#anyways what we will even talk about. we never talk about anything we need a third to spark any type of interaction 8 out of 10 times. kill

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

[letsgofullpogue]

I don't usually share my thoughts on the season here, I try to keep it more of an archive than anything, but this shit was a mess and I need to unpack it somewhere. Thoughts on season 4 below the cut.

Groff being JJ's father doesn't make any sense.

Before part two even came out, this little kernel of story rang so false for me. How does Luke wind up with a kook baby who "died" at sea? And the obvious answer is he had an affair with a kook, they had a baby, and, sure, she dies and he has to take care of the baby, leaving him bitter and alone and resentful of JJ. This is a reasonable expectation based on what we know of Luke thus far. But that's not what they're selling. Luke is a good-natured groundskeeper for the Genrettes, forming a light friendship with Larissa and bringing her little baby flowers to light up their days. Chandler, the baby's actual father, lurks in the background, seemingly jealous and controlling and not a fan of Luke. This completely stomps all over what we know to be true about Luke from the beginning, and really wipes out all the beautiful, horrifying work that Rudy and Gary did to build their relationship up until now. What a tragedy.

Why would Chandler kill Larissa and hand off the baby, pretending that he died? Was he hoping that Wes would take him under his wing and he would become the Genrette heir? Why not just keep his own baby with him, who would presumably be the real Genrette heir, coming into the money and property by way of guardianship when he inevitably killed Wes anyway? What's the deal with Chandler and Larissa? Did he marry her for money since he was a Pogue (more on that later)? Is this Foghorn Leghorn accent put on? Did he marry her specifically for her Blackbeard connections? Was it on the order of the Lupine Corsairs? Did he start working with them before he hooked up with Larissa? Was this all part of the plan? Why did Larissa keep her last name? Why in god's name do I care?

Watching Chandler play JJ the whole time requires us to believe that JJ is stupid, and JJ is not stupid. Impulsive, sure. Acts before thinking, absolutely, but not stupid. He's not going to get played this way (especially by a Kook), letting Chandler lock him in a mausoleum, giving him the necklace, giving Chandler his phone. It's insane. And driving around town in the Twinkie while being wanted? Still using their house and surf shop as home base for planning? Stupid stupid stupid.

The retread of scenes we've already done

Pope and Sarah in the tunnel with the rain is Kie in the sewer with the water flushing her out.

JJ and Chandler in the Twinkie is Big John and John B in the Twinkie, and just as bad. I thought they understood that was too much time away from the group, but what I've come to is that they don't actually understand anything.

Wasting too much time with a band of villains, see also last season. At least Singh had an interesting story that somewhat wove into the quest. These guys are just hired grunts. They're not on this hunt for themselves, they were hired to find the crown. Hired by who? And why do we care? They have a code that they live by, but we don't care that one of their faceless guys got killed and that they're out for revenge while pursuing the treasure. They get way too much screen time for us only have ten episodes.

Pope running from the Marines is Pope running from his scholarship interview, with higher stakes consequences that'll never be addressed, I'm sure.

Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah in the garage is John B in the garage in season one.

JJ wounded and floating in the water, just like in season two.

JJ and Kie talking about wishes while on watch is surf trip again. I was like, oh wow the chemistry is totally back here, and then I realized that it's fully leaning on the cadence of something that's already happened.

These are not parallels, this is bad writing. Or lazy writing. Or both.

High-stakes actions with no regard for consequences

Speaking of, they're constantly writing themselves into situations they can't get out of at this point. Last year, with JJ making deals with Barracuda Mike, big-time drug dealer, a thing that should have had huge consequences for reneging on the deal, but wound up with none. And in an even bigger 'this doesn't matter', he goes to Barracuda Mike's house this year and demands things of him? Wild and unbelievable.

This year, with JJ assaulting cops and destroying the town, for reasons that don't even really make sense. Wanted and on the run. How do you come back from that? (And a side note. JJ wasn't ever really a physically destructive presence, moreso destructive in the way that he has impulse control issues and acts before he thinks. But JJ has always been the type to take the beating, not start it. Happy to defend himself and his friends, but out of a feeling of usefulness and purpose in the group, not for funsies.)

Also this year with Pope, assaulting a cop, slipping his ankle monitor, and running away from the Marines. THE MARINES. Consequences should be looming, and who knows if we'll get there. But why set these kids on the run for the rest of their lives? The point is this place, the point is these kids. These beautiful idiots with bad luck and good hearts, just trying to get a win. What win is left? Evading jail? Revenge killing? What happened to our little boat show? This is a mess.

A family way

It's insane to me that they would chose to make Sarah pregnant in these circumstances that they've written them into, but then again, it's written by men who seem to have big-time mommy and daddy issues, so why am I surprised? I do feel like the best part of the season is that before John B even knew about the pregnancy, he was basically like I want to be done with this shit. He is not his father, he doesn't yearn for the adventure of it all. He wants to build a life, a normal life, and I wish we had had more time to sit with that and explore it for him.

The dialog

I don't know if it's that they're not improving as much anymore because of ~*reasons*~, but the dialog has gone completely down the tubes. In the last episode of the season, Kiara says "JJ hurry" over and over, at least 5 times in the span of like 15 minutes. When John B, Sarah, and Cleo are running from the Kooks, it's hurry, hurry, hurry. It's either that the writers simply aren't trying anymore or so much of the dialog was filled in with improv that now that everyone hates each other (she says casually and not addressing it at all), they're unwilling to play. Either way, that's their jobs. This show should be so fun to watch and it's becoming a drag.

The filters

I know everyone has complained about the colors of this show the whole time, but it's becoming unforgivable. The blue nighttime filter? I want to throw something at my tv every time they use it. Shoot at night??? Or on a stage? There are options that aren't the most awful fake-looking filters in the world, which, by the way, make watching on any smaller screen completely impossible. I miss those season one South Carolina sunsets. It feels like we've replaced most of those with a really harsh yellow filter that makes lighting people impossible.

Pogues vs. Kooks

That was the setup for this show, right? The haves and the have-nots? Two tribes, one island? Well, now almost every Kook is a Pogue and every Pogue is a Kook. They're muddling the message with bad results, because they still seem to want the tension and the storylines that result from it, but Chandler is a Pogue turned Kook, Ward was a Pogue turned Kook, so is Mike. JJ is a Kook turned Pogue, Rafe, RAFE of all people is working with the Pogues and engaged to one? With season five being the official last season, what will we be left with at the end of all this?

Interviews

So much of what they intended for this story, or what they want the audience to take from this story is told in interviews. I don't know if they're flat-out lying or they really think they nailed it in the telling. They say JJ is freaking out because he finds out he's a Kook, but that's not really what happened on screen, it seems more like he freaks out because their land is being taken from them and Luke's back and betraying them for a deal to keep him out of jail (yeah, not enough time spent on that). That JJ dying was the plan from the beginning which I don't believe was the case for one single second. "JJ is super jealous", where? Show me where because he barely glances at Kiara the entire second half of the season. They're two unsupervised children, dating, living in the same house, who barely ever touch, nevermind kiss. You're making this shit up to get the fans in a frenzy about it and not delivering in the telling.

The biggest fuck you

JJ dying. If talk is to be believed (and I do believe it) Rudy asked to leave and the Pates granted this request by killing him. I'm pissed as hell that the Rudy/Elaine/Madison/Mariah whatever it was ruined a truly great character and couple (the thing that brought me to this show in the first place) and I'm also pissed that it was written this way. Their right as writers and showrunners, I guess. BUT. There is a way to do this and have it make narrative sense and spur the story on and it is their job as writers to figure that out. What they did was strap him with an insane storyline about biological parents that makes no sense, act completely out of character for much of the season, have him pick up a drinking problem that he's never had before (becoming a liability for his friends), and have his new daddy kill him with a 1-inch blade in retribution for *checks notes* not letting him out of a well? Oh, and having his friends bury him in an unmarked grave in a land far from home, a home that they really can't even return to without some of them going to jail for a long time. And now they're out for revenge, as suggested by Rafe.

What is season five going to be? Losing JJ (and Jiara by extension) is a devastating loss for this show. Saddling John B and Sarah with a kid on the way while on the run and actively pursuing very bad people is irresponsible. How can we bring it on home in a way that honors these characters and makes sense of the mess they made of this story? How can we bring it on home at all? I'm not sure, but I guess we'll find out when the time comes. Lord knows, I'll be here until the bitter end.

