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moonchildridden · 2 years

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NottPun, that couple (who’re not exactly a couple) that showed a lot of nuances in less than an hour: dream stealers, Gen 1 stalking, popping hot tea, 701 in shambles, pimps in manager's clothing and innocence lost (Episode 4)

Before I start, I wanna say that the main reason it took so long for me to post this is because I had a migraine crises for the whole week, then two days of cramps and back hurt but since I had a post to do and opinions to share, I said fuck my body and let's do this.

Hi. Hello. It's moonchild here, back again with another (late) post about WOY's episode 4 and, oh boy, it was a doozy, at best, and a burning mess, at worst. So many things that I had suspicions on were confirmed, other things that I never put too much thought into it came back with a vengeance and we had so much pain shown to us that it left me feeling like crap for literally days. I was expecting drama, a very heavy drama, but I was not ready for what I was about to receive.

Also, I cannot believe that after we complained and asked for the messages/social posts/comments translation, we FINALLY GOT IT! For real, I was expecting yet another episode where I would have to do the translations myself or wait for somebody else to do it but, maybe because the universe wanted us to suffer with understanding, the translations came.

I'm not gonna comment to much here, because I will have a lot to comment in my "prediction" section after the exposition of the themes of this episode, so for now, just me being a responsible adult, as always: everything that you guys will be reading in this post is the result of my observations into very specific parts of the episode, frame by frame repetitive viewing and me getting to the most plausible conclusion after taking all in, meaning that most of the things will be on the speculative territory, others in (maybe) theory territory and some can (or so I think) be proven by in-dialogues and scenes arrangements, so take things with a grain of salt, ok?

I will divide this post in two major sections, one with the themes that I managed to identify and the other with the view that we had about NottPun’s relationship, instead of dividing it into segments, because the episode itself didn’t gave me other choice than to use this format. However, the sections will be divided into sub-sections and those will (mostly) follow the order of events presented in the episode, with things in bold being mostly dialogues and things in italic being me emphasizing or exaggerating my thoughts.

As an addendum, I will reference a few things that I talked about in my previous posts so, if any of you reading this hasn’t read them, don’t need to worry about needing to read those posts first because I will paraphrase when necessary. But if after this you feel the desire to read them, head out to my masterlist and you can find all three previous posts there.

Without further ado, let’s uncover some crimes, shall we?

1 – Themes

1. Criminal mismanagement

Before I start, allow me to say something rude: fuck Koon, I hope that bitch has a painful death and burn in eternal hell for what she did, that fucking bitch. Jail is not enough for her, I want her blood smeared on the floor.

Ok, back to regular programming. While I was watching the episode, I kept asking myself how on earth was I supposed to talk about her actions in this post, considering that everything we saw on episode 4 was the culmination of what she has been doing since episode 1 (and two tweets that the official Copy A twitter account posted after episode 3 and 4) and how her behavior was swiftly unraveled to us but we kinda didn’t pay attention until it exploded in our faces.

Between NottPun’s managers, Koon was the one whose appearance gave a more serious and knowledgeable look, also trustworthy, like a person we could rely on for anything. Pun said, in his lunch with Tai on episode 2, that his parents were secretly afraid to let Pun go with Koon but Koon smoothly talked it out and that made Pun’s parents trust him to go and live with Koon, basically saying that she has a way with words and is capable of convincing people to do what she want. Looking back to that conversation, with all the information that we have about her now, and seeing her expressions during that conversation, is very easy to actually see her reactions to certain parts of it as a sort of foreshadowing of her actions:

Tai: Khun Koon and Nong Pun seem very close. How long have you been taking care of each other?

Koon: It’s been 5 years. I went to pay pilgrimage in Ayutthaya and met him there. So I asked his parents’ permission.

Tai: Good for you to ask for him to come. Not deceiving him here.

[Look at Koon’s expression here. She was “smiling” but after Tai said those words, she averted her eyes, like she was hiding something]

Tai: Now there are a lot of scammers. Even my own channel often got impersonated.

[Again, her expression changed. The mention of “scammers”, people who basically deceive people to get what they want, was enough to put her a bit uncomfortable. Perhaps she felt called out?]

Pun: When she talked to my parents, they were secretly afraid. But fortunately, P’Koon smoothly talked it out. So my parents trusted me to come and live with P’Koon.

This conversation only lasted for 40 seconds but in those 40 seconds, when well analyzed, it showed three focal points of Koon’s personality, that she uses around people: she’s a liar, she’s well aware of what she’s doing and she’s very convincing. Those traits, separate, are not exactly dangerous (albeit they are still wrong) but together they are a major red flag, because it basically shows that that person is capable of doing a lot of things and still make you think that it was for the best or that it wasn’t their fault that the things turned out to not be the way they promised.

Up until that point, I confess that I didn’t actually saw something weird enough to catch my attention, and episode 2 was an episode filled with topics like sexual harassment, the conversation about fanservice, public pressure and stuff like that, so my focus was on how those themes were being showcased and how Pun was reacting to all of them, instead of other characters. However, one thing that made me keep an eye on her, at least for a few seconds, and also made me feel like there was something wrong was in the changing room where she and Pun were with the makeup artist, before the event where Pun fainted; the worst part of it is that it was such a minor detail but it spoke volumes because it was a break of character (or at least the character that we had been perceiving on Koon) for Koon: after the makeup artist finished doing their job and asked Pun if they could take a picture, Pun looked at Koon with that expression of his that says “do whatever you have to do but don’t let them take a picture of me” but Koon, instead of doing what Pun wants, something that she usually does, she actually says yes, receiving an almost shocked expression from Pun as a response for that.

When I saw that, I was like “so, we’re not doing what Pun wants anymore?”, because that behavior was not something expected from her and it rubbed me the wrong way for some reason. Yes, it could’ve been because the makeup artist was someone famous and that picture could give Pun, and her, some exposure, simply a business decision, but it doesn’t make the fact that she made a decision that she knew Pun was not comfortable with in the first place and that tells a lot about what she’s doing with Pun: she’s using him for her personal gains and hiding her decisions behind her “manager” card.

But it doesn’t stop there. Her shady behavior as a manager can be traced back to when Pun wasn’t even her artist and can be boiled down to one simple word: innocence. (put a pin on that and let’s go back to the present for a moment)

After Pun went home to ask for explanations about why Fang was the one that signed the contract with TTV and not him, saying that even after she took him to talk to the manager (I assume the manager is Khun Chalerm), the contract was still not for him, Koon said that she “talked to them” (meaning that it was supposed to be a sure thing that Pun already was signed with TTV, considering that he had already told his mother about that) and that “Khun Suthat liked Pun very much but he said that Pun’s sweet look is not right for the channel”, prompting a very explosive reaction from Pun, that asked “’not right’? Well, isn’t you the person who told me to keep this look? They why are you saying it’s not right now?”.

This exchange took me to two tangents (me again with these, shocker):

1 – Pun’s real personality, his real image, the way he really expresses himself is being crushed under the image he has to project to the world, because of his job

In my post for the second episode, the first thing I talked about was how Pun used personas in certain situations for certain people as a way of getting attention and continuing working in the acting industry. Quoting what I said about it: “[…]Pun projects specific images of himself to certain people and he tries to sell the image that he deems best to a specific person. To the TTV producer, he tries to appear interested in his works, in the cast and crew’s well being, in being nice and always willing to do his utmost best in the pursuit of doing a good job. To the crew and rest of the cast, he shows a distant and cold man, someone who’s above all of them and should have his desires granted as soon as they are vocalized or expressed. To his fans, he shows a sensitive and caring man, someone worth of being adored and taken care of, someone whom they can put their trust in and follow without an issue. None of those images are really what he is, his real personality.” At the time, I viewed that behavior as a personal decision from Pun, because it aligned with his goals in the industry, like a conscious action in pursuit of a dream, where you sacrifice a part of yourself to get what you want, and it also made sense with the profiling that I did for Pun, so I didn’t think much of it.

But after Pun said that a part of his image, the one that I associated with his persona to his fans (I mean, Pun’s fans are literally called “Mummy”, meaning that they view Pun as someone that “needs” to be babied or is “sweet and innocent like a child”) was Koon’s idea, a lot of my thoughts shifted to something that I had been suspecting for a while but never actually wrote on any of my posts because I didn’t want to accuse someone of something so serious, even if it could have proof of it: Koon deliberately made Pun keep an “innocent persona” because she knew it would cater to some people in power and it would make her job much easier.

Meaning, Koon did that so she could pimp out Pun.

2 – Innocence is being used as a trade tool inside the industry

This is where things get a bit creepy (or more creepy, whatever you prefer) about Koon’s behavior. We don’t know how old NottPun are exactly but I don’t think both are over 25, so it’s fair to assume that when Koon meet Pun he was fairly a young adult, still with a bit of innocent look; that being said, we have someone who seems to be in the industry for a long time, knows exactly what the industry likes the most (in terms of appearance and behavior, specially), telling a young adult that knows nothing of said industry to keep an innocent look and the young adult does exactly that because he trusts the person that told him that…after all, what reason would Pun have to question that decision, Koon knows what she’s doing.

Koon knew exactly what she was doing when she said to Pun to keep that look. She knew that the right people would go head over heels for a man with a sweet look, would want to be in touch with that man, keep him around, give him stuff (is this starting to seem like a sugar daddy thing or is just me?), pamper him, give money, in exchange of a small thing, probably a dinner, or a full night with said man. This was not showed in full picture in the episode but Copy A’s twitter account posted the full conversation (and translated by BillySengFC) and I’ll put it verbatim so you guys can understand exactly what I’m talking about here:

………………………………

Khun Miao TTV: 30k. Is that ok?

Koon: Thank you for loving Nong.

Khun Miao TTV: It’s ok, he is cute, my boss really like him.

Koon: Just eating and talking, right?

Khun Miao TTV: Yes, but if he can do more like I told you earlier. From 30k to 100k, my boss can pay for it.

Koon: Let me consider first.

Khun Miao TTV: Thank you for not rejecting me.

Koon: You’re welcome.

………………………………

Read that conversation as many times as you want or need (or don’t, it made me sick just by typing this here) because Koon was promising sexual acts in Pun’s name in exchange for money. Money, mind you, that would go straight to her and Pun wouldn’t even see the color of it. You know who else markets sexual acts in other person’s name in exchange for money? Pimps.

I dare to go even further and say that Pun is not the only one Koon’s been pimping out or even that she’s getting sexual favors from her artists as well (not from Pun, obviously), considering this image taken from the trailer, something that makes this already fucked up situation even more fucked up because she’s using her position as manager not only to sell her artists sexually but also to gain sexual favors herself. Just thinking about this, I feel sick and tired, for real.

(A side note before I continue. This image right here, is this feet Pun’s? Because it seems like it)

Anyway, about the look thing, just before I move on to the next sub-section, when she said that Pun’s “sweet look” was the reason he did not get signed on TTV, I called her on her bullshit because this TTV thing did not start from Pun, it was someone from TTV itself that went after Pun and showed him that the possibility for him to be part of a big TV station was within his reach. Or is she really saying that Tai, someone who works on TTV, directed many series in there, would go specifically after Pun if he didn’t think that Pun could fit inside the company? Because after the fiasco that was the NC shooting scene on episode 2, Tai admitted that he was eyeing Pun but because of what happened (a situation that he mistakenly thought that it was Pun just not being comfortable with love scenes or some variation of that) he think that Pun was not suitable for TV drama; not TTV itself, TV drama.

Also, if the “sweet look” was really the problem as she said the executive, the man that was willing to pay 100k if Pun did something sexual to him, “said” it was, then Tai wouldn’t have shifted his attention to GusBew, a ship where Bew also have a sweet look. To make matters even worse (believe, it always can get worse in situations like this), the meeting between Pun and the executive happened after the decision of not signing Pun into TTV, based on another chat that Copy A’s twitter account posted (and translated by BillySengInt), which I will post verbatim:

………………………………

Khun Tai TTV: Koon, you’re not angry with me that I didn’t choose Nong Pun, are you?

Koon: It’s fine, I understand.

Khun Tai TTV: Thank you.

Koon: Khun Tai?

Khun Tai TTV: Yes?

Koon: [sends two pictures, one of Fang and other of Song]

Khun Tai TTV: It’s better if I call you

[A 05:04 call made]

………………………………

Three things that we can take from this conversation:

1 – The decision to not sign Pun on TTV came from Tai, not the executives. And I’m almost sure no one tried to talked back on that decision because they trust Tai’s judgment, so people assumed he had his reasons to do so.

2 – Not only Koon did not try to talk Tai into changing his decision for example, just like she did with Pun’s parents to let her take him with her) but she also quickly pushed Pun aside and “sold” her two other artists as soon as Pun stopped being “profitable” for her. Like, it took her two minutes between her saying that she understood his decision to her sending the two pictures to him; two minutes that could’ve be used to try to convince Tai to give Pun another chance.

3 – This conversation happened on August 16th. The conversation and subsequent meeting between Pun and the executive happened on August 23rd. A full week. She kept that a secret for a full fucking week.

Oh, and remember on episode 3 before Pun went out to meet Nott? There is this scene where Pun kicks a box of cosmetics that was on the floor and the first thing Pun asks is “Khun Chalerm sent this?”, to what Koon says “Yes. Pharaoh is about to get a drama job. So I asked him for a skin care kit”. Pun then laughs and says “just an extra, I think you don’t have to do this much” and Fang, instead of answering back like he would usually do, simply stays quiet. Pun, expecting an answer, nods while still smiling but after not receiving one, he just smiles victoriously, thinking that he had succeeded in humiliating Fang one again, and goes towards the door; Koon, noticing that he was about to leave, asks Pun where he’s going and he said that he was going to see Nott and this exchange happens:

Koon: You go out with Nott often now. Who said that he doesn’t want to be a shipped partner forever?

