#cw: homophobia

[ubuntu-official]

Happy pride month to all the lgbt people out there! Consider installing Ubuntu! It can perfectly replicate the sensations of what hell is like just through normal, everyday use. Might as well get used to the sensation, faggot!

[aimfor-theheart]

Why is it that dc such as r@pe, sa, and incest is totally okay to write about and romanticize but y’all draw the line at racism, fat phobia, and homophobia *talking about the writings creators make, not personal beliefs*? Whats the difference between these things? All of them are hurtful and affect people in real life, so why is everybody on here choosing and picking one and not the other? Do writers on here think that they are not comparable or that one is okay to romanticize and the other is going way too far?

Im just genuinely curious as I have seen this topic be brought up again and again, which has made me realize this and Id like to see it from someone else's pov.

hi! there is a lot to answer and unpack here and i have every intention of doing so underneath the cut. forgive me if this gets long, but you’ve asked me 4 very massive questions that i think warrant detail, nuance, and thought. there is a lot i’d like to say here.

that being said, mind the content warnings and protect yourself.

cw: mentions of rape, incest, racism, homophobia, fat phobia, discourse in general

firstly, i am going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt in assuming you are actually curious in hearing another side and you are not simply looking to stir a pot or pick a fight with beliefs you have no intention of changing or having an open discussion on. your accusatory tone in the first half indicates otherwise and kindly, i am not an idiot. but i want to earnestly talk to you about this and again, will think better of you than you perhaps have indicated you think of me.

secondly, you do not have to censor words like rape in my inbox. that sort of censorship has become wildly popular because of tik tok and other money-hungry social media that also desperately want to silence people. do you know why you have to censor words like that on tik tok? or words like genocide? suicide? racism? 1. so that they can make money and market and push their squeaky clean algorithms but 2. and perhaps worse, so they can silence victims. if social media platforms and capitalism and the systems of powers had it their way, you would never utter these words again—whether to call someone out for justice or to have an open discussion like this one. i encourage you greatly to think critically about this and how you choose to use censorship and why.

now, to your questions.

to preface, i am interpreting this ask as being anti-dark content in fiction as you state that ALL these subjects harm people in real life. or at least, you are being critical of all dark content in fiction and the way writers engage with them, effectively ‘picking and choosing’ which are deemed acceptable and which aren’t, when they are all hurtful. i apologize if that wasn’t your intention/what you believe, but regardless, i’ll endeavor to answer you.

i personally have drawn no lines about dark content nor spoken about any of these topics specifically really, which indicates to me you have a different narrative and/or are coming from more inflammatory arguments that are always circling fandom lately. in the post i most recently reblogged, i spoke mostly of violence. which, of course, all of those things can be. but i didn’t name one of those topics in particular.

regardless, i don’t believe in the censorship of any dark content in art, but rather advocate strongly for critical analysis on a case-by-case basis. in general, i encourage thinking critically about every aspect of the world around you.

i do not believe that rape, incest, and sa are okay to write about or create art about but racism, homophobia, and fat phobia are not. i believe all of those topics are ones that can, should, and will be explored in the safety of art. all to varying degrees of success, earnestness, impact, and intent. you’re right that these are real things, that can hurt people, and the fictional work about them can have impact on our society that is tangible but the actual art or fiction created is not real. and again, this is all to varying degrees on a case-by-case basis.

art and fiction also historically and massively do discuss these dark content topics and have actively swayed the public’s opinion on matters, whether for better or for worse. throwing away all dark content in art and fiction because it is ‘harmful’ is deeply, deeply dangerous and reductive. a lot of art that engages with dark content actually makes very succinct points about it—i think of vladimir nabokov’s lolita or octavia butler’s bloodchild or speak by laurie halse anderson.

this is where we must exorcise critical thinking. some pieces of work will handle dark content poorly—white saviors making art on racism. men making art about a woman’s experiences that (as you are so interested in) romanticize her pain. etc. etc. and some art will handle it’s dark content incredibly and be transformative, perhaps even revolutionary in how we talk, perceive, or acknowledge systems of oppression, violence, and dark content in this world. some dark content in fiction will have damaging beliefs and effects on society, some will not—we must also look at scope for this, at the writer perhaps, the historical moment, their audience etc.