[lucy90712]

Can you please make a hector fort fic where he spends all his time with his friends and spends barely time with her. Then they were supposed to go on a date together and she waits for him to pick her up, she waits for 2 hours and goes to social media to see if he has posted anything and sees on his story a picture of him and her girl bestfriend having fun playing games. So she leaves the house with her stuff. When hector comes home he realises what he has done and tries to get back in contact with her but he fails. They don't see each other for a while but he notices her walking on a busy street and tries to talk to her. (ending with fluff please)

You: good morning amor hope training goes well don't forget about our plans tonight I'll be waiting for you 

Hector: have fun in class and don't worry I'll be there at 7 as promised 

You: love you 

That was the last I heard from Hector and now it's 8:32pm and he's still not here to pick me up. He promised he promised me he'd be here and that he'd make up for us not spending any time together. I should've seen it coming as he's been doing this for weeks he's promised time and time again that he will come over or we'll go on a date and then he never shows up. When I can finally get hold of him he always has an excuse either he was busy or with friends and lost track of time but whatever it is it hurts. I've done so much for Hector I've been there for him since we were kids and I've been there for every good and bad moment of his football career but he can't even manage to show up for one day or just to see me for an hour. 

We made the jump from being friends to being a couple just over a year ago and for the longest time he was the best boyfriend ever he treated me so well was super attentive and really made an effort to be romantic and take me on dates. I don't remember exactly when it changed I think it happened slowly over time but ever since he's started playing with the first team more he's been busier with training and matches which I understand but what I don't understand is spending every evening with his teammates who he sees all day when he could see me. It might sound selfish but I just miss my boyfriend he's already missed so much like he wasn't here when I was stressed over my big exams and he wasn't here when I got the results and he wasn't here when I needed him most when my mum went into hospital and I was scared and panicking. Just a few months ago he'd never dream of leaving my side during any of those times but now he barely knows they even happened. 

I text him once then twice then three times then I called multiple times but they all went unanswered. My last resort was to message him on Instagram as I know he won't have turned the notifications off for that but I didn't need to message him Instagram gave me my answer straight away. He had posted on his story showing him out with his friends and my best friend was with them too which was a whole other level of pain. My best friend knows all about my troubles with Hector yet she went out with him and his friends anyway and didn't even bother to tell me. That was the final straw I'm not dealing with this anymore I deserve better I deserve someone who will be there for me, not break promises and definitely not someone who makes me feel like this. 

My mind was racing but I quickly worked out what I wanted to do so I grabbed my keys and got in my car. Seeing as Hector wasn't in I decided now is the perfect time to go and get all the things I have at his place and leave the spare key I have that he gave me ages ago because I won't be needing it anymore. When I opened the door I immediately saw all the little things of mine there are that makes Hector's place feel just like my own some of my books are on his coffee table and my hair ties on the sideboard by the door. I spent some time grabbing all my things while trying not to cry that I was losing my boyfriend who I thought was the love of my life. Before I left I found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote Hector a note to tell him his I felt and why I was leaving and then put my key with it. Closing the door I felt like I was closing a chapter in my life a chapter I never wanted to close and one that's going to stay with me for a long time but it has to be done. 

Hector's POV

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment it felt weirdly empty like was something wrong but the door was locked and nothing looked like it has been stolen. Still I had a quick look around and then I noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. Next to it was a key and that's when I realised what was wrong all of y/n's things were gone her books, her hair ties and all of the little things she leaves here were gone and this is her key that's now in my hand not with her like it should be. I knew the note would be from her but I didn't need to read it to know what was going on and what I'd done. I had promised to see her tonight as I've forgotten about the last few dates we've planned but I did it again my friends dragged me out after training and then I got carried away and forgot about the most important part of my day proving to y/n that I will do better. I really didn't want to read the note but I knew I had to I owe her that at the very least.

Dear Hector, 

I have left my key and taken my things because I'm done. I'm done because tonight we were supposed to go out you promised you'd pick me up at 7 and you promised you wouldn't forget like you have been for the last few months but you did. Instead of trying to prove to me that you love me and that the last few months have just been an anomaly you went out with your friends and my best friend leaving me waiting for you, calling and texting you until I saw your story. I can't do this anymore I love you but I can't let you treat me like this so I'm calling it here. I've really enjoyed the last year or so we've spent together but it's time for us to move on as clearly we aren't meant to be. 

I love you and probably will for the rest of my life but this is goodbye. 

Y/n xx

Those words hurt to read. I already knew I fucked up but to see the words written in front of me made it truly hit me how much I'd hurt her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me she was always there for everything no matter what she's been by my side through every up and down and I truly thought she'd be there for everything for the rest of our lives. I wanted her there for every achievement in my career and I wanted to be there for all of her achievements too. She was the one I didn't need anyone else I didn't want anyone else but now she's left me and I don't have my person anymore and I may never have her again. 

After the initial shock I tried to text her to see if I could apologise but she had already blocked me so I tried Instagram but she had blocked me on there too. I should've seen it coming but it upset me that I wouldn't be able to reach out to her and try and make things right or at least tell her how sorry I am for fucking this all up so badly. She's gone and it's all my fault that's what hurts the most if I hadn't been such an idiot then we'd still be together but no I had to go and ruin things with the best woman in the world. 

A few weeks later

Life has been hell for the last few weeks I've really missed y/n I've missed having her sat in the stands during matches and I've definitely missed seeing her. She's been in my life for the longest time not just as my girlfriend but as my friend so not having her in my life anymore and so suddenly as well has been really hard. I've definitely not been myself all of the guys keep asking if I'm ok and I tell them I am but we all know it's a lie they know how much I love y/n and they can see how it's destroyed me to lose her. I've tried time and time again to reach out to her but of course I'm still blocked I even text her best friend to get her to talk to y/n but she says she hasn't seen her or had any of her texts answered either so I have no way of telling her that I'm sorry. 

Everyone keeps telling me I need to try and move on and they're right it's just hard everything reminds me of y/n whenever I go anywhere I see places that we've been on dates to or just places we have memories at. Today I'm going to stop myself from moping about and go for a walk to clear my head as that's what I think I need to be able to move on or at least start to. I decided to go to the nearest park and walk around as it's relaxing and it should be quiet there which is what I need. 

The park was pretty empty there was a few people around; one couple with their baby an older couple feeding the birds and a girl who was sat on a bench with a book. The girl reminded me of y/n her hair was the same colour and reading in the park is something she loved to do. As I walked closer I realised that it actually was y/n she had headphones in and the book she'd been reading in her hands like she so often did when I went to see her. Seeing her made me stop in my tracks I didn't know whether to go and talk to her or just leave her be but then I realised this is my chance to talk to her and get closure at the very least. 

Your POV

Being without Hector has been hard I've missed feeling his touch and having him next to me when I sleep. So many times I've wanted to take it all back and run back to him but I know I can't or he'll think he can treat me like that again or someone else and I can't let that happen. Today is Wednesday which is the day that I had free from classes and usually I would spend all day with Hector so I've been sat at home all day thinking about him but I can't keep doing that so I needed to get outside. To give me something to do I walked to the park with my book. I found a bench with a nice view of the trees and the little pond with a few ducks and let myself forget about the real world. 

I was so in my own world that I didn't notice when someone sat next to me to start with until they sighed which brought me out of my trance. When I looked to my side I think I turned as white as a ghost because Hector was sat next to me with a look of pure sadness on his face. It took a few seconds for my brain to begin functioning again but when it did I leapt up and tried to run away. I'm not ready to face him again not when I've been trying so hard to forget about him and move on I blocked him and separated myself from him so I wouldn't have to do this. Before I could get more than a few steps away Hector placed a hand on my arm he didn't pull me back he didn't even hold my arm tightly but having his hand on me stopped me dead in my tracks. He encouraged me to sit back down so I did and I watched as his hand moved off my arm down to my hand which he held tightly in his grasp so I couldn't run again. 

