🍜—-

Your gaze wandered away from him and MK hated how he couldn't see your face. He disliked it as much as the anticipation eating away at him, making his hands sweat way more than he was comfortable with. You struggled to properly find the words and when that failed you, the only thing you could muster was a few choppy sentences that probably didn't make much sense. 

 

"I just think it's for the best," Your voice wavered as the irritating sting in your eyes meant the waterworks weren't far behind. MK didn't seem like he could hold his back for long as he cleared his throat and nodded along with what you said. 

"Right, right, uh-...then," MK stood up from the bench and offered his hand to you. "Can I at least walk you home? It's getting late and I…" don't want to say goodbye.

A smile broke out on your face as you sniffed, happily placing your hand in his and the two of you began trekking back to your home. The stillness that surrounded you both was…oddly cathartic, cozy, and made you feel lighter than air. That heavy weight that had been sitting on your chest was finally lifted. In its place there was a giant abyss left where your heart would be. You ignored this seeping feeling of dread, at least you managed to lighten your—MK's load. 

The sight of your neighborhood caused MK to squeeze your hand from time to time with each step taken, corner rounded, and familiar sights leading to the end of the both of you. 

MK wished in the back of his mind for you to say something, to let him know that this was all an elaborate prank, a joke that you would surely confess the punchline as soon as he led you to the door of your home. 

None of that happened.

Instead, MK was standing in front of your door with you standing before him. The dim light from the nearby lamp post illuminated your skin beautifully under the moonlight.

"Thank you for walking me back..I'll..um." 

"It's no worries, I.." 

The two young adults awkwardly glanced elsewhere as the uneasiness from earlier lingered. You shook your head and opened your arms, "Hug?" 

MK looked up from where he kicked at the floor and grinned, "Hug." 

One step and the two of you were wrapped in each other's confining, warm embrace.

"I'm gonna miss you," MK admitted through choked tears that escaped him. 

"I'll be here if you need me, but we need this…you need this," You rubbed a comforting hand on MK's back, frowning at the sight of his shoulders shuddering and the sound of his feeble sniffles. After a few more seconds, MK was the first to pull out of the hug. His face was damp with tears and what appeared to be snot, the corners of his eyes already looked puffy as he quickly wiped at his face. 

"..." You wanted nothing more than to comfort him further, but you had to draw a line somewhere if this was going to work. You turned to unlock your door and stepped inside, peeking out to wish the noodle boy one final goodnight. MK simply waved as the door closed, your face disappearing from sight but it was the only thing he could see in his mind. 

No one else was there to witness MK on autopilot. The dark-haired male shuffled out of your neighborhood and somehow ended up halfway up the stairs to his apartment. MK stepped inside his room, yet he couldn't even make it to his bed before he completely crashed on the carpet. Fat blobs of water spilt from his eyes, his frown opening to release the storm of emotions that have been festering the whole interaction. 

Only after his tears dried and the sun began peaking over the horizon did MK manage to fall asleep. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[theheirofthesharingan]

What do you think about mikoto and fugaku as parents to Itachi & Sasuke? Fugaku gets a bad rep as a parent, but what about mikoto?

Wow, I've been thinking about this a lot lately.

Yeah, Fugaku gets a bad rep as a father and it's rightly so. Mikoto is seen as a loving mother, and while some part of that love is valid, and I like her for being a good mom to Sasuke, my admiration for her was dented upon the realization that she was a neglectful mother towards Itachi. And as much of a hot take as it might seem, both Fugaku and Mikoto were better parents to Sasuke than they were ever to Itachi.

So, I have mixed feelings about them both. And when I include Fugaku with Mikoto as a 'better parent' to Sasuke, please know the bar is in absolute hell.

I like the fact that Mikoto was at least invested in Sasuke's life.

She was present in his life, albeit for a short while, and involved in it. She provided him, offered him the love he deserved and needed as a baby. She saw Sasuke was suffering and struggling to get his father's attention, and provided her moral support to him. There's not a single instance, however, she was present there for Itachi. Itachi, too, would have needed his mother's support sometime, that too when he was being sucked into the politics, but we don't see him getting any of that. One could argue it was because Sasuke never witnessed.. Yeah, but how was it after learning the truth not a single memory clicked in his mind that would give away Itachi's sufferings in front of his mom? It's probably because it never happened.

Fugaku was outright neglectful towards Sasuke. Not just that he repeatedly compared Sasuke with Itachi, refusing to see him as his own person and saw him as only a shadow of the 'perfect' Itachi. If Sasuke wasn't as good as Itachi in all the things, he wasn't worth paying attention to, right?

The reason Sasuke was Sasuke and Itachi was Itachi was because of Mikoto. I strongly feel that children need a powerful feminine presence in their lives, which comes from their mothers or sisters. Sasuke was gentle and remained so after everything he went through. I believe it was because in his formative years Mikoto had been there for him.