(for example, there is a significant difference in a main stream male writer, writing of a woman’s experience with rape in a published book in a way that makes it sound romanticized, sold to thousands and thousands of general public vs. a woman using fanfic to explore rape, take control of it, or whatever in a fanfic for a small online community where there are warnings on it. indicating she is aware of its potential damage in a way her male counterpart is not…)

but i still believe in dark contents’ existence in art. of course there is differences between all of these topics you brought up, but i don’t think their differences matter in this answer. i believe in their right to be explored in art. i am talking broadly of media/art here, which i think is the more relevant conversation, but i think you are actually more interested in a much smaller scale of people. ie. fandom. ie. mostly marginalized people in small communities online writing and creating dark content.

people will choose and pick which ones they’d like to create art over and which ones they don’t, which ones they read and which ones they don’t. there’s no ‘hard line’ drawn anywhere. and i can’t control it and neither can you. perhaps you think violence is okay to be explored in fanfic, but racism isn’t. someone else will have different preferences. i do not believe in its censorship.

now, let’s move onto your interest in romanticization and what i think you are more pointing to, which is fandom. you are specifically referring to people in fandom who write about rape, incest, etc. and ‘romanticize’ it—ie. they write about it in a way that is a fantasy. it is perhaps supposed to be horny or sexy. so let’s talk about it.

i must remind you that these topics you’ve brought up (rape, incest, sa) being written are fiction and it is (most often) done by someone marginalized who has either experienced this or is in threat of experiencing this under a patriarchy. i assure you, they are aware of its harm. hence the copious warnings in fandom spaces.

if i can be candid, sometimes i think that people forget how systems of oppression work when discussing fandom and whether dark content being created should be allowed or not.

for example, i sometimes think people who are anti-dark content in fandom believe that a woman or afab person writing a fictional fanfic about rape or sexual violence then influences people to go out and rape people or that women actually like it. when the reality, in fandom spaces, is that rape and sexual violence happen frequently under the patriarchy and then these women in fandom write fictional fanfic in response to cope, explore, take control of, etc. etc.

to insinuate that women or afab people (which fandom mostly is) exploring dark content safely in fiction then causes their own oppression and harm or trauma is rather victim-blame-y to me. fandom exploring dark content does not cause these things to happen in our society….these actions (rape, incest, sa) happen in our society or systems of power and fandom reacts to them in their art by exploring it in dark content. do you understand what i’m trying to say?

it’s not a matter of what is ‘okay’ to romanticize and what isn’t. i do not think the romanticization that fandom does with dark content (ie. my kidnapper actually loves me! or this sexual act that i did not consent to…maybe feels good) is not actually romanticizing but coping because of the systems of power that i described above. and this can be coping with anything—shame of sexuality, shame of fantasies, trauma, fear, etc. etc.

as i said in my tags in that post i reblogged and as plato said, dark content in art is a safe place to explore what would otherwise be harmful and dangerous in real life. it is cathartic. potentially even, a purging.

and even if it isn’t all that—maybe it just is trashy fantasy. it is still playing pretend. it is still fiction and in fandom spaces, it is still most likely being created by a marginalized person. and again, even if it isn’t, we don’t get to censor it. we can be critical of it or wary or whatever, but to censor it, is a slippery, slippery slope. do deem some topics as “acceptable” and others as “unacceptable” is dangerous.

just like kids play pretend where they ‘fight’ or ‘kill’ or ‘kidnap’ or ‘shoot’ each other in games of cops and robbers or heroes and villains, they are safely exploring adventure, dark content, fantasy, tragedy, and higher emotions. adults can do the same in fiction and with adult topics like sex.

and at the end of the day, we don’t get to demand the credentials to do so either. we don’t get to censor them or control them and nor should we be allowed to. i cannot stress enough that i encourage you to be critical of censorship or the absolute disgust in dark content and at those (again—often marginalized people) who engage with it in fandom. i believe it is deeply puritanical, conservative, and dangerous.

you don’t have to like dark content or consume it at all and fandom makes it easy not to with all the warnings and tags, but you cannot control others or police them. nor should you want to.

and at the end of the day, i have some questions for you. you don’t have to respond to this, perhaps they’re just things to think about. what is the end goal here? what is the point in harassing, shaming, attacking, criticizing, or interrogating people in fandom spaces who create or support dark content? do you believe that if it is purged from fandom, it will be purged from our society? if you want it purged from society—shouldn’t you start there rather than in the inbox of marginalized writers in fandom? people in fandom did not create rape, incest, and sa nor do they in their exploration of fiction…they are merely reacting to a world that did create it.

i hope at no point i came off as rude to you, as was not my intention. i intended to stand up for myself and respectfully state my opinions and thoughts on this matter. i’m sorry it got long, but also i don’t believe in being brief on such complex matters. i am a writer who engages critically with the world around me and sometimes, things cannot be made into short, snappy answers. sometimes, we must unpack.

genuinely wishing you well.