"Hector" I started to say 

"No please let me talk" he interrupted 

"Ok but you have five minutes then I'm leaving" I said

"I'm sorry and I know move said that a lot recently but I really mean it when I got home and saw the note you left it broke me having all of your stuff gone from my apartment made it feel empty and not being able to see or talk to you has killed me I've missed you so much and I'll do anything to make it up to you" he said 

"How do I know that you actually mean it and that you'll actually change I told you how disappointed I was a million times and every time you told me you wouldn't forget the next time and then you always did it's like I wasn't important to you anymore how do I know that'll change" I said 

"I know I was an awful boyfriend but losing you has taught me a lot I know I can't treat you like that and I'd never dream of doing it again this might seem to much but you are truly the one for me I don't want to ever be with anyone else so please give me a another chance and I promise I'll do better and if I don't I'll let you go" he said 

"Ok but this is your last chance if you miss any date or anything without telling me and giving me a valid reason we're done" I said 

"I'll never miss a date ever again don't worry" he said 

"I can't lie I'm glad to have you back I've missed you so much it really hurt to walk away" I said

"And you'll never have to walk away again I'm here to stay" he said 

He pulled me into his side and leant down to kiss my lips which felt so good as I've missed having him by my side and I've definitely missed kissing him. He let me sit and finish the chapter I was reading before we left the park and went back to his place as he wanted to make things up to me straight away by having a movie date at home which he knows are my favourite. He's definitely off to a good start at making things up to me but honestly I'm just happy to have him back by my side. 

[krisluxxeeempress]

MARS SQUARE SATURN SYNASTRY| ASTRO SYNASTRY SERIES

Aw, man. This synastry aspect is like a parent and child relationship, with the beginning stages being the worst part for anyone who shares this synastry. The mars person depends on the Saturn person and resents it and chooses to rebel. The Saturn person feels responsible for the mars person and becomes frustrated more often than not, with the mars person. It’s interesting because parents love their children (most times) and children (usually) love their parents at the end of the day, despite all the growing pains.

Personally, I am estranged from my family, but my parents still have an emotional hold on me. I love them despite all the pain I feel they’ve caused me and I’m sure they feel the same way. They provided me a safe environment and a private education so despite them not being there emotionally for me, I am grateful and love them. They were very hard on me and expected a lot from me but at the end of it all- I am hyper independent and strong because of them.

So, with the mars square Saturn synastry that is how they both feel about each other which inadvertently causes the square, the challenge in this dynamic. A parent can claim that their kids get on their nerves but in the same sentence they claim they wouldn’t be where they are without their kids and usually their life reflects just that. Example, before kids the parents weren't living right or taking anything serious. After kids, I've witnessed parents buying houses, obtaining degrees and having better jobs. They felt the need to grow up and so they did. It wasn't just talk but action.

Kids can claim to hate their parents but when it really matters, the kids always come through for the parents even in adulthood. You hate that your mom makes you clean your room, but you do it anyway because deep down you love her. Your parents hate how expensive you are, but they still work hard to not only provide for you but also strive to give you what you want. Both parties want to please the other and, in this quest, comes the frustration because if only I didn’t love the Saturn person, I wouldn’t have to do this. If only I did not love the mars person, I wouldn’t have to tolerate that.

We tend to EVENTUALLY love what we initially FOUND difficult at first. Therefore, I can say the mars and Saturn person do begin to love each other deeply after some time. Anytime Saturn is involved, you can expect long term. IT’S WEIRD BUT THE MORE ANYONE INVESTS FINANCIALLY (OR ENERGETICALLY) INTO SOMETHING OR SOMEONE, WE BECOME EMOTIONALLY INVESTED- IT'S ODDLY NEVER THE OTHER WAY AROUND. I SUPPOSE THAT IS WHY SOME SAY LOVE IS AN ACTION AND NOT AN EMOTION.

WITH THAT BEING SAID, THIS COUPLE SHOWS LOVE THROUGH ACTION. THE SATURN PERSON TRAINS THE MARS PERSON HOW TO ACT AND HOW TO PROPERLY EXERT THEIR ENERGY IN A MATURE MANNER AND INITIALLY THIS IS WHERE THE HARDEST CHALLENGES COMES IN. THE MARS PERSON IS LIKE A WILD ANIMAL AND THE SATURN PERSON IS THE TRAINER TRYING TO DOMESTICATE A WILD ANIMAL.) SOME WILD ANIMALS WILL SUBMIT MEANWHILE OTHERS RATHER DIE THAN TO BE DOMESTICATED – THE RESISTANCE IS USUALLY COMING FROM THE MARS PERSON WHICH AGAIN MAKES THIS SYNASTRY VERY DIFFICULT TO DEAL WITH. THE SATURN PERSON FEELS LIKE THEY HAVE TO TEACH OR RETEACH THE MARS PERSON EVERYTHING, USUALLY IT’S RE TEACH BECAUSE DUH! WE ARE GROWN.

SO, IF THE MARS PERSON IS USED TO BEING DISRESPECTFUL, IMMATURE, PLAYING GAMES IN RELATIONSHIPS- THE SATURN PERSON WILL CORRECT THIS BEHAVIOR AND IT WILL FEEL LIKE THE MARS PERSON IS RECEIVING AN ASS WHOOPING. SIMILAR TO A PARENT DISCIPLINING THEIR CHILD.  

The mars person will feel like everything they do is a problem and they’re unable to do anything right according to the Saturn person. The mars person will either decide to give up, rebel and run away from the Saturn person- kind of like a teenager who is mad at their parents for expecting better from them and begins smoking, drinking and getting in trouble with the law. The thing is the Saturn person does have high expectations and mars person will be challenged to rise to the occasion. This synastry aspect does give off ultimatum vibes because in reality, the mars person needs the Saturn person more than the Saturn person needs the mars person- and if the mars person is honest with themselves, they know this.

Going back to my examples- the wild animal needs the trainer, and the reckless kid/ adult needs their parents. Parents provide protection from all things the kid isn't ready for, same goes for a trainer. But in the moment, the animal, the kid, the mars person is unable to appreciate this and views it as an opposition (someone against them) not a (square) challenge to overcome.

the Saturn person has more experience and knowledge because they have been there and done that. The Saturn person “wasn’t born yesterday” so to speak. So, the Saturn person has patience with the mars person to a certain extent. Depending on the sign Saturn is placed in will determine just how short that patience will extend.

The Saturn person wants to invest in the mars person but only if it’s worth it and that is where the strength or weakness of the mars person will be exposed AND CHALLENGED. BUT IT’LL BE UP TO THE MARS PERSON TO RISE TO THE OCCASION. THINGS GET BETTER WITH TIME WITH THIS COUPLE SO LONG AS THE MARS PERSON ADHERES TO WHAT IS BEING TAUGHT, SHOWN AND EXPECTED- LIKE ANYTIHNG IN LIFE. WHEN WE START NEW JOBS AND ARE UNDERGOING TRAINING, THINGS SEEM OVERWHELMING BUT AS YOU STICK IT OUT, THE JOB becomes easier, and you will find that you were capable all along. When we start lifting weights at the gym, it’s painful, foreign, uncomfortable, and hard work but only the strong survive right? When you stick with something hard overtime you see massive growth and that is what this synastry is about especially for the mars person.

As for the Saturn person, they must learn greater patience and understanding and maybe some compassion because they have been the mars person before until they learned for themselves. Not everyone heals and learns at the same speed as yourself and having that expectation isn’t realistic or fair. The Saturn person may be too hard on the mars person and sometimes, this is because the Saturn person is trying to be a better through the mars person.

Back to my parent and child example- there are so many parents who failed in life in some regard and then they have children and try to live vicariously through the kid. A parent always wanted to be a doctor but couldn’t accomplish this, so they expect their kid to live out that dream. When the kid rebels, the parent in turn feels betrayed and let down and gives up on their kid with feelings of disdain and resentment. So, the Saturn person is challenged to reflect upon their intentions when it comes to the mars person.

Nonetheless, the mars and Saturn person are invested in each other because they both have a point to prove.  The mars person has the energy, drive and will to rise to the occasion but the Saturn person may initially make them feel insecure and question themselves. This makes the mars person angry but deep down it’s really insecurity because the mars person wants to make the Saturn person proud of them, they just hate how the Saturn person goes about it. Again, it feels like an ultimatum or conditional love not unconditional in the eyes of the mars person and this makes them resentful and resistance initially.

The mars person ultimately doesn’t feel like they can be themselves or accepted if they do not submit to the Saturn person. Whereas the Saturn person feels like they do understand the mars person which is why they have high standards for them because they can see the potential in the mars person that the mars person cannot comprehend at the moment.

Personally, I am predisposed and maybe biased in the sense that I think life is about challenges and growth. If you are with someone who doesn’t challenge you, I feel it to be pointless. I view this synastry to be very beneficial and reflects a mature love that will last the test of time which we all claim to desire at the end of the day. But when things get hard most people run away from it.

If you truly love someone or want to make it work, you’ll find a way. You'll make a way, giving up was never an option.

