#i am not listening to those men speak unless there's a cash prize at the end❤

[hopetorun]

matthew asking keith not to talk to the media about him isn't new information (the athletic, 5/10/2023), and as the lede of that story makes clear, keith honored that request:

Matthew Tkachuk put his father in “timeout.” That’s why Keith Tkachuk, an 18-year veteran of the NHL and one of the league’s best American-born players, wasn’t available to talk about his son’s remarkable run that has taken the Panthers from “biggest disappointment” to one win from the Eastern Conference finals. [...] Now, there’s no time for distractions, and Matthew wants to keep a lid on his pops, who informed The Athletic of his “timeout” via text.

that article goes on to quote matthew's mother, sister, family friends, teammates, and coaches and mentors at various levels, so it's safe to say that keith's exclusion is a notable one.

as far as i can recall, the interview last night is the first keith has talked about matthew publicly since, and it wasn't a comment on matthew's performance or his team's play. should keith have said on the broadcast that matthew gave him the silent treatment? hard to say from the outside! i don't think "he didn't talk to me for a bit" gives us any meaningful new information* since we could already infer that he was mad, but i can understand why someone else might want to keep that particular detail private.

i don't bring this up a lot in my fannish posts and comments on tumblr because it's a little bit peeking behind the veil, but the tkachuks have very clearly made being a family the brand. now, that was a low hanging fruit for sure, because the nhl loves father-son narratives and fraternal narratives, but they absolutely lean into it. as a consequence, we know a lot about the family, and can often infer even more. (think brady not quite saying it but boy was it clear that he didn't appreciate matthew interfering with his contract stuff.) they can't just not talk about each other at all, because the story they've woven about themselves requires it. there's no version of this where keith never gets asked about matthew again. i think it's quite impressive how long he's managed to go without commenting on matthew's play. did he even say anything during the conference final?

look, i think there's plenty of things to point to if you want to construct a narrative about matthew and keith not always getting along (especially since no one gets along with each other all the time, perhaps especially not their parents). and there's plenty to dislike or find grating about keith! i also have my own beliefs about where in their relationship there's most likely to be tension, which i'm happy to get into on request but aren't the point of what i'm saying here. and if you're just here to play around with the idea of really contentious father-son relationship and have picked matthew and keith as your paper dolls for this purpose, then who am i to stop you? as one of my dear friends always says, all rpf characterization is fake.

but for me at least, the leap from the information we have to "keith hates and/or disrespects matthew" is a big one.

#*except for the use case of writing rpf where 'matthew gives people the silent treatment when he's mad' is in fact a useful detail #also i wish the athletic let you do gift links like the nytimes; it's such a useful feature #i'll come back and tag this later when it hopefully won't shoot to the top of the tags #sorry 2 any friends whose filters won't catch this #also i am going purely on what other people have said about the conversation #i am not listening to those men speak unless there's a cash prize at the end❤ #hockey #matthew tkachuk

[babybottlepop96]

Home Again Chapter 2

warnings: Same as the first chapter (reccommend reading chapter one first)

~10 Years Ago~

When Jean awoke, it was dark, wet, cold. The smell reminded him of that time he left a cheesesteak sub in his mother's fridge, stuffed all the way in the back and forgot about it, it smelled of rot, decay and death. The air was thick and he choked on it. When he tried to move, he couldn't, his hands behind his back and stuck to whatever wall was in the room, the feeling of mold and miss sticking to his hands had his stomach churning with disgust.

"Ah, looks like the runt is awake." A deep, raspy voice sounded, echoing off the walls and sounding much louder than what it probably was. Jean turned to the sound to see a doorway lit by a candle. Above the flame was a long, thin, stubble coated chin, a mouth of thin lips curled into a wicked smile showing off dark yellow and brown stained, crooked teeth, a short pug like nose and then eyes that seemed to burn a bright blue in the low light. The man was tall, lanky, but underneath the tight green shirt showed off toned muscle. "How you feeling princess?" 

Jean just looked at the man, "What's going on? Where am I?" He asked just above a whisper.

"Ah, straight to the point I see, well, ya see princess-" 

"Don't call me that." Jean hissed as a boney, calloused hand smacked him across the face.