[nqueso-emergency]

Yall.

Report this homophobic piece of shit. Do not engage just report and block. Jfc I am so sick if these people.

[thorne1435]

SOC 101 says um...

uh...

s-soc 101 says...queer people are gross...

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

König with an asexual reader and he just…..does not understand. He just wants the intimacy of being inside of you, filling you with himself. He tries learn by watching all sorts of explanation videos and then, eventually, he stumbles onto asexual TikTok and his confusion and irritation grows when he sees that asexuals on there are having sex. He practically shoves it in your face and you get into an argument about how you’re just not one of those Aces and you both go to bed angry. You wake up at midnight to your arms tied behind your back and your mouth taped shut as König is rubbing his cock against the gusset of your underwear, screaming through your makeshift gag as he kisses your cheek and coos that he tried to take it slow, he’s being so nice by giving you time to adjust and not just shoving it in like he wants. Tomorrow he’ll do the same thing but no panties, and then after that maybe you’ll try sex. Shh Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry, Schatzi. It’ll feel good, you just need to give it a chance 🧡🧡🧡

[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else

Chapter 4: Page 35

Start at the Beginning | About the comic | Tip-jar 

🌘 Support the comic & read the next page now on Patreon! 🌘

[badaziraphaletakes]

It’s not necessarily a fully bad Aziraphale take but I feel like the ‘other who can’t admit their queer’ is pointed at him

Thanks for the submission @gretinternetllama

Well, they ain't talking about Crowley 💀 LMAO

This is the most privileged, out-of-touch Aziracrow take I have ever seen. If you think the most painful queer trope is “one of them’s scared to admit they’re queer”, then fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

The most painful queer “trope”, BY DEFINITION, is “one or both of them will be violently killed if they openly acknowledge their love”. Like Aziracrow. Like Castiel. (The tragedy of that isn’t that Dean didn’t love him that way. It’s that Castiel DIED for saying he loved him, lmao. It is so insulting to Castiel to suggest that the worst thing that happened to him is not having Dean’s love.) Like the overwhelming majority of queer people throughout human history. Because THAT IS THE DEFINITIVE TRAGEDY OF THE ENTIRE QUEER EXPERIENCE.

Fuck anyone who thinks that not being willing to openly acknowledge your love for your partner because you know it can never go anywhere BECAUSE YOU’LL BOTH BE KILLED FOR IT is internalized homophobia. (I can hear the gays in Russia laughing rn.)

Having said that, though, let’s take a look at the way OP analyzes “internalized homophobia”, because there is PLENTY to be concerned about there as well.

The “can’t *even* ‘bring themselves’ to admit they’re queer” is DISGUSTING. Fuck this person’s judgmental tone. God, the more I read this the angrier I get. (If they’d written a post saying “I feel so bad that Aziraphale is losing his chance at a relationship with Crowley because of his internalized homophobia; that must be so hard”, that would be one thing. They’d still be dead wrong, lol, but at least this take wouldn’t be bigoted crap. But that’s not, remotely, what they said. There is no sympathy or understanding on offer for Aziraphale whatsoever.) NO ONE has the right to judge someone for not being ready to accept that they’re queer. It is NEVER their fault. It is ALWAYS the fault of the disgusting homophobia and queer phobia of our society at large.

And also fuck anyone who judges someone for rejecting another person’s romantic advances. It’s literally never any of our business why they do that. (This is giving me flashbacks to the 2010’s Phantom of the Opera fandom. And that is NOT A GOOD THING, lmao.) Romantic rejection, even for a depressing reason like this, is not the tragedy people seem to think. No one needs to be with any one particular person in order to be happy. This whole thing is giving “oh, the poor person whose love interest won’t date them”.

Move on and find someone who will date you. Plenty more fish in the sea.

I'd say it's actually a lot more tragic for the closeted person, who has probably missed out on a lot of other relationships for the same reason and is hurting very deeply. But again, does OP have any compassion to spare for the characters they've labeled as closeted? Nah.

(Side note: If you can’t bear to date someone who’s in the closet, DON’T DATE THEM! It’s that simple. And for the love of GOD don’t pressure them to come out or blame them for not being willing to do so.)