Pun: I did. I won’t be a shipped couple forever. I’m going to be in the TV channel soon.

When I saw her expression in this scene, I assumed that it was related to Pun being very close to Nott, so she was suspecting that something was happening between them. Now that we know that at that time, Pun was no longer going to be in TTV, her expression was a mix of “guilt” and probably fear: “guilt” because she was hiding the real information from Pun and fear because there was a chance that Nott could say something about the fact that he had signed with TTV and that could make Pun realize the truth.

Also, Fang not reacting to Pun’s teasing was just him keeping himself calm because he was expecting for the opportunity to humiliate Pun back with the news that he was the one that TTV took, not Pun. He probably had already envisioned how things would turn out and was salivating for the moment.

Wow, who imagined that talk so extensively about how trashy and vicious and disgusting Koon is would drain my energy, huh? Anyways, let’s move one and talk about the second sub-theme I found in this episode, that pertains to nothing more than the media.

2. Media intervention: from love to hate

Yes, let’s talk about the influence the media has on how we perceive people, because who doesn’t love to talk about media manipulation, right? (I’m being ironic here)

I’ve talked about how the media influences before in my post for episode 3, when I mentioned how the media had a hand into the feeding process on “rivalry” between actors and was also more busy with the possibility of petty feuds between them than do a more informative work of talking about the actors’ jobs and aspirations inside the industry. Quoting from my closing thoughts about that matter:

“[…]the industry and the media work together when it comes to which image project about certain people and how people will perceive them. Both choose what to show, what to say, what to highlight, all in the pursuit of the next big thing. Both make and break the stars at their whim and will continue to do so as it pleases them.”

Based on what happened to Pun in this episode, guess what the media decided to do? I’ll give a few seconds to think in an answer.

[I’m not going to defend or whatever variation of that Pun’s actions towards other people in this episode nor will I ignore the fact that Pun was trying to fight off something that he thought had been done wrongly to him, because let’s not forget that his “explosion” on set only happened after he knew that his shooting schedule had been cut on half and the other actors got theirs doubled, receiving a half assed excuse that it was because he wanted to “have new actors” and “the customer wanted that way” because it wasn’t.

When you think about that, two possible situations can come across your mind and you asked yourself:

1 – Did the schedule cut happened before the announcement that Nott was the one that signed with TTV?

2 – Did the schedule cut happened after the Instagram story that Pun posted?

Because if it happened before the announcement, Koon, Pun’s manager at the time, did not informed him of that and decided to roll with it, something that is already not good. But, if it happened after Pun’s Instagram story, then it was Koon’s spiteful action towards Pun, and I’m willing to go with the second option because of one small detail: the orange box on Pat’s table.

That orange box had an appearance before on episode 3, when Koon decided to give one to everyone on set, including the staff that worked on set. That orange box was some sort of “bribe” from her part and here on episode 4, we can attribute that same reasoning to the act of her giving one to the person responsible for the series. Because you cannot tell me that it was a coincidence that Pun’s shooting schedule was cut in half and Pat so happened to have something sent by Koon, the same person that not only was no longer Pun’s manager but also had reasons to destroy his career, after all Fang was her new golden goose.

This is me being as impartial as I can, to avoid making biased posts and lean towards certain characters just because part of their story resonates with mine, that’s why I’m giving you guys the most logical conclusion based on the evidences we have from the episodes we were given.]

Going back to the media image manipulation, as soon as the video of Pun “losing it” on set became viral and one of the staff made a live telling their side of the story and, all of a sudden, everyone was telling all the bad things Pun had done, either on set or not, sharing pictures taken suspiciously (I’m gonna talk about this a bit further down) or making twitter spaces to discuss what had happened/was happening. The media itself, instead of trying to approach Pun to get his side of the story or, at least, get an explanation as to what had exactly happened in the set on the day the video was taken, decided to create news saying that Pun was “whining on the set” (talking about the video), that behind the scenes he was “an entertainer” (talking about the picture of him and Khun Chalerm from episode 1) and that the series, or the people behind it, had “casted out main actor”. To make matters worse (because Pun did not caught a break in this episode, Murphy law style), GusBew ended up being interviewed and, instead of people talking about them, you know, as actors and stuff like that, they spent the entire interview session asking questions about Pun, if he had always been like what the viral clip showed, if they had seen Pun often, if one of them had seen any strange behavior and so on.

But, instead of the “tea” the interviewers were actually expecting, i.e GusBew confirming that Pun was the bogey man of the industry and the big bad wolf, they instead got GusBew telling them that Pun was a very good and professional actor in the industry (something that was not a lie), that they only had contact with Pun only on set and events (not a lie) and that Pun was very kind (a half truth) and that he even brought an ice machine on set (again, not a lie) that he let anyone use. The faces of the interviewers listening to that was simply gold because they went there with an agenda to be fulfilled (getting more dirt on Pun) but left with a list of compliments from Pun’s coworkers. Sorry you didn’t get your scoop, honey, that’s how life is.

Now, talking about the pictures the GossipXoxo’s twitter account posted , I have two questions about it: the first one is how did the person that took the picture (assuming that it was the same person that posted the picture) managed to be so close to be able to take the picture of Pun and Khun Chalerm? Because that person had to clearly be either inside the office, without being caught, or installed a surveillance device in there and managed to get the picture. Regardless, that person had to be inside the building, probably inside the office, at night, and be sure that no one would bat an eye to them.

The second one is about the picture of Pun in front of 701’s room. Considering that he was wearing a mask, glasses and a hood over his head, unless you knew that it was him, had followed him there or knew about his “meetings” with Nott, there was no one someone would pay attention enough to take a picture and keep it for so long (we are talking about a scene that happened in episode 1, being used three episodes later. That’s weird, to say the least). Who took the picture knew exactly who that person was and kept the picture for a reason.

My bet is that the person showed during the twitter space thing was Atichon. Who do you guys bet on?

2 – NottPun: the couple that is not a couple

Let’s talk about NottPun? Let’s talk about NottPun.

So…NottPun in this episode was the biggest emotional mess that they’ve been since their story arc started and I wish I was lying about that. I keep using the expression “that showed a lot of nuances in less than one hour” in my titles but I’ve never actually felt that way until episode 4 aired. BillySeng did an amazing job in portraying NottPun’s emotions through their eyes, through their facial expressions, their voice tones, everything. It was gut wrenching watch their suffering (specially Pun’s suffering) in this episode, seeing them getting hurt, seeing their world shatter in front of their eyes, without having any chance of stopping it or slow it down.

Anyways, before I repeat what I said in this impromptu post about Pun, let me untangle the tangled mess that we got with NottPun in this episode. However, to talk about NottPun in this episode, I will need to explain his attitudes in context, so that my train of thought makes sense and I will use subsections to do that:

Phase 1: Pain infliction

NottPun in this episode already starts on a bad note, with Pun discovering that Nott signed the contract with TTV and not him. Nott, upon waking up and seeing the ad on television (I'm sure the moment he looked at the television, it only had his picture and not the picture of him with Fang), hugs Pun and says that he would also be part of the TTV, which means they "would work on the same network" (when I said I wouldn't make any judgments or comment on this subject until I had Nott's version, it was because I was assuming there was something wrong with this whole story and I was right). Pun, obviously annoyed, asks Nott "why was he doing that" and Nott replies, still half-excited but confused by Pun's reaction, that he "had signed the same contract as Pun, so why was Pun angry?", making Pun point to the television, which was still showing the news of the hiring of new actors, and this time it had a picture of Nott and Fang on the screen, and says that he (Nott) and Fang had signed a contract with TTV and that out of the two of them, only Nott had been taken, "they didn’t want him"

To give you an idea of how slowly Pun was processing events, he wasn't even worried about the fact that Fang was on the same network he had fought so hard to get into, but rather that Nott had gotten what he wanted, making Pun direct his growing anger at the person closest to him at that moment, who was also the person who had hurt him (or at least one of them). With that, Pun begins by saying that he "knew Nott was stupid, but I didn't realize he was stupid up until that point" because "big network channels never signed contracts with the two members of a ship" (I wonder if there is any plausible reason for that because I was surprised and genuinely curious).

Nott then says something very curious in response to Pun's words, which piqued my interest, that (probably when they presented the contract for him to sign) "they said it was a contract for 2 people and the other person was being managed by Koon" and it made me think of two things: the first is that even though Koon had two other artists under her belt, Pun was the one that was getting the most attention at the moment, especially considering he had just come off a hit series and was currently recording its sequel, and since it was a big network and the same one that Pun had shown interest in, it made sense Nott would have concluded that the other person who would sign the contract was Pun. The second, and this is more speculation than anything else, is that Nott probably only signed the contract precisely because he thought the other person who was going to sign was Pun, i.e. Pun was the reason he signed the contract.

Nott has never struck me as a liar (I'm not saying he doesn't lie, just that he wouldn't lie in such serious situations), so I'm inclined to believe what he said that he had no idea the other actor joining him in TTV was Fang and not Pun, because it would be a very stupid move for Nott to intentionally steal Pun's dream and then act like he didn't know anything, considering how desperate Pun was to get that contract and how unstable and a little out of control Pun tended to be when things didn't go his way. Obviously, Nott could just be manipulating Pun, just like Koon had done, but you don't spend that much time trying to earn someone's trust and then do something like that.

It's basically a shot to the foot or a stab to the chest.

[As I'm trying to be unbiased, I can't help but comment once again that we're taking this story from Pun’s perspective, which means that any attitude that doesn't come directly from Pun is intrinsically linked to him. That is, the story revolves around Pun.

We don't know anything about Nott, except what directly affects the relationship he has with Pun. Yes, we know he has been jealous, has always been concerned about Pun's physical and mental well-being, enjoys working with Pun and is comfortable being around Pun and always makes it clear that no matter what, Pun could always count on him. he. However, the problem with not having more knowledge about Nott's personality is that it leaves room for several interpretations, one of them being that everything he did is nothing more than manipulation on Nott's part and this is a possibility that I definitely I don't want to think because I need Pun to have at least one person as an ally, someone on his side, supporting him.]

After that interaction, we had that scene where Koon tried to manipulate Pun into thinking he was getting it all wrong (like the classic "it's not what you're thinking" line after he read the messages coming into her phone that same time was a well-known and most often failed tactic of manipulation), he walks away from Koon, Fang and Song (with how much that people are starting to reveal themselves as real snakes, I'm starting to distrust him too because the Song boy here is too innocent for my taste) and then posts the Instagram story, in which he hints that Koon had done something hateful enough to result in their professional separation.

Phase 2: Counter-attack rain

One thing I noticed while re-watching the episode for the fiftieth time is that everyone who interacted with Pun (Koon, Nott, Pat, Candy) was telling him to calm down, as if Pun's actions were from someone just throwing a tantrum and not really him having reasons to do so (it makes sense, at least from a literary point of view, that these people would have these thoughts because unlike us who have the advantage of seeing everything that happens and having access to all the information, we can see the full picture of everything that happens at any given time, but the people within the New Ship universe don't have that same advantage and act on the information they actually have access to) but none of those people were really willing to listen to what Pun had to say, understand his reasons or why he was acting that way, unlike Pun who was willing to listen to everyone and give the benefit of the doubt even when the person didn't deserve it.

Confirming this, Pun even asks Nott “why? Why is everyone telling me to calm down? If it were you, would you be calm?", as a way of expressing exactly what was going on with him at that moment and then says to Nott "I want you to listen to me, not tell me to calm down", that is Pun he just wanted someone to hear what he had to say.

It's after this scene that the nuances I mentioned come into play and we get to see exactly how hurt Pun was by it all, and because of that hurt, his self-preservation instincts kicked in. Pun knows, or at least has the confidence that Nott was on his side, but feels that there is no way Nott can help him because it was this same Nott who “stole his dream”, since Nott knew full well that Pun “wanted to being on TV", so why was Nott "doing that", because Nott "didn't want to be on TV let alone be an actor" (this was the first really personal information we've had from Nott since episode 1 and it didn't even came from Nott himself but from Pun). After that, Pun goes on the real attack and says that Nott "just wanted to be famous" and that "if he didn't have money he wouldn't even be there" because the industry only cared about having "superficial people, beauty and money instead of talent and effort”, which is why Nott was chosen and not Pun; Pun wasn't exactly saying that Nott had no talent or that he didn't make an effort to deliver a good work, but that Nott being a person who had money (which Pun didn't have), in addition to being handsome, made Nott "one of them" , someone who had the right appeal to catch the industry's attention.

The attack was working, because Nott decided to counterattack and says that Pun "thinks that way because he was no different" (from what he was criticizing) and Pun makes his counterattack saying that "he used to be that way", that "used to see Nott as a boat that would take him forward, but if today that same boat was useless, he had no reason to continue with it”. Even though it was too painful to listen, after all Pun had just said that he didn't see Nott as anything more than a boat, a tool for him to achieve his goals, there's something we need to pay attention to and it's the tense he uses when it says this: past. Pun does not say that he “sees” (present), much less that he “is seeing” (present continuous), but that he “used to see” (past tense) Nott as a boat, that is, his view of Nott has changed.

