#idk why i write this nobody read those tags

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok's situation with Rieltar and the Iron Throne

There's a lot of room for guessing the details of Sarevok's life in the Iron Throne, but you have the outline of his situation. It's not as good as one might expect for the son of a leader, and it's vital in shaping his character. Sarevok becomes who he is because of his past and current situation. He's a character with depth, nuances, ambitions and motivations, not a flat, cardboard villain planted on his throne in an underground sewer, waiting for the murder race of 1492 DR.

This got way too long, you've been warned.

Because Baldur's Gate 1 has been out for so long, you tend to forget that Sarevok being the greater mastermind of the evil plot is a twist in the story. From the prologue, you know about the 'ominous figure', but not who he is, and it falls in the background when you get into the iron crisis- a crisis that has nothing to do with Gorion's ward. Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev, a leader within the Iron Throne. It's a criminal organization where Sarevok is a member, but not a leader. It should be a cushy position, but it isn't. Let's see why.

First, let's recall the setting of Sarevok being adopted by Rieltar:

Sarevok is a homeless, orphaned child. He describes himself as an 'urchin', meaning he likely resorted to stealing and other mischief to live on the streets.

Rieltar is a wealthy man, a 'higher-up' within the Iron Throne, a mercantile organization with shady practices, a gang of sorts, closer to bandits than merchants.

I don't think I need to spell out how dodgy the whole thing is.

How Sarevok gets adopted is left up to the player, but a few things are certain. Sarevok is part of a vulnerable population, while Rieltar is of the upper class. Sarevok has no person nor structure to turn to should he need help. As a child, he entirely depends on Rieltar. Hunger, thirst, housing, clothes, other material needs and various threats that comes with being a homeless child, all of this gets taken care of if Sarevok stays with Rieltar. It's priceless, and a child wouldn't think past no longer being cold or hungry. Sarevok is affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age, when he couldn't decide otherwise.

Sarevok is not a leader. it's his foster father, Rieltar, who is the leader of the western branch of the Iron Throne. The 'chief of operations'. He has two co-leaders with him, Brunos Costak and Thaldorn Tenhevich. Sarevok is the commander of their mercenary forces of the region, one of Rieltar's officer. Compared to Rieltar's own status, Sarevok's role is minor. There isn't as much nepotism going on as you might expect from a criminal organization passing off as a legitimate mercantile group.

The first time Sarevok is mentioned, he's a passing name in a letter found in the bandit camp, not a master mind- and that's how it was supposed to be.

Tazok, I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids, and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news. Davaeorn

It's the first hint you get that he isn't like the rest of the Iron Throne. His own focus is more on the mercenaries disrupting the iron plot, more than the plot itself.

One interesting thing here:

"You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news."

-> Davaeorn is threatening Tazok with Sarevok, but Davaeorn himself isn't worried. Davaeorn could be nervous that Sarevok, son of the big boss, may cause him trouble if he doesn't get what he wants, but he isn't. No reason to think Sarevok is anything more than another Throne member.

After defeating Davaeorn, you find letters on him from Rieltar himself. In one, Sarevok's role and title are clearly stated:

"Davaeorn, Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. Rieltar Flamerule, 1367"

It's not said in the letter that Sarevok is Rieltar's son. He is going to be named commander of the mercenary forces of the region. It's a new title, so I'd say his previous rank was equal or lower.

During your first stay in Baldur's Gate, you discover Sarevok is the foster son of Rieltar Anchev. Being the son of a wealthy man explains how Sarevok manages to get within the noble circles of the city for his popularity campaign, which I talked about in another post. Here's one interesting thing I got from this:

"From what I've heard, the new man with the Iron Throne, Sarevok, is an unmarried man."

-> He's considered new, however, the story starts in Mirthul (May) 1368, and from Sarevok's diary and another letter, you know he's been in Baldur's Gate in 1366, went back to Sembia at some point, then returned in Flamerule (July) 1367. That's two years on and off the Sword Coast and almost one full year on it, not to mention he's been in the Throne since an early age, but he's seen as new.

Sarevok's presence may not be public because he's working with the bandits, however, not knowing about Rieltar's son is common. Yeslick Orothiar is a companion who moved to Sembia where he met Rieltar. He pretended to befriend Yeslick, then tortured him to learn the location of the Cloackwood mines. Yeslick was in Sembia, and he doesn't mention Sarevok, or recognizes him when he comes to the party under a false name. So it's not just in Baldur's Gate, even back in Sembia, before Sarevok was commander, Rieltar doesn't mention his foster son— or the fact that he has one.

It can be explained by how Rieltar and other higher-up of the Throne see Sarevok, both his capacities and how far he can go. One telling example is during the Candlekeep chapter. Gorion's ward is going after Rieltar, the big bad at the time. You can go to Rieltar with the advice of 'Koveras', who tells you Rieltar is defenceless and this is the perfect time to kill him. He even gives you a nice ring to protect you. If you start digging through Koveras' dialogue, you might find something's odd with him and decide you don't want the ring. Joke's on you, it won't change a damn thing. Don't be too quick to laugh at Sarevok for only switching his name backward to change identity, it worked on Charname and their whole party (also worked on me when I was ten and had a pikachu face during the reveal).

Rieltar is a lot quicker to catch up than Charname though.

"Koveras! Who is Kove... of course. It seems I taught my son all too well. Well, my young pups, you've been set up to be used as dupes. Koveras does not want what's best for you, but rather what's best for him."

-> There's a brief moment of outrage before Rieltar realizes who Koveras is. The realization doesn't anger him more, it makes him calm down. He doesn't see Sarevok as a threat. It's unlikely he thinks Sarevok's plan goes beyond killing him, when it's in fact much more elaborate than that. Other Throne members straight out of Sembia underestimate how dangerous Sarevok is.

Here are a few more examples:

"She seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base. He is thought of as an upstart"

Kalessia: I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has floundered [...]. Valdis (Charname): Why not ask Sarevok? He seems to be the one in control now. Kalessia: Sarevok? That upstart? Then the rumors I have heard are true. Our regional leaders here are dead and Sarevok has assumed their roles. Such arrogance! No doubt he has a hand in their demise, I'll wager. [..]

-> The outrage these criminals feel toward Sarevok's, well, criminal actions against them will never not be funny to me. Kalessia calls Sarevok an 'upstart'. She doesn't sound any more worried than Rieltar was, she sounds pissed that he would dare to do this. Also, she thinks he participated in the demise of their leaders, not that he orchestrated the whole thing. As if he isn't capable of it. I will stress this again, but Sarevok is the foster son of a high-ranking member of the Throne with wealth and influence. Yet, they talk about him as if he's of low rank. Somehow, I don't think the Iron Throne is a progressive organization that thinks wealth and social status shouldn't determine an individual's worth.

Later, inside the Undercity, you come across more people working for the Iron Throne. You get the following dialogue from two dialogue paths.

"We've been sent to hunt down Sarevok. Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way, including Rieltar, and the Throne don't take too well to having their high-ups killed."

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends. I am Rahvin, in the employ of the Iron Throne. My companions and I have traveled from Sembia to learn what has been happening to our operation in Baldur's Gate."

They're off to kill Sarevok. Just like that. Like he's just another guy with a bounty on his head. The twist of BG 1 is not only realizing Sarevok is the true antagonist, it's realizing Sarevok is not just a brute working for the Throne, he's a major threat to the Sword Coast and far from stupid. That's something characters who only know of Sarevok what is known in Sembia and have just arrived in Baldur's Gate don't realize. He has overthrown the entire leadership of the Iron Throne in the region, almost got the whole leadership of Baldur's Gate as well and they're simply going to 'hunt him down'. The way they talk about him is also telling:

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way"

-> He's talking about Sarevok as if he was a dog who went rabid, not someone who actively orchestrated the downfall of his employer.

"He doesn't seem that skilled at making friends."

-> Sarevok had the entire city eating out of his hand, he was about to be lawfully elected Grand Duke. Sarevok is skilled at making friends, when he needs them— and, when he has the right background to make the right friends. For example when he's known as the foster son of a wealthy business man without anyone knowing anything beyond that, like in Baldur's Gate. Something that's more complicated in Sembia, where people around him would already know he used to be a penniless urchin until Rieltar adopted him.

When you encounter characters working for Sarevok, rather than characters he works for, you get a different image of him, one that's closer to what you encounter in the game. There are two kinds, first, the zealots, those who already worship him as a new god.

"You have breached an inner circle, fool. There are no hired lackeys for you to bribe here [...]. We are servants of Sarevok and Sarevok alone, selected by hand to protect his destiny. [...] His will... be done!"

"So it has been decreed, so it shall be done. So orders Sarevok!"

-> Sarevok doesn't know how to make 'friends' in the strict sense of the term, but he knows how to be charismatic. He got servants to worship him before his actual godhood. These followers aren't part of the Throne, Sarevok independently recruited them to be his first faithful. Which is smart, considering gods in Forgotten Realms get stronger with more fervent and more numerous followers. Sarevok is planning ahead so he already has worshippers when he's a god.

If you played SoD (which is mid writing wise, but has good moments), you'll find that Sarevok's charisma struck again with other nondescripts fanatics.

"S. and I had a long talk last night. Everything he says make so much sense."

The other group of people are Sarevok's own underlings. These are mercenaries he recruited who are unaffiliated to the Iron Throne and only answer to him. You get interesting dialogue from Diarmid.

"Not a terribly original alias to be sure, but who is going to tell him that? Sarevok is quite used to getting his own way, and I gather subtlety is something that doesn't quite come naturally to him. He doesn't have the patience for it, though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces, though I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed. Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people. As underlings we can safely serve, but woe to those in a position he desires."

