#elite cultivation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused. “You-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

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

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

"Fifteens up."

————————

Find seventeen->

827 notes · View notes

honeytonedhottie · 2 months

Text

honey's guide to spring⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

behind ur ears

ur earbuds or headphones

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

ur phone screen

ur folders, binders, and folders

CULTIVATING CREATIVITY :

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

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

create a spring-time mood board

TENDING THE GARDEN OF THE MIND :

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

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

FUN SPRING-LIKE THINGS :

picking flowers -> buying yourself a bouquet

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

make a bracelet or anklet out of flowers

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

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

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

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

402 notes · View notes

esamastation · 6 months

Text

Shizuroth, part twenty-one

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Sephiroth sends out a text message.

After an evening and night spent meditating, reading and cultivating, figuring out the ins and outs of his hardened meridian system and going through the files Genesis had had delivered to him, Sephiroth's come to the conclusion that meditation isn't enough. He needs to condition his body properly, and that means forms, that means movements - that means he really misses easy access to all the collected cultivation manuals of Qing Jing Peak's impressive libraries.

Ultimately what it really means is that he needs more space than his single room apartment has.

"If we're banned from the training room, where can I go train?"

"Goddess beyond, Sephiroth, it's supposed to be your day off," Genesis replies and then, soon after, "Just go to the training room. Who could stop you?"

He's really not sure about training in front of people. "Is that really the only option?"

"Well, you could do what you always do and just take a mission."

Mission, like the dozen or so on his phone involving Wutai? Which had a lot of kill everyone and exterminate the opposition and leave no one alive!?

Yeah, okay. Training room it is, then!

After carefully selecting an outfit that would look reasonably in character for the future Big Bad while also being a bit more comfortable than three different things of leather. And he still pulls on the, now slightly better fitting, leather coat with its huge shoulder guards, too! He should look… more or less in character.

People still stare as he makes his way through floor 49, other SOLDIERs in their much more comfortable looking uniforms and not so comfortable looking helmets. There's a handful of them hanging around, sitting by the window or chatting, SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds waiting for assignments. There are some people in lab coats hanging around there too, just as a reminder of the true nature of the program.

Sephiroth had read about that too - everything Genesis had sent him about SOLDIER and the things he is supposed to already know.

SOLDIER, as much as they are the elite warriors of Shinra, their OP human weapons in the war to conquer the planet… are also lab rats. They'd all signed up on it in order to get those enhancements, and now Shinra's Science Department can do… just about whatever they want with them!

They're constantly being tested for performance and given experimental training, treatments and gear to test out. Almost all Materia and medicine Shinra produces goes through SOLDIER field testing before going into mass production. Because it's better that it's a SOLDIER dealing with the fallout if the Materia blows up in his face or the medicine makes him projectile vomit. They can handle it!

Ah, corporate dystopia with minimal human rights. Fun stuff.

Sephiroth walks past them all, barely acknowledging them, and aims for the training room. Which… really seems more like a testing ground, now that there's actual personnel there.

There's no one in the training room itself - but there are two technicians in the observatory adjacent.

"S-Sephiroth!" a lab technician stutters as he enters - the only way into the training room goes through the observatory, past all the monitoring equipment and computers. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to train," Sephiroth says in his best villain drawl, motioning to the training room with Masamune.

"Ah, that's - director Deusericus told us -"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes. "Oh, so I can't?"

The second lab tech elbows the first out of the way. "Of course you can, of course! Professor Hojo would be thrilled to have your training data," he assures, though the words are clearly aimed, very pointedly, at the other tech. "What kind of program settings would you like? We have a selection of new enemy AI and different environments - including numerous Wutai-inspired sequences!"

Sephiroth hesitates. That… could be interesting, actually. "Something from Wutai, with buildings - no enemies." That might give him a sense of what Wutai was like, culture-wise.

"... How are you going to train without enemies?"

Do SOLDIER not do forms? "Hmph," Sephiroth answers and turns to the training room, waving the electronic sliding door open. "Just start the simulation."