"Don't back sass me boy!" The man's deep voice bellowed, causing the volume in the small space to vibrate the moist walls. "I will call you whatever the fuck I feel like!" The man pulled Jean up and pushed him against the wall, bending down a significant amount to get right into his face. Jean's nose scrunched as the smell of tobacco and whiskey invaded his nostrils. "You belong to the Nevidljiv now, you have no right to speak to anyone without permission. You will learn place, princess, and I will making fucking sure of it." The man sneered in his face. Jean's eyes widened and his body started to shake. What the fuck was happening? What is the Nevidlijiv? What's going to happen to me? All these questions ripped through Jean's mind as he was dropped to the floor, landing with a painful thud against the hard floor beneath him. "The quicker you learn, the less painful it'll be for you. So I suggest you do what your told the first time." The man looked at the young teen on the floor and smiled wickedly, "We start lessons in an hour." With that, the man and the source of light was gone. Jean was left alone in the cold, damp, dark space with just his thoughts.

~1 Hour Later~

Jean was suddenly dragged out from wherever he was, the sloshing of something thick and liquidy seeping into his work out sketchers. Jean let himself be taken, the words of the disgusting man from earlier still ringing in his ears, 'The quicker you learn, the less painful it'll be for you.' Jean was then led up a set of stairs, the air becoming less thick smelled more like tobacco and cinnamon scented candles. A door was swing open and Jean had to close his eyes before the blinding light that smacked in his face. "This the new kid?" Another man asked and Jean opened his eyes, only to stare into a pair of eyes, one white like cream and another eye that was like an olive green, staring back at him filled with an emotion that screamed hatred.

"Yes, sir. This one was found walking in the park only a few hours ago. Lappell found him." The man dragging him spoke, the man from earlier.

"Well, Lappell did a good job this time. Finally, a bitch that should make a decent penny if he is trained correctly. Thank you Marcus, you may leave the boy and do whatever." The man, Marcus, pushed Jean into the big, bright room and closed the door behind him. Jean stared at his surroundings, the white walls and high ceiling seemed to stretch on for forever, the only things that he could see that weren't white were the dark brown, leather couches and a baby blue door on the opposite side of the room. "Get a shower kid, then come back out. Do not make me wait longer then five minutes." The short, chubby man walked towards one of the couches and turned to look at Jean, who was standing frozen in place. "Don't make repeat myself boy!" The man yelled and Jean turned to the blue door, which he assumed was the bathroom and made a mad dash towards it, opening it and stumbling pass the threshold.

He was right, this was the bathroom, but the site of it made him want to vomit, it was dirty, spelled of shit, vomit and copper. Yellow stains covered the walls that he only assumed used to be a pristine white at one point. He quickly undressed and turned the shower on, he stepped in and let the burst of cold water drench him. He scrubbed off the dirt and sweat and everything else that seemed to cover his body in the amount of time from the morning he woke up to now. What day was it? The man, Marcus said a few hours, but was it longer? 

Jean got out of the shower only to find that his clothes were missing and he had no towel. Panic set itself within his body and he bagan to shake. Suddenly the door was ripped open, almost off it's hinges, and the shirt chubby man stood before him. Jean made aove to cover himself, but the man grabbed him arm and drug him towards the center of the two couches that now seated more men, all in dark business suits and perfectly styled hair, puffing cigars. "Men! Meet the newbie." The stubby man spoke…. Happily? 

"My, my, my. This one is a beauty! You really out done yourself this time Reggie." A pale man with peircing hazel eyes and cherry red hair spoke, lips curling into a smirk as he looked over Jean's naked form. Jean moved to cover himself again, but the red head snatched his hands. "Don't you dare cover yourself, boy. We quite like the view." Jean stared to shake again, he was not liking where the conversation suggested, he just wanted to bolt through the door Marcus brought him through, but he had no light, no clothes, no shoes, he didn't know where the hell he was or how he even got here. He was stuck and he was alone. 

"Spin around for us." Reggie spoke from his seat on the couch next to the red head. When Jean didn't move, a hand hit his face, the force giving Jean whiplash. "Spin around!" Jean nodded shakily, the faint taste of blood hitting his tounge as he slowly turned in a circle, hands balled at his sides as he concentrated on not covering up his dignity. "Good boy." Reggie purred like he was talking to a dog who just learned how to obey a simple command. "Who would like to break in the new toy first?"

