#cw fandom homophobia

[bogboy420]

DISCLAIMER: this is abt my actual experiences w being cyberbullied on this website 4 2 of my recent posts both abt jax and gangle in ep 4 of the show, this is not abt ppl having different opinions from me, u can hav ur own hcs or interpretations of the show or the episode, characters ect, that's not the issue here the issue is i've been being harassed on my posts, made fun of 4 using txt speak, accused of being sexist 4 not liking gangle and 4 liking jax as a character, accused of ableism 4 saying that i hc jax as having aspd even tho i hc him that way bc of my own aspd and having symptoms that line up w his and made that clear in the posts i was making, and every time it's some1 deliberately misinterpreting my post and saying that im like morally a bad person 4 not liking gangle as a character and im just so fucking tired of it happening all fucking day 2day, so now that that's cleared up, i wrote this disclaimer last and after i had calmed down and the next part of this post is my very tired and angry ramblings so if u don't wanna c that then this post is not 4 u, this isn't abt disagreement this is abt consistent cyberbulling and im allowed 2 b angry abt it

u guys srsly need 2 stop cyberbulling me just bc i don't like ur "uwu smol bean mask girl"

pointing out a female character has flaws is not the same as me being sexist

pointing out that a male character is not only flaws is not me being sexist

but god forbid i wanna just c these characters as actual interesting and complex characters and not just 1 dimensional tropes

like im sorry u guys think that the writing sucks and that the writers would do their audience the disservice of writing their characters 2 b that bland but it's rly not my problem that u hate creativity so much

idk mayb learn 2 actually hav fun and enjoy the media u consume instead of getting mad at ppl 4 making character analysis posts and actually having media literacy that goes beyond the most baby surface level stuff of "this character cry so they did nothing wrong" and "this character angry which is bad"

also it's so fucking rich seeing u guys accuse me of sexism when lets b fucking 4 real here if gangle was a man and jax was a woman u all would hav hated gangle just as much as i did episode 4 and u all would think that jax being a lil shitheel bully was them being a ""girlboss""

also 4 the ppl saying im "blindly defending jax" i know jax is an asshole that's part of y i like him as a character! i just also think that it's likely not out of fucking nowhere since that's generally not how ppl work and i hav noticed similarities w his behaviour and some of my aspd symptoms leading me 2 believe that this might b partly the cause 4 some of his behaviour, like sorry 4 liking good writing and complicated characters ig!? damn!

but also just bc jax is an asshole doesn't make gangle this innocent uwu bean who did nothing wrong, like im sorry u guys think a woman crying means she doesn't need 2 take responsibility 4 being an abusive manager and attempting 2 brainwash her employees but that's rly not my fucking problem and it's not my job 2 comfort u or hold ur hand on that

it's not my fucking problem that u guys want every character on the show 2 b a one dimensional parody of themselves omfg

i should b allowed 2 fukin black gay boy post abt jax being a black gay boy being abused by his white girl manager without being dogpiled by fucking toxic gangle stans and ppl who r supposedly jax stans but clearly only like him as a 1 dimensional asshole they don't hav 2 treat like a person, imma b fr i think that's honestly partly y u guys love that "jax is an npc" hc so much u just don't want jax 2 b a person

[nekropsii]

We need more images like this. If you have any, drop them in the reblogs or somethin'. Fandom is a nightmare.

[lelianasbong]

the dragon age characters could out loud go "i'm bisexual/pansexual" and there would still be ppl like "hmmmmm i feel like they were writing them as gay/lesbian/straight and chose playersexual (UGH) to appeal to people" bc imo they just genuinely hate us and view us as lesser queer rep when u consider how many times ppl in general throw them "if u dont make them gay/lesbian then at least make them bi"........... im not even active in the fandom and ive seen so much bi/panphobia from ppl but what else is new in fandom spaces :/

True, and you've got the contingent on reddit that insists they're all straight (except for the most flirtatious/sexually active character(s). Then it Makes Sense for them to be bi).

I understand wanting more gay and lesbian rep among the LIs since we've only had Dorian and Sera and the only other canon gay characters are non-romanceable NPCs (Briala, Celene, Wade, Herren, etc). It means a lot to me that Sera's a lesbian woman. But they have spelled it out for the audience, both in-universe and out, that these characters are pansexual (or panromantic demisexual in Lucanis's case).

They explicitly gave them all some kind of romantic history with or interest in more than one gender, outside of Rook. They shouldn't have to do that, because bi/pan people don't owe anyone a perfectly balanced list of People they've been with or been interested in over the course of their life, but they did it because they knew people would respond like this. And it's still not enough.

[mothman-mocha]

I’ve truly answered life’s questions right here.

[nekrotiize]

It's a controversial take because everyone's stupid but I'm never going to stop calling fandom + shipping culture homophobic. Fandoms are consistently extremely homophobic, and shipping culture is consistently even more homophobic.

Yes, the way fandoms center men so religiously is obviously misogynistic. The only people who deny that are themselves misogynists. But the aggressive centering of men and the resultant fixation on male/male dynamics lends to this slimy coating of homophobia that nobody talks about. The misogyny is an issue, clearly. But gay men are, to most people in fandom, toys. We are sex objects to coo over. It's intensely voyeuristic. Every god damn interaction is scrutinized to hell and back, and the second a man shows any kind of emotional connection with another man, it gets pounced on, and he gets thrown into a mill that flattens him down to one of three deeply heterosexual yaoi tropes that are fandom's only way of processing the existence of gay men.

It doesn't even matter what that man is. A disconcerting amount of time, people will start fawning over the idea of literal rapists being gay with zero critical thought applied. As if gay men being painted as and assumed to be sexual predators isn't a method that's been historically used to literally legally murder us. (What the fuck do people think "Gay Panic" means, even?)

Gay men aren't given the ability to be human beings in fandom. We're not afforded nuance. We're accessories, we are constantly objectified, and no one ever takes the time to consider that we have cultures, and that we are real human beings. We keep getting shoved into the most heterosexual boxes physically possible for the easy digestibility of people who do not want to see us as human beings. Semes- sorry, I mean Tops are the taller, older, more masculine, capable men of the relationship. Ukes- oops, sorry again, I mean Bottoms are the smaller, younger, more feminine, and totally useless women of the relationship. It's painfully yaoi. Gay men in fandom are never given the opportunity to be regular men, because people are too busy turning everything into homophobic, misogynistic fetish porn of our existence to be normal for five seconds.

There's something comedic about how many people in fandom want to say they're progressive, accepting. Safe. How fandom is welcoming of everyone. Look, we've made all this representation! And every time, gay men are sex objects, the women are scapegoated to hell and back, the headcanoned trans men are always skinny white softboys not a single day over 21 maximum, lesbianism is maybe acknowledged 0.5% of the time and largely for brownie points, bisexuals are across the board made out to be overtly horny and often sexually aggressive, fans of color are harassed out of the community left and right, anyone on the aro/ace spectrums is called a freak and a killjoy for not participating in shipping, characters on the aro/ace spectrums are heavily included in shipping content with the excuse of "aros/aces can date/have sex like normal people, too!" with zero regard for what our love looks like, and there isn't a single accepted trans woman headcanon to be seen.