An interesting thing about this tense is that unless the person using it in a sentence specifies the exact tense (in days, month, year, etc.), everything that happened up to the time the words were uttered could set to “past” (e.g. “five seconds ago” is past). By this I mean that we have no way of knowing exactly when this change took place, much less what caused this change. Was it after they started their sexual relationship? After the events of Episode 2, more specifically their conversation after the event where Pun passed out? After Nott's confession in Episode 3, after Pun asked to spend the night with him?

I have the impression that Pun was ambiguous on purpose, precisely to not give Nott space to know exactly what had happened (I mean, Nott didn't even record the tense used by Pun) and also to get a specific reaction from him, which fact happened. And it is in this reaction that opens up a very important moment in the final moments of their conversation:

Nott: What you said, did you think about it?

Nott: Was I just that to you?

Nott: So I must have been wrong to have fallen in love with you.

At ANY MOMENT did Pun respond to Nott's words, having held still while Nott asked him the questions, and turning away as Nott said he had made a mistake in liking him, before bursting into tears. His silence and the act of turning his face away so Nott cannot see his facial expression are not the attitudes of someone who is talking about having used someone else for personal gain, but someone who is trying to appear cold and indifferent, someone who is trying to give the image of a person with no weaknesses that can be exploited. In fact, Pun only spoke again after Nott left the room and it was only to say that Nott "was stupid to have fallen in love with a person like him", demonstrating the side of Pun that thinks he is insufficient and not worthy of being loved, someone broken; to Pun, Nott was better off without him, at least sentimentally speaking.

Phase 3: The point of no return

Here comes the conversation that Pun had with his mother, one of the most painful moments that Pun went through in this episode. We have a man who has just pushed away one of the very few people who was able to see beyond the walls he had erected around him, trying to seek refuge in someone who, despite his regrets, was still a source of comfort to him, and receiving the response that Pun “would be better off where he was”, as he “had a good, comfortable job, and didn’t have to work as hard as other people” (there is a misconception in some people’s minds that it’s easy to be an actor and that there is no effort behind this profession), not to mention that his mother still had the idea that Pun was still going to be a TV star. She didn't ask how Pun was doing, didn't find it strange that he suddenly wanted to return home, and didn't offer any updates on the state of Pun's father's health; she ended the call with a “take care” and that was it.

At the moment when Pun felt most fragile, needed his family the most, his attempts to approach him were mercilessly stopped. I wonder if Pun's mother's attitude would have been different if Pun had called her to say he had already signed the contract with TTV, if she wouldn't have let Pun stay at home for a few days, if she wouldn't have been more affectionate. and paid more attention to Pun if his situation was different. Because Pun knew very well the image that his work had in his mother's head, he knew very well that his work was only tolerated because it made money and that money was sent to his mother and he helped her at home, and he knew very well that that contract with TTV would have been a starting point in his goal of earning the respect and pride of his mother; and he didn't have it anymore.

As if it wasn't enough that he didn't have the contract signed, it made it that much harder to get his mother's love back.

Phase 4: A man with nothing to lose is dangerous

Trigger warning: sexual abuse, suicide

When GusBew said that Pun was a professional and dedicated actor, they weren't just saying that out of nowhere, it was something they had personally seen and knew to be true. A big testament to this was how Pun, even though he felt like his world was crumbling at his feet, probably with a little hangover after he'd had a few drinks to drown his sorrows, prepared himself and went to the movie set to do his thing. job, after all he didn't have the luxury of just not showing up, not when he was an actor without a manager.

However, what happened on set was one misfortune after another: the cut in his shooting schedule and the increase in GusBew's schedule, Koon's bribe, his fight with Bird, the recording and the viral video, not to mention total silence and distance on Nott's part (to be honest, if I were in his shoes I probably would have done the same thing), though he reacted with mild surprise when Pun said he wanted to know "how the show would go on without him" . But other than that, Pun was standing officially alone, his dreams shattered by the people he'd placed his trust in, with nothing but his pain, his anger and his tears; as he always thought, he was fighting alone, trying to hold on to anything that would give him the slightest sense of control, yet he was fighting alone, surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than his downfall.

After that, we had his suicide attempt, something that being a person who also carries traumas of the same nature that Pun carries, I understand very well the weight he must be feeling at that moment, seeing his image being destroyed and not being able to defend himself , seeing the encounter he had with Khun Chalerm seen as him “entertaining” the man when the truth was far worse than people were saying, seeing his hard work on the series where he spent so much of his time being thrown into the garbage (he wasn't the only one to blame for this), having to remember the abuse he suffered at the hands of the old man he crossed paths with the day he returned home (honestly, seeing that gave me such a trigger I don't even know how I kept watching, and I've never felt so sad to see a theory of mine confirmed) and how it fucked up his head, with his life, turned him into the person he was today, how people looked at him and didn’t see a person but a sex object, available for their pleasure, how the one person who promised to be on his side was gone, how his life was basically over and he had no reason to keep trying to survive one more day, not when he had no one or nothing else to live for.

The way our body, our mind, processes trauma is one of the scariest things in nature. There are those who endure as long as they can and manage to find something that gives them the strength to continue, others reach their limit and simply stop along the way, but none of these people deserve to be judged because only they know exactly how much they endured and what was/is the its breaking point. Seeing how the world seemed to treat Pun like a disposable object, there's no way to look at what happened in the car as something that was almost not meant to happen. And just seeing the look of helplessness, loneliness, fear, defeat, on Pun's face, I can't think of anything else but “sorry for the way the world has treated you”; no matter how rude/arrogant/unnecessary he was to other people, Pun didn't deserve to go through what he went through, to be used the way he was used, treated the way he was treated.

I think this is where my impartiality decided to take a vacation, sorry.

Phase 5: Hope is the last to die

Nott going after Pun. Nott's despair at seeing Pun unconscious inside the car. Nott taking Pun to the only place where Pun ever felt safe, free to be himself, the place where so much joy and so much pain was shared, their refuge.

In Pun's mind, Nott would never come back to him, not after the hateful words he'd said to the one person who couldn't get enough of his assurances that he would fight on his side against the world. And that's exactly why, as soon as Nott asked if Pun was hungry, the first thing Pun asked was "why Nott had come back", to which Nott replies "how could he not be there?", that he "couldn't let Pun get away" again", before apologizing for stealing Pun's dream (something he didn't intentionally do, but which still caused heartache and pain in someone he cared about) and also for "not being on Pun's side when he needed it most.” Here was more Nott apologizing for not keeping his word and abandoning Pun, when he said so many times that Pun could always count on him, come what may.

Pun, who is fully aware of why Nott wasn't on the side, says he "did terrible things to Nott", so he didn't understand "why Nott was still taking care of him" and Nott says he was doing it because he "didn't care anymore" and that the rest could fuck off that he didn't care. Then he adds that “whatever Pun wants him to be, he could even be a boat, as long as Pun stay by his side” and that he is aware that “the world has been very mean to Pun but Pun should not be forget that Nott would never be mean to him", before asking Pun to be his and letting Nott take care of him, something Pun accepts, just like he accepted every time Nott promised he would take care of him because Nott never lied about it. , his having returned was the greatest proof of that.

Nott was giving Pun an attitude full of their love language: words of affirmation and acts of service. Pun knew he could trust Nott when that happened.

After that, we had Nott trying to reduce a little the damage that had been done, saying that he "was going to cancel the contract", receiving a surprised attitude from Pun, who asked "why would he do that, wouldn't it make things better" and received a “so what should I do to make things better?” from Nott. Nott, as I suspect, was probably only staying in the industry because of Pun, so being in a place like that without his motivation didn't make much sense, so he'd better not waste other people's time and just give up. Pun says that he "doesn't have to do anything" and that he would "wait and see him on TV as one of his fans" (I can't even imagine how painful it must have been for Pun to say that, after all it was his dream that were talking, but if Nott was willing to make that sacrifice for him, Pun could do the same in return. The industry had done nothing but cause him more pain than was necessary), getting a “as a fan? More like a boyfriend", which embarrassed him and made Pun respond with a "shut up".

I'd really like to say that NottPun cuddled in the hotel room, enjoying each other's presence and that Pun was finally starting to get his "happily ever after," but Pun seems to attract trouble as easily as he breathes, so let's go. talk about the last part of the episode.

Phase 6: Sleeping with the enemy

Ignoring the discussion between Pun and Fang, where Pun confirmed (not that we didn't already know that) that Koon did indeed pimp out his artists, let's focus on the fact that Nott, for some reason, at some point in his life, slept with Fang. Honestly, I was ready to dismiss the “how do you know his name is Fang?” from Pun, followed by “did you sleep with him?” like him doing what he does best and jumping to conclusions, but then Nott showed a guilty expression and the episode ends with an image from Nott's private Instagram story, as if it were visible confirmation that Nott did indeed sleep with Fang.

Far be it from me to defend a man online but I've seen a lot of people saying that this whole thing between Nott and Fang happened after the argument that Nott had with Pun, as a form of revenge or something but the fact that they showed that story demonstrates the opposite . In the first episode, before we were introduced to Room 701, during the NottPun encounter, Pun complained that Nott was late showing up and Nott said he was busy before he went to Pun. Later, when Pun goes through Nott's stories, one appears in which Pun asks "is this the subject you told me about?" and the story he shows Nott is exactly the story they showed at the end of episode 4. Again, far be it from me to defend man online, but if we follow the logic that nothing in New Ship is random (which so far it really hasn't been, each point is well connected to the other and so on), then showing the story was a way of say exactly when Nott slept with Fang, and no, it wasn't after the argument he had with Pun.

[Making a little space to complain, Nott, honey, you could have had sex with anyone, but did you really choose Fang for that? Was you desperate, by any chance? It's the only explanation I can find. Not to mention the possibility that Fang knew there was something between Nott and Pun and, given his track record of apparently wanting everything Pun wanted, decided to seduce Nott just to gloat about it later.]

Another thing I wanted to comment, which I found funny, is the fact that Pun's first conclusion to justify Nott knowing Fang's name was precisely that there was sexual contact between them, as if Fang's name was a state secret so well. guarded that could only be discovered through sex.

Small predictions

It’s 4 am in here and I can barely think straight, so I’m gonna make a quick prediction, that follows this ask that I received last week. So, in terms of what I think will happen to NottPun, I'm under the impression that we're going to have an ambiguous ending, where we'll have some hints that NottPun might be able to get together as a couple, even if it's not immediately at the end of their arc. Whether they end up together romantically or not, I'd like them to stay together, side by side, although I think that Nott sleeping with Fang is going to spoil a lot and I'm trying not to get annoyed with Nott about it. why couldn't he have chosen someone else to sleep with, other than the person that the owner of your heart hates the most?! I can't have a moment of happiness with these two, for God's sake.

#warofy #war of y #war of y: new ship #war of y: new ship episode 4 #nottpun #nott x pun #nottpan #pun x nott #billyseng #analysis #theory #megapost

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rayshippouuchiha · 2 years

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Hello again!, I wanted to ask some advice (I know tumblr is maybe not the best place to ask, but you seemed really wise in your responses and mature when people talk to you about problematic things), thing is I haven't been able to get over something that been bothering me for a while, so much that I stopped browsing social media and just read fanfics to cure boredom. And I wanted to ask, how do you do it? You interact with people and I have no doubts you receive hate, how do you deal with it?. My problem is, I didn't know how much hate women get on the internet, I tought it was at least a bit exaggerated, because how would some people spend time of their life's doing videos on how awfol women are, WRONG, I found a crap ton of videos of men saying that women when they reach their 30 are useless, worthless, shoukd just stior trying to date because they time has gone and are no longer beautiful and don't deserve love and I'm SHOKED on the amount of videos of this and the people that agree. It's disgusting reading the comments on how it's better to wait for a 17 old to turn 18 so they can date them. How is this posible? Can't believe people like this existed. It hasn't leaved my mind for a while and it has been bothering me, I just want to get over how disgusting people can be. Do you have any advise? Sorry for problem dumping on you but I'm out of ideas and how to stop thinking about it

Ah yes the background radiation of the internet (and life) that so many of us have to deal with on a daily basis.

The internet has given humanity the ability to share both the best and worst parts of themselves with the entire world. The anonymity, the ability to reach a platform without ever leaving your house and/or basically no matter where you are, all of it has contributed to both a spreading of social awareness as well as an ease in the spreading of hate. Most of the hateful content you see on the internet has always existed it just has an easily accessible platform for everyone else now.

Honestly, as a woman who has been on the internet for years, I mostly ignore it. Yes I'll speak out about things occasionally or when I feel it's absolutely necessary, and if someone sends me hate on here I won't hesitate to put them on blast, but more often than not I ignore it.

Because look, the truth is that horrible misogynistic/hateful bullshit exists online just like it does in every other aspect of human life and spending every second of your day dwelling on it and worrying about it can be exhausting.

I block accounts and people who attempt to bring that kind of vitriol into my sphere directly. Occasionally I report things. Overall I do my best to keep myself educated on social matters and I do what I can to curate my part of the internet so that I don't have to come in contact with the hateful kind of content that I do not agree with.

And, most importantly of all, I do not let the things these people say crawl into my head and spirit and nest there. Because at the end of the day that is what they want. They want the attention, they want the people they are targeting to suffer and they want everyone else to agree with them. I will give them neither.

But that's speaking as someone who has known this kind of thing exists and has been dealing with it for years upon years.

So again, my best advice, as someone who's been playing this game for years, would be to educate yourself but do not burn yourself out.