[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

[badger-tales]

Unyielding Devotion//D.M x Reader

a/n: The way I've been waiting for a Draco request!!!!! i hope i did him justice, it's kind of a compilation on Draco being jelouse lmao. also my requests are open guys HERER IS WHAT I WRITE

request:

BADGER I CANNOT FIND ANY GOOD DRACO MALFOY X READER FANFIC!

-Ahem- sorry for yelling.

Can you please write for canon- Draco? Why is everyone making him soft ⁉️⁉️ I feel like he would be different to someone he is with but his whole personality wouldn’t change??? He would still be a lil toxic? Maybe it’s the ✨unhealed trauma ✨ speaking for me?

Anyway. Please can you do a canon-Draco imagine? It can be fluff or smut but please NO ANGST. I am sad enough and I need to escape to a beautiful fantasy land. Can you have Draco keep his personality and be a little toxic for the reader? Jealousy, possession, short fuse idk. Let’s make him jealous? Yes that sounds good.

Do what you will with this information. I am sorry I took forever to get to the point.

kthxluvyoubye

word count: 7.9k

 The Slytherin common room was a living, breathing entity that evening. The emerald flames in the fireplace flickered with a lively glow, casting verdant light on the stone walls adorned with old tapestries depicting serpents and legendary Slytherin wizards of old. The air was filled with the hum of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the smooth jazz pouring from a bewitched gramophone in the corner. It was a celebratory mood, students letting loose after a grueling week of classes, and everything seemed to pulse with an energy that was almost tangible.

Draco Malfoy stood at a distance, his silver eyes observing the scene, but his focus was entirely on you. You stood by one of the darker alcoves, a small smile playing at your lips as you chatted with Blaise. Your laughter, light and melodic, reached Draco's ears despite the noise of the crowded space, and it seemed to hang in the air like an invitation—a sound that made his chest tighten. He watched as Blaise leaned closer to you, his head dipping to whisper something that made you smile wider, and Draco's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

The feeling gnawed at him, a mix of irritation and something else—something primal. Blaise was far too close. He didn't like the way Blaise's hand lingered near your arm, or the way you leaned in to hear what he was saying. He clenched his jaw, his gaze darkening. The Slytherin common room, full of chatter and festive spirit, seemed to blur at the edges, narrowing until all he could see was you and Blaise, and that smile on your face.

He didn’t even realize he was moving until he was standing beside you. Blaise looked up at Draco with a knowing smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as Draco slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side. It was a possessive movement, one that made his intentions very clear—you were his, and Blaise needed to remember that.

“Having fun?” Draco's voice was smooth, deceptively calm, but you could feel the tension radiating off of him. His fingers pressed firmly into your side, his body a solid wall against your own. You looked up at him, meeting his stormy eyes, and saw the sharp edge behind his seemingly casual demeanor.

“Yeah, we were just talking about—” you began, but Draco cut you off, his gaze never leaving Blaise.

“I’m sure you were,” he said, his voice laced with an undertone that was anything but friendly. He shot Blaise a look, his gray eyes glinting with a silent warning—back off. The smirk on Blaise's face only grew wider, his eyes flicking between the two of you before he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Blaise drawled, his lips curling into an amused smile. He winked at you before stepping away, the knowing grin still plastered on his face as he melted back into the crowd, leaving you and Draco alone.

Draco let out a soft huff, his eyes following Blaise until he disappeared from sight. His arm around your waist tightened, drawing you even closer, and you could feel the way his body was still coiled with tension. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, a need to assert himself, to make sure everyone knew that you were his and no one else’s.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Draco muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. He finally looked down at you, his gaze softening just slightly as he took in your expression.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Draco, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, your voice light, trying to ease the tension.

“Maybe,” he allowed, his eyes flickering over your face, as if searching for something. His grip on you didn’t loosen; if anything, it tightened, his fingers pressing into your side possessively. “But you’re mine, and I don’t like sharing.”

He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours now, and you could feel the way his heartbeat thudded against your shoulder, a steady rhythm that betrayed the emotions swirling beneath his calm exterior. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a soft whisper meant only for you. “And if I see him getting too close again, I won’t be so nice next time.”

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability, a fear of losing you that he would never admit aloud. It made your heart skip a beat, a thrill running through you that was equal parts excitement and trepidation. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers dug into your waist, and a part of you couldn’t deny how it made your pulse quicken, how it made your heart race in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against his cheek as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, the usual sharpness softened by something more tender, something raw and unguarded. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, feeling the tautness there, the way his muscles were still clenched in irritation.

“You don’t need to worry about Blaise,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the common room. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the mask slipped. You saw the uncertainty there, the fear that lurked beneath all that arrogance and confidence. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and then he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the edge gone. “You are.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away—the laughter, the clinking glasses, the crackling of the fire—all of it melted into the background as you stood there, wrapped in Draco’s arms, feeling the intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his body against yours. There was something intoxicating about it, about the way he held you like you were the most important thing in the world, like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Slowly, his lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just... stay close, alright?” he whispered, his voice almost tender now, the possessiveness giving way to something gentler, something more vulnerable.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. “Always,” you promised, and you felt him relax, his arms wrapping around you more securely, as if he could shield you from the rest of the world.

The common room continued to buzz around you, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading into insignificance. And as you stood there, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite his flaws, despite his jealousy, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in Draco’s arms, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath your cheek. His possessiveness might have been overwhelming to others, but to you, it was just another sign of how much he cared, and you couldn’t deny the thrill it brought you, knowing that you meant so much to him.

The stands were full, the air thick with anticipation as the game between Slytherin and Gryffindor raged on. The cheers of the crowd blended together, a deafening roar that seemed to vibrate in your very bones. The sky above was a brilliant blue, dotted with the darting figures of players on broomsticks, their robes billowing behind them as they raced for the Quaffle. You were in the stands, the Slytherin section awash with green and silver banners, your voice already hoarse from cheering for Draco and the rest of the team. The energy was palpable, a frenetic buzz that swept through the crowd like wildfire.

Amidst the excitement, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with a Gryffindor boy, his red and gold scarf standing out sharply against the sea of green around you. He was grinning, his eyes alight with the thrill of the game, and he leaned in slightly to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd.

“Quite a match, isn’t it?” he shouted, his voice barely carrying above the noise. You nodded, smiling politely as he continued to speak, his words blending into the cacophony of cheers and jeers around you. He seemed friendly enough, his demeanor open and easy, and soon you found yourself caught up in a light conversation, exchanging comments about the game and laughing at his jokes.

What you didn’t notice was the way Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously from his position on the field. He had just passed the Quaffle to a teammate when he glanced over at the stands, his gaze instinctively searching for you. When he spotted you, his eyes locked onto the scene—the Gryffindor boy leaning in, you laughing at something he said, the easy smile on your face. A surge of irritation flared within him, his focus momentarily slipping from the game as he glared at the red and gold-clad intruder.

His grip on his broom tightened, his knuckles turning white as he forced himself to look away, to concentrate on the match. But the image lingered, a thorn in his side that only seemed to dig deeper with each passing moment. He pushed himself harder, diving for the snitch with a ferocity that had his teammates glancing at him in surprise. By the time the final whistle blew, signaling Slytherin’s victory, Draco was a bundle of barely-contained frustration, his jaw clenched as he landed and dismounted his broom.

The celebration in the stands was immediate, a wave of cheers and applause washing over the pitch as the Slytherin team was mobbed by their supporters. But Draco had only one thought in mind as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locking onto you almost immediately. He strode towards you, still in his Quidditch gear, his hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the exertion of the game. His eyes were stormy, a mix of triumph and something far darker as he reached you, his hand closing around your arm—gently, but firmly enough to leave no room for argument.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low, and without waiting for a response, he began to lead you away from the throng of celebrating students. You followed, confused but not resisting, as he pulled you aside, away from prying eyes and the noise of the crowd.

“What was that?” he snapped once you were alone, his eyes flashing as he turned to face you. His chest was still heaving from the game, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an intensity in his gaze that took you off guard.

“What was what?” you asked, genuinely confused. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and you couldn’t understand what had him so worked up.

“That Gryffindor git,” Draco bit out, his eyes narrowing at the memory. “You looked like you were having a real good time with him.”

Realization dawned, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Are you jealous?” you asked, your tone teasing as you raised an eyebrow at him.

Draco scoffed, his grip on your arm tightening slightly, his eyes darkening. “I don’t get jealous,” he said, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on people who aren’t worth it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, shaking your head. “Sure, Draco. Whatever you say.”