Seems like he got his villainous demanding attitude right, because they do. Seems like short and to the point is really the best way to hide a supposed amnesia!

Soon Sephiroth finds himself standing in a courtyard of what looks vaguely like some noble family's estate, feeling strangely like he's in a dream where everything is just a little bit off.

The simulation is… well, it kind of feels like a weird amusement park version of Asia, a mix of Japanese and Chinese aesthetics. The buildings have Japanese architecture for the most part, with bare unpainted wood and stone - but the roofs are all elaborate hip roofs. The written language, what little he can see of it, is in Mandarin, but the calligraphy style is very Japanese, very lyrical and artistic but without much form.

There's no bamboo in sight. Shame.

But at least the false environment makes it feel a little less like he's being watched - though he can still tell he is. Even with Sephiroth's burnt spiritual veins, he has pretty good senses.

Well, it's not like he hasn't trained with an audience before.

Unsheathing Masamune, Sephiroth holds the sheath in his off hand and takes a pose, breathing deeply in and concentrating. He still can't quite circulate his Qi, but he can sort it… flash it through himself in pulses, which lights up his meridian system and brings out the faults and snags therein.

Sephiroth is strong, hardy, seemingly endlessly durable. He's also fast, his overactive muscles easily going past the limitations of your usual normal human conditions. The issue is not quite his overall flexibility - but his… suppleness, maybe?

You need your veins to flex and contract for healthy circulation, and that's the same with energy. Thanks to the Mako treatments and the emphasis on stamina and strength, Sephiroth's whole system is just… hard. Every part of him is hardened to endure who knows what, and it gives his meridian system very little give.

So that's what his form needs to focus on, increasing his meridian system's pliancy.

All the while wondering if all SOLDIERs were working with these kinds of toughened meridians, Sephiroth pulses his energy and begins to move. Qing Jing Peak sword forms work well enough for him, it turns out - as spiritual cultivators, they also have to maintain certain spiritual flexibility, after all. He needs to adjust the forms to the sword he has, but that's not too difficult. A lot of spiritual swordsmen use sword glares to extend the shape and size of their cutting edge, so the forms already have some wiggle room.

Soon Sephiroth has a set of moves that work the best, making his pulses of energy work better and better, until his whole meridian system buzzes, active and alive. He can even feel the beginnings of activity in his frankly neglected dantians, as energy wooshes through him in waves. It feels… pretty great.

What he doesn't know is that on the outside it looks rather like Sephiroth just activated a Limit Break - by will alone.

Someone making waves, hehe

#Fanfiction #svsss #ff7 #ffvii #Sephiroth #Shen Qingqiu #Shen Yuan

321 notes · View notes

jothetender · 9 months

Text

Strain: Blue Dream

Grower: Elite Cultivation

State: Oklahoma

Medical/recreational: Medical

1K notes · View notes

shamelesstragedyenjoyer · 1 month

Text

Here's a refined breakdown of how I envision Stephanie Brown's style, a character whose perception is largely shaped by the male gaze;

While she's comfortable wearing feminine attire, her ultimate aesthetic leans towards more of a Adam Sandler-esque vibe. Her fashion sense, similar to Duke's in many ways, differs significantly from Tim and Bruce's habit of quiet luxury. Her gamine face and all American girl look creates an interesting dichotomy with the way she dresses. There's also a notable juxtaposition between how she navigates high society in comparison to Jason. Whereas the latter used to strive towards acceptance within Bruce's elite circle, Stephanie– and sometimes even Duke, when he feels like being a troublemaker– seeks rejection. She wears oversized men suits to black tie events to emphasize her different background. She leans more into it then– if only to make a point.

To touch back onto my understanding of the class dynamics at play within the Wayne family and how it reflects back on their personal style , I think there are five key-points to talk about– Upbringing, class, gender, race and generation.