Also. This whole thing is giving faint vibes of the putting-your-hands-over-your-ears, “la-la-la-if-I-ignore-your-problems-they’ll-just-go-away”, “if you come out, everything will be fine and everyone will magically accept you” trope, which is offensive, harmful, privileged, dangerous bullshit. Love does not always conquer all. Love does not always make everything magically okay.

(When it comes to Aziracrow in particular, it is also VERY MUCH reminiscent of the belief that once victims leave their ab*sers, their ab*sers will leave them alone, which is the POLAR OPPOSITE of what actually happens in those situations.)

The most ridiculous part out of all of this, though, has got to be mentioning Johnlock. 🤣🤣🤣 Um, which one of those two is supposed to be flamboyantly queer, exactly? Lol that’s just sad. We have better queer representation now. Come on.

Not to mention, Sherlock and John’s relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever the fuck we were supposed to think that was, was horrendously toxic. Nothing about the way they behave to each other is “loving”. Sherlock is a terrible person (and istg if I hear ONE SINGLE PERSON try to say it’s not his fault because of “mental illness” or some ableist bullshit like that, I will come after you with an axe) and not a suitable partner for anyone unless he does some seeeerious work on himself. Even supposing John is in love with Sherlcok, he has EVERY REASON IN THE WORLD not to want to date him - and it has fuck-all to do with shame (more flashbacks to the 2010’s Phantom of the Opera fandom lol).

Also... I thought we'd all collectively agreed to move on from Sherlock because it's horrendously anti-Autistic and queerbaity and Cummerbund Bumpersnatch is a vile ableist stain upon the face of humanity whose name I will not utter? Did I miss something lol?

To the next person to demean Good Omens and the precious, beautiful relationship between Aziracrow by lumping it in with crap like 'Sherlock' - we meet at the dueling grounds at dawn.

One final thing to add: Crowley doesn’t want to “scream their love from the rooftops”????? Because he also knows they’ll be killed or worse if they do that??? Canon Crowley is a FAR better person and a far more loving partner than willfully oblivious, damn-the-torpedos fanon Crowley. I wouldn't like this show if Crowley "wanted to scream their love from the rooftops".

There’s a LOT more that should probably be said about this, but my thumbs are tired and my heart is tireder still.

[sixhours]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @march-flowerr and @bumblepony! I also got tagged for some last line games by @luxurychristmaspudding and @marceltheshellwithflipflopson so I'm merging them and you get a big 'ol WIP.

Feeling a lil shy about sharing this story because it’s a bit outside my comfort zone, but I like where it’s going so far.

Tagging @frannyzooey @goodwithcheese @marceltheshellwithflipflopson @luxurychristmaspudding @sawymredfox and anyone else who wants to play, as always. <3

——————

When Joel was 17, he kissed a boy for the first time.

His name was Kenny Farmington, and they were both a little drunk on cheap beer and a nice Texas night and the special high that comes from being not quite a man and not quite a boy, stuck in that in-between time when it felt like anything was possible. Joel had a truck and a part-time job at Regis Construction and his whole life spread out before him like an open road.

It was a nice enough kiss. But when Joel opened his eyes after their lips parted and saw fear rather than lust in his friend’s eyes, he knew it ended there. Everyone knew Kenny’s dad was a raging homophobe who would “whoop his ass” if he thought his son might be “one of them dirty fuckin’ faggots”.

Joel wasn’t convinced his own father wouldn’t have had something to say about it had he known.

And, oh well. Joel liked girls, too. He liked them enough to bring Eileen Folsom home and make out with her in the basement rec room at her parents’ house until his cock was weeping and his balls were blue. He liked them well enough to get to third base with Cindy Sherwood in the back of his truck. He liked girls plenty.

It was the eighties, anyway. AIDS was spreading like wildfire, and small-town Texas was hardly the place to go looking for action if you weren’t straight as a goddamn arrow.

Four years later, Joel liked one particular girl enough to knock her up, and then he didn’t have much time to consider whether he’d want to kiss another boy, because he was going to be a father.

And then there was Sarah. And a divorce. And his parents died. And Tommy went off to war and came back, and there was overtime and working doubles to keep the roof over their heads and the payment on the truck up, and who the fuck had time to think about boys or girls or anyone in between.

And then there was cordyceps. And his daughter, his baby girl, bleeding out in his arms.

And then Joel didn’t spend much time thinking about what he liked at all. He kept going for the ones who needed him without a thought spared for himself.

And then came Ellie.

Ellie, who patched up his heart and turned his life upside down and made him care about something other than brute survival again. Tore down his walls and broke him open and somehow left him whole.

Whole, and…wanting.