-> Is Diarmid scared of Sarevok? Yes. Does he respect him? Also yes, which increases the 'fear' part, I think.

Diarmid is a mercenary who's been working with Sarevok for weeks, maybe months. What he knows of Sarevok is surface level, but it doesn't match what other characters, who've been around Sarevok since Sembia know of him. Here are how different visions contradict each other:

"She [Kalessia] seemed surprised that Sarevok had taken control of this regional base." VS "[...] though his mind is amazingly tactical. Certainly this made him perfect for organizing the Iron Throne's mercenary forces [...]" / "Such is the trouble with hiring highly motivated people."

"Seems as if he went crazy and started murdering all who got in his way [...]" VS "[...] I doubt his superiors would say so now, what with his plot to have them killed." / "[...] woe to those in a position he desires."

Characters within the Throne are not supposed to know about Sarevok's plans, but they all react as if his behavior is an anomaly, they're blindsided. Yet, these plans match what Sarevok's mercenaries know of him: "have a tendency to only give information on a need-to-know basis"; "notoriously impatient"; "quite used to getting his own way"; "subtlety doesn't quite come naturally to him"; "his mind is amazingly tactical"; "highly motivated"; "woe to those in a position he desires"; "wouldn't sully his hands on those he didn't deem worthy of personally killing".

The Sembians's reaction is more understandable when you read the following letter, written by Sarevok to Rieltar. Sarevok's tone isn't what you would expect from him.

Father, I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by <Gorion's ward> will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations. It is as you had surmised: They were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with the Chill and the Blacktalons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

This letter reads like a dutiful son from start to finish. It's also a pack of lies from start to finish. Everything he says goes along Rieltar's own opinion, to placate him. The perfect son and officer, committed to his role. And it works, since Rieltar doesn't suspect Sarevok until he's told of 'Koveras'. You can assume the dutiful, uncompromising tone of the letter was the front Sarevok presented to Rieltar, and to other members of the Throne.

Reading Sarevok's diary, you see this is a front he has to present. Remember how Sarevok was named commander of the mercenary forces by Rieltar? Well, he wasn't even supposed to be part of his foster father's project.

"I have expressed interest to my 'father', and he has promised to include me within the operations along the Sword Coast. He mentioned Mother in our conversation: how I wasn't to be unfaithful to him as she had. He made it clear that I would suffer her fate if I was."

-> What a lovely father-son relationship. Anyways, if Rieltar had his way, Sarevok wouldn't have been commander, he would've left him in Sembia. Sarevok had to ask to be given a role. You'd expect the son a wealthy man to have a prime spot saved for him in his big project.

The next part of the excerpt is, in my opinion, the core to explaining the dissonance between what people from the Throne perceived of Sarevok, and what he's truly like. Rieltar threatens Sarevok, and that shows what this 'father-son' relationship really is about. For those who don't know, Sarevok's foster mother, who to this day doesn't have a canon name, was 'unfaithful' to Rieltar. It might be she cheated on him, but since it's never stated clearly, you could go with something else. Like trying and failing to kill her abusive husband, for example. As a punishment, Rieltar strangled her with a garrote in front of Sarevok when he was young.

Rieltar doesn't just threaten Sarevok, he reminds him of his place, which is the same as his mother. It's my guess that this is why he murdered her in front of Sarevok to begin with, so he would learn his place as a 'family member'. Someone Rieltar has complete authority over, including a right of life and death.

Sarevok brushes off the threats, but he does that as an adult and experienced fighter who is already planning to kill Rieltar and crush his operations. He wasn't always in that position. For the urchin Rieltar adopted, this threat wasn't 'weak' or 'hollow'.

This would explain why, despite being the 'foster son' of a wealthy and influential member, Sarevok is seen as an 'upstart' without a place in the upper ranks of the Throne. Because he is not his son to them, he is the urchin 'sponging off' Rieltar.

Another piece of the journal gives a little more information.

"The fool still insists on calling me his son, and for now I will let him. He assumes that I am loyal to him because he raised me."

-> Rieltar is confident in Sarevok's loyalty because he raised him. He provided for him and considers that should make Sarevok loyal no matter what. Even though Rieltar adopted Sarevok, their social classes are still very distinct. He's the one with the money and Sarevok should be grateful he spent some on him. 'Son' isn't an affectionate term (if the death threat above didn't make that clear), it's the reminder of what Sarevok 'owes' Rieltar. It would explain why Rieltar rarely mentions him. He has a debtor, not a son. When he discovers his plot to kill him, Rieltar says Sarevok wants 'what's best for him'. He knows why Sarevok wants out of this situation— he's the one who created it. Hence the threat. The devoted front is something Sarevok has to show, to ensure his own safety and the success of his plans.

Now I will go into a more 'grey' territory regarding a bunch of things that can't be checked with canon but are worth considering because of the situation:

First, does Sarevok have money? Rieltar does, yes. Sarevok works in the same group at a lower rank, he's both Rieltar's 'son' and his employee. As a commander, he likely has allotted money, but that's not his gold, that's for his job. Chances are he either doesn't get paid because he's working 'for the family' and that's another thing to be grateful for, or he does get money for his work, from Rieltar. Either way, Rieltar is the one who has control over Sarevok's finances. It's a good way to restrain him, and ensure his loyalty, since he won't get far without gold. Sarevok lived on the street before, he has ambitions, it's unlikely he's willing to rough it out again and be a homeless nobody. Rieltar surrounds himself with people he has control over, like his co-leaders: Brunos is dumb, and Thaldorn is a coward. They defer to Rieltar, who likely has an easy time controlling both. Having Sarevok at an officer position allows Rieltar to keep a leash on him, which fits his pattern.

Second, Sarevok has two genuine relationships that we know of. One was with his foster mother, and the other with his lover, Tamoko. If he had any real connections while living in the streets, they'd have ended once he joined Rieltar's household. Growing up, he'd be surrounded by people from the Iron Throne. The lowest in ranks would be under Rieltar's authority, and those of higher rank would only see the urchin Rieltar pulled out of the gutter. It's likely there were few children his age or anyone he could trust and build a relationship with. His connections are to characters he works for, and those who work for him. He's isolated, he doesn't have allies. That's another way for Rieltar to restrain him. There's the uncertainty of what 'unfaithfulness' means to Rieltar. Does Sarevok having someone he cares about gets in the way of being the devoted son Rieltar wants? Would the threat he makes on Sarevok's life include anyone important to him? It's possible. It would make any relationship Sarevok could have a weakness, which would impact how he views them. I would imagine he'd fight any feelings he developed for Tamoko before giving in, and he wouldn't introduce her to the man who murdered his mother. Having any attachment in this situation becomes a drawback.

Third, could Sarevok leave the Iron Throne if he wanted? Criminal groups rarely offer retirement. He's been involved since Rieltar adopted him, he's been working with them for years, and likely knows the group's inner workings well. The Throne is a criminal organization that wants to keep a legitimate front. With everything Sarevok knows, it wouldn't be smart to let go of him. Unless it's off a cliff. He's probably not an isolated case either. Youth with nothing to their names and no better options are easy to recruit and make good underlings.

Recap and conclusion:

Sarevok was pulled from poverty at a young age by Rieltar, a wealthy man who's part of a criminal organization. Through the murder of his wife, he's shown that he gives himself total authority over his family, and will harshly punish any form of rebellion. Growing up with Rieltar, Sarevok was affiliated to the Iron Throne from a young age and became another member. All that time, he remained under Rieltar's thumb, acting the part of the loyal son, while not showing anything that might cause suspicion. It's no surprise Sarevok charmed the city of Baldur's Gate when he has been fronting his whole life for Rieltar and the Throne, downplaying his ambitions and capacities. He doesn't appear as the true antagonist until late in the game, when he turns on the Iron Throne. They're blindsided and unable to fight back, while Baldur's gate is ready to name him Grand Duke. It's a victory on every front. He outsmarts the entire Iron Throne, the leadership of Baldur's Gate, he has the city eating out of his hand, he believes he's on his way to become a god. He used the organization that used him, got revenge for his mother's murder, his years of abuse, and had the nobles at his feet. He failed the godhood part, but he beat odds stacked against him. The urchin from the streets of Sembia rose higher than anyone ever thought possible.

It's important because Sarevok's situation connects to a game's theme and to his misbeliefs. One of Baldur's Gate theme is that your choices matter more than your nature- which is the direct opposite of one of Sarevok's own misbelief. He is convinced his nature as Bhaalspawn predestines him for violence and destruction. The most telling example is in ToB during dialogue if you're trying to change Sarevok's alignment.

"And do you believe I have another choice?"

"After… after all you have been through? With the taint in your soul, you still believe this?"

If you reply positive, you wreck his world enough to make him speechless. And enough to trigger his alignment change. It's a deeply rooted belief, one that affects how he interacts with the world around him, and it's directly connected to his past. Sarevok is also convinced he needs the ability to dominate others, hence his quest for power.

"I… don't understand. What is the use of power if you do not carve out an empire for yourself?"

Sarevok grew up first in the streets, where he was prey to all manners of dangers. Then, he was in a brutal and callous household where his freedom and his life were conditioned by his obedience. It's not said how long he's been working for the Throne, but likely as soon as he could fight. Growing through this, violence would be an everyday part of Sarevok's world, and of himself. He views the world through that twisted lens, where the strong crushes the weak. Learning he's a spawn from a god of murder would cement that belief by giving meaning to that violence. Sarevok isn't a wealthy, privileged man greedy for more power, he's someone from an impoverished background who only views his relation to others and the world as either having others at your mercy, or being at the mercy of others. And he's been the one preyed on for a large chunk of his life. By seeking power, he ensures control not only over his own life, but over other people's lives, because if he controls them, they can't control him.