Tim, Bruce, and Damian fall into a similar category, having been raised as wealthy boys in a racially homogeneous environment with privileged access to private education. Tim possesses a deeper awareness of his privileged worldview compared to Damian, who is more detached from poverty. Dick occupies a unique position due to his early adoption into the affluent world and his background as the son of performers, which cultivated his charm and adaptability. He seamlessly integrates into high society, drawing from his upbringing. Stephanie, Cassandra, Jason, and Duke, however, have experienced more time in lower-class environments than in financial stability, forming their own distinct circle. They share a mutual understanding rooted in shared experiences, vernacular accents, inside jokes, and nuanced awareness of class dynamics and microaggressions, which sometimes excludes the other group.

When Tim adopts a more casual, Gen-Z skater-boy persona outside of Wayne Enterprises' strict business casual environment, the second group sometimes call him a poser due to the African American roots of the skater style, which emerged in opposition to everything Tim represents– is. While they may be perceived as the "cool kids" within the house– and at school–, they are more protective of one another than malicious towards others, guarding their identity and personal struggles fiercely as an act of revendication.

She mainly listens to 90's and early 2000's rap music and blasts "Poor Lil rich" by 50 cent whenever she has a fight with Bruce or Tim.

#kinda ooc but my version is better #Fuck canon #listen to me #stephanie brown #duke thomas #Steph and Duke are platonic soulmates #batman comics #batfam #jason todd #batman #signal #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne

122 notes · View notes

fatehbaz · 3 months

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

87 notes · View notes

eezordalf-the-ardent · 8 months

Text

We should also consider if the inhabitants of the mega-sites consciously managed their ecosystem to avoid large-scale deforestation... Archaeological studies of their economy suggest a pattern of small-scale gardening, often taking place within the bounds of the settlement, combined with the keeping of livestock, cultivation of orchards, and a wide spectrum of hunting and foraging activities. The diversity is actually remarkable, as is its sustainability. As well as wheat, barley, and pulses, the citizens' plant diet included apples, pears, cherries, sloes, acorns, hazelnuts and apricots. Mega-site dwellers were hunters of red deer, roe deer, and wild boar as well as farmers and foresters. It was 'play farming' on a grand scale: an urban populous supporting itself through small-scale cultivation and herding, combined with an extraordinary array of wild foods. This way of life was by no means 'simple'. As well as managing orchards, gardens, livestock and woodlands, the inhabitants of these cities imported salt in bulk from springs in the eastern Carpathians and the Black Sea littoral. Flint extraction by the ton took place in the Dniestr valley, furnishing material for tools. A household potting industry flourished, its products considered among the finest ceramics of the prehistoric world; and regular supplies of copper flowed in from the Balkans. There is no firm consensus from archaeologists about what sort of social arrangements all this required, but most would agree the logistical challenges were daunting. A surplus was definitely produced, and with it ample potential for some to seize control of the stocks and supplies, to lord it over others or battle for the spoils; but over the eight centuries we find little evidence for warfare or the rise of social elites.

a description of talianki (located in modern day ukraine), a neolithic site from 5,700 years ago (inhabited from roughly 4100 to 3300 bc) from the dawn of everything by davids: graeber and wengrow

once again this book is fantastic - and one of its main theses is that "the agricultural revolution" and some of the conclusions we draw from it are, largely, not true.

the development of farming in human societies is a much much longer and more "playful" process than popular narratives would have us believe. 'agricultural revolution' suggests an on/off switch almost. and the way it's usually taught sees agriculture being "invented" and then spreading like wildfire to take over the globe - only then allowing for true cities and the "necessary evils" they entail. this simply isn't true. an urban, farming society is not automatically doomed to bureaucracy, inequality, and exploitation.

all across the world the archaeological evidence points to the domestication of plants taking literal thousands of years longer than it "ought to." and then, even when the domestication of a wild plant was complete there isn't an immediate rise of huge fields and class stratification (as the popular narrative goes). again - in the magnitude of multiple thousands of years. we have generations upon generations of humans with farming know-how who don't immediately begin a march of politics and inequality precipitated by farming.