Which is why, forty years after Kenny Farmington, he doesn’t feel bad about imagining another man’s face, or hands, or lips on his body when he strokes himself in the shower. He doesn’t feel ashamed when he gets off to the thought of another man’s mouth on his cock. It’s not the first time he’s been attracted to a man, and it won’t be the last.

No, he feels bad because that man is his daughter’s fucking therapist. That man is someone she needs to trust, someone she raves about over dinner, someone who is, in her words, “so fucking cool”.

And his duty, first and foremost, is to Ellie.

So he tries not to imagine Ezra when his libido comes roaring back to life after years of dormancy, boiling his blood and making him feel half his age.

And he fails, miserably.

[fuctacles]

Just got called a fucking faggot so i guess that's progress?

[gauntletqueen]

fuck you to hell. Splatoon 1 was perfectly fine the way it was promoting true feminism for real women. Years later I come back into video games & see they made a splatoon 3 & think to myself "the first one was pretty good, I'll see what this ones about" only to find out PEOPLE LIKE YOU HAVE INSERTED YOUR WOKE AGENDA INTO MY GAMES ONCE AGAIN!!! removing male & female from the options because "waaah I'm a sheltered cuck who doesn't know anything about the real world & gender is scaaaaary oooo, it killed my family you know boo hoo" allowing people to post your lgtv propaganda "art" in the overworld & WORST OF ALL MAKING ALL THE CHARACTERS GAY!!! WHY??? WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE POISONING OUR GAMES WITH YOUR GODAMN DEGENERACY!!! ITS FORCED & DOESN'T FUCKING BELONG HERE!!!!!!!!!! VIDEO GAMES ARE AN ESCAPE FROM THE REAL WORLD NOT A POLITICAL PLAYGROUND!!!!!!!!!!! SO LEAVE OUR CHILDREN FAR AWAY FROM YOUR CORRUPTION YOU FUCKING GOT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

heeheehee I love playing my gay women video game :3

[dinosaur-mayonnaise]

diversity in children’s media is so important. when i first watched she-ra my mother joined me - she realised it was a remake of one of her childhood favourites and so she was super excited to watch it. most of it, that is. she absolutely adored it, until it got to the ending. until catradora became official.

of course, the signs had been there all along. it was always obvious where their relationship was heading, but she’d always had that plausible deniability to hide behind, until the end.

if i’d been a bit younger and a bit more malleable, the look of disgust on her face might have ruined the show for me. her look of obvious confusion and distaste and ‘now why would they do that?’ would’ve made me think it was weird and unnecessary that they did that.

thankfully, i wasn’t a bit younger. i was old enough to show that her reactions to two girls being in love was very much a her problem.

but most of the people watching that show are younger, kids watching innocent cartoons, often with their parents in the room, parents who think the same as my mother did.

those are the kids we need more diversity for. those are the kids who need good - or even just neutral and existent - queer representation in their cartoons. with how big media has become, it’s turned into such a significant influence of children’s worldviews.

and maybe a cartoon wouldn’t be enough to stop children adopting their parents’s queer-phobic attitudes. maybe it won’t be enough to make any huge change.

but it would be a start. it would be a step towards making queer people a normal, accepted part of children’s worldviews. and for all the kids surrounded by queer-phobic adults, a start is so important.

[drpoisonoaky]

Sozin’s law

This happened at very early stages of their relationship. This came from Sozin’s law that ban gay relationships.

(I have to be honest I cried writing this so all of the typos not all came only from “English isn't my first language” as usual.)

Katara wasn’t angry, but they needed to talk. So as she intensely stared at Azula she asked her “Are you ashamed of me?”

Azula looked at her as if she was saying the most crazy statement in the world. “What? Of course not. I am crazy but not that crazy.” then with a softer voice asked “Why do you think that?”

For a while Katara thought that she was being paranoid, until last week.

They were walking around the Capital and she wanted to buy some gifts for Gran Gran and her father. She was holding Azula’s hand. Her hand was always warm, it was comforting. 

But as soon as some people came close to them Azula dropped her hand. She looked at the princess and she noticed how tense she was, so she decided to not ask her ‘Why?’ at that moment. But she knows something was wrong. 

Katara softer her gaze “Why did you drop my hand the other day?” 

She was prepared to confront Azula’s ‘I didn’t do that’ or ‘Did you hit your head?’ but instead she heard:

“Because I don’t want anybody to hurt you.” 

Azula was looking at the floor, so Katara dropped the inquisitive tone.

“Is it because I’m from the Water Tribes?”