Sarevok was shaped by his environment, which allowed him to survive, but also messed up his adult life. He has no genuine relationship, they're all transactional. Cythandria, who will brag about loyalty, is with him for wealth, power and sex. Sarevok knows that, he's with her for similar reasons. They're intimate, but their self-interest comes first. Winski Perorate is 'loyal' because he's getting his divine glory by proxy through Sarevok. They follow Sarevok because they get something out of him and he keeps them around for the same reasons. Tamoko is an anomaly in this, because Sarevok caught feelings. Feelings he wasn't equipped to handle because they couldn't fit with his mindset. That's the core tragedy of their relationship, it was doomed from the start, even without the game's events. Tamoko loves Sarevok without wanting anything from him but his company, and he cannot believe that. I made a post about them, and I do think he leaves her because the taint would push him to kill her if she stayed, but I also think it's easy for the taint to manipulate Sarevok, because he's predisposed to believing the worst. Being with Tamoko required effort, because it challenged Sarevok's mindset. Her betrayal confirmed it: he let someone get too close without check and got stabbed in the back.

While Tamoko didn't fully understand Sarevok, she's the on who sums up the situation best:

"You had Gorion to guide you did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior."

In BG 1, Sarevok doesn't fail because he's weaker than Gorion's ward, he's more powerful when you face him, but he's holding on to misbeliefs that make him the puppet of the taint, whereas Charname is master of their own choices, harnessing the taint or rejecting its control. But there is nothing about Charname's nature that is superior to Sarevok and vice versa. The one thing that separates them is the past that shaped them.

Sarevok's story is tragic. He doesn't become a ruthless man because of his nature, but because he was young, alone and poor. Those around him exploited that. His situation gives nuance to his character, enough to make you feel for him. Even when he's only the antagonist, he has depth, and ToB further improves his writing, making a point to show his duality and his struggle to change, to uproot himself from the soil he grew up in. Sarevok never is a one-dimensionnal character, not as a villain, and not as a companion.

[tvuniverse]

9-1-1 -> 6x10-11 // 8x15 (potential) coma dream

[supahstarrr]

today has been the first day in like days i havent gone to sleep in the afternoon then continuously force myself to sleep throughout the night

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[rafesslxt]

Lustpotion | mattheo riddle

summary: you‘re in a boring relationship with cedric diggory and after his enemy mattheo hits a few nerves with his words, he gives you a potion. what you didn‘t know is that it was a sex and lust potion

warnings: cheating (sorry cedric), mind reading, drugging ( kind of, you drinking an unknown potion he gives you ), fingering, dirty talk, praise, dom!mattheo x sub!reader, unprotected p in v, kiiinda enemy to lovers thingy

notes: i‘m making up for not posting so long with posting this third post in 2 days hehe, english is not my first language

tags: @unicors1993 @atadoddinnit @awh-lillies @idk-simra @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @xitsametaphorbrianx @kiwi475

My shoulders heavy and my mind racing, I walked into the common room of my house, Slytherin.

All I wanted in that moment was to fall in bed and sleep through the whole weekend. But Pansy had other plans, apparently, cause my door did not open as I tried to walk in our shared dorm. I groan and bang against the door. "Pansy! Open up!" "Sorry Y/n, Draco's over!" I hear her shouting. Perfect, fucking perfect.

With a frown on my face I walk back into the common room, letting myself fall onto one of the couches, closing my eyes, not even caring who's around.

"Wow, I never thought I would have the honor to spend time with you." I hear a dark voice echoing through the empty common room. I open my eyes and see Mattheo sitting on the opposite couch, now standing up and sitting down on mine but on the other end of it.

I just lazily roll my eyes at him and mutter "Don't flatter yourself, Riddle. You know I'm not here for you." He smirks at my answer and shakes his head slowly. "It's just such a shame that you're with Diggory. You know.. he can't keep up with you." I look at him, confused at the sudden change of subject. " How would you know that?"

"I know a lot more than you think, Y/N. I've been watching you two." "Oh great, so I have a stalker?" I answer sarcastically. There's a chuckle in his throat again. " Just observant. But I noticed something. You're not happy with Diggory, right?"

I scoff at his words and look at him directly. " Of course I am happy with Cedric. Why wouldn't I be? Every girl would be. He's so gentle, soft, sensitive.. a gentlemen." I slowly drift off while I'm talking.

"Yeah that's what you want most people to think but I know something else nobody knows about you two." " Oh enlighten me, please."

"I know you have a thing for troublemakers. A soft spot for those who can make your heart race, and Cedric? He's too perfect for you. You need someone who can challenge you, push your buttons, push you to your limits." I hold eye contact while he speaks, not wanting him to think I back down from this but his words hit a nerve, he just didn't needed to know that.

"How would you know what I really like, Riddle?" I question him, something that goes through my mind the whole time. " I pay attention Y/n, I notice things around me. And trust me when I tell you, you give off all the signs." "Signs?"

"Yes, signs. For example the way you always look at me when we argue, your cheeks getting all flustered. The way your heart races when we're close. Even the dream's you're having about me."

My eyed widen at his last comment and my body stiffens. "You can't hide anything from me." I gulp and shake my head. I told no one about my dreams. Didn't even write them into my diary out of fear someone could read it. There is only one way he could know this and I know that his father, Voldemort, was able to do this. "Did you read my mind? My dreams?"

A big smile spreads across his face. " Maybe, maybe not." Slowly I start to get frustrated with this conversation, showing it on my face. "What do you want Mattheo? Why do you care about all of this so much, hm?"

"Because I see something in you.. something I want to try. Maybe pushing your buttons a little bit." I look at him for a moment, waiting for him to tell me that this is a joke, but he doesn't.

I sigh tired "Doesn't matter, I'm with Cedric." "Is that what you truly want Y/n? Or are you just settling for what everybody expects you to want?" I gulp at his words feeling like they hit a nerve inside me again. "I like him, really.."

"I believe you Y/n, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun along the way." I laugh sarcastically at him. " Oh yeah let me guess, that fun would include you? You just want something to rub under Cedric's nose."

"Perhaps.." he admits with a smirk. " But what If I would offer you more than that? What If I could offer you things that Cedric never could? Wouldn't you be curious?"

I swallow, scanning his face before I look away, not knowing what to answer him. He's right tho, I really like Cedric but everything with him is so.. perfect. It bores me to death sometimes.. I just want something more fiercy but I would never admit that to Mattheo.

"You don't have to admit anything." he smirks like a little devil, letting me know he's inside my head. I'm happy that he sits on the other end or else he would feel the heat coming from my body and my heart racing. "What should I do then hm? Great, let me guess.. hopping into bed with you?"

"That's a start.." an arrogant smile on his face. "But I meant more like exploring the unknown together." His gaze flickers over my face, studying my reaction. "I promise you won't regret it."

"The unknown? And what would that be?" "Oh dear, don't you ever wonder what's outside there? What else you might be capable of? I can show you." He comes nearer, sitting in front of me now. "Then show me."

With a devilish grin he leans in even closer, his mouth brushing against my ear, his mouth opening slightly as I think he wants to say something but after a few seconds of waiting and his hot breath tickling my ear, he disappeared into thin air.

In shock I look at the place he just sat on a moment ago, then looking around me. Where the hell is he and how did he do that? "Mattheo?" I ask quietly into the empty room.

There was a soft chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere and then Mattheo reappeared right in front of me. " Suprised ?" he asks with a smirk. " I told you I could show you things."

"How did you-" "It's a talent." he says casually as If it's nothing to disappear into the air. "One you might find useful someday.. but let's concentrate on a little experiment for now." " What experiment?" I ask suspicious.

His voice is smooth as silk as he starts speaking again. " I want you to try something for me.." He holds out his hand in which lays a little bottle, unlabeled and filled with a dark red liquid. "Drink this."

I take it from his hand and look at it a bit closer, noticing sparkles in it. "What is that?"

"Just a little potion. It will open your senses, make you see and feel things differently." he says while watching me carefully. I lick my lips before asking If he made this by himself. "Of course.. I'm skilled in the art of potion-making, as you'll find out soon." he smirks. " Go on..drink it."

I don't know what it is but something inside me, whatever it is, screams at me with full lungs to do it, my fingers twitching as I look at the little phial. I open it, position it at my lips and let the unknown liquid run down my throat.

As I swallow it, I could already feel it heightening my senses, my emotions running wild inside me. I see him watching my face with satisfaction as I visibly tremble in his presence. " That's it.." he whispers, coming closer again. " W-what did you gave me Mattheo?" I stutter out as I feel myself getting warmer under my clothes.

"Just a little something to enhance your experience." he says, his voice filled with dripping lust. " You'll thank me later." Suddenly, without a warning, he leans in and kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth instantly while slowly pressing me down against the couch.

I gasp into his mouth, feeling all kind of things at once. The potion made every nerve in me more sensitive, leaving me panting just from this kiss. Goosebumps erupt over my body as I slowly feel like I'm on fire.

Mattheo smiled against me, mumbling " It feels like all your senses are heightened, right?" I just nod and answer him with a short breathless "yes". "How does it feel now?" he asks as he presses his body harder against mine, still under him. I whine at the touch and close my eyes, too stunned to speak.

His smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. My body is trembling against his, every breath I take seems to be for him. "How does it feel?" he repeats his question. " Like..like every touch from you sets me on fire. It's burning.." I gasp again, my cheeks turning red.