agriculture isn't humanity's curse no matter what the memes and capitalists say. we are not doomed to our current ways - we can imagine, we can build, we can create new ways of being. the past is the present is the past. and fuck you capitalism and doomed "human nature" debates. and read the dawn of everything <3

#eezordalf's wisdom #anthropology #david graeber #david wengrow #books #history #wizardblr #wizardposting #the dawn of everything #talianki #ukraine #archaeology #neolithic #prehistory #studying my tomes #humanity i love you #the human condition #human experience

206 notes · View notes

mxtxfanatic · 8 months

Text

One thing that I really appreciate about mxtx’s stories is that even though the common people are shown to have an understanding of hierarchy and a healthy skepticism—dare I say, disdain at times—for the elite class at the top of each world’s hierarchy, that doesn’t mean that their every judgment on the subject is right.

Tgcf is a perfect example of this in multiple arcs. The peoples of Xianle and Wuyong know that a person with money can bend the ear of a god, and the nobility of Xianle, specifically, even bar the poor from entering Xie Lian’s temples without first paying an entry fee. Lang Ying leads the Yong’an refugees to rebel because he sees the corruption girding Xianle society. However, these same peoples also believe in the hierarchy they despise for oppressing them. When the beloved princes of the respective kingdoms are unable to save their kingdoms from certain doom because they are unwilling to sacrifice the lives of others, those same citizens turn on them. Worse yet, Xie Lian and Jun Wu were the only gods who were about treating their worshippers equally regardless of status, while the gods who their former followers turned to for help were the very same ones that had watched them suffer, gleefully waiting for them to turn on their gods so that they could poach new worshippers. In the end, the people end up casting aside the gods who defied the heavens in an attempt to save them, in favor of worshipping the gods who wanted them to perish. We see this same level of misapplied understanding on smaller levels too: Mu Qing understanding classism but only taking issue with it when it negatively impacts him, personally; Lang Ying’s descendants devolving into the same kind of wasteful nobles that Lang Ying had deposed; the people in the temple who choose to stab Xie Lian to preserve their own life because “you’re meant to save us.”

Similar things happen in svsss and mdzs. In svsss, humans are reasonably wary of demons (who hunt and eat humans in this story) and look up to cultivators as their protectors, but broadly applying this allowed the corrupt Old Palace Master to weaponize that rightful wariness to harm his innocent targets: Su Xiyan, Tianlang-jun, Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu. Had the common people witnessed a group of adult cultivators chasing a fearful toddler around be so convinced of the “righteousness” of the cultivators they admire? If so, would we, the audience, still look to the crowd as moral? At the same time in mdzs, the common people actually don’t look up to the righteous cultivation clans as inherently good, only a necessary expense—have you the funds—but even that is a weapon. Thirteen years after the first siege, a farming couple discusses how terrifying the power Wei Wuxian wielded was, grateful to the great cultivation clans for having killed him without any understanding that Wei Wuxian was the most upstanding cultivator of his generation.

In all of these examples, though the common people have an accurate understanding of systemic violence and the dangers present in their worlds, they are not always able to accurately apply that understanding on an individual or personal level, especially if their morals do not align with the idea that said violence is an inherent wrong. The common people in tgcf are not rioting against the concept of monarchies and nobility or the elitism of the gods, even as they know they suffer from it. The common people in svsss still shy away from demons, even though they’ve likely been harmed more times by a passing cultivator or rich person than they could even claim to have seen a demon. The common people in mdzs still turn to major cultivation clans for help and consider them to be overall moral people even with their publicly immoral behavior. None of these groups move to challenge the systemic violence despite knowing it exists on a personal level, which is what makes it very poignant when a character in these books does. Why did that person choose to speak up and stand out while most others didn’t? And what message is mxtx teaching us by showing us this character?

Knowledge, an understanding of systems of violence, and hierarchical placement does not make morality. Moral alignment paired with matching actions do. And without the latter, the former can be easily manipulated by bad-faith actors to reinforce the very systems that create the ills of society, regardless of what position one is born into on the social hierarchy.