Be aware that, just as you said, there are horrible horrible people on the internet saying horrible horrible things. You should allow yourself to learn about why these things are bad but you cannot let the fact that they exist consume you. Block people, report accounts, and curate your own internet environment.

And if it gets to be too much don't be afraid to unplug, put your devices down, do what you need to do to unwind and feel better and take care of yourself.

#RayRambles #misogyny #sexism #don't feed the trolls and don't give them room in your garden

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didanawisgi · 3 years

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Martin Luther King Jr., Guns, and a Book Everyone Should Read

BY JEREMY S. | JAN 15, 2018

“Martin Luther King Jr. would have been 89 years old today, were he not assassinated in 1968. On the third Monday in January we observe MLK Jr. Day and celebrate his achievements in advancing civil rights for African Americans and others. While Dr. King was a big advocate of peaceful assembly and protest, he wasn’t, at least for most of his life, against the use of firearms for self-defense. In fact, he employed them . . .

If it wasn’t for African Americans in the South, primarily, taking up arms almost without exception during the post-Civil War reconstruction and well into the civil rights movement, this country wouldn’t be what it is today.

By force and threat of arms African Americans protected themselves, their families, their homes, and their rights and won the attention and respect of the powers that be. In a lawless, post-Civil War South they stayed alive while faced with, at best, an indifferent government and, at worst, state-sponsored violence against them.

We know the Supreme Court’s Dred Scott decision of 1857 refused to recognize black people as citizens. Heck, they were deemed just three-fifths a person. Not often mentioned in school: some of that was due to gun rights. Namely, not wanting to give gun rights to blacks. Because if they were to recognize blacks as citizens, it…

“…would give to persons of the negro race . . . the right to enter every other State whenever they pleased, . . . and it would give them the full liberty of speech . . . ; to hold public meetings upon political affairs, and to keep and carry arms wherever they went.”

Ahha! So the Second Amendment was considered an individual right, protecting a citizen’s natural, inalienable right to keep and carry arms wherever they go. Then as now, gun control is rooted in racism.

During reconstruction, African Americans were legally citizens but were not always treated as such. Practically every African American home had a shotgun — or shotguns — and they needed it, too. Forget police protection, as those same officials were often in white robes during their time off.

Fast forward to the American civil rights movement and we learn, but again not at school, that Martin Luther King Jr. applied for a concealed carry permit. He (an upstanding minister, mind you) was denied.

Then as in many cases even now, especially in blue states uniquely and ironically so concerned about “fairness,” permitting was subjective (“may issue” rather than “shall issue”). The wealthy and politically connected receive their rights, but the poor, the uneducated, the undesired masses, not so much.

Up until late in his life, MLK Jr. chose to be protected by the Deacons for Defense. Though his home was also apparently a bit of an arsenal.

African Americans won their rights and protected their lives with pervasive firearms ownership. But we don’t learn about this. We don’t know about this. It has been unfortunately whitewashed from our history classes and our discourse.

Hidden, apparently, as part of an agreement (or at least an understanding) reached upon the conclusion of the civil rights movement.

Sure, the government is going to protect you now and help you and give you all of the rights you want, but you have to give up your guns. Turn them in. Create a culture of deference to the government. Be peaceable and non-threatening and harmless. And arm-less, as it were (and vote Democrat). African Americans did turn them in, physically and culturally.

That, at least, is an argument made late in Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms. It’s a fantastic book, teaching primarily through anecdotes of particular African American figures throughout history just how important firearms were to them. I learned so-freaking-much from this novel, and couldn’t recommend it more. If you have any interest in gun rights, civil rights, and/or African American history, it’s an absolute must-read.

Some text I highlighted on my Kindle Paperwhite when I read it in 2014:

But Southern blacks had to navigate the first generation of American arms-control laws, explicitly racist statutes starting as early as Virginia’s 1680 law, barring clubs, guns, or swords to both slaves and free blacks.

“…he who would be free, himself must strike the blow.”

In 1846, white abolitionist congressman Joshua Giddings of Ohio gave a speech on the floor of the House of Representatives, advocating distribution of arms to fugitive slaves.

Civil-rights activist James Forman would comment in the 1960s that blacks in the movement were widely armed and that there was hardly a black home in the South without its shotgun or rifle.

A letter from a teacher at a freedmen’s school in Maryland demonstrates one set of concerns. The letter contains the standard complaints about racist attacks on the school and then describes one strand of the local response. “Both the Mayor and the sheriff have warned the colored people to go armed to school, (which they do) [and] the superintendent of schools came down and brought me a revolver.”

Low black turnout resulted in a Democratic victory in the majority black Republican congressional district.

Other political violence of the Reconstruction era centered on official Negro state militias operating under radical Republican administrations.

“The Winchester rifle deserves a place of honor in every Black home.” So said Ida B. Wells.

Fortune responded with an essay titled “The Stand and Be Shot or Shoot and Stand Policy”: “We have no disposition to fan the coals of race discord,” Thomas explained, “but when colored men are assailed they have a perfect right to stand their ground. If they run away like cowards they will be regarded as inferior and worthy to be shot; but if they stand their ground manfully, and do their own a share of the shooting they will be respected and by doing so they will lessen the propensity of white roughs to incite to riot.”

He used state funds to provide guns and ammunition to people who were under threat of attack.

“Medgar was nonviolent, but he had six guns in the kitchen and living room.”

“The weapons that you have are not to kill people with — killing is wrong. Your guns are to protect your families — to stop them from being killed. Let the Klan ride, but if they try to do wrong against you, stop them. If we’re ever going to win this fight we got to have a clean record. Stay here, my friends, you are needed most here, stay and protect your homes.”

In 2008 and 2010, the NAACP filed amicus briefs to the United States Supreme Court, supporting blanket gun bans in Washington, DC, and Chicago. Losing those arguments, one of the association’s lawyers wrote in a prominent journal that recrafting the constitutional right to arms to allow targeted gun prohibition in black enclaves should be a core plank of the modern civil-rights agenda.

Wilkins viewed the failure to pursue black criminals as overt state malevolence and evidence of an attitude that “there’s one more Negro killed — the more of ’em dead, the less to bother us. Don’t spend too much money running down the killer — he may kill another.”

But it puts things in perspective to note that swimming pool accidents account for more deaths of minors than all forms of death by firearm (accident, homicide, and suicide).

The correlation of very high murder rates with low gun ownership in African American communities simply does not bear out the notion that disarming the populace as a whole will disarm and prevent murder by potential murderers.

Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimated 1,900,000 annual episodes where someone in the home retrieved a firearm in response to a suspected illegal entry. There were roughly half a million instances where the armed householder confronted and chased off the intruder.

A study of active burglars found that one of the greatest risks faced by residential burglars is being injured or killed by occupants of a targeted dwelling. Many reported that this was their greatest fear and a far greater worry than being caught by police.48 The data bear out the instinct. Home invaders in the United States are more at risk of being shot in the act than of going to prison.49 Because burglars do not know which homes have a gun, people who do not own guns enjoy free-rider benefits because of the deterrent effect of others owning guns. In a survey of convicted felons conducted for the National Institute of Justice, 34 percent of them reported being “scared off, shot at, wounded or captured by an armed victim.” Nearly 40 percent had refrained from attempting a crime because they worried the target was armed. Fifty-six percent said that they would not attack someone they knew was armed and 74 percent agreed that “one reason burglars avoid houses where people are at home is that they fear being shot.”

In the period before Florida adopted its “shall issue” concealed-carry laws, the Orlando Police Department conducted a widely advertised program of firearms training for women. The program was started in response to reports that women in the city were buying guns at an increased rate after an uptick in sexual assaults. The program aimed to help women gun owners become safe and proficient. Over the next year, rape declined by 88 percent. Burglary fell by 25 percent. Nationally these rates were increasing and no other city with a population over 100,000 experienced similar decreases during the period.55 Rape increased by 7 percent nationally and by 5 percent elsewhere in Florida.

As you can see, Negroes and the Gun progresses more or less chronologically, spending the last portion of the book discussing modern-day gun control. It’s an invaluable source of ammunition (if you’ll pardon the expression) against the fallacies of the pro-gun-control platform. It sheds light on a little-known (if not purposefully obfuscated), critical factor in the history of African Americans: firearms.

On this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I highly recommend you — yes, you — read Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms.

And I’ll wrap this up with a quote in a Huffington Post article given by Maj Toure of Black Guns Matter:

https://cdn0.thetruthaboutguns.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/huffpo-maj-toure.jpg”

#books #black history #history #american history #Guns #civil rights #constitution #supreme court #gun control #martin luther king jr.#dread scott #concealed carry #concealedcarry #everydaycarry #gun confiscation

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Ameliorate

Your life was always a dark abyss until Matsukawa came in and made everything better

Matsukawa x f!reader

a/n: hands down the most difficult piece I’ve worked on but it’s finally done. not sure how i feel about it but i hope you all enjoy it anyway! kind of a slow burn fyi

tw: smut, oral (f!reader receiving), heavy angst, mentions of death/grieving

wc: 5.8k

It was a call you didn’t want to take. You were at work going over some accounts when the screen of your cell came to life and angrily vibrated on your desk. Sighing, you reached over to swipe on the red phone icon but the caller id caught your eye leaving you stunned.

[Mother]

You almost missed the call, lost in the negative emotions that the title unburied from the dark recesses of your mind. On impulse, you answered last minute and took a deep breath before you spoke to your mother for the first time since you left home four years ago. In the second it took for your mother to speak, you held out for an apology but instead received the news that your father had passed away the night before.

You exchanged few words with your mother, who was as frigid as ever, but nonetheless agreed to return home for the funeral. After informing your supervisor and taking off the rest of the week, you collected your things to leave only to be bombarded by your coworkers offering their condolences. You accepted their sincerity but felt nothing except for a queer emptiness.

Upon reaching the ground floor of the building, the elevator doors opened and a familiar voice caught your attention. You looked up to face your ex-fiancé speaking animatedly on the phone—until he saw you and his smile faltered.

It had been a mutual decision. After two years of dating, he’d wanted marriage and you—well, you weren’t sure what you wanted but marriage sure wasn’t it. The last you’d heard he had gotten married to some girl from HR and he looked happy. You plastered a smile on your face and greeted him with a nod before heading out.

At least one of you was happy.

On the train to Miyagi, memories of your parents occupied your thoughts. Your relationship them had always been strained. As the only child of a prestigious university professor and a retired news anchor turned housewife, they expected a lot from you academically and socially. Throughout your childhood, you struggled under the immense pressure they placed and you , more often than not, disappointed them.

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to be their perfect daughter, you always fell short and got reproached accordingly. Your above average grades were never good enough. Your clumsiness and constant slouch made you unladylike, and your awkward mumbled speech was shameful. No matter what you did, the scrutiny never stopped and your imperfections only worsened over time. Your grades fell, you avoided going out with your parents to social events, and you spoke very little to your parents.

A quiet girl with no self-esteem, you started high school at Aoba Josai and everything changed when you met Matsukawa Issei. He approached you first during homeroom on your first day of school and never stopped talking to you from then on. He was patient and kind with you but also pushed you to get out of you shell. Before you knew it, he became your best friend and the two of you spent all of your free time together.

Issei’s friendship raised you up in many forms. Your grades increased after all those study sessions with him and Hanamaki. You stopped looking down at your shoes and found that the sky was much nicer to look at. You laughed, yelled, cried, and talked to Issei about anything and everything.

The change had been so sudden that even your parents noticed and treated you better. They stopped criticizing your every movement and that did wonders to your confidence. While the relationship between you and your parents slightly improved, your relationship with Issei bloomed like the cherry blossoms that fell on the day he confessed to you. For the first time in your life, you were truly happy until everything shattered when your parents found out about you and Issei.

You were reckless with the lies you told your parents to sneak out and see Issei. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend that you hadn’t noticed your parents had been awake when you snuck out at night. That night your parents caught you outside on a park bench with Issei’s head on your lap. As a result, you were confined to your room for a week with your mother becoming your personal jailer and after getting a taste of love and freedom—you refused to go back to being that insecure girl.

You rebelled against your parents. You got into screaming matches with your mother and argued with your father. The worst part of it all was the guilt that you felt after you’d yell at your mother or insulted your father. In that moment, you’d see the hurt in their eyes and the hesitation before they sent you to your room. You hated those looks because it proved that they too had feelings and you were capable of hurting them just like they’d hurt you.

Until you graduated, you lived like a ghost in your own home avoiding your parents as much as you could. You filled the emptiness you felt with Issei, who became your whole world. You went to all of his volleyball matches, he picked you up after work, and you spent most of your time at his house and with his family. The two of you planned a future together during your first year at college in Yokohama until the news of your mother falling ill sent you back home.

“Now arriving at Tokyo station”

The announcement interrupted your musings and you pulled out your phone to distract yourself from the bustle of people exiting the train. You scrolled through your social media page until a rare post from an old friend caught your attention. Oikawa had uploaded a photo of a historic site in Argentina and you found yourself searching for Issei’s name among the thousands of likes and comments. While Issei’s name hadn’t popped up, Hanamaki’s did and you clicked on his profile thoughtlessly. It didn’t take much digging on your behalf to find what you were looking for.

Only a couple of posts down was a photo of Hanamaki and Issei from a year ago at a restaurant you would recognize anywhere—after all, you’d worked there for two years. You couldn’t help but admire how good they looked. You memorized every detail of Issei’s face before a thought crossed your mind and your finger hovered over the screen.