"Is that so?" he hums, " Do you want me to make it burn even more?" he whispers in a seductive tone. I just nod, not thinking about my actions anymore. " Please Mattheo, I can't breathe." I feel my lungs getting heavier, just like the rest of my body.

He brings his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb over my trembling lip, causing me to shudder against him. " I'll make you scream, princess." he promises with his voice low and intense.

I bite my lip at his statement, my eyes slowly closing. " How long does the potion last?" "They can last for hours." he says with a wicked smile, still brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. He slowly let's it slide past my parted lips. He groans as I suck on it, letting my tongue swirl around it, before he slowly pulls out.

"Mattheo please, I need you." I whine, feeling as If I’m about to explode If he doesn't touch me and give me something. " You need me?" He starts to smile at my words, letting his hand wandering over my body. From my mouth down to my neck, down to my chest further to my stomach. I inhale sharply when his fingers brush my stomach, feeling it already tightening.

Shamelessly he opens my jeans, letting his finger disappear into my slip without hesitation. " You're already so wet for me." he groans as he feels me dripping onto his fingers. "I fucking love it." he mumbles against my lips before he kisses me.

He tugs at the rest of my jeans and slides them down without breaking the kiss, until my pants are gone. He takes of my top, leaving my lips this time and looking at me. "Oh you look so hot right now."

My cheeks get red and hot, my face all flustered. "You look so fucking good baby, fuck." he groans his hand going back inside my slip, his thumb circling my sensitive clit and his fore and middle finger go right inside my pussy, pumping me.

"Oh god Mattheo, it‘s too much!" I whimper loudly as he continues to tease me with his touch. It didn‘t take me long before I come on his fingers, clenching around them.

My nails dig into his arms and leave marks all over them, broken whimpers and screams leave my mouth but before anyone could hear, they were muffled by Mattheo‘s hand over my mouth.

"Shh, we can't have anyone hear this, right?" "I need more Mattheo, please. Fuck me!" I hiss, feeling as If I might die If he doesn‘t"

"Poor baby, all fucked out and I've barely even touched you." he says, smiling down at me and my shaking body. His fingers come back to my pussy but this time they only play with my clit which makes me arch my back and gasping really loudly."N-no.. more.." i stutter out.

"Oh I‘ll give you more." he promises, chuckling low in his throat, unable to resist my pleas. He pulls me closer, our bodies flush against each other. With his free hand, he unbuttoned his own pants, letting out a sharp breath as he feels my wetness against his erection.

My eyes go wide as I look down and see his cock. My mouth hangs open a bit and I feel myself getting even wetter. "I - am I dreaming or is this real?" i ask him, not sure If the potion lets me imagine thing.

He laughs at my words and shakes his head. "It’s real.." he growls. "And you're gonna find out just how fucking real it feels."

Before I could say anything, I feel his thick tip against my entrance, pushing itself inside me with a sudden force that made me roll my eyes back to my brain.

"God, you feel so good, so tight." he moans as he starts to move his hips. I buck my hips up against his, finally feeling full, finally feeling that fire on my skin cool down a little bit. I look around the room, realizing again, that we‘re in the middle of the common room and anybody could just walk outside their dorms and see us. But at that moment I couldn‘t care less, it even turned me on when I‘m being honest.

He leans down to my face and whispers inside my ear " you like that thought of getting caught hm? The thrill of being watched.." I moan even louder at his words that let me know he read my mind again. "Please.." i breathe out.

I felt so drunk.. drunk of him. "I bet you would beg anyone to fuck you right now." he murmured as his eyes roam over my trembling body. "N-no, only you.." i whine and it‘s true. I feel like there is a connection through the potion to him. A desire that only he can satisfy.

"I want to feel you." I beg him as he slowly pumps his cock in and out of me. "You want it rough or smooth?" "Rough." i answer without hesitation.

Mattheo's grin widens and his eyes gleam with lust. "You got it.." he growls, pulling me up and pushing me onto the table in front of him. I gasp at the sudden change.

He ignores the possibility of being caught, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he positions himself at my entrance. He pushes into me hard, filling me completely with one thrust. "Fuck" he groans, starting to move his hips in a steady rhythm.

His lips curl into a devilish smile, his movements becoming more aggressive. "You like it rough, huh?" he asked rhetorically, increasing the pace of his thrusts. I slam my hands down onto the table and try to stabilize myself but it‘s useless. He‘s fucking me like an wild animal, the table wiggling like crazy.

We both feel the intensity of the situation growing, his cock twitching with each thrust and my pussy clenching. "You're mine," he growls, grabbing my hair roughly and pulling my head back. He starts moving faster, almost losing control.

I can‘t answer. His statement reminds me of Cedric for a moment and guilt crashes over me. Mattheo felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of Cedric's name crossing my mind as he reads it again. He slams into me harder, his body trembling with effort. "You belong to me," he repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes locked onto mine.

"I bet he can't fuck you like I can. I can take care of you. You don't need anyone but me."

I still don‘t answer him, pressing my lips together which just angers him more. "You‘ll beg for it." he snarls and lifts my leg over his shoulder, getting even deeper which leads to me squirming and breathing fast.

"I'm going to fuck him out of your smart little brain, understood?" I just nod and claw my nails into his back, leaving marks all over. "Tell me you belong to me." he whispers into my ear, thrusting with more force inside me. "I- I don‘t know.." i whimper as i feel him hitting my soft spot.

"What would he think If he could see you right now, hm?" he taunts over me and smiles, scanning my face and body. "Such a little slut for me.“

I scream his name, muffling it with my own hand as I feel myself getting close. "I need to come, please. I'll do anything!" "Say it." he says, his hips getting slower, teasing me.

"I - I‘m yours Mattheo. I belong to you." I cry out as he thrust inside of me like a mad men. "Come for me princess." he moans, his thumb going over my clit again. My eyes roll back once again as he hits my cervix, fucking me speechless.

"Bite me." I look at him confused before he repeats himself. "Bite into my shoulder when you come."

With a brutal pace he slams his cock inside me, leaving me dumb and brainless as he chases his own release. A broken sob comes out of my throat and my stomach twists in the best way ever as i come around his throbbing cock, milking him. I do as he told me to and bite into his shoulder as I scream.

I feel him release inside of me, pumping me full with his cum and painting my walls with his hot seed. He holds me in place, making sure I take every last drop of him.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he whispers as he pulls his cock out, looking at our mixed juices. I look down and the picture sends shivers down my spine.

"I - uh.. I might have left a few marks." I admit kinda shy as I feel the potion flowing out of my system.

" I must say, you are quite the little cockslut." he said, admiring the mess between my legs and my work on his back and arms. He leans down and whispers into my ear. "Now clean up and go to sleep princess. You‘ll sit with me at breakfast."

"But - I sit with Cedric every time." "Well, that‘s too bad, cause you‘re sitting with me tomorrow." he says, knowing how mich he will get under Cedric‘s skin with this. "And remember, If you don‘t show up I will find you." he says, daring me to argue with him.

— next morning —

As I walk into the great hall, my heart keeps pounding in my chest like its about to explode. My hands are twitching and I couldn‘t hide my nervousness on my face.

I fell asleep last night with an sore aching pussy and a dream that about Mattheo that was .. well, interesting. But I bet he already read my thoughts and dreams I had. Damn, I really had to do something about that later.

I gulp as I walk further into the Hall, standing still as I look over all the four tables. At first I look over to the Hufflepuff table with Cedric sitting on it. He smiles at me as he notices me. That perfect smile.

Then I looked over to my table, seeing Mattheo‘s eyes were already on me. He looks at me with daring eyes, gleaming with lust and power.

Suddenly I hear a voice inside my head, whispering. "Don‘t even think about it my little cockslut." I bite my lip at the choice of his words. I look over to Cedric again, sending him an apologetic look before walking over to an arrogant looking Mattheo, smiling smugly at Cedric.

—

thank you so much for reading! Comment down beloe If you wanna get tagged in part 2 cause there will be one.. suprise: sub!mattheo 👀

thank you also for every kind of support 😚

xoxo sarah <3

[sleepy-grav3]

We Became Heroes Because You Didn't

The Justice League don't specialize in much. If you ask them, they'd say otherwise. Unless they're one of the Bats, because they acknowledge that, especially with magic. They hate it, but they have connections and will at least ask for more details to deal with the situation at hand. Though they'll need proof.

That's the thing really. Proof. Because how are you going to get proof of something if everything gets repaired by the end? Or maybe you're the villain here according to the public. Or maybe everything you say is just plain crazy that nobody even knows what's going on from the start!

It was only when another group was formed when everything became clear. They were frowned upon, unknown, spoke nonsense, and never asked for help. They were the survivors that played hero. They were the shadowed version of the Justice League.

They were Justice League: Dark

A fanfic (or multiple small ones grouped together?) that isn't really about them joining forces, but more about the discovery of more dangerous territory that's being handled by kids/teens. Lift some weight for these kids. They really want a safe net by now in their hero careers.

Like- maybe a few of these wouldn't be the JL's fault. Maybe it was the government (at least for the US). Like Danny Phantom and Gravity Falls mentions the government, maybe they blocked off those regions from outside connections.

I feel like it would be funny if maybe Constantine just ends up collecting kids like Batman with his.

They're just kids! Itty bitty toddlers. It's supposed to be our job to take care o' that shit, ain't it?

And JLD now has a bunch of young professionals cause what the fuck, kid. Why do you know this??? Ya know? Maybe the JL just randomly finds these things, calls Constantine after Zatanna fails to know wtf is going on, and he just calls over a kid. Or a group of them.

JL: We need a professional, why is there a child here?