His eyes narrowed at your response, and before you could react, he pulled you closer, his hand sliding from your arm to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging in slightly. His body was still radiating heat from the match, and you could feel the tension thrumming through him, a coiled energy that hadn’t yet dissipated. He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You need to remember who you belong to,” he said, his eyes boring into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch. “I won’t tolerate anyone trying to take what’s mine, understand?”

His words were possessive, almost dangerously so, but there was something else beneath them—a vulnerability, a fear of losing you that he couldn’t hide, not entirely. His eyes searched yours, waiting for a response, daring you to argue.

You reached up, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Draco,” you whispered, your voice soft, meant to soothe. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need to worry about anyone else.”

For a moment, the tension in his eyes eased, the hardness giving way to something softer, something almost tender. He exhaled slowly, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he closed his eyes, the fight leaving his body in a rush. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the way his body relaxed, the tension slowly ebbing away.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I could handle it if you did.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw as you tilted your head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Draco,” you whispered against his mouth, and you felt him smile in response, a small, relieved curve of his lips that made your heart swell.

The roar of the crowd was still loud in the background, the celebration continuing without you, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. And as Draco held you, his lips brushing softly against yours, you knew that despite his jealousy, despite his flaws, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in his arms, feeling the fierce, unyielding love he had for you.

You were sitting in the library, focused on your Potions essay, the quill in your hand moving steadily across the parchment as you scribbled down notes. The library was quiet, a hushed atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the bustling corridors of Hogwarts. Shelves lined with dusty tomes stretched up towards the ceiling, and the faint scent of parchment and ink filled the air. You were deep in concentration, your brows furrowed as you tried to articulate your thoughts on the properties of the Draught of Living Death.

It was then that a Ravenclaw boy approached your table, his blue and bronze tie standing out against the muted tones of the library. He gave you a polite smile, his eyes warm as he gestured to the book you were working from.

“Need any help with that?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the quiet of the library. He seemed earnest, his gaze friendly as he looked at your notes.

Before you could respond, Draco appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to you with a fluid grace that spoke of familiarity. His presence was sudden, almost startling, and he fixed the Ravenclaw boy with a glare that could have frozen fire. His silver-grey eyes were cold, his expression one of thinly veiled irritation.

“She doesn’t need your help,” Draco said, his voice icy, each word dripping with disdain. The tone left no room for argument, his gaze locked onto the Ravenclaw with a hardness that made it clear he wasn’t to be challenged.

The Ravenclaw blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. His eyes flicked to you for a moment, as if gauging whether you needed rescuing, but when he saw the look on Draco’s face, he seemed to decide against pushing his luck. He cleared his throat, offering a tight smile before quickly making his exit, clearly not wanting to deal with an irritated Malfoy.

You sighed, watching as the Ravenclaw retreated, disappearing behind a row of shelves. You turned your gaze back to Draco, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Really?” you asked, your voice carrying a hint of incredulity.

Draco just shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his posture one of nonchalance. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes glinting with something almost playful. “What? I’m just protecting what’s mine,” he said, his tone casual, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, a possessiveness that was unmistakable.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something oddly endearing about his jealousy, the way he always seemed to be on high alert whenever someone else showed even a passing interest in you.

Draco’s smirk softened, his eyes losing some of their sharpness as he looked at you. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath warm against your ear. “And yet, you love me anyway,” he murmured, the words laced with both confidence and a hint of vulnerability.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching your face, watching for your reaction. “You do love me, right?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl, the possessiveness returning in full force. “Because I won’t tolerate anything else.”

There was a challenge in his gaze, as if your love was something he needed to claim again and again, as if he needed constant reassurance that you were his and his alone. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to deny it, to argue with him.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “Of course I love you, Draco,” you said softly, your voice sincere. You could see the tension ease in his shoulders, the hardness in his eyes softening as he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Good,” he whispered, his smirk returning, though it was gentler now, almost affectionate. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone forget it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, your heart swelling at the intensity in his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, but there was no heat in your voice, only affection.

Draco grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe. But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

And as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss, you knew he was right. His possessiveness, his jealousy—it was all part of who he was, and despite everything, you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Draco’s eyes followed you as you walked into the Great Hall, the high vaulted ceiling shimmering with an enchanted sky that reflected the bright morning outside. You wore a smile on your face as you chatted with a group of Hufflepuff friends, your laughter carrying across the large room like a gentle melody. His gaze narrowed when he noticed the way one of the boys nudged you playfully, your laugh in response making something deep in Draco’s chest twist unpleasantly.

He sat at the Slytherin table, his eyes tracking your every movement. The tightness in his chest only seemed to grow as he watched, that familiar jealousy bubbling just beneath the surface, and he clenched his jaw to keep his composure. To everyone else, Draco looked perfectly poised, the same aloof and unaffected pureblood they were used to, but on the inside, he was a storm.

Finally, you made your way over, your eyes meeting his across the hall, and you sent him a warm smile, oblivious to the turmoil stirring within him. You slid onto the bench beside him, your shoulder brushing his, and Draco wasted no time. His arm went around your waist, and his other hand slipped under the table, his palm resting possessively on your thigh.

You shot him a curious look, your eyes flicking to the hand on your leg. “Everything alright?” you asked, though the amused quirk of your lips suggested that you already knew the answer.

Draco leaned closer, his expression seemingly casual to anyone watching, but his grip on your thigh tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into you as if to emphasise his words. “Do you always have to be so friendly with everyone?” he muttered, his voice low enough for only you to hear. There was a bite to his words, his jealousy evident in the way his eyes remained hard, his gaze flicking towards the Hufflepuff boy who was still laughing with his friends at their table.

You looked at him, the corner of your mouth twitching upwards. “It’s called being nice, Draco. You should try it sometime,” you said, your tone teasing.

He rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping him as if he found the very idea exasperating. His fingers on your thigh tightened fractionally, his silver eyes locking onto yours. “I’m nice to you. That’s enough,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk that held just a hint of challenge.

You chuckled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, the touch gentle and affectionate. “I suppose it is,” you murmured, brushing your nose lightly against his temple before pulling back. You could see the way his posture relaxed, just a bit, his possessive hold on your thigh not quite as rigid.

Draco leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else getting the wrong idea,” he said, the words possessive and dark, the edge in his tone making it clear just how much he meant it. His fingers tightened again, a slow squeeze that spoke volumes of his emotions—jealousy, protectiveness, and that constant need to make sure everyone knew exactly where you stood.

You turned your head, your lips brushing against the corner of his jaw as you spoke. “I think they already know,” you whispered, your voice soft, meant to soothe. There was a tenderness in your eyes as you looked at him, understanding the depth of his feelings without him needing to say another word.

Draco exhaled slowly, his gaze meeting yours, the storm in his eyes easing, giving way to something softer, something vulnerable. “They’d better,” he muttered, his voice losing some of its sharpness, though the intensity was still there, lingering beneath the surface.

You reached down, your hand resting atop his under the table, your fingers threading through his in a comforting gesture. “I’m not going anywhere, Draco,” you said, your voice steady, your gaze unwavering. “You’re stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, his fingers relaxing beneath yours. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Good,” he murmured, the word almost a sigh, as if the thought of you being his brought him the only real sense of peace he knew.

The Great Hall bustled around you, students laughing, talking, the clatter of cutlery and dishes filling the space. But in that moment, it all seemed distant, the rest of the world fading into the background as you sat there, wrapped up in Draco’s presence. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the steady pressure of his hand on your thigh, and you knew that, despite his possessiveness, despite his flaws, this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Draco’s eyes stayed on you, the intensity in his gaze unwavering, and he leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear. “If they don’t get the message, I’ll make sure they do,” he said, his voice low, almost threatening, but there was a hint of insecurity there too—a fear that you might slip away, that someone else might catch your eye.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his, and you smiled, your fingers squeezing his gently. “You don’t need to do that. I’m yours, Draco. No one else’s,” you said, your voice full of affection, your gaze holding his.

For a moment, his expression softened completely, the tension easing from his body. He nodded, his forehead pressing against yours briefly. “Alright,” he whispered, the word carrying a weight of emotion, a mixture of possessiveness and love that made your heart swell.

Slowly, he pulled back, a smirk returning to his lips, though it was softer now, almost playful. “Just remember that,” he said, his tone lightening, the usual arrogance creeping back in, though you could see the genuine affection in his eyes.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him, but there was nothing but warmth in your gaze. “I will,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

The Great Hall continued its bustle around you, but in that moment, it was just you and Draco, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. And as you pulled back, Draco’s eyes following your every movement, you knew that despite everything, despite his possessiveness and the occasional bouts of jealousy, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You were walking down the corridor, the ancient stone walls lined with flickering torches, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. You were deep in conversation with Theo Nott, the two of you laughing softly about a joke he had just made. The atmosphere was relaxed, and you were enjoying the ease of Theo's company—he was always good for a light-hearted chat, his humour dry and his demeanour calm.