#mdzs #svsss #tgcf #human metas mxtx

179 notes · View notes

tossawary · 1 year

Text

The Yue Qi and Shen Jiu extras of SVSSS are all quite sad, especially since they apparently take place in the PIDW universe and show off some of Shen Jiu’s time in Huan Hua’s Water Prison (when Yue Qingyuan comes to visit him) and Luo Bing-ge coming to tell Shen Jiu about Yue Qingyuan’s death. I had read these extras before, but only the once, and a few years ago now.

So, while Shen Jiu was working for Wu Yanzi, he committed a number of serious crimes alongside his master, and Wu Yanzi had killed a number of famous cultivators using what most would call “dirty tricks”. Shen Jiu assumes at this point in time that Yue Qi has died horribly or gotten caught in some “worse than death” situation, so he’s shocked to encounter Yue Qi again, and see that Yue Qi has become the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak and looks great.

The worst part is that Yue Qi and Shen Jiu meet again at an Immortal Alliance Conference. Where Shen Jiu and Wu Yanzi are looting the bodies of some of the disciples who “considered themselves elite”, and it first it seems like the disciples just died against some beast, so it’s not as bad as it could be. Yue Qi stumbles upon Shen Jiu, they’re both shocked, and then Shen Jiu is the one who dives forward and sets off one of the “distress signal fireworks” that disciples are equipped with for these conferences. Shen Jiu is in this case a trespasser and a murderer, and so bringing the sects down on them is bad for him, and he can only possibly be doing this to save Yue Qi from Wu Yanzi.

Wu Yanzi returns and scolds Shen Jiu (who quickly throws the firework shell away) for the firework going off, saying that it’s unusual for Shen Jiu to be so slow and asking why Shen Jiu didn’t just cut off the disciples’ hands, so, yeah, Wu Yanzi and Shen Jiu probably killed some if not all of these disciples. Best case scenario is that they sneaked up on disciples who were fatally injured and then dealt the final blow, but that’s an extremely generous reach.

Shen Jiu tries to convince Wu Yanzi to leave before more senior cultivators come and find them, but Wu Yanzi and Yue Qi get into a fight. Shen Jiu is terrified for Yue Qi. Wu Yanzi is about to pull a move that I think temporarily blinds or otherwise disables his opponents? It’s some move that Wu Yanzi has used to kill several famous cultivators, which Shen Jiu has witnessed him use before. So, before Wu Yanzi can use this move, Shen Jiu stabs his mentor through the back with his sword to save Yue Qi. Then Shen Jiu and Yue Qi run off together, hand in hand, presumably leaving Wu Yanzi’s dead body to be found surrounded by dead disciples, with his pockets full of loot.

Yue Qi and Shen Jiu then have a confrontation, in which Yue Qi apparently cannot bring himself to explain to Shen Jiu why he failed to come back, and which Shen Jiu immediately takes badly. Yue Qi apologizes, but Shen Jiu interprets it badly as well, which makes sense when Shen Jiu is jumpy as hell and running on survival instincts and a criminal. Honestly, in this moment, I cannot blame Yue Qi for failing to speak eloquently about this, because it read to me like he was just in shock. Like, holy shit. What a way to meet again.

#spoilers #tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #yue qingyuan #shen jiu #qijiu #wu yanzi #character death

383 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

Text

Ghostly Boredom

Optimus gave himself to the well, restoring life to Cybertron and ending his life in the living realm. He expected to join the Allspark or perhaps go to the realm of the Primes. He did not expect to find himself standing beside the well mere moments after it was restored to functionality... as a ghost.

He quickly found he couldn't interact with the living realm in any real capacity. He could walk straight through surfaces if he wanted and hover in the air if he didn't feel like walking. When he was feeling particularly emotional he could even gain just enough influence to cause the air around him to become warmer marginally. But beyond that he had no influence. This caused him a great deal of distress at first, especially as he watched his team mourn for him and could do nothing to comfort them. For weeks all he did was try and desperately attempt to communicate with them and wipe away their tears as they wept for his passing and all the others who had fallen. It tore him to pieces to be unable to so much as whisper to them or even allow them to feel his presence.