Fandoms are circuses full of dirty little liars with cotton stuffed in their ears and Shipping Culture is a disease.

And if you criticize either of them, the most annoying white liberals you've ever seen will start clutching their pearls because how dare you criticize something that's free?! Don't you know a lack of price point immediately negates any criticism?! Just laughable.

[clockwayswrites]

Please don't use 'gay panic' that way.

A timely reminder to all younger (and non American) writers out there who didn’t live through it that 'Gay Panic' does not mean your hapless gay/bi/pan blorbo is all a flustered and bad at flirting.

It was a legal defense for beating a gay person, sometimes to death, because the perpetrator thought they were being flirted with and that, somehow, sent them into a homicidal panic. It is a horrible horrible part of queer history. And it wasn't that long ago.

So when you tag your fic 'Gay Panic', it does not mean "here is my cute fandom child being a mess", it means this fic has homophobia and possibly someone dying from it. So if that's not what your fic contains, it's not the tag that should be used.

It's okay if you don't know the history! But here's your notice. I wish we could pretend that the phrase is something that could be reclaimed, but we can't. We especially can't with the current attacks on transpeople in the US and UK where we are seeing the term and ethos behind the term coming back.

[intermundia]

the thing that gets me about backlash to the latest episode of the acolyte is that conservatives usually LOVE the right of parents to homeschool their children and bring them up to hold their religious values away from liberal state overreach and brainwashing, except apparently when it's a queer woman of color doing it, in which case they are so distracted by the 'woke' optics that they don't even notice that ideologically they might actually agree with mother aniseya and would've absolutely treated her like their new favorite tragic renegade hero if she were a white male cult leader instead. their engagement with star wars is so superficial and filtered through their reflexive bigotry they don't even notice the story and themes.

[swoleas]

By the way, please be careful about applying the Gay Best Friend stereotype onto Dorian Pavus -- thought we left that behind years ago with Inquisition. No, he doesn't need to be exceptionally interested or involved in Solas and Lavellan's relationship just because he's Lavellan's friend -- at least not more than any other Inquisition companion. He's not flamboyantly gasping in gay shock and concern that Lavellan took that man back.

[whoevermaybe]

love how the fandom has kinda healed about the destiel confession scene. like it's still sad and everything but I remember when it first came out a lot of people hated it. and sorry to say that but a lot of them had such narrow-minded opinions on it, oh lord. like the whole narrative that dean didn't react to it at all/didn't reciprocate or that jensen hates destiel etc. (also the birth of the confession meme actually)

and that really overshadowed the amazing, poetic, beautifully delivered speech of cas/misha.

I'm just glad we can enjoy that now.

[ammoknightsofficial]

Mouthwashing fandom fucking abysmal every time Tumblr forces wretched images of it into my face. Let's not call Jimmy gay, actually. That's not cute. That's not progressive. That's deeply, violently homophobic, actually, whether you yourself are gay or not. Can people think for five fucking seconds? Insinuating that a rapist is a gay man has a lot of baggage. Declaring that gay men are rapists and rapists are gay men has historically been used to justify killing us and banning us from existing publicly and privately.

It's also frankly disgusting that people find any sadness in Anya's pregnancy outside of the horrible violation of her bodily autonomy. Fuck you if you think the idea of the baby dying is sad. It would be a mercy for her. What the hell do you want her to do, carry her rapist's baby to term? Appalling levels of misogyny on display to value the life of an unborn fetus forced upon someone through literal rape over the mental and physical wellbeing of the actual real victim.

I'm so glad I'm not in that godforsaken community. I hate every word the dogshit Tumblr algorithm forces me to see. Some of you people should be fucking ashamed of yourselves. Jesus Christ.

[rotteneldritchhorror]

Ward is so fake-kind and fake-accepting, I know that if Rafe came out to him he’d be holding back slurs and just either say “you’ll find the right girl eventually, Rafe” or act like he understands and accepts him while constantly trying to set him up with women saying “she’s really nice, just go on a date with her, it might work out! You never know if you don’t try”

He wants to call him slurs but instead he’s somehow worse about it by just ignoring the fact that he came out at all

[tamelee]

[link]

I’m pretty sure this is the appropriate amount of rage that occurs after visiting most Naruto-related subreddits (or otherwise) which is why I avoid them. Usually I’d read through it for you but I’m not in the right headspace now so I’ll just address what you’ve sent if that’s okay?

I’ve always found the notion of “if one of them was a girl…” pretty interesting and well, pointless. I mean… the Naruto-fandom in its entirety suffers from people arguing with- and for double standards. No amount of logic, critical thinking or analyses of the narrative makes sense to someone that is reluctant to accept anything other than what they believe is the norm. Not even the story itself. Especially because it isn’t marketed as something that actively represents something other than the readers would expect. That’s why I don’t think having Naruto and Sasuke intentionally kiss in the story would do much to change these deep-rooted core-beliefs. All it will do is force these people to reason with themselves in a way they can rationalize it (one of those: “Men calling women porn addicted has GOT to be the funniest thing I've seen all day.”) and I’m pretty sure romance still wouldn’t be considered— “unless one of them was a girl”. 

And well, I have many thoughts on that which I’ll spare you, but regardless… stereotypes, heteronormativity, media representation, implicit biases, culture and societal norms also play a role in people’s thinking which makes it all the more complicated, doesn’t it? Sasuke would’ve easily been accepted as the love-interest otherwise— as quickly as in Chapter 3. 

I’ve read a lot of contemporary YA lately because I have a very unserious personal vendetta against the book-whoever girlies that confidently try to explain literature while praising the most god-awful books in existence, but if one thing is certain… it’s that a lot of those romantic stories apply the very same tropes as the ones you can find between Naruto and Sasuke. Many of them are used to support a romantic relationship (as does everything else), yet… the possibility for romance is already an assumption anyway. 

“It got me so pissed I swear I hate dudebros and straight female fans 😡” 

Eh. I would be a bit more specific here. I don’t agree with this generalization. I get what you mean and I understand your frustration because many are homophobic for sure and aren’t afraid to get loud about it unfortunately. I mean… I make SNS art and am not too quiet about it either… so I receive a lot of this bullshit through asks, DM’s, tags or comments… though despite not being a fan or willing to accept the bond as romantic, there are many, MANY who appreciate the bond between Naruto and Sasuke regardless and I personally think that deserves some credit for what it’s worth regardless of who they are. (Yes, even dudebro's because I know some personally who are like that.) But anyway, nothing serious, just wanted to quickly note that. 