Draco caught sight of the two of you from the other end of the corridor. His eyes narrowed, a dark glint flashing in the grey depths as he watched Theo lean slightly closer to you, his lips curved in a smile that made something twist uncomfortably in Draco’s chest. He strode forward, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor, his eyes fixed solely on you. Without sparing Theo so much as a glance, Draco slipped his hand into yours, his grip firm and possessive.

“Draco,” you greeted, a hint of surprise colouring your voice as you looked up at him. “We were just—”

“Leaving,” Draco cut you off, his voice cold as he shot Theo a pointed look, his gaze hard and unyielding.

Theo just chuckled, clearly used to Draco's possessive antics. He gave you a knowing look, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone light, before turning and walking away, his laughter echoing softly down the corridor.

You turned back to Draco, raising an eyebrow, your lips pressing together in a thin line that barely concealed your amusement. “Really?” you asked, your voice laced with exasperation. “You’re going to scare off all my friends.”

Draco just smirked, his expression entirely unapologetic as he pulled you closer, his arm sliding around your waist. “Good,” he murmured, his tone smug. “Less competition.”

You huffed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart raced when he pulled you against him, his body warm and solid next to yours. There was something about the way he held you, the way he seemed to need you so completely, that sent a thrill through you—a mix of frustration and undeniable affection. His lips brushed against your forehead, the contact gentle, almost tender, and you felt your irritation melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest.

“I don’t want to share you. Ever,” Draco whispered, his voice low, the words almost a growl. His eyes darkened, the silver depths stormy as they met yours, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, so close you could feel his breath against your skin.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robes. “Draco...” you began, but your voice trailed off, the intensity in his gaze stealing the words from your lips.

“And I mean it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, the dangerous edge in his tone unmistakable. “I don’t care who it is, I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

There was a promise in his words, a dark, unyielding determination that made your breath hitch. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you might not feel the same. But all he found was the steady affection in your gaze, the way your eyes softened as you looked at him, and slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “No one’s going to take me away from you, Draco,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching yours, and then, finally, he nodded, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was shaky as he exhaled, the storm in his eyes slowly calming. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, the fear that he tried so hard to hide. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to convey everything you felt for him—all the love, all the reassurance. “You won’t,” you whispered against his lips. “I promise.”

Draco’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate sort of need, as if he was trying to pour all of his emotions into that one moment. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were softer, the harsh edge gone, replaced by something warmer, something that made your heart swell.

“Alright,” he whispered, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just... stay close, yeah?”

You smiled, nodding as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Always,” you promised, your arms wrapping around him as you closed your eyes, content to stay like that, wrapped up in Draco’s embrace, the rest of the world fading away.

The corridor around you was empty now, the echoes of Theo’s laughter long gone, and it was just the two of you, standing there in the dim light of the flickering torches. And as Draco held you, his arms wrapped around you protectively, you knew that despite his flaws, despite his possessiveness, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Draco was lounging on the couch in the Slytherin common room, his long legs stretched out, his fingers idly flipping through the pages of a book he wasn’t really reading. The emerald flames in the fireplace cast flickering shadows across his face, the soft glow highlighting the sharp angles of his features. The common room was filled with the usual evening buzz—laughter, conversation, the crackling of the fire. Pansy Parkinson sat nearby, her voice carrying as she shared some gossip, her laughter ringing out and drawing Draco’s half-hearted attention.

But his focus shifted entirely when you walked in, your laughter joining Pansy’s, light and genuine, as you responded to something she had said. His eyes immediately locked onto you, a flicker of something dark crossing his expression. You looked so at ease, so happy, and while Draco loved seeing you smile, he couldn’t help the possessive pang that tightened in his chest when he saw you laughing with someone else.

His gaze followed you as you crossed the room, weaving your way through the groups of Slytherins scattered around, until you reached him. Without hesitation, you plopped down next to him, your shoulder brushing against his, your presence immediately grounding him. He didn’t say a word at first, just slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his other hand resting on your thigh as if to stake his claim.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice casual, though you could hear the edge to it, the subtle note of irritation that betrayed his jealousy.

You smiled, your eyes meeting his as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips. “Nothing you need to worry about,” you said lightly, your tone teasing, trying to soothe the tension you could feel radiating from him.

Draco huffed, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. He was silent for a moment, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled your scent, letting it calm the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t like you laughing with other people,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, but the words were laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You rolled your eyes, though the affectionate smile on your lips softened the gesture. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his temple, your lips lingering for a moment.

Draco’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eyes opening to meet yours, the storm in them easing slightly. “Maybe,” he conceded, his tone lighter, almost playful. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

His fingers trailed along your waist, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper, the words meant only for you. “Just remember that, alright? You’re mine. I don’t share.”

There was an edge to his words, a possessiveness that made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes bored into yours, as if daring you to contradict him. His grip on your waist tightened, almost bruising, and he pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, but there was no fear—only a thrill that coursed through you, a heady mix of affection and excitement. You knew how deeply Draco felt, how fiercely he loved, and though his possessiveness could be overwhelming, it was also a testament to how much you meant to him.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his jaw as you spoke. “I’m not going anywhere, Draco.”

He let out a slow breath, his eyes softening as they searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, his grip on your waist loosening just a fraction, enough to let you breathe, but still holding you close. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes closing as he exhaled, the storm within him finally settling.

“I just... I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a sigh, the words raw and unguarded. It wasn’t often that Draco allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let you see the fear that lurked beneath his confident exterior, but in moments like this, you saw him—truly saw him.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over his skin. “You won’t,” you promised, your voice steady, filled with all the love you felt for him. “I’m yours, Draco. Always.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft, tender, a stark contrast to the earlier possessiveness. His fingers tangled in your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were really there, that you were his.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lighter, the darkness that had clouded them earlier gone, replaced by a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Alright,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours once more. “Just... stay close, yeah?”

You smiled, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always,” you repeated, your voice a soft promise, one that you intended to keep.

The common room continued to buzz around you, the laughter and conversation of your fellow Slytherins filling the space, but it all seemed distant, the rest of the world fading into the background. In that moment, it was just you and Draco, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world inconsequential.

Draco’s arms tightened around you, his eyes closing as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, a content sigh escaping him. And as you sat there, cradled in his embrace, you knew that despite his flaws, despite his jealousy and possessiveness, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. You loved him—every part of him, even the parts that were rough around the edges—and you knew that he loved you just as fiercely, just as completely.

The sun was warm on your face as you sat in the courtyard, your friends around you, their laughter and light-hearted conversation filling the air. It was one of those rare, perfect afternoons—sunshine filtering through the branches of the nearby trees, a gentle breeze stirring the leaves, and the sound of distant bird song adding to the tranquillity. You stretched your legs out, feeling the warmth of the stone beneath you, content in the easy company of your friends.

But the tranquillity didn’t last long. A shadow fell over your group, and you looked up to see Draco Malfoy striding towards you, his presence unmistakable, his posture radiating his usual arrogance. His silver eyes were fixed solely on you, a determined glint in their depths, as if he had a singular purpose in mind. He ignored everyone else, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said, his tone making it clear that there was no room for argument. His voice carried that authoritative note that left little to be questioned, a voice that often made people obey without hesitation.

Your friends exchanged amused looks, some of them raising their eyebrows in silent laughter, clearly used to Draco’s possessiveness. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes but standing up nonetheless. “You know, you could at least pretend to be polite,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him, your tone lightly teasing as you brushed your robes off.

Draco smirked, his hand slipping into yours with a familiarity that spoke of both habit and need. He squeezed your hand slightly as he looked down at you, his expression entirely unapologetic. “Why?” he drawled, his tone dripping with arrogance. “They already know I’m better than them.”

You rolled your eyes again, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. There was something so quintessentially Draco about his behaviour, and despite your exasperation, you found it endearing. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he shot back, his voice laced with that same arrogance, but his eyes softened as he looked at you, something vulnerable flickering in their depths. He tugged you a little closer, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he pulled you away from your friends.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper that only you could hear. “Because you know no one else could ever treat you the way I do. No one else is good enough for you.” There was a possessiveness to his words, an edge that made your heart skip a beat, the intensity of his emotions almost overwhelming.