A tap on the photo revealed Issei’s account and you hesitated to wonder if stalking your ex-boyfriend’s social media was the right move before you tapped on his username anyway and his profile opened up. It was on private to your dismay but his account picture showed you more than enough. It was one of Issei with one arm swung over a pretty woman’s shoulder. Shutting off your phone, you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care but the tightness in your chest proved otherwise.

Gazing out the window at the rural towns the train passed reminded you of your father and his love for the countryside. You hated to admit it but, after living in the city for three years, you came to share the same sentiments as your father.

After returning home following the news of your mother’s illness, your father moved the family to rural Miyagi believing the fresh country air would do her good. Moving back with your parents wasn’t as difficult as you’d feared after leaving everything behind. Your mother still nagged you over everything but not as cruelly and would occasionally compliment your cooking when you fed her.

It was the relationship with your father, however, that changed the most which was why his deception hurt you the most. Your father was the one that helped you transfer to the university he taught at. The two of you always left for school together and conversations about school eventually filled the quiet void during those hour-long train rides to Sendai. Your conversations became personal at night over tea or sake and, in those moments, you felt as if you could forgive your parents and develop a relationship with them.

You should have been more suspicious about your mother’s condition. Whenever you asked your father about it, you’d attributed his wavering gaze to concern over your mother. The improved relationship between you and your parents distracted you from the unchanging condition of your mother despite constant medication and hospital visits. It never crossed your mind that the sickness had only been a ploy to guilt you into coming back to Miyagi so your parents could resume molding their matured daughter into what they wanted.

You found out by chance while listening in to a conversation amongst them but that was all it took to turn your newfound affection for your parents into resentment. For the entirety of the confrontation, you bit back tears when their reactions confirmed everything had been made up. After packing up your things and disowning your parents, you left home vowing never to come back.

“Now arriving at Sendai station”

The long drive to your childhood home did nothing to prepare you for the meeting with your mother. She looked tired and beat down; a sharp contrast to the strong woman she used to be.

“You look awful,” She chided, eyeing you with her sharp gaze. “You’re thin and sickly.”

“So are you.” Your retort was immediate and thoughtless but it shut your mother up. After a moment of deafening silence, she offered to help you with your bag but you declined.

“Come downstairs after you unpack. Dinner is almost ready.” With that, your mother left to the kitchen.

You were surprised to find your room in the same state it had been when you left for college. Palming through your old notebooks, opening your drawers to sift through old clothes, and collapsing on your bed to bury your nose in the sheets made you miss the simpler days of high school.

In the end, you were too distracted by your room to unpack but made sure to wash up before heading down to dinner—a habit your mother instilled in you and returned after only being in the house for twenty minutes. You also took your usual spot across your mother while the chair that your father had once sat in stood bare at the head of the table. The empty spot was disconcerting but your eyes remained fixed on the chair while your mind worked to restore the image of your father on it. Your trancelike state stopped when your mother cleared her throat.

“The wake will be tomorrow morning so ready by nine.”

“Do I need to do anything?”

“A small speech is expected of you.” She stated and left no room for argument. “There will also be familiar faces so behave accordingly.”

The meaning behind your mother’s warning dawned on you when the two of you entered the funeral home and were greeted by the one familiar face you didn’t expect to see—Issei.

If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it and was all business when he addressed your mother. Your shock only increased when your mother didn’t go off on Issei and instead treated him like an actual human.

When his sharp gaze shifted to your form, the air around you seemed to thicken and breathing became impossible. Standing in front of Issei took you back in time to those days when Issei would wait for you in the mornings to walk to school. You could have lost yourself in his eyes but the purpose of your return tore your eyes away and you bowed in greeting, not trusting your voice. He bowed as well and offered his condolences before turning to your mother and discussing the schedule and other details as they walked into the building with you in tow.

The discomfort you felt during the service increased tenfold with the arrival of the guests. Former colleagues of your father, friends of your mother, and neighbors crowded the small funeral home and they all had their eyes on you. The condolences, hugs, and pats left you suffocated and desensitized. Before long, their words fused together into a clangor that left you disoriented. You thought you were going to pass out until a former professor of yours asked a question that destroyed whatever remained of your composure.

“…so when did they find out the tumor was malignant?”

Tumor?

Malignant?

Your overwhelmed brain pieced together the information until you understood what had caused your father’s death—cancer. In that moment, everything ceased to exist and there was only you and your thoughts. Your blood ran cold and all of your limbs went numb. While your mouth hung open, not a syllable fell from your lips. As opposed to your frozen body, your mind raced and a whirlwind of emotions wreaked havoc on your being. When you came to terms with the fact that you hadn’t known your father’s cause of death, a strangled cry escaped your mouth and you darted out of the room.

The urge to leave and never return overcame all logic but, before you could make it out the door, a pair of large warm hands clasped your shoulders, gently stopping you dead in your tracks. The faint smell of cologne and musk hit you and you knew it was Issei before you looked up.

Warmth radiated from every part of his body and all you wanted was to bury yourself into him and hide from the world. His eyes widened slightly before he looked around and guided you away into a small room away from the guests. There was a sofa that he led you too and sat down next to you. Suddenly, Issei’s hands were on your cheeks wiping away tears you didn’t know where there.

“God…I’m a fucking mess.” You cursed and buried your face into your hands.

“Funerals are…difficult,” Issei offered. “Trust me, I work here.”

“I didn’t know,” you muttered raising your head. “I didn’t even know how my father died. I never asked my mother and she never told me. She just told me he died and I took a train here without thinking.”

“Everyone processes death differently, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Issei—I’m his only daughter for crying out loud!” Your voice broke as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill. “We’ve never had a stable relationship…but still, what kind of a daughter doesn’t know the cause of death of her own father? I just feel like I’m suffocating and I-I…”

Sobs tore out of your chest inhibiting you from speaking and Issei didn’t hesitate to envelop you in his strong arms that rocked you while he whispered calming reassurances in your ear.

“Shhh…it’s okay.”

“Everything will be fine.”

“This will pass.”

Your cries eventually ceased but neither of you let go. It felt easy to cling onto Issei while he held you just as tightly. The return of your wits, however, brought you back to reality and you let him go knowing it wasn’t right to cling onto anyone’s boyfriend—even if he’d been your friend before he’d been your boyfriend.

“Thank you, Issei. I should really head back now.”

Issei’s grip loosened slowly until he faced you with his thick brows knitted with concern. You smiled hoping it was convincing enough to reassure him before the two of you stood up and left the room. Near the entrance of the hall stood your mother angrily pacing back and forth until she saw you and Issei and opened her mouth to speak but stopped. You decided to speak first before she misunderstood the situation.

“I needed some space to calm down and Issei helped me find a place.”

Her piercing eyes took you in and lingered on your eyes; they were no doubt red and puffy from crying. The anger seemed to dissipate and her shoulder’s relaxed before she finally addressed you.

“It’s time for your speech. Are you ready?”

Coming from the woman that never asked you anything, her question caught you off guard but stirred something in you. You answered by nodding and followed your mother into the packed hall and up to the front where your father lied in his coffin. You stood to the side while your mother addressed the guests and you looked at your father for the first time in years.

The sight should have made you feel anything but the relief that washed over you. He looked at peace and it reminded you of the rare glimpses you’d caught of him talking with his students, fishing in the small pond of your country home, or drinking sake at night. It was with those memories that you replaced your mother and spoke to the guests.

You were composed for the entire speech despite your distraught state only minutes prior. It felt like a blanket of serenity had wrapped itself over your shoulders and shielded you from any remaining guilt. In the end, you wished your father well not because you forgave him but because you wanted to close that chapter in your book.

The rest of the ceremony was easier to stomach without the turmoil in your head. After the last guest left, you and your mother spoke to Issei and his boss about last minute details for the funeral the next day. Your mother offered a brisk thanks before heading out first and Issei’s boss followed, leaving you and your ex alone. The desire to ask him for his contact info was immense, but your better judgement won and you offered him a quick thanks before following your mother.

Very little words were exchanged with your mother that night and you headed up to bed completely drained from the day’s events. You’d just finished hanging up your mourning clothes when your mother knocked on the door and waited until you let her in—something she never did.

Still in her mourning gown, she held out a letter addressed to you from your father and seeing her up close, you noticed the wet cheeks and puffy red skin around her eyes. In all the years you lived with your mother, you had never seen her cry. Crying out hysterically? Yes. Witnessing actual tears or the evidence of tears on her face, however, not even once. Which was why you stood stunned as your mother placed the letter in your hand before leaving you to your privacy.

You tore open the sealed envelope and opened the letter to see that it was dated one year ago.

{Daughter,

If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer on this earth. As the disease weakens my body, I know that I will never see you again and write this to convey everything that I could not in life. I am well-aware that I lost the right to your forgiveness and I do not wish to receive it. Nothing will ever justify my actions towards you. I failed you as a father and caused you to grow up in a miserable home. I held you to expectations that not even I could achieve and I will regret the pain and suffering I caused you until my last breath.

I remember the day your mother brought you into this world. When I saw your frail little body and held you in my arms for the first time, I was struck with an immeasurable amount of fear. I was terrified of being a father and didn’t want you to suffer the way I did. I wanted to prepare you for the world in the way my parents never did for me. However, in the end, my own selfish desires to re-live my life through you tainted whatever intentions I’d had. I will never forgive myself for the irreparable damage I caused you therefore I ask that you do the same.

I wish to end this message by expressing how proud I am of the strong woman you’ve become. Everything you’ve accomplished is derived of your own merits and in spite of the suffering I caused you. Your mother and I are happy to hear of your successes and wish you happiness in your married life. I know you will live a long and happy life because you are not like me. You’re a fighter. You know what you want and take it without regrets.

With this, I hope that you will continue to grow and forget me as I am undeserving of living in your thoughts.}

What began as tears trailing down your cheeks, ended up as wails mourning your father. The proud man that you knew him to be in life came undone in that short letter and every word pierced your heart. In a manner reminiscent of the past, you disobeyed his requests and genuinely forgave your father while engraving each of his words into your heart.

The urge to see your mother led you to tuck away the letter and open the door only to find her already there. Muffling her sobs with her hands, her whole body shook as she gazed up at you. The fragility of her state stirred your compassion and your arms wrapped around her. Collapsing onto the ground, the two of you clung to each other and truly mourned the death of your father.

You woke up enveloped in motherly warmth like you were an infant again. Her eyes that once scrutinized your every move, were softer now as she talked about your father’s last days over breakfast. The hand that had disciplined you in the past now held yours during the Buddhist priest’s chant at the funeral. The circumstances were wretched but you finally felt at peace with your parents.

The funeral and cremation passed with you and your mother holding each other up. As the two of you jointly picked up the bone fragments with chopsticks and placed them in the urn, you came to terms with the fact that the relationship with your mother would never go back to what it was. A sense of filial duty stirred within you for the first time in a while only it wasn’t out of guilt—this time, you genuinely wanted to take care of your mother.

You found yourself outside of the crematorium waiting for your mother to settle things when Issei walked up to you. He’d been at the funeral ceremony, of course, but the crematorium wasn’t a part of his duties so you were surprised to see him. He still wore his black slacks and matching button down but his tie was nowhere to be seen and he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

He began by inquiring about the cremation to make sure everything had gone well. You assured him everything went well before an awkward silence pervaded the space between. Desperate to fill the void with anything, you asked Issei a question only to find him simultaneously asking you one.

“Talked to Hana—”

“How long are yo—”

Your face flushed and Issei rubbed the back of his head as the two of you apologized for interrupting each other.

“You go first,” Issei gently insisted.

“I was going to ask if you’d talked to Hanamaki lately. I saw that you two went out…” The implication of your words caused you to clamp your mouth shut while your face burned even more.

“You saw…us?” Issei sounded amused and you looked up to find that same smirk from six years ago that produced butterflies in your stomach.

“Er…yeah,” you admitted. “I kinda found Hanamaki’s social media and happened a picture of you two.”

“Oh, that picture. That was the last time I saw him since he lives in Tokyo now. We still text though.”

“So Tokyo, huh? Good for Hanamaki.”

“What about you?” Issei asked, his eyes more intense than before. “Your mother mentioned you live in the city.”

“Uh yeah,” You said fidgeting with the material of your kimono. “I live in Yokohama. Got a job offer after graduation and I’ve been there ever since.”

“…Are you going back now?”

Issei avoided your eyes by looking away—an old habit you instantly recognized. Like the old days, you moved in the direction of his face and stood on your tippy toes with a cheeky grin on your face. Surprise flashed on his eyes before his mouth broke into a fond smile.

“I’m staying for a couple more days.” You replied and the next word flowed out naturally like water in a stream. “Why?”

“I wanted to catch up with you.” He admitted before his expression sobered. “Only if you’re up for it though. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“I’d love to catch up!”

And with that, the two of you exchanged contact information before your mother approached you. As you watched Issei walk away, you mother piped up next to you.

“He’s a good man. I regret not seeing it before.” It wasn’t exactly an apology but the effect was the same to you.

“And I regret letting him go,” you lamented.

“You still have a chance.” She replied and you met her gaze.

“I don’t. He has a girlfriend.”

“Then why did I overhear his boss trying to set him up on a date with his niece?” Your mother countered and then started to walk towards the newly arrived taxi.

“Wait, what?!”

Heeding your mother’s advice, you dressed up for your meeting with Issei. He picked you up and the first thing you noticed was the similar colored clothing the two of you wore. Laughing it off, you got into his car and made small talk about the changes in town while on route to the restaurant.