With time and after years of not being able to interact with others, his carefully cultivated composure fell away without anyone to keep up appearances for. More than once he screamed into the void, desperate to be heard, to be felt, to be seen. He raged, he raved, and slowly but surely his Primely persona slipped away back into his base nature, that of the archivist Orion Pax. As the years passed and his team moved on, Optimus's whirl of emotional outrage calmed. He grew to accept his circumstances and seeing as there was nothing he could do to aid his team or the newsparks that came from the well, he sat back and observed.

In the end he watched his team, his family, slowly move on all while he cheered for them.

He stood by Ratchet watching on as his friend first fell deep into depression and then gradually regained a sense of purpose, assisting in the rebuilding of Cybertron. He smiled widely as Arcee and Smokescreen worked together to re-establish the elite guard, healing from their respective traumas together. He practically glowed with pride as Bumblebee came into his own and joined the ranks of the law enforcers. He observed Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack endeavor to use their skills to repair their shattered world with no small amount of joy. And when he was sure of their circumstances, he even followed Knockout as an unseen spectator as the medic struggled to fit into the new society rising up around him.

Optimus came to find that he preferred following Knockout more so than his team simply because it hurt too much to be around them for long. He couldn't bear to stand idly by and be unable to speak with his closest loved ones. Such instances of him staying with them for too long led him to grow depressed. As such he enjoyed Knockout's company even if the former Decepticon didn't know he was there. The medic made humorous remarks even when alone and tended to always act in such a way that the part of Optimus that was Orion found it to be entertaining. He took to making snarky remarks, a habit he picked up from hanging around Knockout too much, to keep himself entertained as pain, rage, and worry faded into boredom.

He found himself taking to floating around Knockout as the medic went about his day and talked to himself all about the daily gossip. This woke the archivist in Optimus and soon enough he too was always eager for the details of the happenings in social circles he didn't know or care for.

Knockout: Primus! Trailbreaker did not!

Optimus: *floating nearby trying to read over Knockout's shoulder* What did he do this time? He better not have fallen of a bridge agian trying to perform some stupid stunt.

Knockout: I can't believe he fell of a bridge for the fifth time this month trying to do a flip in alt-mode!

Optimus: *very much invested* He did NOT! Did he tear a transformation seam like last time too?

Knockout: He even tore a transformation seam! If I were his medic I would destroy his finish!

Optimus: He absolutely deserves it. Now don't leave me hanging. Did Brainstorm also blow up his lab again or not?

Optimus developed a relationship of sorts with Knockout, albeit one only known to him. He would spent a majority of his time tailing the medic just to have something to do. And when not doing that he would follow one of his team and make commentary on whatever it was they were doing.

This continued for several more years as he grew more and more bored. Any elegance he had developed as Prime was pushed aside in favor of mocking and criticizing everyone just to stay sane. However as his team continued to move on, Knockout steadily grew more on Optimus, and Cybertron continued to build up around him, the Prime found himself alienated even more so than he already was. He hated watching his home be restored and be unable to interact with anything. And while he tried to eliminate the feeling by mapping out the rebuilt cities and wandering the restored archives to read over some archivist's shoulder, he grew tired of that too after a time. And so to clear his helm a bit, he went in search of Megatron.

A perk of being a ghost was that he didn't need to hunt mecha down through the usual means. He merely needed to reach out for them mentally and he would find himself before them. So this is exactly what he did, soon finding himself on a desolate rock where Megatron sat glaring off into the distance.

Optimus: So this is what you have been doing for nearly two decades? Rather pathetic. Not at all like the revolutionary and warlord I knew.

Megatron: *whipping around* What the ever loving FRAG!??!?