… what do Geto and Gojo got to do with it? Don’t tell me it’s the whole dialogue thing ><

[lupinuslilium]

Wolfstar Oneshot! ~ 1.9k words

Modern AU, the marauders are university students on holiday. Background Jegulus (no one knows), pining Sirius, oblivious Remus.

CW: negative self-talk, homophobia, references to physical and emotional abuse.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius looked up as Remus closed the door behind him. He swallowed down the sharp retort already crawling it’s way out of his throat, internally chastising himself for his irritation at the concern in his friends eyes.

He sighed and threw his phone to the side, stretching out his limbs. He had been lying on the comfortable guest bed, scrolling mindlessly. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t even really want to think. Down the hall, his brother was sleeping in the room beside James’— Sirius’ room— he had to keep reminding himself. His room, after he had shown up at the Potters weeks earlier. Regulus slept in his room, bruised in the same way Sirius had been and refusing to talk about it.

He finally looked at Remus who was sat on the edge of the bed, studying him as if he was a complicated bomb he had been sent to diffuse. Sirius supposed it might be true, James certainly wasn’t here attempting this conversation. Not after the argument that had ensued upon Regulus’ arrival. He was embarrassed by the cruel things he had said to James in anger, in anger and panic and misplaced jealousy. He always reacted without thinking, always jumped to the worst conclusion. Then the guilt came and he’d avoid thinking about the apologies he owed. Sirius steeled himself and met Remus’ eyes, eyes that were so annoyingly big and brown and concerned for him. He managed what he thought was a rather diplomatic,

“No, not particularly”

The corner of Remus’ mouth turned up. That fucking crooked smile that made Sirius forget why he was sulking. The smug bastard. He readied himself for another argument, prepared himself for Remus to push him, for him to say everything Sirius didn’t want to hear. Instead Remus said,

“Okay, do you want to watch a film then?”

God Bless Remus Lupin. He nodded and reached down to the floor beside the bed to grab his laptop. Remus batted him on the shoulder to shuffle over and made himself comfortable beside him while Sirius opened Netflix. They fell into an easy silence, broken only by the sounds of Mr. Potter doing the washing up downstairs and a breeze slipping through the cracked window. Sirius scrolled through their movie options.

“Oh I’ve heard this is good, have you seen it?” Sirius asked as his mouse hovered over a thriller.

“That looks absolutely terrible” Remus scowled at the screen

“What! No it doesn’t. Look, it’s got Jake Gyllenhaal, you love him.”

“I do not love Jake Gyllenhaal, why would you think I love Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“You love his big blue eyes.” Sirius smirked to himself.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget. I love his big blue eyes almost as much as I love it when you shut the fuck up and pick a film”

Sirius chuckled. Something that had been coiled tightly in his chest was unfurling, he hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he was holding his shoulders until he was teasing Remus. He replied,

“We’re watching this one because I’m the one in emotional distress and you’ll only want to watch something entirely depressing or The Lord of The Rings and I’m not in the mood”

“Fine” Remus sighed while Sirius clicked play. He stole a glance at that crooked smirk and suddenly became aware of Remus lying on the bed mere inches away, his head angled toward him to see the screen, the soft orange light from the bedside lamp glowing through the mess of brown hair atop the other boys head. He turned his attention firmly back to the screen and they settled into the film, which Sirius conceded wouldn’t win Jake any awards (though he of course didn’t voice this opinion). He was actually feeling quite calm, interested in the film, though distracted by Remus’ ankle sometimes brushing up against his when-

“It’s not your fault you know” Remus said about twenty minutes in.

Sirius hit the space bar with more force than was necessary.

“I thought we had established that I didn’t want to talk about this?”

“We don’t have to talk about it. I’m not even talking to you, just you know, speaking to the room at large.”

“Well, shut up”

“You don’t even have to listen, I actually would prefer if you’d mind your own business. I’m just choosing to say out loud, to anyone who might be interested and would like to know, that what happened to Regulus is no one’s fault but his parents”

Anger flared in Sirius as he turned his head to the left and was met with warm brown eyes. Remus held his stare, unflinching stubbornness written all over his features. Fuck you, Sirius thought, Fuck you for your comically long eyelashes, fuck you for trying to make me feel better, and fuck you for knowing that I’m going to take the bait.

In little more than a whisper and without breaking his stare, Sirius said, “We don’t even know what happened. Because Regulus won’t say, and because I left him there. I knew what they were capable of and I left him there. So yeah, it is my fault, at least partially.”

Remus’ eyes softened a bit and Sirius hated himself. The boy in front of him was all shades of gold. Like the hour before sunset, when everything is so still and warm and heartbreaking that it almost hurts to look at. Remus almost hurt to look at. He was his friend, his best friend, and after James Sirius didn’t think he was allowed any more best friends. Whatever higher power had granted him James Potter, Sirius didn’t know but he had spent everyday since in a perpetual state of gratitude. Then he was granted Remus Lupin and he knew he didn’t deserve him, yet he still looked at him and wanted. He was selfish, impulsive, aloof on his good days and cruel on his bad. Still, James and Remus and all of his friends gave him their patience and empathy and love. Suddenly he felt close to tears.

Before he could turn away, Remus replied, “You had no choice Pads, you know that. He wouldn’t leave with you, and you had to get out of there. You can’t protect him from everything and you can’t make his decisions. He’s safe now and you’re safe now. That’s it. There’s no blame to be ha—“

“Then why did he call James?” The question that had been eating at Sirius all day.

Regulus was his brother. It had always been them surviving in that household, looking out for each other. Looking out for each other even when they stopped really talking to each other. Sirius had always taken the brunt of his parents’ cruelty to protect Regulus, and then when Regulus needed help, when he needed somewhere to go..

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat “Why would he call James and not me? If he doesn’t blame me, why would he call James”

“Sirius…” Remus began but he was too overwhelmed to listen. Regulus was always his to protect, no one else would. It was one of the first things he had learned and though he knew it was irrational, knew that they were adults, that Regulus made his own choices, deep down he still felt that anything that happened to Regulus was because of him. His mother had instilled that in him.

And suddenly he became overwhelmed by the proximity of Remus. By his smell and his stupid eyelashes and his stupid nose and his stupid hoodie that was perfectly soft and somehow too big for the giant fucker and his smart-ass mouth that pissed him off but still somehow always said the right thing. And he was overwhelmed by his mother’s voice in his head telling him that he was a fuckup and an idiot. Telling him he was disgusting, telling him to stop acting so fucking gay. The words choked him and the scars on his body reminded him that everything was his fault. His fucking fault. It was his fault that Regulus had been there on his own. His fault that his family hated him so completely. His fault that he woke up everyday and wanted his best friend in a way that wasn’t fair.