The conversation gave you the perfect excuse to admire him at ease. Issei had always been handsome but you had to admit that he’d really grown into his looks. Any lingering teenage awkwardness was gone and replaced by an air of confidence that he exuded in his speech, mannerisms, and voice. From his defined jaw to the protruding veins on his exposed forearm, you memorized each detail and replaced the memory you had of college freshman Issei with it.

Issei took you to the same restaurant you spent most of your evenings in during high school waiting tables and chatting with the volleyball team after closing time. Unlike the rest of the town, the tables, chairs, and décor remained the same and you were overcome with emotion the moment you walked in. After chatting with the owner for a bit, Issei led you to the table the boys would always take after practice to wait until you got off work.

“I can’t believe this place remained the same after all these years.” You commented after placing your orders.

“I know,” Issei replied grinning. “I can’t imagine this town without it.”

“Just sitting here brings back so many memories of us…” you trailed off when you noticed Issei’s unwavering gaze on you.

“Ah! And the boys too!” You added letting out a nervous giggle before taking a sip of your beer to cool your heated head. “How are they, by the way? I’ve seen Oikawa’s posts of Argentina but what about Iwaizumi?”

The conversation about the whereabouts of the volleyball team lasted until the food arrived. You asked about his family in between bites and Issei answered each of your questions about his siblings and parents.

After finishing your meal and ordering a second round of drinks the conversation switched over to work with Issei eager to find out what you did.

“Financing! Can you believe it?” You laughed. “Specifically, in the mortgage department.”

“Seriously?” Issei chuckled. “Whatever happened to being a novelist?”

“Life happened.” You answered and raised your glass in a mock toast.

“Ah, trust me. I completely understand.” He clinked his glass against yours and the two of you laughed before taking a sip.

After finishing your second beer, the warmth in your cheeks and your animated speech were all clear signs you were buzzed. It wasn’t until you asked the question on your mind since you’d seen that picture that you realized just how buzzed you actually were.

“So…are you seeing anyone?” Your eyes were lowered, but when Issei didn’t respond you looked up.

Issei’s eyes were darker than they’d been. The intensity of his gaze locked your eyes on his leaving you vulnerable. You were suddenly keenly aware how intensely your heart was beating and wondered if Issei could hear it.

“Why do you ask?”

His strained voice sent chills down your spine making you painfully aware of the building tension in your core. You knew what you wanted and you suspected he wanted the same thing but you needed to confirm your suspicions.

“I saw your social media account and the picture you used. The one where you’re hugging a woman…smiling…”

The more words that spilled out, the more pathetic you sounded and you eventually trailed off while averting your eyes.

“We broke up about a year ago.”

“What?!” The word slipped through your lips when your eyes snapped back to see him sheepishly running a hand through his wavy black locks.

“We wanted different things. I felt like I was holding her back so I let her go.”

“I completely understand,” echoing his words, your hand reached across the table to his. “My engagement got cancelled for similar reasons. He wanted marriage sooner than later and I wasn’t ready.”

The two of you shared a moment when, out of the blue, Issei took ahold of your hand and used his thumb to run slow circles on your palm; a gesture he’d always used to signal he wanted to be alone with you. Your breath hitched and a lazy smirk graced his face as he lifted your wrist and pressed a kiss on your pulse point.

“I-Issei,” you gasped and darted your eyes around the room to ensure no one had seen.

“Let’s get out of here. Come to my place.”

His voice was like honey to your ears and you nodded as the tension that’d been building spread to other parts of your body. With that the bill was settled and Issei drove you to his place while keeping a hand on your inner thigh that would occasionally drift and tease your clit.

By the time the two of you made it inside his home, Issei’s tongue had tasted every part of your mouth while his lips left yours swollen. Flushed and whimpering, Issei planted wet butterfly kisses down your jaw until he reached that spot on your neck that elicited a moan from your parted lips.

Issei groaned before sucking on that spot and you to pulled him closer by tugging on his hair—a move you knew drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” his warm breath fanned on your neck. “Fuck—not here.”

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pulled his lips into another wet kiss that had him groaning into your mouth as his erection pressed against your soaked panties. He set you down on his bed and broke the kiss that left the two of you panting.

His hungry gaze traveled all over your body. Your dress was hiked up and he could make out the darkened material of your panties—the proof of your arousal. With a groan his stripped out of his shirt letting you take in his broad chest that you ached to touch. Grinning from your cute reaction he pressed a kiss to your forehead before snaking his arm behind your waist and laying you down on this middle of his bed. You reached for his clothed erection but Issei gripped your hand and placed it over your head.

“Not yet, pretty girl. Let me spoil you today.”

Issei’s skilled hands worked on your dress and slipped it off you followed by your bra and panties. His eyes raked over your body taking in the flushed skin, erect nipples, and trembling legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned over to lick and suck on your sensitive peaks. Each flick against a nipple had you gasping. Each bite had you arching your back. The longer he teased, the more desperate your need to be touched and filled became until you took his hand and placed it between your legs.

“T-touch, me Issei, p-please...”

“That’s my needy girl,” he cooed and pressed one last kiss to your chest before settling between your legs and admiring the way your dribbling cunt clenched around nothing. “Such a pretty cunt.”

He flattened his tongue on your throbbing clit sending shocks of pleasure up your body. Issei’s mouth that alternated between sucking and biting down on your clit had you in tears from the immense pleasure and you lost count of how many times you came on his face. When his tongue delved into your aching cunt, you rutted against his face to push his tongue in deeper.

“Nghhh—Isseiiiii! Need y’now, please!”

Issei’s head rose from between you legs and just sight of his face covered in your arousal had your cunt pulsing again.

“What was that baby?” He teased and licked the translucent substance off his lips. His hands began to work on his pants and your eyes greedily took in his tented underwear. “Is this what you want, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes! Need it!”

It’d been so long since you’d been with a guy let alone one of Issei’s size. In fact, you were certain Issei was the biggest you’d ever had. That being said, the sight of his erect cock had you whimpering from both apprehension and desire.

Issei, always so attentive, noticed your reaction and settled himself on top before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips and assuring you he’d be gentle. You nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck while he rubbed his cock between your folds and against your clit in the way he’d always done before filling you.

Once your slick coated his cock, he lined himself at your entrance and slowly sheathed himself into you. The stretch was still painful even with the prep but as soon as he was halfway in, your walls relaxed and pain turned into pleasure. After bottoming out, Issei waited for your cunt to relax around him before he started moving.

With each thrust, Issei hit that spot near your cervix that built up your release time and time again. Every time your walls fluttered and your cum coated his cock, your nails raked over his back and Issei’s groans filled your ears until he too found his release. The two of you were insatiable and continued your lovemaking until the early hours of the morning.

In the end, you stayed the night and woke up mid-day with your head against Issei’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. Listening to his steady heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest convinced you of the thought you’d mulled over since your father’s funeral.

You wouldn’t return to Yokohama.

268 notes · View notes

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

i picture it, soft, and i ache

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to.

It doesn't take Janus very long to fall in love with Patton, when it comes down to it. It takes him far longer to accept it, and to allow it to grow.

Content Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of a panic attack

(ao3 link)

(podfic by @titheinironside)

It’s unbelievable, how fast he falls.

He prides himself on his rationality, his pragmatism. He’s no Logan, of course, but it has been a very long time since he allowed his emotions to get in his way. Over the years, that has cost him so much-- his relationship with Virgil, his ability to trust and be trusted, any moral compass that he may once have possessed, among other things. But he has never regretted it, not once, because his primary directive is to help Thomas, and if he has to play the villain to do so, so be it. Lord knows none of the others see the world for what it is, are willing to do what it takes to ensure Thomas’ success.

But the scene is like this: time passes, Thomas begins to listen to him, and one day, Patton smiles. He doesn’t know at what, doesn’t know why, because he wasn’t paying attention until now, but Patton smiles, wide and bright, and in that moment, Janus would do anything for that smile to be directed at him.

In the next moment comes realization: oh.

In the next few days comes denial: no.

Because above all else, he knows himself, knows what he is built for and what he is not. He is not built for this love, all-encompassing and brilliant, not built for this depth of devotion. His very being is defined by his loyalty to Thomas and Thomas alone, his ability to use and discard the others at will as long as Thomas will benefit. He is a snake and a liar, cunning, selfish, cowardly, and he has spent his entire existence pushing away the possibility of anything else.

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to. Patton burns like the brightest star in the sky, moves like the gentlest breeze on the warmest summer day, laughs like the freest dancer on the greenest field, and Janus is caught in his orbit, hopelessly entranced, hanging off his every word. The first time Patton touches him skin to skin, a graze against his forearm, causally, in passing, he has to excuse himself and stand in the center of his room for hours to catch his breath. His heart races too fast, and his entire arm feels as though it has been set alight, and all he wants is for it to happen again.

He is in too deep, sinking too quickly. He is at the bottom of the ocean, and even as the pressure of the water overhead crushes him, even as the darkness swallows him whole, he cannot bring himself to fight for the surface. If this is drowning, then he will drown and be grateful.

He cannot love Patton. But it is far, far too late for that.

“Wow,” Remus says, impressed against all odds. “You are a gay disaster.”

He groans. “I don’t know why I expected you to help me,” he mutters, and Remus shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“You know I don’t do the whole romance thing,” he says. “Not my department. Have you tried, uh--” He scrunches his nose, and Janus knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be truly ridiculous-- “telling him, maybe? With, um, roses? That’s romantic shit, right? But you gotta take all the thorns off so that he doesn’t prick his thumb and blood doesn’t go spurting everywhere--”

“Please stop,” he groans, and that is the end of that.

Tell Patton. Absurd.

And he cannot tell anyone else. Cannot ask for help. He can tell Remus because he trusts Remus, to the extent that he trusts him to be exactly what he is, no more and no less, and Remus trusts him in the same way. But in general, trust is a foreign concept to him, once known but long lost, like returning to an old favorite book and realizing that the words have faded beyond all recognition.

But that’s alright. He is used to being alone. He has been alone for so long that he barely remembers what honest companionship feels like, and that is part of the problem, isn’t it? He has built so many walls around himself, walls that only he is ever allowed to breach, but here is Patton, waiting outside the gates and asking to be let in. Not demanding, not threatening; he brings no battering ram, no armies. Just himself, and his smile, and flowers in his hair, and that has more effect than twenty armies could.

He wants to open the gates. But the chains are rusted, the keys long lost, and that does not even take into account the danger of it, the danger of allowing himself to love another. Thomas is his priority, but what happens to him when that changes? What does he become? And what does that say about the worth of every action he has taken to lead him to this point?

Can he love? Is he capable of that unique vulnerability? He doesn’t think so. Love and trust go hand in hand, and if he cannot manage one, the other will evade him. He’s dancing a waltz meant for two on an empty stage, stumbling over his own feet because he has no one to catch him.

“You need to stay away from Patton,” Virgil tells him, eyes dark and clouded over with years of betrayal.

“Oh?” he asks. “Why is that?”

Virgil snorts, kicking away from the wall he’s leaning on. He approaches him slowly, deliberately, and the threads that hold Janus in place are invisible, intangible, but there all the same. A spiderweb capable of holding a serpent fast.

“Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him,” Virgil says, and fear lands heavily in his chest. “I know everyone’s all eager to accept you and have you around these days, but I know what you are. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

“Ah, yes,” he replies. “You know what I am, just as I know what you are, Virgil. I wouldn’t throw stones.” He pauses. The words fall from his lips bitter-sharp, and he doesn’t want to be saying them, not like this, but it’s a habit formed from years. There was a time when they were happy, once, but they spoiled each other, and nothing is left of that shared past but a handful of wilted promises and bridges burned beyond repair.

Virgil snorts and shoves past him.

“Out of curiosity,” he says, and Virgil stops, “how do I look at him?”

Virgil turns and stares. “What?” he demands, and Janus knows that it was a mistake.

“Nevermind,” he says, and moves to walk away, but Virgil grabs his arm, hard enough to bruise, and holds him in place. For a minute, he says nothing at all, and Janus is left to search his face, the anger in the tightness of his lips and bewilderment in the tilt of his head.

Then, realization dawns, and Janus wants to be anywhere but here.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Virgil says. “You… I can’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, tightly, coolly.

Virgil laughs, and it’s the sound of a predator pouncing. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I don’t give a damn what you feel, or what you think you feel. You’re a fucking liar, and a fucking liar is all you’ll ever be. You’re not capable of giving him what he deserves.”

They are standing so close to each other, a distance of inches, but he has never felt farther away from him. What they once had is lost, but in the space between breaths, he allows himself to mourn its death, hating himself for the weakness all the while.

“I know,” he says.

Virgil scowls, dire warning in the shadows on his face, and releases him, stomping away. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

A moment later, Patton pokes his head around the corner.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes pinched with concern. “I thought I heard arguing.”

I want to kiss you, he doesn’t say. I want you to hold me and never let go, he doesn’t say. I want to love you, and I want you to love me, please, would you love me? he doesn’t say.

“It was nothing,” he says. “We’ve sorted it.”

Patton doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it be. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

No one ever told him that love would hurt. He supposes he should have guessed it. Nothing that is worth having ever comes easily, and even though his breath catches every time Patton walks into a room, even though his heart tries to burst from his chest every time Patton deigns to glance his way, he doesn’t think he would trade this for anything. He can barely remember a time before this, before this love crawled into his chest and took up residence.