Constantine: Cause even when you fuckers ignored their calls for help, they still at least try to help where they can

JL: We never-

Constantine: Shut your traps! School's in session

*Child tries to explain*

JL: You have to be kidding me. ___ doesn't exist.

Constantine: Oh bloody hell-

Child: And they wonder why they get more attention than us.

idk, I just like the idea of Constantine being a father for OP characters and desperately want a Young Justice League: Dark. I read a couple of Danny and/or Billy being adopted by him, but the cravings... And if it's a whole big crossover thing, that would be great. Tag me if you see or write about something like this. I wanna read too :)

Don't put too much hope in me writing it though, I'm seriously bad at continuing/finishing stuff. But if I do, I'll edit this post with links to whatever I write.

[ravenclaws-stuff]

hi can i request james for starter and insecurity for entrée please btw I love all your writing/stories idk what people/ you call them 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Tags: hurt/comfort, pureblood!hufflepuff reader, lestrange reader, bad family, reader has the best elf, James is a massive flirt, insecurity

A/n: Thank you so much for joining us! I had so much fun writing this and I really am sorry it took me so long to get it out. I hope you enjoy it!

Stares follow you everywhere you go. No safe have from the whispers that haunt you. There was a time you used to be a wallflower, a nobody. A quiet outcast that no one paid attention to. The walking contraction, a dark gloomy Hufflepuff. “Who is she?” Someone whispers as you walk past. Your head hangs low, avoid any and all eye contact. The question stings, almost like a static shock. Its there but then disappears almost instantaneous. Just as you found the corner, you could hear him. The reason why people stare. “Lestrange! Wait up!” The stares grew, became more intense as he ran down the hall. Shoes squealing as he skids to a stop. “Let me carry those for you.” He says, pulling the potions textbooks out of your hands before you could respond. You look up, tracing over his chestnut curls, the eager look adorned on his face, making him resemble an eager puppy as his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. “James.”

Every interaction with the Gryffindor added an extra weight onto you. Every time he waited for you outside your class, leg propped up against the wall like he was a character straight out of one of your books. Every time he left your favorite flower at your usual spot before breakfast. You considered yourself smart yet you could not figure out why… why James Potter was doing all of this. Why was he chasing you all of the sudden when he was chasing Lily Evans not even three months ago. The only answer you could come up with is that this is an elaborate prank. A horrible horrible prank. It was the only logical explanation. There is no way James Potter, the embodiment of the bloody sun, actually likes you, the unwanted daughter of a death eater.

Your breaking point came quicker than you expected. Sitting under the sun, your back presses against the castle wall behind you as the book laid open unread in your lap. You tried to read, you really did but it seems that all of Hogwarts joined you outside, trying to soak in the fleeting sunlight. A shadow falls over you, forcing you to look up. There he stood, the Gryffindor heartthrob and the root of all the extra weight you carry, James Potter. His hand reaches up, scratching the back of his neck as his lips move but you didn't hear a word he was saying.

“So?” The fog clears, anger replacing it so quick it would give any sane person emotional whiplash. “What?” James steps back, paling slightly at the pure rage in your tone. “I-i was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” You stand, the book in your lap falling onto the ground between you. “Is this some type of game to you?” James stumbles back as if you slapped him. “Do you get off on toying with girls that don't stand a chance with you? That don't have a bloody chance to be happy.” You take a step forward, tears lining your lashes as you blink. “Let me say this once James Potter,” you whisper, finger poking into his chest. “leave me out of your pranks.”

The portrait clicks shut, chest heaving as you lean against the cold wall. A small pop makes you tilt your head, tears shimmer in your eyes as Missy, your house elf appears in your blurry vision. “Let's sit down.” You nod, following as she leads you by hand to the arm chair tucked away in the back corner, a cup of steaming cocoa and a cookie waiting for you. Of course she knew you were coming. She always knew when you upset, sometimes before even you did. “Thank you Missy.” You mumble. She truly was the only good thing that has ever come from your family. She practically raised you, even abandoning your family to follow you to Hogwarts after you were scorched off the family tree. “I hate him.” Your bottom lip trembles as Missy reaches over, patting your knee. “No you don't misses. You love him.” A single tear rolls down your cheek as you absentmindedly trace the rim of the mug. “I know.”

The portrait opens, as Sirius shoves a piece of wrinkled paper into his back pocket. Missy watches as Sirius approaches your sleeping figure. She clears her throat, honey colored eyes twinkle with a look that he has only seen in Kreacher when his father raised a hand towards Regulus. Sirius huffs, holding his hand up. “I promise I mean no harm.” Taking one last look at your, the house elf apparates, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

“What do you want?” You spat, voice heavy with sleep. “Just came to talk.” You pull your legs up to your chest. “About?” Sirius gives you a look, silently telling you to quit being ignorant. “You know what?” You glance at the table beside you, noticing your cup is gone. “We have nothing to talk about.” A tired sigh falls from the boy as he squats down in front of you. “Look I understand going on it that brain of yours. How shitty families are and how badly they can fuck you up. But you have to know James isn't like that. He genuinely likes you.” You shake your head, voice shaking. “No.. no you're lying.” Sirius stands up, letting his words sink in. “I'm not and you know that. Just give him a chance. It just might be the best choice you'll ever make.”

James finds you the next morning, sitting hunched over at your usual table in the back of the library. “Can we talk?” You nod, eyes never leaving the words in your transfiguration paper. The air thickens, waiting for one of you to say something. “Look, I just want to apologize. I would never… I swear I was doing all that stuff because I… well I like you. I would..” James takes a deep breath. “I would never play a prank on anyone like that. Ever.” He says, so sure that it actually makes you believe it. You nod, pushing your parchment to the side. “What about Evans?” James frowns. “What about her?” You shrug, trying to keep up your nonchalant attitude despite your racing heart. “Thought you were in love with her.” James pales, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Wait really? Why?” You nod, finally meeting his eyes. “You chased her for months prior to practically doing the same.” James chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his neck. “Oh um… well I can see why you thought.. you see.. Lily was helping me.” You nod slowly, clearly not believing him. “I couldn't figure how to approach you so I went to her for help. Figure she would know since she's a girl..and she knows what girls like.” A flush spreads across your shoulder, creeping up the back of your neck.

“So let me get this straight, you asked Evans for help… because of me?” James nods, a soft smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “Why?” He leans forward, elbows resting against the table. “I wanted to do this right. I knew you would be skittish of me and you have absolutely every right to be. I've seen first hand that not everyone is lucky to have a happy home like I do. So I am trying. Tried to prove that I am worthy of you but it seems like I've made a right fool out of myself. Shaking your head, you reach over, squeezing his hand. It seems that you were wrong. The embodiment of the sun did like the disgraced daughter.

“I am sorry James. I was wrong about you.” A love sick look spreads across his face. “W-what?” James leans back in his chair, sending a dangerous flutter to your heart. “I like the way that sounded.” You roll your eyes. “What me saying I was wrong?” James shakes his head, his bourbon color eyes twinkle. “My name.”

The two of you fall silent, you returning to abandoned parchment as James pulls out his own. Eyes glancing under your lashes before darting away when you look eyes. "Why me?" James looks up, eyebrow raised. "Why you? Because you're gorgeous. You're smart. You're kind. Don't give me that look." James scolds, "I see you tutoring the younger years. You're not what everyone expects and I want to be the guy that carries your book. The guy that you compare to the ones in your books. The guy who walks you back to your common room after a date. I want to be your guy." You both fall silent, taking in the moment. "Okay." You whisper, looking up at him. "Okay?" James eyes widen, glasses sliding down his nose. "Be my guy." James smiles, cheeks flushed. "Okay.”

[rosalietodd013]

Idk, I respect what you’re saying, but I don’t entirely agree. Comparing fanfic writers and published writers is like comparing apples and oranges.

Also, that “you are not entitled to engagement” argument, while founded in a way, is unhelpful when you pair it with how writing on this app works and the current climate on writeblr.

Nobody’s being forced. A tag is a way for people to filter content. One or two stories that aren’t interesting won’t hurt anyone. All you can do is… scroll. Or block.

These conversations are valid, but they’re unhelpful because the root cause isn’t being discussed. Saying writers aren’t entitled isn’t helping. These writers don’t feel entitled (i’m speaking of the general vast majority), but if people ask to be on taglists and even those people don’t respond, it is discouraging and fosters an unhealthy environment within a fandom. In the grand scheme of things, the mistagging feels like a non-issue.

I do get what you mean and people should tag things correctly. But knowing why they don’t is also important. Fandom culture and community is effectively dying in many fandoms because of the imbalance between people who work hard to provide free entertainment and consumers who believe it is their right. And the only argument they have is “you aren’t entitled to feedback” when all some of these writers are asking is for an acknowledgment that they didn’t just post something to yell into a void.

Some people use likes like bookmarks and then unlike when they’re done reading a post. You may think it doesn’t matter but the person behind the blog can see. Especially if the like count is low.

This isn’t meant to guilt trip anyone. But we can all sort of… meet in the middle and be compassionate. I’ve seen too many writers heartbroken on this app because people send hate and death threats and expect free content and suck the fun out of a fandom for these writers until they leave (zero exaggeration).

We can have conversations about respect and proper tagging, but we also need to have conversations on how to prop up and support writers as well, so they’re not compelled to grasp at straws trying to get their work seen. Only then can we truly sit here and expect change. Might sound dramatic, but for a lot of people, these communities are very valuable. So yeah, talk about mistagging all you want. It’s completely valid.

But please acknowledge one of the major reasons for why it happens and (i don’t really follow you but this is for anyone reading) reblog and share work of your fav artists on here to support them. If you enjoyed something, say so! Just a small “hey this was nice” is enough. Or even a silent reblog. It helps keep a community going. If you value your fandom, you need to value the people that are a part of running said fandom—the artists.