He sat up as the tears started spilling down his cheeks and his breathing became difficult. He hid his face in his hands. The only person who had ever seen Sirius cry was James but in that moment the only thing he could do was cry. So he cried, he cried in relief that his brother was safe and in anguish that he hadn’t been there to take the force of his mother’s rage. He cried because he knew if he had stayed he wouldn’t have survived. He felt a large hand on his back and for maybe the first time, didn’t feel embarrassed to be crying. Remus’ presence was warm and steady, patient and completely disarming. He started to catch his breath and heard Remus say quietly,

“I don’t know why he called James, I honestly don’t. But I’m glad that he called anyone, and once he’s more settled you guys can start sorting all this out. You’re a good brother Sirius, anyone can see that you’d go to war for the kid. Just don’t be so hard on yourself, and try not to be so hard on James, okay? You know how he loves being the hero, he probably called Regulus himself”

Sirius huffed a laugh, “Fuck, I owe a lot of apologies don’t I?” His voice was still slightly muffled by the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Yeah, you do.” Remus continued, “but fortunately James is a very forgiving hero” Sirius laughed quietly again and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He finally lifted his head and turned to look back at Remus.

“Oh, fuck you” Remus said and rolled his eyes.

“What??”

“Of course you’d still look pretty right after crying your eyes out.”

Sirius barked out a loud laugh

“Aw, Moony, you think I’m pretty?” Remus pushed his shoulder away, “you always know exactly how to make me feel better.” He reached for his water bottle on the bedside table, still snickering.

“Do you?” Remus’ voice wasn’t teasing.

“Do I what?”

“Feel better?” There was such earnestness in Remus’ gaze.

“Yeah, I do” Sirius leaned back on the pillow, turning to face Remus “do you still want to watch the movie?”

Remus smiled “Yeah, go on. I do actually love his big blue eyes”

[lelianasbong]

reddit salt under the cut

actual sentences i've read in the last thirty minutes:

"if you're going to make a non-binary character, make them someone the audience can empathize with and respect"

and

"[a good character], a sassy gay like dorian"

(different people btw)

hateful cishets have got to stop pretending they give a fuck about "good representation" when what they really mean is 'i hate it when queer people are mEaN!!!!! be more palatable and nice. and be quiet about your queerness i don't want to hear about that :((( suck up to me or ELSE i'll have no choice but to misgender you or wish harm upon you'

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: time-accurate prejudice, violence: t0rture (Cruciatus Curse), teenage behavior: drama and language, mentions of weed

word count: ~6383

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- this chapter is so goofy, i've been holding off posting this one because of a summer assignment that i just finished

Chapter List

Plans, Delusions, and Yappers [5]

“Look, she’s back at it again.”

“She’s embarrassing me, she needs to stop…”

Miles, with a teasing smile, patted Orion’s back as the boy pressed his forehead against the wooden table, his cousin’s scratchy voice digging into everyone’s ears as she attempted to intimidate the new girl after class. 

It was 16:45. DADA had finished 15 minutes ago, and students were left with about an hour and a half before their last class of the evening. While it was implemented for students to catch up on work, many used it to talk amongst themselves in the classroom. 

Orion’s cousin, Walburga Black, had a reputation for screaming. She had many suitors, as well as many enemies—ones that she made herself with her bad attitude. Orion explained it as her parents’ coddling her since birth. One thing she was known for was her obsession with the boys she fancied—with Tom Riddle being her ultimate infatuation. 

It wasn’t surprising, though. Many girls had attempted to win the boy over. Letters, boxes of chocolates, even love potions were sent to him on the daily, annoying his followers whenever they would find a new object at the foot of their dorm entrance. A common theory is that Tom wasn’t attracted to girls at all, but of course anyone who voiced that opinion would be left with scratches on their face by infuriated, hormone-driven girls. 

“I heard how you hurt Tom,” Whined Walburga, arms crossed as she stood in front of a startled Saoirse. “I heard he could have died! What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“Well, he didn’t die,” Saoirse shrugged. “He’s right there. I’m sure he can take care of himself, whatever your name is.” 

Pointing to the boy in one of the higher rows, Saoirse went back to writing notes, until Walburga snatched the parchment from underneath, her quill digging into the pulp and ripping a tear in the middle. 

“He could have,” she cried. “And my name is Walburga! Walburga Black!” 

As the girl spit in Saoirse’s face, garnering the attention of the entire class—Professor Merrythought was long gone in her office—the boys in the upper rows watched with intrigue. 

“Why is she yelling,” Orion groaned, on the verge of ripping his black locks off his scalp. “I don’t want to write to my Mum again, Yule Break is going to be filled with gossip and I hate it.” 

“Speaking of writing,” Miles said, turning to lean in close to Tom. “I wrote to my mother, like you asked. I got the same results; she knows nothing. She’s getting irritated by it, so I don’t think I should be asking her anything anytime soon.” 

Tom huffed, his nostrils flaring as he glanced up from his book. “Then help Abraxas and Orion with their task.” He uttered, drooping his head back down away from the rest of the world. 

Miles caught his words on his tongue, hands waving as he looked at the other two in question. Abraxas pressed his lips together in a line, gathering all his energy before standing up. “I have an idea about what he wants.” He sighed, pulling Orion and Miles with him as they walked down the steps between the rows of seats. 

“Tom said to keep her close,” Abraxas said. “And I assume he means to befriend her. He doesn’t make sense sometimes.” 

“Tell me about it.” Miles nodded; his eyes wide. “He’s literally been asking me to do the same thing for months, and he thinks Merlin is going to bless us with a different answer; he’s just lucky my Mum likes him.” 

“He never gives me anything to do,” Orion said quietly. “It makes me wonder if he likes me at all; I don’t know what I’m doing in the Inner Circle. Last night was the first thing I’ve been tasked with in a while–and we didn’t find a bloody thing.” 

The three boys stood behind Walburga’s own posse. “Well, you’re our orator; we’re putting your smooth talking to work, mate.” Abraxas said. 

“We’re all orators; we’re blue-blooded, ‘Brax.” Sassed Orion.

Waving a hand, Abraxas coughed in his fist before shoving the girls to the side, Miles doing the same with a happy smile on his two-tones lips. “Excuse me, ladies, hot men coming through.” 

“What do you three want?” Walburga asked, hands on her hips as she glared at her cousin and his friends. 

“Cousin, you need to stop with these dramatic debacles,” Orion frowned. “I don’t want to write to my mother again; you’re embarrassing.” 

Walburga scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand; you’ve never been in love.” She made a face, her eyes scanning the three boys in front of her. “Unless you’re here to save the girl. Surely not, right?” 

“No,” he stiffened. “Why would that cross your mind, that’s not—look, just stop yelling. Tom doesn’t need someone to ‘stand up for him’ if that’s what you think you’re doing.” 

Miles and Abraxas nodded. “Yeah, and to be honest, Tom doesn’t like you at all—he thinks you’re annoying.” The boy with dark skin said, happy to see the hurt look on the girl’s face. 

“You’re wrong, I’ve been getting to him! Just the other day, I made him flustered by the way I caressed his arm.” 

