#for the record i think evan conceals his crush better but he is just as obsessed ok.

[foursaints]

barty's inscrutability is so funny just because its like. he's winning the repression olympics without even realizing by wrapping his true self away in endless untraversable turns like a conch shell. having a situationship with him is like volunteering to lock yourself in the torture labyrinth bro you are never making it out of there!! you will spend years trying to unravel his feelings and get absolutely nowhere but still constantly feel like you’re on the verge of getting there!!! (reg lived this #survivor)

but just imagine finally meeting the ONE (1) person who has ever managed to lock barty down. and it’s this tiny utterly demented blonde who dresses in lumpy estate sale cardigans and always smells a little bit like formaldehyde and mothballs and the inside of a hearse. he has the thousand-yard-stare and pop culture references of a feral child raised by coyotes because he didn’t have a single interaction with someone his own age (besides his equally strange sister) until he was like 17. he’ll cut you with zero hesitation 🔪. he's the most autistic person youve ever met in your entire life and whenever Notoriously Unattainable™️ Barty Crouch looks at him he’s like please evan let me lay down to be the ground under your feet so you never have to touch the earth again only me forever PLEASE

[brightestwitch333]

you are a black

he heard it all the time, it was drilled into his head since birth, along with the rest of his parent’s venom. it meant so many things, it was used as a reminder, a threat, a guideline. they used it to justify and condemn, to build and to break. they fed him poison and it expected him to gargle it back up on demand. but he could not and would not. those simple four words defined, trapped, hurt, imprisoned, and finally broke sirius orion black. because in the end of it all they were true - he was a black.

you are a black his parents preached to him for as long as he could remember. they told him it meant that he was more important, better, above everyone else. he was worthy. blacks are superior to lesser beings.

you are a black his mother scolded, when he was four and tried to befriend a muggle he met on the street. blacks do not associate with such filth.

you are a black the old family house elf responded simply when sirius asked why he was so eager to serve him, why the house elf was forced to clean up sirius’ messes, it just didn’t seem fair. blacks deserve the very best from inferiors.

you are a black his father growled at him, when he was ten, after he’d expressed his doubts about slytherin. blacks are always sorted into slytherin.

you are a black his cousin bellatrix taunted him after his sorting. she knew exactly what that meant for him and she relished in his fearful anticipation. he’d simply glared daggers at her, unwilling to concede. blacks accept the consequences of their actions

you are a black his mother roared, her howler shaking the great hall in its unchecked fury, her rage apparent for all to hear. sirius, his face a white mask, refused to let his terror show. blacks do not diverge from where they belong, especially not black heirs, and they certainly do not get sorted into gryffindor.

you are a black? his new friend, james, questioned confusedly. his parents had warned him about that family but sirius didn’t fit their descriptions. blacks were not so good and kind

you are a black his brother reminded him quietly and fearfully, worried their parents would overhear, after sirius had suggested that, perhaps, some of their parents’ beliefs were wrong. blacks don’t question the set order of things.

you are a black his mother reprimanded him with a slap to the face after he’d misbehaved at an important dinner party. blacks do not conduct themselves inappropriately in public

you are a black his father told him sternly, his fingers digging into sirius’ shoulders and elbow in his throat, seemingly unconcerned by the shop keeper’s flabbergasted and horrified face. blacks don’t make mistakes, even ones as simple as forgetting their booklist at home.

you are a black his mother corrected him maliciously when he called himself a gryffindor. blood triumphs house. it was his birthright not his choices that defined him. blacks know where their loyalties lie

you are a black his mother shrieked in anger, her voice magnified tenfold by the howler, heard all throughout the great hall, intending to humiliate him as he did her. blacks do not risk shaming their noble name by engaging in petty misdemeanors and nonsense such as pranks and mischief

you are a black his father insisted softly, when sirius talked back. his low, calm voice a hundred times more terrifying than any wrathful scream could be, and his controlled anger indicative of the chaos and pain that was to come. blacks raise their children to handle pain.

you are a black his mother snarled at him as he lay on the floor cradling his broken arm and still shaking from the crucius curse she’d inflicted moments before. blacks think before they speak.

you are a black his mother threatened him as he stood at the fireplace, wand in hand and blood streaking his face. unsure of whether he should stay or go. he opted to stay for the moment, for his brother. that was a mistake. blacks do not doubt themselves.

you are a black his brother recited back dutifully, spewing the lessons of their parents to sirius with perfect obedience after sirius had remarked that blood status didn’t much matter, only the briefest flicker of fear in regulus’ eyes betrayed his doubts about his words. blacks always say what they are supposed to, regardless of what is true

you are a black his mother warned softly, curses ready upon her lips, hexes heavy on her tongue. she was watching for any misstep or mistake. no error was too small to avoid punishment. blacks always receive what they deserve.

you are a black his mother hissed to him in french after he ran away the first time, so the potters couldn’t understand. veiling her hints and threats across the language barrier, reminding him that he could not escape his heritage, forcing him to return. blacks must always return to their roots.

you are a black his father disciplined him in the middle of diagon alley, punching him to the ground quick and hard, after sirius corrected him for calling lily evans, his fellow gryffindor and classmate, a foul name. nobody batted an eye. blacks do what they want.

you are a black his brother whispered to him wide-eyed and warningly, pulling him aside in the corridor before class. silently begging him not to do something he’d regret lest they both pay the price. but sirius had no intention of hiding his love for his best friend, for a half blood, for a boy. blacks fight for what they want.