Just offering a different perspective :)

POTENTIAL TL;DR. The very last paragraph is honestly a good summary.

I do see where you’re coming from and you make some valid points. Are there bigger issues on here? Absolutely. I support and comment on writers when I am genuinely moved by a piece. I am one of those people who runs through stories and posts on here by the hundreds a day and thousands per week. Would I like to like and reblog more? Yes. But I tailor my content and posts by my own tastes. Is it selfish and not great that I don’t interact more with writers? Sure, but that’s also my choice. I’m very highly aware of the big issues here, but I’m focusing on one part at a time. I’m voicing my opinion on an issue I see regularly.

I think it’s interesting that your say “comparing published writers and fanfiction writers is totally different”. What makes them different? The fact that one makes money and the other doesn’t? Not all published authors are experts in their field or majored in some form of English or literature or even went to college so that can’t be it either. So if you could explain that part I’d appreciate it.

I do stand by my “no one is entitled to engagement” statement. Just because you post something doesn’t mean I have to respond or give positive feedback. It’s a choice. Not everyone agrees with or likes what someone posts on here or any other platform. When you ask for feedback on something publicly you have to understand that you’re likely gonna get both positive AND negative responses. I personally would prefer if someone skips the comment if it’s not nice or helpful which is what I do for other writers as well. If I don’t like or am not moved by something I’m not gonna comment, post, like or reblog it. No one is entitled to a response. It sometimes does more harm than good.

By saying “a tag is a way to filter content” then say “one or two stories that aren’t interesting won’t hurt anyone” are highly contradicting to your point. You’re acknowledging that tags are ways for people to find stories and content they want to see. The reasons we search for tags and filters is so we only see the content we want to. By saying those one or two stories won’t interest us confirms that it doesn’t belong there and could spark frustration. So just because a writer wants more views on content that audience doesn’t want to see means I should just suffer the frustration? How is that fair? If someone wants to read what is posted and the tags are correct then the audience will find it the right way. It doesn’t have to be forced. It also opens the door for more criticism to that writer which could make their situation/mental status worse.

If I want to be one someone’s tag list and reach out to ask and compliment their story, isn’t that engagement? Doesn’t that say “I care about and am invested in this story and want to know when another chapter or installment comes out”? But that also means I have to do something every time something else comes out? I’ve already engaged so you know I’m interested. What else are you looking for?

Mistagging might be a “non-issue” to some people but it matters to me. That was the whole point of my original post. It matters to the people who comment and like and reblog that post. That post has gotten more attention than any story I’ve ever written. And yes you can check that. I didn’t do it for attention. I just wanted to express something I felt. Whether or not someone responded or interacted was NOT my intention. People interact because they were moved or thought about it at least once. Isn’t that the whole idea of doing that? Because they connected? Shouldn’t people who are moved or appreciate a work or message say it if they mean it but also not feel obligated to do so? The people who saw and didn’t agree either commented or kept scrolling and that should be ok.

As for the whole liking posts to save them and unliking them once you’re done, I’m guilty of that. I will admit that is a problem I am a part of and I wish it wasn’t the case. Unless I’m missing something, tumblr doesn’t have a way to save stories that I don’t finish immediately or want to revisit once or twice and never see again. I used to use my likes as just that. But I realized that it didn’t give me a way to sort the stories I wanted to go back to from the ones I genuinely liked. That I will say is an issue that tumblr can fix and is a larger issue. That’s something I will own. I’ve never been proud of it but I’m not sure how else to combat this. I’m not gonna keep something liked that I have zero interest in or has nothing to do with me. I’m just not.

Again, I understand that there are larger issues at play and to some this is considered something inconsequential. But to those of us who are affected regularly and care, this IS our issue. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad or care about more than we choose to. People should care about climate change, famine, animal cruelty, war, racism, nationalism, misogyny and a litany of other things but not everyone does. That should be a choice. I should be allowed to care about and express issues that I care about. Is it selfish to not acknowledge the entire picture? Yes but what I consider a major issue and what someone else does isn’t always gonna match.

You used logic and reasoning and terms that made sense but the main reason this response is so long is because even with all you were saying, you were minimizing and brushing off an issue that I care about. It probably wasn’t your intention but that’s what happened. It didn’t inspire sympathy from me at all which is why it took a minute for me to respond. I do hear what you’re saying though. That has to be enough right now.

[burningcheese-merchant]

youll be fine merchant, after all i follow you because i like you saying things, you make things interesting in a way, im not sure how to describe it, but what i do want to say is that you dont need to feel that way, u doing fine and i hope you continue doing fine

I'm grateful for your kind words. I really am. I'm touched you took the time to say something to me. But... Idk.

I'm feeling very raw today. I want to be totally real just once. Just this one time. No sarcasm or joking around like I usually do. Be my therapist/blank wall to whom I address my words of woe for a minute. Then we can all go back to normal after that

I've been having a major crisis of self-confidence lately. Been feeling stupid. Useless. Good for nothing. Probably just the Big Sad talking but that guy hasn't shut up for an awfully long time and he's harder to tune out on some days

Writing was always an escape for me. A form of catharsis. I'm actually quite terrible at speaking to people irl. I'm very shy and awkward. Social anxiety on steroids. I always expressed myself better in writing as opposed to spoken words. Idk it just feels a lot less stifling to me. I feel more free. Less judged. More in control of my thoughts. If that makes any sense.

Bit the bullet and started posting fics on AO3 just to indulge myself. Never really expected to get any attention. There was a ship I liked and there weren't really any fics for it, so I became the change I wished to see in the world. That was all it was. You want something done right, do it your damn self.

Wrote more. Different things with different characters and different ideas. Gained a lot more traction. Caught another bullet in my teeth and made this blog. People seem to like my ideas for some reason. I start to think "hey. Maybe I really am a good writer."

Then I took a few story-shaped sledgehammers to the skull and remembered that no, I'm not. Lol.

Comparison is the thief of joy. I know that. Nobody needs to remind me. But it's easier said than practiced. Read biscuitlabyrinth's stuff and felt like a fraud. Read Jambound and felt like a skyscraper-sized fraud. It's hard not to compare yourself to others when the "others" are practically hailed as heroes by the fandom. When there are mountains upon mountains of fanart happily illustrating their work. When their story has the most hits and the most kudos and the most comments and the most bookmarks in the entire Cookie Run tag on AO3, and only receives more every passing day. When there are people who want to bind the fic and make it an actual, physical book, because they love it so much. No one has ever said or done any of that for me or my stuff. Never got even a fraction of that love or attention. Not even close. And I never, ever will.

Yeah yeah. Two cakes. Everyone has said that to me. But if you all had to choose. If you could only eat one cake while the other one went straight to the trash. You wouldn't pick mine, would you? You'd pick the other one. You'd pick Jambound. Everyone would. Even my friends on here would. Why bother wasting time and ingredients baking the thing if you know that's how it's going to be? What's the point?

I know I'm not owed success. Nobody is. It's earned. It just... hurts, I guess. It hurts to feel compelled to doubt yourself so strongly after finally allowing yourself to believe you've done a good job at something for once in your life. To feel like even when I try, even when I put my best foot forward, it's not good enough. Nobody actually cares. No one will ever think of you like they think of those other people and their work. No one will think of you at all. You're just a sad little wannabe loser, wallowing in their shadows.

I don't blame those people for these feelings. I don't blame anyone except myself. To think or do otherwise would be childish. No one is responsible for making me feel inferior/inadequate besides me. I accept that these thought and feelings are foolish. Whiny. Unfair. No one should pay them any mind. I'll sort through them on my own.

It's stupid, all of this. Oh no, some person's fanfiction is more popular than yours. Boo hoo. It's the end of the world. Stupid. It's all stupid. And yet, the feelings persist. It sucks. I don't want to feel this way. I'd rather just forget about it all and go back to being the loser who was content just writing for herself and nobody else, really. I don't look good in green, that's for sure lol. But it's hard. It's hard to let go of something that's got its jaws clenched around your neck so tight. Waiting for you to stop fighting and bleed out before it can finish its meal.

I always thought that writing was the only thing I was ever good at. That I was ever good for. Learned the hard way that that's not true. That my best was never anything but mediocre in reality. It's really no wonder Jambound is as beloved as it is. It's wonderful. Fantastic. It deserves all the praise it gets. I wish I could write half as well as that. But I don't. And now sometimes I wonder if anyone would even notice, even if I did.

I'm not happy writing anymore. Feels like it got snatched from me. The thing I love, that always brought me a measure of peace no matter how depressed I got. Gone. I can't draw worth a damn. I'm not funny. I'm not that smart. I never thought I had anything to give anyone except my writing. Now I understand that I don't have that, either. My cake sucks. No wonder everyone would rather eat theirs.

I'll get over it eventually. I'm stubborn if nothing else at all. I've got stories to tell and finish, even if they'll never mean anything to anyone except myself. Might as well. For my own sake.

There. Said my piece. Poured my miserable little heart out. Let's not talk about this anymore. Go back to enjoying the fancy, professional cake and celebrating the talented baker. Leave me to my cracked countertop covered in stale flour and rotten eggs and bland frosting. I never said anything worth listening to. I'm not sure I ever have.

No more self-pity after this, back to being a silly bozo as usual. Thanks for reading all this gunk if you bothered to for whatever reason. Y'all have a nice day. Better than mine, hopefully

[goatgoesmbe]

I wish people who complain about dark fics, tag their post #antishippers so i could filter them out.. coz they always put every x reader tag in that post.. (i followed some x reader tag, so these posts come up on my db from time to time) telling people what to write, when people go here and do it for free..