The boys coughed. That was the night of their first meeting of the week. He hated the way she touched him. He came into the Room of Requirement with a green, sickly face.

“That’s not what happened.” Laughed Miles. “But anyways, we’re done talking to you.” He pushed Walburga to the side, unaware of his strength as she fell to the ground. 

“Saoirse,” Abraxas said, getting the attention of the girl with blue hair. “Do you happen to have the notes from today’s lesson? Miles and Eloise were bothering the rest of us during class.” 

The bespectacled girl looked up, “Why don’t you ask for notes from Riddle? Aren’t you friends with him?” 

Before Abraxas got a word out, Orion blurted out: “Yes, but he’s been in a bad mood lately. We just thought we’d ask you since word’s been going around that you have really good marks.” 

“Also,” sang Miles. “A friend of ours has what we like to call a ‘crush’ on you. The boy with the pepper hair and glasses—the nerdy one.” 

Following the finger Lestrange held out, Saoirse turned around to see the boy in question with his head down, a quill of black tufts wiggling around with each letter and word he wrote. Sensing the pairs of eyes staring in his direction, he looked up, his blue orbs locking with her jade ones before his cheeks turned pink. 

“Why does he want to crush me?” Saoirse asked, concern on her face as the three Slytherins in front of her laughed. 

“No, what Miles meant is that Patrick likes you,” explained Abraxas. “He wants to get to know you, with the intention of starting a romantic relationship rather than a platonic friendship.” 

Scratching her head, Saoirse cursed mentally at how confusing English euphemisms and idioms were. “I could talk to him,” she said boldly. “A boy’s never been interested in me; I want to know what that’s like.” 

As the girl stood up to pack up her belongings, the boys stood with open mouths. They didn’t expect her to go along with it. Miles was only joking, after all. “You, you want to talk to him, right now?” Miles asked, leaning against the backs of the two boys in front of him. “That’s nice of you and all, but I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“No, I want to,” she said, putting on her crossover satchel. “You can lead the way up the stairs.” 

The boys led in silence, throwing each other glances as the girl followed them from behind. 

As they made their way to the top, the others in the group did a double take, with Eloise yelling out in surprise for a moment. “What is this,” he cried. “How did you get the pretty girl here? Did she finally realize how amazing I am—wait where is she going?” He frowned, gasping when he watched the girl tap Patrick on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me,” she said quietly. “Your friends told me that—I apologize if I say this incorrectly—you have a crush on me. I would like to entertain your feelings.” 

Patrick, his scribbles coming to a halt as he looked up to see sparkling jade in his vision. Her looks were a fresh breeze among the muddle beauties in west Europe. Like the moon, only a lucky few truly understood the beauty she held. However, unlike the moon, her beauty was her own, not something that is borrowed from another source. Patrick would spend all his time staring at the moon if he could. Seeing Saoirse made him appreciate Astronomy class a bit more. 

“Who told you I fancied you?” He mumbled, his fast heart stopping the moment he heard the laughter of Miles, Abraxas, and Eloise, with Louis and Orion smiling as well. 

“That Lestrange boy told me,” Saoirse said, her lip wavering in a smile. “But I came here on my own accord; I don’t usually see eyes like yours. They’re pretty—like the ocean.” 

Meanwhile, Eloise was punching Miles on the arm as Patrick moved his belongings to the floor to make room for the girl to sit next to him. “How could you do this to me?” He cried. “I can’t be losing her to that nerd—all he ever talks about are those books he has, he’s going to bore her to death!” 

“I don’t think so,” Louis laughed. “Look; they’re both smiling at his book. It sucks to be you, Avery.” 

“You can’t be saying anything,” huffed Eloise. “Especially since you don’t get any girls. At this rate, I’m starting to think you’re one of those homosexuals or something.” 

Before Louis could get a word out, Eloise left the group to join his other Slytherin friends on the other side of the room. “I’m sure he’s just joking, man,” Orion said. “You know how he is; don’t let it get to you. His pride is a wee, fragile thing.” 

Nodding, Rosier smiled at his friends tight-lipped, silently appreciating the way Miles patted his back. 

“They wouldn’t get it at all,” muttered the curly haired boy. “You’re a good guy; Cassius is just too dumb to realize it. It’ll get through his thick, empty head eventually.” 

Louis sighed, tugging at the elastic in his hair. “Yeah, sure.” He ran a hand through his yellow strands. “Cassius doesn’t even like guys, anyways, Miles, who are we joking?”

“Come on, man, don’t say that,” stressed his friend. “That’s some weird brain you have, Louis. My gut tells me that Cassius feels some type of way for you—something definitely not friendly in any way; he calls you Rose for Merlin’s sake, that means something, yeah?” 

At the mention of the nickname, Louis’ cheeks turned pink. “I guess so, but he only says that because we’re best friends. We knew each other before we could walk.” 

Miles scoffed. “No one else gets to call him Cass’, and he gets mad whenever we try to call you Rose. Don’t be dumb, Louis.”

Orion leaned back, throwing himself into the conversation again. “Hey, did we ever figure out what her blood status is? I would hate Patrick to fancy her if she weren’t a Pureblood.” 

The other two looked at each other, the previous conversation vanishing the moment someone else joined their exchange. “Does that really matter,” Miles asked. “I thought we were going to—you know—after we got what we needed from her.” 

“I thought that was a last resort type of thing, was it not?” Louis said, his confusion synonymous with his friends’. 

Plans never went well with the Knights of Walpurgis. Even before Tom joined their group—when they were younger and much more naïve. Whenever they would hang out, they could never consolidate their plans for the day, and it eventually left them stuck in a garden or in a forest behind the manor they were at for the time being. 

Orion sighed, looking back to Patrick and Saoirse, who were happily chatting away about whatever the boy had in his book. “Merlin’s balls, we’re fucked.”

 ┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

23:47 - Astronomy

The night was sparkling as usual, the wind chipping away at Patrick’s lungs every time his chest would take in a breath. Somehow, for whatever reason, Professor Jensen paired him up with Saoirse. He had to stand next to the girl for three hours until class ended at 1:00. Patrick was sure he was going to die by the end of it.

“I’ve never seen these constellations before,” Saoirse muttered, her eye pressed against the telescope. “This star is usually connected to this star—the Rigel. We call it Heike-boshi; it represents the war between two clashing families.” 

Patrick could only nod, his mind too drunk on the scent of jasmine and sandalwood drowning his nose. “Well, we call that star Betelguese,” he cleared his throat, his stomach flipping as he moved closer to write down on the chart they were given. “The red one; it connects to Alnilam and Bellatrix. We call that constellation Orion’s Belt.” 

Saoirse made a sound of wonder, removing her face from the telescope to rub the red circle around her eye. “When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories about the stars.”

Patrick smiled, taking the telescope from her to look at the stars on his own. “What’s your family like? I’m sure they’re wonderful, considering how great you turned out.” 