you are a black! his mother screeched at him angrily, during a heated argument, brandishing her wand like a sword and firing furious hexes at him like she was sole prosecutor of justice. blacks do not argue with authority. blacks do not hesitate to seek justice

you are a black! he choked out in response to his father’s promptings, struggling against the arm crushing his windpipe, desperately trying to breathe. his father had told him to recite the lesson he’d been given since birth and he just needed to breathe. blacks always give the expected answer.

you are a black! his parents repeated again and again as they struck him, each blow hard and precise, each curse decisive and powerful. blood, bruises and broken bones were his payment for loving an unworthy boy, for loving remus. blacks should never lower themselves to such standards.

you are a black his mother spat at him one last time, her gaze hard and unforgiving as she glared down at her former son. she knew that no matter how undeserving he was, no matter what anyone else said or did, he would never truly shed that title, not really. but she would impress upon him what it actually meant to be a black, one last time. crucius. blacks like to accentuate their point.

you are a black his father rumbled into his ear as sirius laid on the ground, panting and groaning, unable to conceal his pain any longer. but not for long. & with that he carved blood traitor into sirius’ arm, his new label. blacks must prune their family tree, weeding out the weak and unworthy.

you are a black his brother pleaded, when sirius cornered him in the hallway after spotting the mark on his arm. you understand why I had to. you left. sirius wordlessly let him go, guilt and regret burning through him. blacks do what needs to be done.

you are a black the second-year girl trembled fearfully, terror on her face when he stopped her in the hallway to ask if she knew the date. the blanant suspicion in her eyes felt like a slap in the face, two years after he’d been disowned the title still followed him. he wanted to correct her, to prove to her that he wasn’t like them but instead he walked away without even asking. blacks are always respected and feared.

you are a black his brother insisted on the train home, after sirius’ last year at hogwarts. they both knew that once they reached the platform their paths would diverge and they might never see each other again. they might’ve disowned you but I didn’t. you’re still my brother. sirius ached for those words to be true, but that was the last time he and regulus ever spoke. blacks can’t always keep their promises.

you are a black mad eye stated definitively, disgust and hate evident in his tone, as if that statement alone was enough for him to know him. he eyed him distrustfully, perhaps searching for some sign of evil in his youthful haughty face. he didn’t want him to join and it was easy to see why. blacks know only darkness, they are not to be trusted

you are a black! his boyfriend shouted, the implication clear in his tone. he was upset and angry that sirius would dare accuse him of being the spy after everything they’d been through together, and sirius couldn’t quite believe that he had either. but remus’ statement hurt sirius like nothing else, although he clearly didn’t mean it. anyone that knew sirius knew how deeply he despised the dark side. blacks are many things but disloyal is not one of them.

you are a black peter whispered, after sirius confronted him on the street, shaking and sobbing, white with horror and needing to understand. laughing madly with hysteria, and insensible with grief. nobody will believe you over me. he was right. blacks do not have a good reputation

you are a black the judge explained, hatred burning in his eyes, as sirius was carted off to azkaban, sentenced to life imprisonment and pyschological torture without a trial, and that simple statement was enough to justify it all. no other explanation needed. the black reputation preceded all else. blacks are known for their affiliation with the dark arts and they deserve what they get

nobody bothered to set the record straight, nobody tried to investigate further. they didn’t need to. nobody thought about how sirius was disowned by his family for his passionate hatred and opposition to the dark arts. nobody considered the fact that sirius was the very last person anyone would expect of going to the dark side. nobody remembered his vement opposition to all it stood for, his history of standing up for what he believed in. they didn’t take into account everything he had suffered fighting against the very thing he was jailed for. how he announced his opposition every chance he got. how he stood against his own family from the age of eleven and made no secret of his views. how he joined an organization straight out of school that was dedicated to destroying the dark lord. no one thought about how james potter was sirius’ best friend and brother. how they were inseparable, and how sirius would fight to his dying breath to protect that man. nobody looked into how things weren’t adding up, how something was off. they just let it happen, no one cared. well almost no one.

& sirus, the only one that knew the truth, the only one who was absolutely sure of his own innocence, didn’t even try to defend himself. he wasn’t given a chance to a trial, a chance to let the truth come out. & even if he was given a chance to defend himself, he wouldn’t, because in his mind this atrocitious miscarriage of justice was well deserved. in his mind he deserved this punishment, he deserved to suffer, to live in pain, to wallow in misery. in his mind this was justice, for this was the only type of justice he’d ever known. his whole life he had been been punished and battered for every mistake and this was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. although it wasn’t his fault, although there was nothing he could’ve done, he blamed himself. & so he punished himself because he thought he deserved it. he didn’t say a word to defend himself and so nobody else did either.

you are a black. you cannot escape the truth. his parents used to tell him that when he defied them, to remind him that he would always be one of them. & in the end it was true, he was a black and that made society turn against him. blacks know of nothing but darkness. they don’t deserve trials or fairness. they have no right to judgement. they get what they deserve, sirius was no exception to that.

you are a black. & he was, sirius was a black. try as he might, he never quite managed to shake that title, he carried it to his dying breath. he died a black, accused of and imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. not until after his death was his name cleared. all he wanted in his life was to prove himself different than his family, to prove he wasn’t one of them. but in the end he was. he may have been better, more honorable, more moral, more good. but his name imprisoned and trapped him, in more ways than one. & he was a black.