His grip on your hand tightened as he led you away, and you could feel the possessiveness radiating off of him, the way his body seemed to curl protectively towards yours, as if shielding you from everyone else. It was as though, in his mind, the world was full of threats, and only he could keep you safe, only he was worthy enough to have you by his side.

You cast a glance over your shoulder, giving your friends a half-apologetic, half-amused smile as they waved, some of them rolling their eyes at Draco’s antics. They were used to it by now, the way Draco would swoop in and pull you away whenever he felt even the slightest bit threatened by someone else’s presence. It was part of who he was—possessive, demanding, but also fiercely devoted.

As you walked away from the courtyard, Draco’s grip on your hand never lessened. He held you close, his stride matching yours as if he needed to make sure you were right there beside him, where he believed you belonged. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his jaw was set, his eyes still stormy even as the courtyard faded from view.

“You really don’t need to be so dramatic, you know,” you said softly, glancing up at him, your tone gentle despite the teasing nature of your words. You could see the way his shoulders were still tense, the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

Draco’s gaze flicked down to meet yours, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not being dramatic,” he insisted, his voice stubborn, though there was a hint of something more vulnerable underneath. He paused for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “I just... I don’t

The sun shone brilliantly over the Black Lake, its rays shimmering on the surface of the water, creating a dazzling dance of light that seemed almost magical. You and Draco sat together by the edge of the lake, enjoying one of those rare moments of tranquillity that Hogwarts seldom allowed. The breeze was gentle, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees, and you could hear the faint call of birds in the distance. You leaned against Draco, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

It was peaceful. Just the two of you, with the warmth of the sun on your faces and the soft lapping of the water against the shore. You felt Draco’s steady breathing, his chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm that made you relax further into his embrace. His presence was comforting, a solid anchor in the midst of all the chaos that life at Hogwarts often brought.

“You know, you don’t have to get so jealous all the time,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, meant to be gentle rather than accusatory, as you turned your head slightly to look up at him.

Draco’s jaw tensed for a moment, and he huffed, his gaze shifting to the shimmering surface of the lake. “I’m not jealous,” he replied, his tone defensive, though it lacked its usual bite. “I just don’t trust other people around you.” His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression hardening for a second before it softened again, his vulnerability showing through.

You smiled, your heart warming at his honesty. You turned in his arms, shifting so you could see his face fully, your fingers reaching up to brush a stray lock of platinum hair away from his forehead. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, your voice holding a teasing note, though the affection behind your words was clear.

Draco’s gaze finally met yours, and you watched as his expression softened, the tension in his features easing. The corners of his lips tugged upwards slightly, a faint smile breaking through. “Maybe,” he conceded, his voice quieter now, almost a murmur. “But you love me anyway.”

You leaned in, your eyes locking onto his, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, reassuring, a promise wrapped in a simple touch. When you pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Draco’s smirk returned, a bit more pronounced this time, and he pulled you closer against him, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “Good,” he said, his voice a little rough, but there was a tenderness there too. “Because I’m not planning on letting you go.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He tightened his grip on you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You belong to me,” he said, his voice low, a possessive edge to his words. “And I don’t care who knows it. I’ll fight anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”

His gaze bore into yours, the sincerity and desperation in his expression making your heart skip a beat. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a slow breath. “You’re everything to me,” he continued, his voice softer now, raw with emotion, “and I won’t let anything—or anyone—come between us. Ever.”

There was an intensity in his voice, a raw honesty that made your heart swell with emotion. Draco wasn’t just possessive—he was desperate, and the way he held onto you made it clear that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side. You could feel it in the way his fingers tightened against your arm, in the way his body seemed to curl protectively around yours, as if shielding you from any unseen threat.

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “I know,” you whispered, your voice steady, full of affection. “And I’m not going anywhere, Draco. You don’t need to worry about that.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you, his grey eyes searching your face as if trying to find any hint of doubt. When he found none, he let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into a small smile. “You promise?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, the vulnerability in his words making your chest tighten.

You smiled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I promise,” you said softly, your forehead resting against his. “Always.”

Draco’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, replaced by a sense of calm that seemed to wash over both of you. The sun continued to shine down, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and for that moment, everything felt perfect.

You closed your eyes, your fingers running through his hair as you held him, the two of you wrapped up in each other. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you by the lake, lost in your own little bubble of peace and love. Despite everything—the jealousy, the possessiveness, the fear—you knew that Draco loved you fiercely, completely, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in his arms, by the Black Lake, with the sun shining down and the promise of forever hanging in the air between you.

[anders-holmvik]

ok need to talk about doomed bucktommy from 7x05 to 8x06 now. up top this is NOT a BT positive post and i dont want to hear any arguing rn so just scroll on by #peaceandlove

i said it in this post too but the theme of buck and tommy's relationship is "you don't know me". their relationship began in that episode and that's been the throughline the entire time. i'm gonna try to take the buddie hat off here and just talk about buck but you know its probably gonna creep in anyway

buck is a huge flirt, but he's passive in his romantic pursuits because he has abandonment issues. so he'll flirt until the other person makes a definitive move like asking him out or kissing him. once they do, he clings and overcompensates because he's deeply insecure. they deviated from this pattern with natalia but i consider that to be special circumstances bc logistics behind the scenes got in the way. and buck did break up with taylor but he clinged to her first with asking her to move in after he kissed lucy.

so we have tommy, who is NOT different at all! buck likes tommy because he's cool and confident. buck acts out and is possessive over eddie, who buck also clashed with because he was cool and confident and acted out toward because he was possessive over the 118. buck flirts with him (albeit unconsciously), and tommy kisses him. buck feels chosen, he clings. tommy is interested. tommy abandons buck when he realizes he "doesn't know him" after buck lies to eddie in front of him about their date. (EVEN THOUGH HE JUST TOLD HIM HE'S NEVER BEEN ON A DATE WITH A GUY BEFORE AND ISN'T OUT. OKAY fine) buck can't stop thinking about tommy because, again, he subconsciously thinks that being with him will allow him to absorb his "confidence." when they go for coffee, tommy points out that the two of them don't know anything about each other. they agree to start their relationship and do it "right."

they continue to misunderstand each other through the entirety of their relationship. tommy can't wrap his head around why buck wants him to dress up for the bachelor party. tommy points out buck's father is alive when he opens up about bobby. the two fundamentally dont get each other. but buck doesn't let tommy in either! he lets him call him evan (false intimacy), likely because he's too insecure to stand up for himself. until masks, when buck begins to push back.

buck brings tommy to family events, but he doesn't actually include him. tommy is quite literally not in the group chat. masks was SUCH an interesting episode about their dynamic through the billy boils story and maybe i'll make a post on it sometime but whew...

moving onto confessions...

this part has been pointed out tons but i feel the need to cover the whole ep so right up top in the episode we have buck, known gift giver in all of his relationships (freaked about getting taylor a sweater for xmas in s5, got kameron and connor a onesie for donorbaby, once bought eddie a $500 coffee maker as a "PRANK") does not get tommy a gift for their 6 month even though he's the one who brings up that it is the date. fascinating stuff there. of course then we have a callback to the basketball game when tommy gets him tickets.

like okay sure! maybe tommy just wanted to connect with him over something he's more interested in, it's a weird move to get your partner what is essentially a gift for yourself for your six month but it's not unheard of.

then the woman comes over and asks buck to take the photo, saying they're celebrating a divorce. buck does kinda check the lady out. i've said this before, but buck is usually pretty oblivious to flirting until someone crosses the line of physical contact. it happened with tommy, and it happened with the lady. once he realizes, he just becomes really uncomfortable and awkward. on a personal note i'm kinda mad that they cut tommy checking out hot waiter/making a comment about it but Whatever.

again, you dont know me: being 6 months in without having the exes talk is bonkers. they told us it was excusable on tommy's part bc of the heterosexuality performance of it all (still not a good omen for intimacy in that relationship). but buck??? that was his first real relationship, his "most transformative". it was obviously a fun coincidence that the writers realized they'd set up but if you look in universe it's crazy that they were together that long without buck bringing it up. so in the end their lack of communication is what kills them!

buck is correct about tommy being cruel/dishonest bc it turns out tommy knew for six months that their relationship wouldn't work and stayed anyway. josh misunderstood the convo and made it about performing heterosexuality. Hopefully this was just a segue-way to tip off audience to gay eddie struggle. god knows buck will not remember pre glee post glee but he will remember tommy's "i can't be your last because i'm your first".

so we cemented tommy kinda as buck's male "teacher" relationship. "i'm so comfortable with you because you're comfortable with you" buck thinks his bisexuality is wrapped up in tommy's approval of him. and the crazy thing is tommy is not comfortable with himself. but neither him nor buck ever opened up to each other enough to explore that!