He takes whatever Patton will give him, laps up the crumbs like a starving dog. He accepts every offer of dinner, every invitation to watch a movie or play a game, even though all the rest of them barely tolerate him at best and openly hate him at worst. He’ll endure Virgil’s scorn, Roman’s enmity, Logan’s dismissal, as long as it means he can stay by Patton’s side. And Patton, at least, seems to like that he’s there, and most of him screams that it can’t be trusted, that there must be an ulterior motive, because that is the way he has thought about other people for nearly three decades and it’s so hard to try to change that. But he also knows that Patton doesn’t work that way. No matter how foolish it may be, he is genuine and true. Everything that Janus is not.

He entices smiles from him, teases laughter, and rejoices in the fact that it is him that draws these responses. It is all he will ever have, all he will ever be brave enough to take, and it is more than enough, more than he ever expected he could receive.

He cannot love Patton. But he does.

Roman corners him one day, and he lets him, because he has no idea why Roman of all people would seek him out. Things are better between them, but not by much, and Roman himself is still fragile in an odd way, as if saying the wrong thing one more time will prompt a total collapse. Janus has wanted many things from Remus’ twin, but never that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Roman says, through gritted teeth. “But, you and Patton.”

He blinks, taken aback. He told Remus, but Remus wouldn’t tell Roman. Virgil figured him out, but even after everything, Virgil still knows him well enough to read him, so that is no shock. Roman, though, barely manages to make eye contact with him on a good day, so he couldn’t, shouldn’t know, unless he is being far more obvious than he thought he was. That thought alone is enough to send an icy tendril of fear down his spine.

“What about me and Patton?” he asks, and hopes that his voice doesn’t shake.

Roman sighs, and his next sentence comes out as if it takes him a great effort to say. “Look, you make him happy, alright?” he states. “I don’t get it, and mostly, I’m scared that you’re just manipulating him, but for some ungodly reason, he actually likes having you around. So what I’m here to say is that if you hurt him, if this all turns out to be for some kind of scheme of yours, I will stab you through the heart and leave you pinned to the ground for the crows to eat. Do you understand me?”

His mouth goes dry. “Perfectly,” he rasps.

Roman looks at him, and then nods. He walks away without a sound, and Janus tries in vain to steady his nerves.

What was that?

You make him happy.

You. Make him. Happy.

Happy happy happy.

His face feels odd. He brings a gloved hand up to feel his cheek, and he realizes he’s smiling, wide and unrestrained like he hasn’t in years.

He makes Patton happy. He makes Patton happy.

He makes Patton happy.

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what he does. He can coax out smiles with a bit of smooth talk, bring out laughter with a well-placed pun, but those are both momentary, fleeting things. The idea that he makes Patton happy implies something that goes far beyond moments, implies a lasting fondness and a desire for his company, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why, and that is a problem, because if he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know to keep doing it.

Eventually, he works up the courage to ask, and Patton stops in the middle of rolling out his cookie dough.

“Why do I like to hang out with you?” he repeats. His eyes are very blue behind his glasses, like the vastest sky. “It’s because you’re you, silly.” He grins, bubbly and vivacious, and dabs a bit of flour on Janus’ nose. He sticks out his tongue instinctively, and Patton coos at what he calls a ‘blep’ and what Janus calls ‘something that he will deny ever happening so please stop bringing it up.’

“Besides,” Patton adds, more thoughtfully, “we’ve spent so long not being friends, and that was mostly on me. Now that I know how great you are, I don’t want to waste any more time. You’ve been trying so hard all along, and I couldn’t see that.” He grabs Janus’ hand, and he has to stifle a gasp. He can feel the human side of his face heating up, and hopes against all hope that Patton will not notice what must be an obvious blush. “I want to know you better now.”

“Oh,” is all he can say, all he can squeak out between teeth that are too tightly clenched. Even through his glove, Patton’s hand is so very warm, and his hand is tingling at his touch. “Um, I suppose I want to know you better, too,” he adds, stumbling his way through sincerity, and it must be the right answer, because Patton beams.

It’s like standing in sunlight, squinting up at a cloudless sky, in a instant of warmth and light that will last forever. Night will never fall and rain will never come down, and the sun will burn bright until the end of time, and so will he.

That evening, he has a panic attack in Logan’s room.

It starts in the hallway and comes out of nowhere; one moment he is walking to his room, and the next, he is leaning on the wall for support, doubled over and gasping for breath for no reason that he can see. But he happens to be standing near Logan’s door, and he must be loud enough for him to take notice, to come out and lead him somewhere safer, less exposed. He would be more grateful, if his lungs would cooperate.

Logan counts and measures his own breaths, and eventually, he finds himself able to follow the rhythm. He is shaking and sweating and crying just a bit, but the panic eases little by little, leaving him pressed up against the wall, Logan sitting nearby but not touching. He is familiar with the motions; he walked through them for Virgil, once upon a time. He has never been on the receiving end.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Logan asks, when he no longer feels as though his lungs are being constricted by iron bands.

He contemplates what triggered it. He thinks it was nothing in particular, really, nothing but a sudden sensation of being overwhelmed by everything all at once, his feelings and the endless possibilities open before him, a looming, uncertain future. It is as though he is walking a tightrope over a precipice, and the slightest mistake will send him tumbling into darkness. The thought makes his chest clench up again, and he breathes out slowly and deliberately.

“Not particularly,” he manages, and Logan accepts the answer with a nod.

“Very well,” he says, standing and walking to his desk, where he sits down and opens his laptop. “You are welcome to remain here for as long as you would like.”

He considers the offer. It’s far more generous than he expected. He didn’t think that Logan liked him very much. And it’s a nice room. Calming. There are stars painted on the ceiling, an accurate representation of the night sky bathing the room in a soft white glow.

“Thank you,” he says, and for a long while, the two of them sit in silence, Logan typing at his laptop and Janus just breathing, existing. He appreciates it, this comfortable silence, carrying no demands or expectations.

Could Logan help him, he wonders? Perhaps not; Logan barely ever bothers to recognize his own emotions, much less those of someone else. But then, Logan is calm and rational and most importantly, capable of respecting privacy, and perhaps that is just what he needs.

He needs something, of that, he is certain. Panic attacks are a new development, and not one that he wants to continue.

“Logan,” he says, “may I ask you a question?”

Logan swivels in his chair to face him. “You just did,” he points out, “but yes, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“What is love? If you had to define it, that is.”

He tries to keep his voice level, to reveal none of the importance that the question holds. It is the most open he has been about the subject, besides ranting to Remus, and he trusts Remus in a way that he has not learned to apply to anyone else. But he needs to know, needs to understand, and Logan is his best option for a definition. He will answer, and he will not push. Emotions are not his department.

Logan frowns at him, eyes oddly piercing. “I may not be the best side to go to if you are experiencing difficulties with this matter,” he says. “However, scientifically speaking, love is the emotion produced when certain neurochemicals, such as oxytocin, are released in the brain. I do not generally concern myself with the intricacies of the topic. Emotions are hardly my area of expertise.”

Janus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. It is just about the answer he was expecting. He’s not sure that it helps. He doesn’t think he can reduce his feelings to chemicals. Not when he thinks he would do anything to keep Patton happy, save putting Thomas at risk.

“Is… there anything else I can answer for you?” Logan asks, and Janus meets his gaze. He seems oddly hesitant, and Janus is certain that he has overplayed his hand, but he is too exhausted to regret the decision. Something needs to give, something needs to change.

“No, that’s all,” he says. He makes no move to leave, though, content enough to linger in a place that sets order amongst his disordered thoughts, realigns the nonsense into reason.

“I am no expert,” Logan says, “so you are certainly free to disregard this advice, but I have been informed that… discussing one’s emotions with their object tends to be helpful in alleviating stress, if nothing else.” He is floundering, grasping at straws, but the clumsy attempt at help is genuine, and rather than annoyed, Janus finds himself endeared.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. Oh, how he does. Once considered, the possibility won’t leave him alone. He watches Patton, spends time with Patton, and wonders what would change if he let the words slip past his lips.

The trust that Patton has extended him is extraordinary. No one has ever looked at him like Patton does, like he cares about him because he is himself and not because of the function he provides. Patton uses his name so easily, like it means nothing, and he knows that names do not have the same significance to those in the light as they do to those in the dark, but he still feels a thrill every time he hears it, because Patton was the first to use it. Was the first to accept the hand that Janus offered, in desperation and the burning need to be heard for Thomas’ sake.

He threw himself off a cliff with only the impossible hope that someone would catch him. And Patton did. Janus can’t go back to the way things were before. He won’t risk losing all that he has gained. And if that is selfish, well. That much is expected of him.

“Do you wanna help me cook dinner tonight?” Patton asks.

He’s in the common room. It’s still a novelty, the ability to be here. Depending on who sees him, he garners the odd distrustful glance, but no one ever demands he leave. It’s refreshing, and more than a little delightful, not that he would ever admit it.

He shrugs. “Absolutely not,” he says, rising. “I despise cooking. Why would you even ask that?”

Weeks and months ago, that would cause Patton to withdraw, would send hurt flashing across his face.

Weeks and months ago, Patton wouldn’t have asked at all.

But now, Patton giggles. “Great,” he says, and from anyone else, Janus would take that to be sarcasm, but as always, Patton means it. He always means it, when he says these things.

Janus follows him into the kitchen, staring at his back and thinking about how different they are. How Patton is good and he… is not. It’s an oversimplification, of course; he knows that very well, better than anyone else, knows that morality is relative and painted in swatches of grey, but still. It never used to bother him.

Patton is making a stir fry, evidently, a new recipe, and sets Janus to preparing the rice as he chops vegetables. He chatters on about everything and nothing, about a dog that Thomas saw yesterday, about the cute barista that Thomas managed to hold a coherent conversation with, about how he managed to beat Logan in Scrabble the other day to everybody’s shock, how he thinks he’s almost got Roman convinced to take him on a quest in the Imagination. A lot of it, Janus already knows, but he is happy to listen to Patton talk, interjecting with dry comments at appropriate times to draw out a laugh or teasing scolding or an exaggerated gasp and a swat at his arm.

And all the time, Patton smiles. Brightly and genuinely.

He’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t catch the slip in time, almost doesn’t see Patton’s knife waver too close to his finger as he relates his adventures with a puppy that Roman conjured for him (“--and it almost peed on Logan but I stopped it before it could. Logan still wasn’t happy, though--”). But he does, and his hand darts out to grip Patton’s wrist, halting the knife’s motion before he can give himself a nasty cut.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

“Oh!” Patton says. “Thanks, Janus.” He laughs. “Guess I wasn’t being sharp enough.”

He smiles at the pun, and for a second, he lingers, feeling Patton’s wrist under his fingers. He’s wearing his gloves, but the warmth shoots up his arm regardless.

Then, he realizes that Patton’s face is red.

Ah. He’s made him uncomfortable.

“Apologies,” he says, and pulls back. He expects the incident to fade into the background, forgotten, expects them both to move on without comment.

He doesn’t expect Patton to drop the knife on the cutting board and take his hand in his.

Janus stares. Patton’s face is still red, red like a tomato, and he refuses to make eye contact. Janus feels like he’s frozen, feels like his heartbeat must be audible to the entire Mindscape and probably Thomas too, feels like he wants to run and feels like he never wants to let go.

What is happening?

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Patton says. He looks at him, finally, and his blue eyes are shining with an emotion that Janus dares not name.

He opens his mouth to reply, but his throat is dry. He clears it, several times, and he wants the ground to swallow him a bit, because surely his infatuation is obvious, is written all across his face. Surely, Patton will see it now, will release his hand and let him down gently, kindly, because that is the type of person that Patton is. Gentle, kind, someone that he loves helplessly and hopelessly and will continue to love until the stars go dark.

“I’ve been thinking,” Patton says softly. “Could I hug you?”

He is wordless, powerless, breathless. He nods. Patton releases his hand, but he only has a moment to mourn the loss of contact before Patton’s arms are wrapped around him, before he is tugged against Patton’s chest, held tight and safe and close, and it is as though every nerve has been lit on fire. He gasps, and his own arms latch onto Patton’s back and do not let go. It is an effort to keep it down to only one pair.

He is so warm. He doesn’t think he has ever been this warm. Even half a dozen heat lamps couldn’t compare to this, this heat and this pressure and this security.

He is trembling, too, and hopes that Patton doesn’t notice.

“I realized that I hadn’t ever done it,” Patton says. “I didn’t know if you would want me to, or if you would like it? But I wanted to see. Are you… you’re shaking, are you okay?”

He moves as if to pull away. Janus doesn’t let him.

“Please don’t let me go,” he rasps. It is too raw, too vulnerable, too honest, and it gives far too much away. And it’s selfish, too, wanting to take so much of his attention, his affections, when he cannot possibly feel the same way that Janus does.

But he doesn’t care.

“Oh,” Patton says, something new in his voice, something like surprise but not quite, and Janus can’t place it but he doesn’t care as long as Patton will keep holding him, because this is all he’s ever wanted, even if it can’t last. “Oh. Oh, honey, I won’t. I won’t, I promise. I won’t let you go.”

Janus buries his face in Patton’s shoulder. Patton rubs soothing circles into his back, and he thinks he could melt.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Patton murmurs.

He was never built for this love, never built to hold it. Against all odds, he has, though, has held it and nurtured it and allowed it to grow. And perhaps that means that he is not what he has spent so long thinking that he is, that perhaps he can be more. He has held this love and now it is spilling over, seeing the light for the first time, and perhaps the light will reveal it to be ugly and twisted and dark, but he will take the risk if it means he can touch the sun.

“I’m not meant for this,” he says softly, and Patton hums.

“Not meant for what?”