Buddy, nobody force you to read them rly.. and yes agree those content should be tagged too, so tell them that instead of saying they should stop writing all together

And to people that complain about fanfiction here being bad.. when again, people write them for free- so idk why you think you could complain

Is this a controversial take? Idk, i just personally dont like it when people police others works

Id like to hear others thoughts abt this though

[frango-maconheiro]

wow, wow, interaction.

also, there's a stupid meaningless ramble i made out of this incredible petpeeve of mine with EW x reader stuff and it's just down the cut sggkjdfjkk (it's fr just me being extremely salty)

Anyway, hello!

Haha, my curious and lonely ass really thought it was a clever idea to read 'eddsworld x reader' content because it spawned in my timeline.... thinking that maaaybe they actually got good at it and made not too ooc stuff (this is heeeeaavily on matt content)

Now, i am profoundly remorseful of that choice because when i wrote this hours ago woth no wifi, i was arguing with the air.

Like, i won't lie on this. EW x reader.. They have evolved, a loooot since those 2017 fanfics (why were the x yn fics from eddsworld all copy-paste back then???) actually, it really surprised me because i definitely don't have the most cool memories of such fanfics,, Buuuuut, they still have that STUPID FAVORITISM. IT'S SO DAMN APPARENT. YOU THINK WE CAN'T SEE IT???

i get madder from down this line, especially since i was veery hungry when writing this. That's why you should always stay fed, keeps you slightly happier.

nhamnhamnhamm, writes aaall cool stuff for edd, tom 'n tord... maybe with an ooc here and there, but enough to ignore,, but matt? Matt gets so ooc, he can be mistaken for an oc if no name is given.

like,,, did.. did we watch the same dude on screen? i know he was pretty neglected in content, but cmon, what is that?? He's practically a romance repellent with his stupidity (said affectionately)

it's the same 'pipipipopopo just a sweet mama's boy' and 'ooo, he's sooo romantic, look at how much of gentleman he is compared to otheeeers' and 'whaao he so silly ::3 *treats him as if he weren't an adult character' and so much more, all in this weird stereotype

I guess i'm just disappointed,,, all because he just, idk, still feels downright boring compared to how the other 3 are written in these kind of fanfics even thought it's 2024 already and not still 2017-2020 (don't even get me started on the weird fixation on making yn extremely specific which fr also makes me crawl away like a wet cat from EW reader interactive content, they don't even put tags of the gender, aaaaaargh).

y'all definitely have more content of him to write than just the saturation of him painting your nails, or going shopping, or acting like he's the center of the world 24/7, or making him the pure lil' angel, or having his memory issues being downplayed as him acting 'so silly lil' silly', i assure you.

When i tell you i got so invested in this useless anger i mean that i got compelled into writing down a bunch of matt x reader to try and give that man a cooler image,,, and i don't even see him that way (nor any of the characters.) , but GOD ARGHHHV I NEED JUSTICE FOR HIM.

i might be just a lil' hot headed while writing this whole stuff, but this bro got stripped out of BOTH his classic and his modern funky personality in 99% of these fanfics and nobody bats an eye, like, ever, unless they're another fan of the character. Free my ginger rat, pleeeeaaaaseee.

I need any weirdo, edgy, funky, unusual, vampire, zombie(heavily on you zombie matt my beloved), slasher, funny, whack matt written content that is not only interactive BUT friendly to all readers...

i don't even care what Matt is written, modern, or classic. Both types have their own weirdo charm, and i am willing to analyze them for a nice oneshot or spitball post.... where you don't get to a restaurant/picnic and receives flowers and it ends like that, without any more depth of such cute cliche fluff it is, and leaving you like you just licked off the scraps of a dessert from a plate given to you, so damn hungry 'n wishing you had eaten an actual dessert instead of whatever that was.

[themuseinthewoods]

Muse's fandom crush list and reasons:

idk, I wanted too. and I want to see if anyone agrees with me.

thank you to my moot @nymphfever just telling me to do it and she just started writing so make sure to check out her blog if you have time, she's doing really well! And I am also tagging @atheopportunist because she inspired me to do this over one of our conversations.

list under the cut, images I got off of pinterest of the internet.

And if you wanna do something, describe my type after reading in the weirdest or funniest way you can think of.

this is going to be embarrassing please don't judge me, I'm just a fangirl

Lord of the rings: Aragorn- Have you seen him?

But also he sings and gives hugs and he's so pretty. I also love that he knows stuff about history, I just want him to tell me stories. I would feel safe with him.

Vikings: Ivar the boneless- do not judge me,

he is the only person I allow myself to be that delulu and think "I could change him" because that is how much delulu I need. Idk, I just want to hold his face in my hands and cover it with kisses. I would not feel safe with him unless his drastically changed.

Star wars: The Mandalorien- do I really have to explain?

do I? LOOK AT HIM. And he has a tiny green child that I can adopt. OF COURSE I WOULD FEEL SAFE WITH HIM

Marvel: Bucky Barnes- I have a thing for moody blue eyed men, okay? Because I want to love them.

Yes, I would absolutely feel safe with Bucky when he isn't winter soldiering. I want to like cook him dinner though...

Troy: Hector- Look. He is so gorgeous already.

And then on the other hand his speeches, his way with words. He's a gentleman. I would feel safe with him, 100%.

Night at the museum: Ahkmenrah- I mean, have you watched the film? He should be the plot

HE HAS A BRITISH ACCENT AND HES ADORABLE. also this movie is so underrated. I would trust him.

Harry Potter: George Weasley- He makes me laugh and I really love when they can do that.

Most of the men on this list do but him especially. I do trust him in the since of like, I know he won't hurt me. I do not trust him to not prank me.

Doctor who: Captain Jack Harkness and the 10th Doctor- IDK I can't pick one!

Look at them! One is a gorgeous blue eyed brown haired man whose so flirty I would swoon and the other is a goofy adorable guy who makes me laugh. 100%, I trust both of them completely

Pirates of the Caribbean: Captain Jack Sparrow- he makes me laugh.

Would I date him? Absolutely not. Do I trust him? Also no. Does Johnny Depp playing him have a lot to do with me liking him? Yes. Absolutely.

Sherlock BBC: Sherlock- *heavy sigh* its those dang eyes

once more, I would never date him but he's another blue eyed dark haired man and as we have established he is my type. Against my best judgment, I would trust him.

The adventures of Robin hood: Robin hood- first of all, this came out in 1938 but this movie really is incredible, like one of the more accurate ones I've found to what we know of the legends!

but he's handsome and I did swoon, okay? Yes, I trust him. Although he does laugh randomly, which is scary.

Robin hood: prince of thieves: Will Scarlet- O k a y,

so he is another traumatized boi with big eyes and I want to cuddle him and have him tell me stories. I totally trust him.

Robin hood: men in tights: okay, I don't know if it's from this movie but this is definitely the actor

and it is a comedy but he has this lovely accent, a beautiful head of hair and that cheeky little smirk. I don't know why I trust him, but I do!

X-men: Wolverine- idk what to say, is it the hair?

the voice? the muscles? the sass? His protectiveness? his handsome facial expressions? I kinda trust him?

Tombstone: Johnny Ringo and Doc holiday- well lookie here...two more blue eyed, brown haired men.

For Doc holiday, it is his accent, his wit and charm. For Johnny, he's just handsome and I feel like he would know how to dance. I trust nobody in this movie lol.

Enola Holmes: Sherlock- IS ANYONE SURPRISED AT THIS POINT????

I mean look at him, his perfect fluffy hair and his stupid perfect eyes and that amazing accent. I sort of trust him? I trust him to keep me safe, just not to rat me out to Mycroft.

Bookdock saints: Murphy Macmanus- look who it is. A brown haired, blue eyed man, with an accent!

But he's also really funny and is a genuinely good guy despite killing so many people. I would trust him with my life. I just want to cuddle him and hold him and listen to him talk.

Top gun: Maverick, Ice man and Rooster- okay, I know its a lot...

Nobody is surprised. They all have attitude, two of them can sing, they all have awesome hair, I would feel safe with all of them.

this actually was really fun, I may add to it cause their are plenty of men and women from fandoms I'm not apart of and I'm just like, yeah, your gorgeous.

Also, some woman I love: Eowyn, Lagertha, Cara Dune, Princess Laia, Luna Lovegood, Mary Watson, Storm, Detective Bloom, and Phoenix.

All gorgeous, I trust them all, they all scare me a little bit...

[daenysthedreamer101]

What's with people complaining about there being too many Targ!reader fics??

The show is called House of the Dragon - it's about Targaryens. House Targaryen is central to the story.

I saw it in regards to Cregan and there being a lot of Cregan x Targ!reader fics. Yeah... Cause it's House of the Dragon?

There's probably a reason for that, which is that people are requesting them? If nobody wanted to read Cregan x Targ reader then no one would be requesting them. But they are. Cause people want to read such stories.

Personal preference is a thing and you don't have to like these stories but just don't read them? I saw someone say 'Why can't I just be a normal regular person? Why am I always a Targ?" and again, probably because people like imagining themselves as Targs?

When you go through the Cregan x reader tag while yes, a lot are Targ reader or Velaryon reader, the vast majority are ambiguous wife!reader fics, where your house is not mentioned.

I get having pet peeves, we all do. For example, whenever I read a fic and I see the reader/oc claim Cannibal I just stop reading cause idk, it just irks me and it doesn't make sense in-universe but I'm not gonna go out of my way to criticize those writers who made that decision.