Buck is gonna grieve hard because he's the Clinger but also because being with tommy made him feel confident. but not because tommy uplifted him, because he perceived tommy as confident, and that made buck feel closer to fully realizing and understanding himself. this is why coming back from s7 buck got a full gorgeous girl makeover and was totally on his game in those first few eps despite gerrard-- he felt confident. what buck needs to realize post breakup is that he can be all of that without tommy!!!

putting my buddie hat back on for a second there's a meta here about the parking spot line. it could be callback to basketball game bc after eddie's injury there was discussion of tommy's "i drove eddie and i parked close" versus buck "ill bring my car up to the court". or the parking spot out front is the easy close serendipitous option (as in tommy presenting himself as a surprise relationship for buck by kissing him) but either way tommy was the easy choice. eddie is not. but buck was willing to pull his car up to the court for eddie. buck was willing to be AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT IN THAT RELATIONSHIP. that's a break from his pattern. crazier too when you think about how buck attached himself to eddie because he seemed cool and confident but committed harder once he actually got to know eddie and his flaws. just sayingggg..

either way i want buck to explore his sexuality by himself for a little bit because i think that's what he needs as a character in order to actually get an understanding of who he is and what he wants. and also selfishly because i want a buck speed dating montage set to girls & boys by blur.

[dlatl98]

The ending is always awkward.

"Maedhros. I will be king." "Yes." "I will choose men."

Maedhros looked at his adopted son, who usually called him father. He fiercely refused to be called father, but unlike Elrond, who had considered Maedhros's suffering, Elros stubbornly insisted on being father, and surprisingly, he had Maedhros give up, and finally allowed Elrond to call Maedhros as he wished. So he called him Maedhros instead of father… "You speak as if they were the same." "They are the same."

Elros looked at him, frighteningly. Unlike Elrond, he loved his adoptive fathers, but did not pity them. But he understood them terribly. “I will do things I cannot bear and I will not look back. I will be terribly determined and terrible. I will burn the world with all my might and act as if there is no tomorrow, making plans for a thousand years that I will not see. I will make plans that will collapse. I will do things I dare not do. I will live with all my might and pay the price with my death.”

“As expected of you,” Maedhros smiled bitterly. “Noldor.”

“A men. And the elf who dared choose mortality was a Sinda.” Elros was silent, and then continued. “But you should never have gone there in the first place.”

"We had to go. I've changed my mind a bit now. The world is made up of several layers, so sometimes wrong things lead to right things, and sometimes doing things that you were told not to do leads to things that should have been done. In this labyrinthine world, who can easily gauge right and wrong, limits, and boundaries? In a world where good leads to evil, and evil decides to the end. But it seems like you chose to be men, which is the right thing for you."

"I don't care about what's right for me. I just make my own choices."

Elros said and handed him the sword. Maedros shook his head. "Fine. It doesn't have to be a good sword. This is the end. If durability isn't important, the difference between a good sword and a defective one isn't that big."

"Yes. But that's because you're Maedhros of the left hand."

Elros accepted the sword and put it back on his waist. Even so, he hesitated for a moment, which was unusual for him. Maedhros asked. "But I'm curious. Even if you were Gil-galad side, there probably weren't many men around you. Since there weren't any men around you, I thought you'd think about it and decide when you were older."

Maedhros was a little surprised. Elros looked at him as if he found it absurd and laughed in vain, and his expression gradually became desolate as he looked at him. He whispered. "I've thought about it a lot. Really a lot. I wish you were a men. You could have just kept your oath and lived, and thought, let's hold out until we die anyway. You wouldn't have had to endure all this. You could have said that life and death are one to me, so there's nothing to fear. You could have swung your sword and laughed that even the Void couldn't catch me. You could have burned me completely without looking back.

And at some point, I knew it. I, too, will eventually commit it. So I have to pay up front."

"men probably think about the future too." "The price was paid up front, so it's not as much as the elves. It's light because there's nothing to carry forever."

It was funny to see him already talking like a men, when he wasn't yet. Well, his mind was set, so it was only a matter of time. And that time depended on when he told Elrond. Maedhros opened his mouth slightly, considering apologizing but deciding not to. It wasn't Elros's taste. Elros awkwardly squeezed and released his hand. Now that it was over, he didn't really need anything, and since he didn't need anything, he had nothing to give. There was nothing to say. Maedhros waved his hand.

"Well then, I'll go now."

"Good Bye. see…."

Elros awkwardly closed his mouth. Maedhros shook his head to keep himself from laughing and left the tent gate.

[wizardingsouls]

the ease of trading and sharing touch feels like a treasure. the results of the years james had spent needling for more and the story remus hadn't told him yet about what life had really been like after the attack. he knows moony will share, eventually, like he always does. for tonight though, this counted as answer enough about everything. all of them showed their weariness in different ways, after all. it showed in james most often in the lapses of silence when he used to be almost as difficult to shut up as sirius, and merlin help anyone who got both of them yapping at the same time.

" thanks for the permission, " he echoes playfully, gaze following their hands and eyes half-closing when they stilled again. how was he? exhausted, firstly. emotionally wrung out, still aching a little from being on the floor so long earlier. fucking thrilled knowing with complete confirmation that both remus and sirius still love him as much as he loves them. a dozen more things, all in different directions. " ...i'll concede to being tired. " which would be silly to not admit at this point anyway. but he considers even more carefully before deciding that wasn't enough of an answer.

james shrugs a shoulder, just enough for the movement to be noticeable without disturbing their comfort. " i'm glad to know for certain where we stand, but with everything going on, mostly tired is winning. and it was probably a good thing you had to pause before i did. " and that was edging into the too honest territory, james almost abrupt in being done talking about it. for as much as he enjoyed attention in general, he didn't much like focusing solely on himself, especially when asked to do so in a reflective state. " you know, i never thought i'd end up such a homebody. aside from getting sirius and harry, i just realized i haven't really gone anywhere lately. "

he hadn't gone much of anywhere since waking at st. mungo's, truthfully. once he could get out of there and back home, the focus was getting to a point where they could get padfoot. there had been the one meeting with the minister himself, technically, but the man had come to him when he was still working on not being bedridden. remus did the shopping on the occasions they needed anything, until harry had moved in too and the pair sometimes went together. but james had been so busy focusing on people that it hadn't even occurred to him to worry about places too.

it says a lot about where james is, the way he enjoys and lingers. he's worn out from the night's earlier events and the emotional roiling that came with them, but still ever eager for any thread of love. a less exhausted night he probably have pressed to very literally pick up where they had left off, but this...this is what he needed right now. it always had been a wonder to him that remus could do that without them ever speaking on the matter; he somehow just knew. always.

even when a pause to breathe is required, he's content exactly where he is. tiny thrills race under his skin when remus's hands move, james undeniably entranced by the fountain of affection. he couldn't imagine a lifetime of being away from this when he'd barely handled it before-- and then he hears it. or rather he registers it after there's suddenly space between them again and remus has pulled away. the near-break in the other's voice that reminded him one of them had had a lifetime being away from this.

he's initially too stunned to actually say anything, caught in the whirl of the bathroom's cool air prickling against his throat where warm hands had been a few seconds ago. then he's being told not to say anything, and for once james listens. gives moony the moment to collect himself that was necessary and surprisingly patient until he's invited close again. " and there i was thinking we didn't need a swear jar anymore, " he teases as he does so, this time nestling against remus's side so neither of them have to twist uncomfortably to look at each other or hold hands. still, he can't help a concerned trailing of fingertips across the other's cheek down his jaw, a silent check in to avoid the mess of trying to find the correct words to ask any questions.

a concern he realizes might also just as easily tip things again, but he doesn't take it back. just seeks out the hand unoccupied with holding him close to lace their fingers again. " guess it has been that kind of night though, huh? " the question is rhetorical, of course. a tired approval of the cursing so aptly describing the interruption and its wake. maybe a little bit admitting defeat, which he hated to do, but the night had been long and not easy on any of them.

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[memento-morri-writes]

I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:

tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries

He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.

[quatregats]

Okay hear me out. What if Hornblower and Lady Barbara but they're high school math olympians and also have a crazy psychosexual rivalry with each other

[random0lover]

I hate men and their need to act like any emotional reactions you have while you’re on your period is just you being “hormonal” and “not yourself”

(Rant in tags)

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

sometimes my bestfriend is like an angel in disguise istg