“That sometimes crosses my mind but no”

 “Then why Azula?” 

Azula looked at her with glassy eyes. “It was forbidden, Katara. I was raised and taught that I was a monster in more than one way.”

That sentence made Katara’s stomach turn. “But Zuko abolished that law in his first year as Fire Lord.”

It was the truth. It was one of his first moves as Fire Lord: ‘The law should prohibit all forms of discrimination and not support them’.

Azula took a breath knowing an old wound is going to be open.

“The law isn’t there anymore, but you can’t change people’s minds that fast, Katara”

“Since when do you give a fuck about anybody else opinion?”

“Since one day I took Ty Lee’s hand in the gardens and father saw it. He forced me to know how that particular law works for people with that inclinations”

Katara’s blood ran cold so she stepped closer to Azula.

“Can you hold me?” asked Azula shyly.

Katara didn’t answer but she stepped even closer and held her girlfriend in her arms. 

Being embraced and feeling more protected she continued. 

“They send them to mental institutions but in that mental institutions they apply some methods to them” 

Katara wasn’t sure if she wanted to know but she had to ask. 

“They did that to you?” 

“I was there because I was having hallucinations, that thought never crossed their minds. Ty Lee and I were careful, before the boiling rock at least.”

“What did they do in that place?”

“I’m not entirely sure. When Ozai took me there I saw how they tortured some women and made her repeat ‘A romantic relationship between two women is a disease’. She was strong, she denied it multiple times until they broke her.”

Azula was crying, Katara didn’t think she even realized that she was crying, maybe because Katara was also crying.

“After seeing how that woman lost the will to live in her eyes, Ozai faced me and said 'We shouldn't see the princess of the Fire Nation in that position, don’t we?’.”

“I face that man and his training methods every day. How he reacted to imperfection, but I never was more afraid of him than at that moment.”

Katara had her throat all in knots. She held Azula as if her life depended on her.

“How old were you?”

“Not sure. Maybe eleven or twelve. I don’t even know the meaning of my feelings for Ty Lee and he already knew it.”

Katara was speechless. 

“I tried to be how I was supposed to be. I even kissed a boy. But after I did that I know for sure I can’t live like that.”

“But it was forbidden…”

As if she read her mind, Azula said “I meant to be the Fire Lord. I could change that, I wouldn’t have to pretend.”

And with a weak voice murmured “I don’t know how Zuko knew, we never talk about it. Maybe he saw something or talked with Mai or Ty Lee. But when she banished the law, she came to visit me and said ‘You have done awful things in your life but one of those never was loving someone’”.

Katara has her eyes full of tears. Her held in Azula I wasn’t just to help the princess. Azula faced her and hugged her just as hard. And in the crook of the neck mutter. “I’m not ashamed of you. If I was proud of something it is to be able to be yours. I am afraid of something happening to you and I. I’m working on it, please give me time.”

They spend the rest of the day holding and supporting each other. And Katara promised herself she would do everything she could to let the woman in her arms to feel safe around her no matter what.

[cacodaemonia]

For folks not intimately familiar with shitty US restaurants, Cracker Barrel is Very White, and they were sued in 2001—settling out of court—for discrimination against black customers.

Anyway, my partner just informed me that, after the restaurant chain tweeted something for Pride, some conservative org in Texas tweeted this:

Let's just say the internet is having some fun with how wildly dramatic that tweet was 😂

And this is one is a very US-specific meme:

[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

[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else

Chapter 4: Page 24

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[badaziraphaletakes]

This is as exquisite as a fine wine

"7 people found this helpful"... well, I guess I'm an 8th, because this review was very helpful in supplying top-quality bad-take content for today's post. 😁

If there's a #BadGoodOmens take the entire fandom can agree is foul, this has gotta be it. 10/10, I have no notes. This is the perfect bad take, the bad take supreme. It surpasses the powers of a poor mortal like me to attempt to engage with it. Trying to actually explain why it's problematic would be like trying to scale a glass wall.

Instead, I propose we take a moment to savor the irony of the fact that that they misspelled "earnest" as "Ernest" when that happens to be the central pun in "The Importance of Being Earnest" - a pillar of queer literature.

I detest the stereotype that every homophobe is a queer person in the closet with every fiber of my being, but I am only human, and I confess that I am struggling mightily against the temptation to make a Freudian slip joke. Or at least, I would be if I thought this person had a sufficient level of intellectual sophistication to have even heard of Oscar Wilde or ''The Importance of Being Earnest", let alone read it.