“That’s an overstatement,” blushed Saoirse. “I don’t really talk to my parents all that much anymore. I haven’t gotten a letter from them since I started school; Mahoutokoro usually takes children in at the age of eleven, but some join as early as seven. The only letter I’ve gotten from them was when I got expelled, and that was only a couple of days ago.” 

The boy frowned, setting the telescope to the side as he looked over to the girl. “That’s really brutal,” he adjusted his glasses, “Why don’t they talk to you? Is it a magic thing? I know that some Muggleborns and Half-bloods don’t talk to their parents for religious reasons.” 

“No, that’s not it; I’m a Pureblood. I never knew why they stopped talking to me. It never crossed my mind to ask, actually.” 

“Well, whatever the reason, I think it’s good you don’t have them in your life; it wouldn’t be fun having people who don’t like you micromanaging your every move and whatnot.” 

Saoirse laughed, “Are you speaking from experience?” 

Her laugh made Patrick’s stomach explode. “A little bit,” He shrugged. “Being a Pureblood in Europe is kind of brutal, especially since my family is part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; it’s some elitist group and it’s not worth knowing in my opinion. You have to present yourself in a certain fashion; know this, be discouraged from that. It’s all a bunch of rubbish, really…” 

Saoirse nodded. She opened her mouth to respond, but the professor announced that class was about to end. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve been here for three hours.” She muttered. 

“Time goes by faster when you’re enjoying yourself.” Patrick said, his frames covering the dust of pink and red on his skin. 

As they packed up, picking up pens and other instruments, their hands brushed against each other every now and then, almost purposefully. For once Patrick didn’t mind that his friends dragged him into their shenanigans. 

“Hey, Quidditch season started not too long ago,” he started, adjusting his satchel on his shoulder. “I was wondering if you wanted to watch the first match with me? It’s on the first Saturday of November; it’s Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, and even though I’m not on the team, I know enough to teach you the rules.” 

Saoirse smiled, nodding at the boy. “Sure, I’d like that.” 

As the two departed, Patrick left the girl with weak legs, his heart beating out of his chest. Fumbling to clean his fogged up glasses, a pair of Oxford shoes filled his blurry vision. Looking up, he recognized the fuzzy figure as Tom. 

“Nott,” he said, a frown apparent on his face the moment Patirck put his glasses back on. “Walk with me.” 

The commute back to the Slytherin common room was quiet, Patrick’s heart still beating out of his chest out of fear rather than anxiety. 

“What did the girl say to you?” Tom asked. 

A breath fell from his nose as he replied, “She’s a Pureblood, and she doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents; that’s all she told me. I was going to ask about spells, but class ended not long before.” 

Tom nodded. “Despite that information being useless, you obtained more than the other three, and Avery who is supposedly infatuated with her; good job.” 

Patrick fumbled a ‘thank you’ from his thin lips, unfamiliar with the boy’s praise. Tom left him by the Slytherin entrance in the dungeons, turning the corner to begin his Prefect rounds for the night. 

Heaving out a large sigh, the Austrian entered the common room, his feet dragging him up the left staircase that wrapped around the humongous statue of Salazar Slytherin in the middle of the room. Opening the door to his shared dorm, he rubbed his tired eyes and kicked his shoes off, his satchel falling to the floor before he fell to his duvet. He groaned, gaining the attention of the three boys he’s shared a dorm with for the last four years: Orion, Miles, and Eloise. 

“You okay, mate?” Miles asked, his body lounged on the carpet near his bed. 

“I think I asked Saoirse on a date,” he mumbled, his neck and ears steaming and his cheeks burning red. “And she said yes…” 

Eloise, who was playing Wizards Chess with Orion, gripped the board before slamming his castle into the offensive position. “You’re joking,” he yelled. “You have to be bloody joking, Patrick—how?”

“I don’t know, it just slipped out of my mouth; I asked her to watch the opening Quidditch game with me that’s in two weeks—I’m fucking screwed!” 

Orion laughed, unable to focus on the chess game in front of him. “And what did Tom think about that? Is he mad that you’re having fun with her?” 

Patrick sat up, his peppered hair a mess and his glasses toppled on his nose. “I forgot to mention that part to him; I only told him that she said she was Pureblood and that she doesn’t like her mum and dad.” 

“She’s a Pureblood?” Miles gasped, his chin propped in his palm and his feet swaying in the air behind him. “Oh, you got lucky, Patrick; I’m so proud of you!” 

“I’m not,” scowled Eloise. “This bastard doesn’t even know how to dress for a date—a date that’s a school Quidditch match, mind you!” 

His face was as red as his hair, his hand haphazardly throwing his pawn away. Orion shrugged, using this to take the game and gain an easy check. “I don’t know why you’re so offended, El’,” he said. “You don’t actually like Saoirse, do you?” 

“Well—no,” he scoffed. “But I haven’t had a girl in a while and Patrick single handedly gained the prettiest one I’ve seen since Gemma Nettles from Gryffindor.” 

“Gemma Nettles graduated two years ago.” Miles commented, to which Eloise cried out dramatically in response. 

“Exactly!”

 ┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────���

The following two weeks passed by, each day causing more and more butterflies to develop in Patrick’s stomach. He lost sleep, tossing and turning at the endless possibilities for disasters to take place at the game. His glasses could be crooked, the Quaffle could fly and hit his face, hit her face; Hell, a bloody Bludger could come and hit both of them!

Every time he saw her during class, he hated it. He never met a girl as academic as she was, not in the way others were at Hogwarts; she was different. He was lucky he only saw her a few times throughout the week. Astronomy class had to be his favorite, though. Professor Jensen, bless that man, decided to keep the pairs permanent for the rest of the school year, meaning he had three hours of Saoirse to himself, for four days out of the entire week. 

Of course, Tom would ruin it the moment class was over, demanding for a ‘status report’ as he always called it. Truth be told, Patrick had been avoiding the questions he needed to ask her; he lied to Tom, saying that Saoirse was very tight-lipped and would always change the subject. She always had something interesting to say, whether it be something Patrick already knew or something new entirely; he just loved hearing her talk. 

Her voice; it was probably Patrick’s favorite thing about her. Whenever she would speak in her mother tongue, trying to teach Patrick some things in their spare time, she was like a siren. She would lure him in with her voice, her melodic tones as she kept her voice down to a mere whisper, tingles teasing his back and his ears. 

Her lips were pretty too, in his mind. They were very plush and pink; it always reminded him of a bunny’s nose. For once, he wondered what it would feel like to have them pressed against his. 

He found himself thinking about her almost obsessively with how he started to pick up romance books for the sake of imagining her in those scenarios. He had to hide those books under his pillow, of course, as he wouldn’t see the light of day if his friends ever found him reading about a domestic life and two cats. 

When Sunday finally came, the first of November, he balanced on the balls of his feet as he waited near the Ravenclaw Tower, the bronze eagle head keeping him company on the door. Even with all the winter clothing he had on, he felt a cold sweat coming. He was a nervous wreck, to say the very least. 