There's a lot more to explore on Fugaku and Itachi than his parents with Sasuke. When I say Fugaku was a better father to Sasuke, what I mean is that despite being neglectful, he didn't drag Sasuke in the political mess that Itachi was. Sasuke was kept in complete darkness (probably like other kids of the clan) but Itachi wasn't shown this much kindness.

Fugaku and Itachi's conversations are mostly one sided with Mikoto being a silent spectator.

This conversation in particular pains me the most in regards to Itachi. It's like he's only allowed to say yes and no, and any other disagreement with his father on the subject will not be taken positively. He seems unhappy and is suffering and his feelings as a child are not taken into account at all. I say no one treated him like a human. But his own parents never even saw him a child.

Itachi had been acting strange ever since joined Anbu and Fugaku wonders what's wrong with him.

Shisui was spying on Itachi. Did he agree to go out spy on his BFF because some random Uchiha said this to him? Or was he ordered to do so by the chief of the police force? Fugaku, most likely, consented to Shisui spying on Itachi.

Some people say this is an instance of Itachi being evil. LMAO. imagine your best friend committed suicide in front of you and some people come to your house to accuse you of his murder along with many other things? Right. He must behave very angelic.

My man's worried what's wrong with his son who's being subjected to some burden he's dealing with all alone. And neither him not his wife want to reach out to him like normal parents should.

Eventually, when Sasuke asks whats wrong with Itachi and why he doesn't pay much attention to him, Fugaku has an even-I-don't-know response.

In the anime Fugaku says 'Your brother had a hard time dropping his guard'. All of it is an indicator of how terribly Itachi was treated. It wasn't just neglect but also an additional burden of the clan and the village. And all of this is being said about a child that isn't even thirteen yet.

Honestly, I give a lot of benefit of doubt to all the characters in Naruto, Fugaku and Mikoto included. And this opinion on Sasuke and Itachi's parents is because how much Itachi is hated when, it's obvious how every single grown up, especially his parents, in his life failed him. He wasn't treated as a child.

Although, I don't like to hate on their parents either. Fugaku and Mikoto were nothing but kind to Itachi in the end. He'd have cherished those last moments forever until his last breath. Sasuke spoke openly to his father the day he lost him. He'd have hoped he'd continue to be like this with his family but that was the only time in his life he received genuine acknowledgement from his dad.

No, Fugaku and Mikoto were worse parents to Itachi than they were to Sasuke. I like Mikoto because she loved sasuke and showed him genuine love. But i can't like her more because Itachi needed support from his family, which he never got.

Yet they both lost so much and loss of their parents was the worst thing that happened to them both.

[amity-moonrise]

Y’all might be interested to learn that the word “traumascum” is used by anti endos as a gotcha to invalidate endos WAY more than any endo has seriously used the word.

If you don’t believe us you can just search up the term on any social media site of choice. 9 times out of 10 the instances of this word are anti endos complaining about some nebulous pro endos/endogenic systems using it. In reality, endos and pro endos don’t say that word for the most part.

In our 7+ years in plural spaces we have never seen a single pro endo system use this word. We have however seen anti endos use it countless times in order to further justify their endo hatred.

Right.

I just searched the term on tumblr in the search bar and yknow what I see? I don’t see anti endos using it on endos or to justify invalidation, I see them being visibly upset that such a term even exists

This is what i saw. Now, I am sure some anti endos probably do use it to invalidate endos, I wont deny that, but the origin of this word is literally to target traumagenic systems. And if anything, the reason why you see anti endos use it themselves now is because they are trying to reclaim it. Should they use it to hurt? No. But the reason why you might be seeing anti endos using it more is because of the reclaiming.

Its great that pro endos don’t use it as much anymore, but that was not always the case. Its great that the pro endos community has shifted away from the term all together. But I know many people who have been harassed by pro endos and actually called a sysmed or traumascum or just harassed for explaining CDDs TO THIS DAY.

You may not have seen it yourself, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Theres literally thousands of system blogs and accounts on Tumblr, and in some places, it is still being used. 7 years is a lot, ill give you that, but unless you are deep in the system community and have been in many different spaces and not just one part of it, you wouldn’t know what others have gone through if you have never engaged with that side of the community.

Using the word traumascum on ANYONE in a derogatory manner is wrong. Anti endos invalidating endogenic experiences and lacking empathy for them is wrong, theres better ways to discuss about non disordered plurality vs disordered plurality without hurting anyone, which is something that anti endos often struggle with. But yknow what else is wrong? The fact that a word like this even exists, which I am pretty sure, was originally made by close minded pro endos because they refused to treat trauma survivors with basic respect. And THAT, is what anti endos are mad about so they are now trying to reclaim it.

If you wanna know more, ask other anti endos (who are open to speaking to pro endos because again, not everyone is). Learn about how they feel about the term. You’ll be surprised to learn that most anti endos just want to reclaim the term and want to be left alone.

I’m glad most pro endos have shifted away from terms like traumascum, but thats just it, its only most of them. The term is still alive and being used on traumagenic systems. And even if this term is gone, sysmed is still being actively used. And that term is just as bad, and it hurts everyone.