Or whenever I read a fic that's set in a medieval fantasy world (ASOIAF/LOTR/The Witcher) and a character calls someone 'baby' or asks 'are you okay?' it irks me and kills my immersion cause ain't no way Aemond or Geralt are calling you baby lol. Again, it's my personal pet peeve but whatever, I just get over it or stop reading.

In regards to OCs not being interesting enough? Again I feel like that's subjective? What do these OCs need to do to be interesting enough? How is them being from an incestuous, dragon-riding family not interesting enough? Now, this depends on the skill of the writer and how they choose to portray their character and whether they choose to explore how being in such a family affects a person.

You can only do so much when most people use similar backstories for their OCs. Of course, everyone will put their own spin on the trope but at the end of the day, there will be overlap and similarities.

Fic writers write out of their own good will and cause of their love for the stories/characters. They're not obligated to please everyone and frankly, that's just impossible. If you want to read more Tyrell!reader fics or whatever other house, write them yourselves.

[azsazz]

SJM Ask Game

Thank you for the tag @daydreaming-nerd !! 💙💙 (I do want to hear those redacted answers for where you put tharion lol) I feel like it's been so long since I've been on tumblr or even done one of these but I'm excited💙

1) What’s your favourite SJM book?

Hmmmm I'm gonna say ACOMAF because that's when I was first introduced to Azzy and the obsession began 💙😈

2) Which is your favourite series (tog, acotar or cc)

If you don't know me, CC is one of the worst books I've ever read. It's hard to choose between ACOTAR and TOG tho because they were both really good....

3) Who is your favourite character? (And why?)

Hehehehehehehehe. Az obviously 🥰

4) Do you have a favourite quote from one of the books?

Hmmmm...tbh not really...the ones that stay stuck in my head are the cringey ones...BUT, let's go with "Cassian shot him a glare. 'I don't see you spouting poetry, brother.' Azriel crossed his arms, still smiling faintly, 'I don't need to resort to it.'" THAT'S GODDAMN RIGHT BBY YOU DONT 💙💙 legs spread for mah boi

5) Favourite ship?

Azris frfr

6) Elriel or Gwynriel? Or neither?

Azris frfr

7) Who’s the most underrated SJM character?

Oooof there's so many. Fenrys. I've never gotten enough of him.

8) Which character do you wish to learn more about?

Azris frfr. I want both of their backstories rn

9) Are there any characters you don’t like?

Bryce Quinlan and Danika Fendyr

10) Favourite bat boy?

My king azriel 💙💙

11) Favourite court?/ Which one would you most like to live in?

Honestly I'd probably either live in Autumn or Night tbh.

12) Favourite SJM villain?

Does Tamlin count? lol.

13) If you could change one thing in any of the books what would it be?

That CC never happened

14) Favourite SJM theory?

Azris frfr

15) Favourite Archeron sister?

Prob Ness

16) A character you feel is over-hated/ underrated:

over-rated: bryce quinlan

under-rated: chaol 💙

17) Aelin, Bryce, or Feyre?

Aelin!!

18) What’s your favourite character from each series?

Fenrys, Azriel, Ruhn

19) If you wrote an acotar book what would you call it?

A Court of Smoke and Cinders? (azris frfr)

20) Who is your favourite acotar blogger?

nah there's literally too many to choose from

21)What fics would you recommend to people who love the series?

The Serpent and the Wings of Night

Questions for writers

22) Easiest character to write for?

Azzy because i built him brick by brick

23) Hardest character to write for?

LUCIEN. IDK WHY

24) What’s a character you’d like to write for but haven’t yet?

lol who haven't i written for? hmmmm...maybe fenrys, aedion, or hunt?

25) What’s a court you’d like to write about more?

Dawn!

26) What’s a character you won’t write for and why?

hmmm...idk I'd like to say that I'd try anything once...

27) If you could only write for one character ever again, who would you pick?

azzy. nobody compares to him

28) Whats your favourite trope to write about when it comes to Azriel?

right now i think modern aus...in any sort. or anything that involves angst i love putting everyone thru some shit

29) What do you think is the best/favourite acotar fic you’ve written?

hmmmm...i feel like this is impossible to choose

30) Who are your favourite friendships to write about?

eris x anyone because this man needs a friend

31) For first time readers to your blog, which three fics would you recommend they read?

LMAO ummm...I'll list at least one for. every character

Az: Cupid's Chokehold or Midnight Muse

Cass: In Storm or Dial Drunk or Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Eris: You Know I Always Liked Playing with Fire or Hide

Rhys: Clandestine Love or Dioxazine

Lucien: The Other Woman or My Happy Ending

or literally any poly can't go wrong with those tbh

No pressure tags: @writingsbychlo @acourtofwhatthefuck @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @azrielhours @a-frog-with-a-laptop or anyone else who wants to participate!

[lingy910y]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

tagged by @doshiart, @mybrainismelted, @sgtmickeyslaughter, @gallapiech, @suzy-queued

@blue-disco-lights, and @mmmichyyy

name and ao3 handle: ling, lingy910y

current location: bedroom

favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)? twisha's gallavich picrew hehe, i did doshi's too for good measure but idk why i got deja vu. maybe i did it before??

what's one thing you want in a picrew? a ponytail bc i never wear my hair down if i'm going somewhere

favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

my fav of my own work has to be Going Down Kicking

my fav thing i've seen created has to be fragile little fate: portrait of a marriage by siriusmickey

why is it your favorite?

i spent so much time researching writing tips cause i want to improve each time i write a fic yknow? and i had so much specific ideas going into it

cause of the amount of space it takes up in my brain. nobody was gonna write a divorce fic but they did and they did it well

did it come easily or was it hard to create?

i rly struggle with pacing :( when i write a fic i have some big ideas for plot points but once i've wrote them, i need to write how to get from point a to point b. but those parts seem so boring to me and they'll def be for the reader as well but if i delete them it might not flow well

last ao3 fic you commented on? guys i haven't been reading much fics :(

if art counts then a reply to gigi's art, Springtime Embrace

otherwise it's Re-boyfriending by @ms-moonlight-inn

biggest wip heartache you’ve ever experienced? refer back to my fav fic 🥲

favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? hurt/comfort

least favorite? coffee shop aus 😬

secret or surprising kink or trope? guilt, like religious trauma or internalized homophobia or survivor's guilt. I'M EVEN EXPERIENCING GUILT WHILE ANSWERING THIS

describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? very proud but also don't want anything to do with it anymore. my heart pounds in my chest and i'm sweating bullets as i secretly check to see who has seen it </3

top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @jademickian

it's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you___? browse tumblr ofc

tagging @deedala, @heymrspatel, @burninface, @iansw0rld, @energievie

@reganmian and @creepkinginc

[priceforrottenjudgement]

Ive seen a lot of bitching about hotd in the tag, which surprised me bc there was none of this two weeks ago and now all these ppl are acting like season 2 sucks and its badly written and its rewriting the books and bla bla. This surprised me, so i did a little snooping

Like. First off, isnt grrm consulting them this time? I know he was doing it for s1 and im sure i read he was doing s2 too. I cant say anything about bad writing, tbh i havent examined it that closely bc nothing about pacing or dialogue has bothered me enough to spend time thinking about it.

The "its not like the book!!!" Thing really bothers me though bc have you read the book? Lmao im not so sure bc some of the stuff you complain about is so weird, also how did you miss that fire & blood has deeply unreliable narrators? It literally says gyldayn is an unreliable narrator on the Wikipedia, hes taking a bunch of biased sources and kind of patches the history of house targaryen together. If you had read the book, youd KNOW that it isnt a definitive chronicle and stuff was likely altered, embellished and left out. Some of the alterations make sense, because why would some maester know about these ppls private lives. Fire and blood is full of propaganda, rumours and bias. Also the stuff that WAS changed isnt really that deep? I really like the change to the rhaenicent dynamic (ill come back to this, theres a reason ppl seem to hate this change lmao), i dont care about maelor and the nettes changes dont bother me that much? (Some ppl are convinced rhaena will get the ENTIRE nettles storyline. Which would indeed suck cough cough, but i dont think thats where theyre going at all lmao)

So i took a look at some of the other opinions of ppl who really really HATE s2 and, WOOOOOOWWWWW,there sure is a lot of homophobia on the yuri Website huh? All of a sudden it makes sense why these ppl popped up 2 weeks ago huh? (And why theyre so bitchy about the changes to alicents character not being a wicked stepmother but more of an... almost lover) Wow, what a fucking pathetic reason to be a hater. Awww nooooooooo this female character is kissing women noooo, theyre ruined!! Even though the relationship was kind of maybe sort of a little implied in the book. (Granted the book talks about a close relationship between rhaenyra, mysaria and DAMON, but see above for rumours and inaccuracies) Also there are a lot of ppl who were genuinely Team green (i did not realise those ppl existed unironically, gonna be honest) who are mad that Team green is portrayed more negatively than Team black and apparently thats unfair. Yeah, idk what to say about that, do you always expect to opposing sides of a fictional conflict to be treated the same and to be equally good and justified? Granted, the "pick a side" Marketing was dumb and encouraged this sort of thinking, but those two teams are not equal lol you can still like the characters even though theyre cheaters, usurpers and Bad ppl.

If you had genuinely read and UNDERSTOOD the books and that theyre full of propaganda you would understand why SOME PPL are either portrayed more positively or more negatively in the show than they were in the book. Just consider WHO was writing the history for one sec.

Yeah, rant over, this was just too ridiculous not to get off my chest.

Like yeah, you can criticise some of the changes and the simple fact that 8 ep seasons are SHIT for building a plot, but considering some ppl call an ep "filler" just because nobody got roasted by a dragon, maybe we dont deserve 20 ep seasons with a slow building of plot and tension anymore....