~Present Day~

"Where the hell did you find him?!" Marco cried as he rushed to a sleeping Jean, holding a cold, pale, thin hand in his own warm, freckled, tan ones as a tear slowly slipped down a cheek.

"We went looking for a new maid, as you know since… Mrs. Kirstein passed, we haven't been able to find one quite as good as her. So we scouted for one at an auction." The young men were silent, all knowing how much everyone on this side of the state hated under ground auctions that sold off people for there own benefit. But Marco, knowing his father was desperate for a friend like Mrs. Kirstein, understood why he would've went so low. "We made it for the last fifteen minutes or so for the pleasure portion of the auction. None of us bothered to look and see who was being sold off, we didn't have the hearts, until the last person came out and the bids were flying out left and right, huge numbers, more then any other I've heard for being sold. I got curious and turned to see the one face I never thought I'd see again. Jean." 

Marco looked at the sleeping man and gently brushed some hair out of his face, his eyes roaming the expansive canvas of his body, bruises varying in color from blue, purple, yellow and green, all in various states of healing. The scars and freshly stitched wounds done by Dr. Yeager himself. His once almost smooth perfect body had been beaten on, dirtied, and touched by unknown men and possible women, he was put into pain and suffering for probably ten years. A while decade Marco wondered what had happened to Jean, and now he wasn't liking the reality of it. "Who had him?" He whispered as his fingers traced old wounds on jeans right arm.

"He was being sold throught a human trafficking organization known as The Nevidlijiv, it's Creation for Invisible. Meaning this organization it's soon secret, no one knows about it unless you know someone, someone powerful. It started back in the late 1800s by a group of men who wanted nothing more then to steal and use others weaker then themselves to.. keep them company, if you get my drift." Dr. Yeager informed and the rest of the young adults listen intently. "After a few years of kidnapping young men and women, they decided they wanted to make a pretty penny, so they started selling them. Always moving to different locations or even different countries to keep themselves off the grid. It's cash only, if it's traceable, it's not allowed. No phones or may other electronics are allowed in the places the auctions are held. Hence, invisible." Dr. Yeager looked at Jean's unconscious body and sighed, "And I'm afraid Jean here, was the top prize for those disgusting pigs. Sure, being the best means too care, but that doesn't exclude from anything else, he was probably treated worse because of being the top one to want." 

Marco could feel the tears cascading down his freckles cheeks, as held onto Jean's hand tighter. "Fuck! If I would've known something like this could've happened, I would've-" Eren suddenly spoke up, his voice cracking as he willed himself not to break down. Sure, he was an asshole to Jean, a major dick bucket, but he realized after Jean had vanished it was because he himself, was trying to hide the fact that he also liked the same sex. When Jean never showed up for school again, he felt this odd pang of hurt inside his chest and realized then, he really liked Jean.

"Eren, it's okay, none of us could've guessed this would've happened." Armin then spoke, putting a comforting hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and brought him in for a hug.

"Do you know what else happened to him?" Marco asked, as he looked towards his father with tear filled eyes.

"I was given this. A list of prior "owners" and all the medical records he had in the last ten years." He held out a decently sized folder, filled with papers. Marco took the black folder and began looking through it, heavy in his hands, he wanted to be sick.  Every single medical record was signed with a different name for major things like surgery or anything that required severe medical attention. Others where I put signed by people who had bought Jean at auctions and some just had awful names written down: Bitch, Whore, Slut… just to make a few. As Marco got further the papers the words began to blur into a mess of scribbles. He closed the folder and tossed to across the room, laying his head on the couch next to Jean, Marco let out a loud sob, breaking everyone hearts as they saw the heir to the Bott mafia and business weep his heart out for the boy he lost and then found again.

Jean suddenly let out an ear piercing scream, shaking and clawing at his own skin. Marco fell away as he wanted the man he loved for years convulse like mad man and scream like he was in pain. Dr. Yeager and Mr. Ackerman held him down, "Get the sedative!" Dr. Yeager yelled at no one in particular. Mikasa grabbed the syringe from her adoptive father's bag and handed it to him. After Jean was injected, Jean fell limp against the couch once more.

#Jean Krischtein #marco bott #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #jean x marco #abuse #eventual smut #chapter 2 #marcos dad #erens dad #armin #reiner #bert #mikasa