‘What if she sees stains on my clothes?’ He whined, a frown on his face as he watched people in blue leave the tower one by one. 

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Saoirse’s voice hit his ears, like a feather bouncing on a fluffed up pillow. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be this cold; I had to change into something warmer.”

Looking down at the shorter girl, he was glad the cold had something to do with his flushed cheeks. Her face was covered up with her blue and bronze scarf, a puffball situated on the top of her head from her winter beret. Her hair, brighter than any blue she was wearing, was in disarray underneath all the yarn. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re suffocating under all that clothing, Schatzi.” He smiled, his fingers finding their way to her beret to readjust it on her head. 

His mother always told him that women liked having special names specifically for them; he recalled how often her face got red whenever his father called her sein hase. He always liked how German terms sounded over English ones. 

“Schatzi,” Saoirse echoed, her accent jumbling her voice as she tilted her head to the side. “What does that mean?” 

Patrick shook his head, too embarrassed to explain now that he had the confidence to say it to her face. “It’s nothing, Saoirse; don’t worry about it.” 

Being the courteous boy he was raised to be, he offered an arm, his smile growing when Saoirse took it. “In Quidditch, there are two teams with seven players each.” He explained, leading Saoirse out the castle and down to the Quidditch pitch in the grass. “There are three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and one Seeker. Chasers focus on a ball that’s called a Quaffle, and the Keeper has to make sure it doesn’t go into their team’s goals. The Beaters focus on the Bludger; it’s a mean ball that attacks the Chasers. And finally, the Seeker has to look for the Snitch. If the Seeker catches the Snitch, the game ends and their team gets one-hundred-and-fifty points.” 

Saoirse nodded, her eyes squinting as the heavy winds chilled her skin. “I think I know that game, Japan has a National Quidditch team, I believe.” 

“Really? That’d be good to mention to my friends—most of them are on Slytherin’s team. Orion is the captain and Keeper, Cassius and Louis are the Beaters, Abraxas and Miles are Chasers, and Eloise is the Seeker.”

“Who’s the other Chaser?” Saoirse asked.

“Some seventh year. Orion will have to hold tryouts for that position next time—that is, if the guys keep their positions into our sixth year.” 

When the pair made it to the stands, Patrick made it his mission to have an iron grip on the girl’s hand, afraid of losing her in the tough crowds of Slytherin as they yelled across to the students in yellow who were equally as passionate and loyal to their respective team. Patrick led Saoirse through the green, eventually moving to wrap his arm around her as they navigated towards a certain spot the boy was trying to find. 

“There you are,” Patrick said, sighing as he sat down next to his fellow bookworm. “I was worried you got so bored of the game that you decided to sit this one out, Riddle.” 

Saoirse looked on with surprised eyes to see Tom sitting in the stands, his usual pout evident amongst the loud cheers and swears of his peers. When he looked up from his book, he looked equally surprised to see her holding Patrick’s hand. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. 

“Patrick asked me to join him for the evening. What are you doing here?” She asked, returning his question as she sat close to the Austrian boy. 

“Riddle has to be at every game, to make sure people don’t go crazy in the stands.” Patrick explained. 

“Good evening, ladies and gents’,” yelled a voice, the crowds screaming at the top of their lungs. “Welcome to the first Quiddtich match of 1942! My name is Tracy Mayfield—fifth year Ravenclaw—and today I am accompanied by my good buddy, a seventh year Hufflepuff—one of the very few Americans on campus—give it up for: Eugene Griffin!”

“Good evening, everyone! I hope you’re all doing mighty fine on this very windy day. With us, we of course have mister Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! A long name for an awfully old man—hm? ‘Just get on with the match’? Okay!”

Saoirse, recognizing those names, tugged on Patrick’s sleeve. “I know those two boys; they checked up on me when I was in the Hospital Wing a couple weeks ago.” 

“Really? Even that Eugene guy?” Patrick frowned. “I heard bad things about him—my friend, Eren, said that he’s kind of on ‘active duty’—promiscuous, if you will. He’s not someone you should be around, and that includes whoever he’s friends with.” 

“Tracy was really nice, though, and so was Ava-Lynn from Gryffindor.” Argued Saoirse. 

“People aren’t always what they seem, mein schatzi.” 

The girl pouted, her shoulders sagging as she huffed. Turning back to the field, she held onto her beret as stripes of green and gray filled her vision. 

“There they are folks,” yelled Tracy. “The Slytherin Quidditch team, and their leader Orion Black! Always so poised and quiet, that boy.” 

Eugene screamed, his lanky figure almost halfway off the spectator’s tower. “And there’s my house’s team, led by the absolute beauty of a girl, Annabeth Clearwater! You know folks, Tracy and I made a nasty bet for this match—20 Galleons is a lot for me, guys, please win!” 

In his microphone, Eugene coughed. “Fuck—Professor don’t elbow me like that…yeah, yeah, it’s not gambling, sir, I promise. I don’t even know what gambling is! No, I don’t use it for weed—why, do you have some?” 

The game blitzed past Saoirse, the impact of the teams’ brooms whipping by the stands causing her to hide her face in Patrick’s arm the entire time—not that he minded. Luckily she was able to keep a mental image of the game with Tracy and Eugene’s commentary, along with Patrick’s since the other boys would get off topic, especially Eugene.

Within the next hour, the two teams were neck-and-neck, with Hufflepuff having 20 more points than the snake team, who was at 190 points. With the high energy swirling around the pitch, both Patrick and Saoirse were on their feet, hands clasped against one another as they yelled and complained every time someone on Slytherin’s team gained a foul of some sort. 

Tom, on the other hand, held his book in rigid fingers, his knuckles white with fury every time he was bumped in the back or shoulder. It especially didn’t help since Patrick, someone he knew—or at the very least thought he knew—was quiet, now wasting his voice on a stupid bloody game, with a stupid bloody girl. 

He knew he lied; he knew Patrick wasn’t telling him everything Saoirse told him. The boy wasn’t the best liar in all honesty. Despite the valuable information the girl held, she wasn’t worth losing a follower over. All of this goopy, lovey-dovey feelings his researcher had developed was turning his sharp mind into mush. Tom would be having a conversation with Patrick soon enough. 

“Oh, and there you have it, folks! Slytherin wins with three-hundred-and-thirty points!” Yelled Tracy, his voice wavering as he was shaken by his tall friend beside him. “Suck it, Eugene, I won the bet—no, we don’t get to split, you stupid piece of—”

“We won!” Laughed Saoirse, her glasses lopsided as she jumped to wrap her arms around Patrick’s neck in a fit of emotions. 

His nose was engulfed in her jasmine and sandalwood scent, slowly but surely buried itself in cerulean strands of hair. “Yeah, we won,” he chuckled, his hand going to her upper back. “You have a lot of Slytherin pride to be a Ravenclaw, you know.” 