Optimus: ... well, scrap

The Prime came to discover that Megatron of all mecha could see him. And as if a switch had been flipped, Optimus made it his life mission to be as irritating as possible until Megatron got up off his aft to do something about his previous poor life decisions. There was only one mech that he knew that could see him and Optimus had no intention of wasting that.

Megatron: Will you shut up!? You weren't nearly this irritating before or after becoming Prime!

Optimus: *bellowing cotton eye joe on loop* WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, WHERE DID YOU GO! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM COTTON EYE JOE!

Megtron: For Primus's sake, shove it or i'll-

Optimus: Do what? Kill me? Too late for that I am afraid. Now are you going to get up off your aft to go fix things or what?

Megatron: ...

Optimus: *getting ready to sing the song that never ends*

Megatron: FRAGGING FINE!

His mission of being the biggest pain possible to force his nemesis to go redeem himself complete, Optimus followed Megatron to Cybertron just to ensure he actually went about making a change. Then once Megatron reassured everyone that 'no, I don't intend to kill you all', the former warlord got to work with restoration, even taking up a place in the archives to give the Decepticon side of the war to the new archivists working there.

Pleased, Optimus decided to go to earth for some fresh scenery... only to find the fragging fallen looming there. And so panicked beyond belief he hurried back to Cybertron and exerted every ounce of willpower he had to call upon the only other mecha with a bond to him strong enough to possibly allow them to see him. He went to his sparkling.

Using the memorial pool he directed Bee to earth as best as he was able and then watched on with increasing exasperation as his charge somehow managed to frag up a simple task so royally Optimus almost considered just going to get Megatron. He watched on as Bumblebee managed to get himself, his partner, and a random troublemaker stuck on earth. Then he watched as Bee picked up more companions, including an actual dinobot, a flier, a samurai, and his minicons. And then he got second hand embarrassment every other minute as he was forced to watch Bee struggle to figure out a leadership style. More than once he wished he didn't phase through things just so he could bang his helm on the wall.

However if nothing else he gained great amusement from watching Bee's companions do ridiculous scrap. Optimus came to enjoy mocking Sideswipe more than any of the others, constantly making remarks on his bad form and offering up sarcastic and deadpan advice even though he couldn't be heard. He also found it hilarious to confuse the minicons as they were a suspicious duo who tried and failed to convince Bee's team that they were being haunted. For the pure chaos of it, Optimus exerted his influence around the minicons whenever he was able, even managing to make ominous whispers and throw a rock once. He found it hilarious to watch the minicons feverishly try to prove that he was there, especially when they got Fixit involved.

Optimus also developed a habit of commenting on everything and anything Bee did, throwing out his critiques and groaning in mixed embarrassment and irritation as he watched Bee fumble around with leadership. He also regularly took to floating above the scrapyard to look down upon Bee and his team, usually wishing for a cube of energon to sip from as he watched them with a fond irritation. But by far Optimus's favorite thing to do was follow around the human boy that Bee's team resided alongside. The boy hardly read his books, but when he did Optimus was always there to read over his shoulder anxiously.

Optimus: *leaning over Russell* Fascinating. I didn't know your ancestors created glue in such a manner.

Russell: Ugh, this is so boring.

Optimus: Wait don't stop! Keep reading child!

Russell: This is stupid, I'll read it later.

Optimus: NO, Child please! Finish the chapter at least! I need to know what happens next!

Russell: *closes the book with a snap* Forget this!

Optimus: *angry screeching* ITS BeEN ThReE mOnTHS!! JUST FINISH THE BOOK!

Optimus spent all his time hanging around hoping that Bee and his team would be able to face the threat that was on its way. He most certainly did not expect to be pulled into the realm of the Primes and tossed into an actual frame again empowered by his newly returned Matrix and the sparks of his fellow Primes.

He did not adjust well to suddenly being able to interact with the world again.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #ghost optimus prime #team prime #bumblebee #optimus is bored beyond belief #poor guy just wants stuff to do #I've had this sitting in my drafts for months #now here it is #I think I will need to make a part two to write about all he hjinks I have in mind

317 notes · View notes