“I don’t think I would mind being a snake.” Muttered Saoirse, pulling away from their embrace, much to Patrick’s disappointment. 

As the two made their way down the stands, with Tom dragging his feet in tow, they congratulated the Slytherin team on winning the first game, a sign of good luck for the rest of the season. 

For once, Saoirse enjoyed being around loud people, despite how sweaty they were when they pulled her into the group hug they shared. In all of her life, she never laughed this much before; Mahoutokoro was never a place for laughter, after all. 

The group made their way to the locker rooms, with Eloise, Miles, Abraxas—and to Saoirse’s surprise, Orion, all sang boisterously with their arms hooked together as they skipped their way across the field. 

“Saoirse,” a voice said, the figure tapping on the girl’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you for a second.” 

Turning around, Saoirse looked up to see Eugene staring down at her. 

“You can talk to her later, she’s busy.” Said Patrick, his eyebrows set in a scrunch as he pulled Saoirse gently by the wrist. 

“Please, I just need to ask a question—it’s about Ava-Lynn.” 

“Patrick,” Saoirse said softly. “I think I’ll be fine, don’t worry; I’ll find you later, okay?” 

With a smile, the girl slipped out of the boy’s grasp, walking back out into the middle of the field to speak to the Hufflepuff. 

“Have you spoken to Lee lately,” Eugene asked. “I kind of got into an argument with her a week ago, and I haven’t seen her since.” He sighed, his hand disappearing behind his neck. 

The two sat down in the grass, the cold sending chills up Saoirse’s body as the dew drops made contact with her shins. 

“Usually I would talk to Tracy about this, but he talks to her frequently so…but basically she led me on, I have no other ways to describe it other than that. For weeks, I put everything into her—into us, what we could have been; I was just waiting on her, and I’m just starting to unpack it now. It hurts—she hurt me; she put me through so much, just for it to end in a few words. I did everything for her; she said she loved me multiple times, too, but then she had the gall to tell me that she ‘didn’t want this outcome’ like I was the one who said we couldn’t be together.

“And I would sit there, plead with her; tell her everyday why I loved her, why I thought she was so unbelievably amazing in every aspect. I just…I put so much time and energy into her for weeks, for someone who I thought loved me, to someone who actively said they loved me. And I would have been fine if we were still friends, but she had the nerve to make me go through all of that just to tell me, ‘I’m not going to talk to you anymore.’ Like, who the fuck are you? I did nothing but make you comfortable and safe and you want to leave me in the dust? I never want to be spoken like that ever again, just for someone to say ‘I don’t want you in my life anymore.’” 

Saoirse sat stunned in the grass. She was never close to Eugene, she had only known him for about two weeks, after all. He seemed so sad, his lanky body almost collapsing in on itself as he held his head in his hands. She couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was weeping into his palms at the moment. 

She didn’t know how to comfort him, let alone comfort someone in general. After all, Patrick was the only boy who’s shown any genuine interest in her; Saoirse had never experienced heartbreak of any sort before. 

“Well,” she coughed. “It’ll all pass, won’t it? I don’t know you all that well yet, but, maybe it’s for the best. People come and go, and only the people that truly matter in your life will stay. It’ll be a slow process, I’m sure, but eventually you’ll be a brand new person with a brand new perspective. Always focus on yourself, Eugene; never pour your energy into people who don’t want it, especially now that you know she doesn’t want it.” 

The boy, silent, muddled over her words, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I guess so,” he sighed, “and I’m sorry for pouring all of this onto you—you barely know me, like you said.” He laughed, though without any humor left in his tone. 

“That’s okay, stuff happens.” Saoirse shrugged. 

“Why are you so nice? I would be so annoyed if I were in your position.” 

“I guess I’m just nosy, but I’m not annoyed at all. You seem like a good guy to talk to, and I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time right now. It must be difficult to keep to yourself. I’m really flattered that you feel comfortable enough to tell me this.” 

Eugene gave her an upside-down smile, his downturned eyes blinking wet tears away as he sniffled. “Thank you, Saoirse.”

───────────

The boys each plopped onto a nearby cushion in their dorm, bodies complaining as they ached and begged for a soothing touch. 

“I’m so exhausted,” Eloise coughed. “That ice bath didn't do a thing, I could barely walk here.”

A knock was heard from the door, “Hello, room service!”

In the entrance stood Cassius, with Abraxas and Louis all in comfortable clothes, their hair cascading down to their shoulders. Tom, as the others expected, strutted in with his robes rippling behind him, a hardened look on his features as he walked up to Patrick. 

The boy, currently on his back and staring at the ceiling in thought, was thrown into a world of knives and needles as the Slytherin Heir used the Cruciatus curse. 

“You really think you had me fooled,” drawled Tom, the other boys stumbling in a line as they witnessed their friend seizing up in the comfort of his own duvet, sweat dripping down his temple as his glasses fell to the side of his head. “That girl is turning your brain into pulp; you need to focus on your objectives—your loyalty to me and me only.” 

“I am focusing on my tasks,” Yelled Patrick, blue eyes wild with fear and anger. “I’m getting information from her, and I’m keeping her close—which wasn’t something I was supposed to be doing, by the way! Abraxas and Orion were supposed to be doing that, not me!” 

“Don’t talk back to me!” Tom chastised. He jabbed his wand to the boy, the curse stabbing into every inch of his skin and twisting into his guts. 

“My Lord,” Abraxas stuttered, taking a brave step forward. “Patrick is doing all he can—”

Tom craned his head in the blond’s direction, his lips set in a thin line as he flicked his wand. The Knights fell to the ground, their already exhausted bodies pleading for a blissful death as they met the same fate at Patrick.

“I think all of you are forgetting our mission.” He seethed, lifting the curse, but only just. 

The boys were silent, now nothing but limp figures—puppets for Tom to manipulate at his every whim. 

“That girl,” he muttered. “Is a threat to us getting to the Chamber—I cannot have her alive while I do all that I can for us— for our livelihoods!” 

He paced around on the carpet, his heavy step echoing with the pulsating aches of their heads. “I have done so much for you, and this is how you repay me? Running off to snog a girl, wasting time with a pointless and outrageous sport; it’s pathetic…” 

With a quick flip of his pale wrist, Tom had fifteen minutes before Astronomy class. He straightened his robes, a hand running through his sculpted hair before turning his focus back to the shivering young aristocrats on the ground. 

“I do believe I have enough time to stress the importance of my words.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436 - 1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest

[rtc-confessions]

It's strange to me how people fixate so hard on Ocean's ableism when they bash her. Yes ableism is bad but is her fatphobia, racism, slut shaming, xenophobia, dehumanization, and homophobia not also worth mentioning or calling out to you? Because I'm going to keep it 100%, it feels like people are acting as though Ricky is some baby who needs to be protected from ableism. Which he very much is not. I'm convinced some of you didn't watch the same musical.

~~