“Caring.”

His voice breaks. Patton makes a small, choked sound and steps back. Janus is forced to let him go, and already, his body is yearning for the contact again. There is only a foot or so between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

Is this where it ends? Has he broken their friendship?

God, he’s become so melodramatic.

But no, Patton reaches out, caresses his face, caresses the left side of his face, his hand cupping his scaled cheek as if it’s no different from human skin, and Janus feels as though the ground has dropped out from under him because no one, no one has ever touched him there, like this.

“You deserve all the care in the world,” Patton tells him fiercely, passionately, and… he meant it the other way around, meant that he’s not built for caring about others, but to see Patton like this, so determined to defend him even from himself…

Janus kisses him. His lips are as soft as he always imagined they would be.

He only gives himself a moment before drawing away. Patton is staring at him, face slack with shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His lips are tingling, his body on fire, his emotions bared, and he can’t stand it.

He isn’t built for this, and surely, Patton can see that.

But then, Patton steps closer.

“You don’t need,” Patton says, “to apologize to me.”

And Patton kisses him. Gently, but insistently, asking for an answer but not demanding. And it takes a few seconds, a few long seconds in which he comprehends nothing and too much all at once, can barely wrap his head around the concept of Patton kissing him, but he answers. Answers, and answers, and answers. Answers, and pours everything he has, everything he is into the answering.

They pull back, eventually, and Janus opens his eyes. Patton’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes bright.

“Not unless you didn’t mean it,” Patton says, and it takes him a moment to figure out what he’s talking about.

“I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more in my life,” he replies, and swallows. “It terrifies me.”

The honesty is excruciating. Is this what love does?

He already knows the answer to that.

“Then let’s be scared together,” Patton says. He reaches out and takes Janus’ hands in his, intertwining their fingers. His yellow gloves stand out against Patton’s skin, and for the first time in a long time, he wants to remove them, to take them off and have skin to skin contact, regardless of the vulnerability that will bring. Not tonight, maybe, but soon?

Patton kissed him.

“That is,” Patton says, “if you want to.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is even lower, even softer than before. “I really, really like you, Janus.”

He looks at him. Really looks. Patton is nervous, fidgeting, unsure of his answer despite the fact that Janus kissed him first, despite the fact that Janus has been pining, has been burning so long that he has forgotten how not to. But his words ring clear with honesty, and Janus doesn’t think he has ever been this happy, nor this scared.

He can love Patton. All he has to do is say yes.

“Not at all,” he lies. “Why would I?”

And he tugs Patton back in. The kiss is tender, sweet, and Janus doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to allow another in, doesn’t know how to open up, to trust, to let himself love unabashedly and without restraint. For Patton, though, he is willing to do anything, anything at all. It’s a waltz meant for two, and perhaps the stage isn’t so empty after all.

Against his lips, Patton is smiling at him. So, he smiles back.

He can love Patton, and Patton can love him, and maybe, just maybe, he can believe that everything is going to be alright.

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

"Falco, c'mon!" Gabi tugged at his arm, so roughly and forcefully Falco’s sleeve got almost ripped off.

"It's dangerous," he repeated for the tenth time, refusing to give in. "And this thing—" he pointed at the large stone Gabi concealed inside a deep brown cloth. "It could kill someone, Gabi."

"It should kill someone," she rolled her eyes. "They're all devils out here. If we kill them, they'll thank us, when we get home. Maybe, even throw a parade! Falco!" she punched his arm, grinning. "We have to do this, don't you understand? We have to get out, save Mister Zeke and Professor Hange—"

"Are you sure?" Falco suddenly interrupted. "Are you sure that... Professor Hange wants to be saved?"

Gabi frowned, staring at him quizzically. "What do you mean, Falco? Of course, she wants to be saved! She lived years with those demons and now they dragged her back into their hell. You've heard Reiner talk about all of them, can you imagine how hard it was for her? How much she is suffering now?"

He heard Reiner talking about his life in Paradise, and then he heard Reiner talk with that man... Eren Yeager.

And he saw, he watched Professor Hange Zoe.

Her father was a hero, an honorary Marleyan who lived and died for his country. His child was very much the same, possessed the same intelligence, loyalty and fierceness, if Colt's stories were true.

But Colt also said that in many aspects Professor Hange was different from her father. And, from what Falco could see, his brother was right.

Professor Hange was curious, enthusiastic and incredibly kind, especially to the young candidates. She had never called them names, never looked down on them. On the contrary, she was always ready to cheer them up with a smile, a joke or a bag of candies she claimed to carry with her all the time specifically for them.

On a battlefield, she was fierce and fearless, a perfect leader. Around her comrades, she was witty and cheerful, a bright beam of positivity in the middle of the dark, cruel world.

But when no one was around, when she thought no one was looking, the light in her eyes faded and smile slipped from her lips. The exhaustion and guilt slipped through the cracks in her façade. Worst of all, she looked so sad. Maybe, Reiner wasn't the only who felt like this, wasn’t the only soldier, who was broken by this war and their country.

Maybe, Eldians weren't the only ones who could be called devils.

Maybe, Gabi - and all of them, obedient soldiers of Marleyan Empire, ready to sacrifice their lives just for a chance of receiving respect - were actually wrong.

"Alright, let's do it," Falco sighed, surrendering to his fate. With or without him, Gabi would do what she had planned to. It’d be best for both of them, if he followed. "But at least promise me to—" he swallowed, afraid to even think of it. He had seen enough deaths in his lifetime - in battle, at home - but to take a life himself… he was still reluctant to do so. "At least, promise me to try and spare that guard, alright?"

"You're too soft," Gabi chided, but, nevertheless, she nodded and even ruffled his hair, making Falco blush in embarrassment. "Thanks for sticking with me, Falco. I promise to get us out of this."

***

This part - the part with luring out a guard to their cell and then knocking him off - was surprisingly easy.

Those devils are too dumb, Gabi claimed gleefully.

Or, maybe, too kind, Falco argued softly.

Hand in hand, desperately holding onto each other and trying not to show their fear, they made their way through the dungeon.

"Do you even know where they keep Mister Zeke and Professor Hange?" Falco asked, extra careful to make his voice even quieter than usual.

"Only one way to find out," Gabi grinned and then stomped her leg on a stone floor, loudly.

The sound reverberated from the stone walls, making Falco shudder.

"Gabi!" he grabbed the sleeve of her dress, wide-eyed and absolutely terrified. It seemed like he could almost hear the guards marching to them, rifles in their hands.

To his immense horror, Gabi repeated her action again and again, holding a finger to her mouth.

"Yes," she said finally. "I think we're on the lowest level of dungeons. So, naturally, we need to go up, if we want to find them, and," she paused, squeezing Falco's hand almost painfully. He watched her, a little perplexed and worried over the passionate fire in her eyes. He knew that expression too well, it usually led to some kind of disaster - explosions, high-risk missions and them jumping on an enemy plane to try and kill as many soldiers as possible only to end up tied up and thrown into prison. Gabi's endeavors always led to disasters and rarely had good outcomes. "Then we save them. We'll save Mister Zeke and Professor Hange, Falco!" Gabi jumped up and down, still holding onto him. "We'll save the smartest, most important soldiers. They'll call us heroes!"

"Only if we manage to escape safely," he reminded, shushing her. "And that won't happen if you continue making a ruckus!"

"Alright, alright," Gabi conceded, lowering her voice. "Let's start moving."

Falco nodded and together, they slowly continued walking through the dungeons. The floor they've been put on didn't hold other prisoners, and it seemed like no guard, except the one they’ve knocked out (and possibly killed, Falco thought, shuddering once again), was stationed there.

Still, there was no such thing as too much caution, or so General Magath always told them.

"Professor Hange really is amazing, don't you think?" Gabi asked, thankfully, keeping her voice down this time. "To live among these devils for so long all by herself, without a friend or a comrade... I wouldn't be able to take it. Have you seen them? That Captain of theirs, he's so short, but so scary. I actually thought he'd throw us out of that ship."

Falco thought so too. Captain Levi was indeed a very scary-looking man, although it seemed like Mister Zeke's accounts of him were slightly exaggerated. He didn't look like a monster at all. And, perhaps, Falco simply didn't see him in battle, but up on a ship he looked... sad. His eyes, they seemed to hold pain deep inside them.

They actually looked a lot like the eyes of Professor Hange.

Perhaps, the source for the pain inside their eyes was all the same.

Before going to that plane and seeing Captain Levi in person, Falco thought that Professor Hange was a lot like Reiner. And they still seemed to be alike, still carried guilt with them and sometimes looked lost and confused, but Professor Hange's eyes... and Captain Levi's too... There was a look of heartbreak inside.

The way they seemed to avoid looking at each other, but still their eyes inevitably darted to one another made Falco wonder just what happened to Professor Hange during those five years she had spent on the island.

Reiner lost Marcel, lost Annie and then Berthold as well.

But who did Professor Hange lose that made her seem so sad when she finally had come home?

"Do you think they allowed her to keep the candies?"

Gabi's dreamy voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Falco narrowed his eyes at her, feeling even more confused by Gabi’s behavior than usual.

"Candies," she rolled her eyes, making an emphasis on the word. "You know, like the ones Hange-san always brought us?"

Ah. Of course, he knew about those candies. Hange-san frequently visited young candidates at training facility. As one of the main strategist and engineers she had more than enough right to. She said that watching them train helped her think, made her understand how to create and adjust the new weapons, so they were more suitable and comfortable for the simple soldiers.

Whenever she came, usually with the Warriors in tow, it was almost like holiday. Professor Hange brought laughter and positivity with her, generous enough to share her energy with all of them. She ruffled the hair on their heads and pinched their cheeks, telling them how good they were and how proud they made her feel.

She showered them with praises and gave advises on how to become even better than they already were.

And she brought candies - so many candies. Different ones too, not the plain-tasting, awful candies from the Interment Zone. No, candies from Hange were special, allowed only for Marleyans, and she shared them willingly and happily.

She usually brought a whole sack of them - chocolate, marmalade, caramel, candy canes, corns, chewing gum, fruit drops, jelly candy.... Professor Hange memorized everyone's favorite type of sweets and she always made sure that everyone got their share.

Their commanders didn't approve, obviously. Zeke didn't approve too, saying she spoiled them too much. Porco didn't like her attitude as well, claiming that Hange was turning them too soft. Reiner usually didn't pay much attention to it, and Pieck picked a candy or two of the bunch and chewed on them with a radiant smile.

So, of course, Falco knew about the candies. How could he not? They were inextricably linked with one of the best memories he had.

That's why - against all of his doubts - he was eager to save Professor Hange too. Not to become a hero, like Gabi claimed they would, but simply to repay for all the kindness she had bestowed upon them.

"Of course, I know about candies," he muttered. "You weren't the only one Hange-san shared them with."

"Huh," Gabi raised her chin, that self-contained smirk blooming on her lips. "I thought she only gave them to me. I was her favorite one, after all."

"You weren't even close to being her favorite," Falco rolled his eyes, playfully punching her arm.

He wasn't her favorite too. Hange-san didn't have favorites, or so she said. She said that all of them were equally bright and exceptional, destined for great things in the future. When Professor Hange said it like that - with her eyes burning and staring right at him, Falco could almost believe in himself. He could almost believe he could do whatever he put his mind to.

Professor Hange didn't have favorites, but if she had, it definitely would have been Udo. The smart, fierce Udo, Hange simply adored him. When asked, she told that he reminded her of an old friend. She never went into any details, but her smile seemed to be just a little bit gentler at the mention of that mysterious friend. And her eyes – they became just a little bit sadder.

After that question, she was quick to change the subject, turning all of the attention back to Udo.

"Just look at those cheeks," she always cooed, pinching them between her fingers. "So puffy and cute!"

Under her touch, Udo's cheeks always turned red as a tomato. However, as fierce as he could sometimes be, he never - ever - attempted to get away from her. He didn’t even complain or mumble that she was embarrassing him.

Professor Hange was just that kind of a person. It was almost impossible not to like her.

"I think I hear some voices," Gabi whispered into his ear.

Falco nodded, squeezing her hand just a little tighter. "Be quiet," he warned.

Gabi narrowed her eyes at him accusingly, but didn't retort, keeping quiet just as Falco advised.

The stairs were right before them and they started to slowly climb up, stopping at each step to make sure they remained undetected.

The voices grew louder, and soon one of them became distinguishable.

It was Professor Hange's voice. They both realized it at the same moment.

Gabi beamed, but Falco frowned.

Something was wrong.

The tone of her voice... It wasn't angry or scared or defying.

It was kind, gentle. Caring.

It was the same voice Hange always used with them.

"Gabi!" he meant to grab her and take her away, before she discovered the truth.

But Gabi was too fast, Gabi was too excited— she skipped to the edge of the stairs and reached a large wooden door. Glancing back at Falco, she winked and swiftly squeezed through the door.

Falco hurried after her. He couldn't let Gabi see what he just had discovered. If she did... it wouldn't be pretty.

He walked through the door, entering the narrow dark hallway. There seemed to be no guards here, but Gabi still tensed, slowing her step and allowing Falco to catch up with her.

The closest cell to the door was empty, second one - too. It was the third cell that voices were coming from.

Professor Hange wasn't the only one talking, from what Falco could hear, there were approximately three other people with her as well.

"Gabi," Falco murmured, grasping her hand. "Gabi, maybe, we should go back—"

He wasn't fast enough. Gabi took another step and from there she could clearly see the inside of the cell.

Just as Falco had thought, Hange-san wasn't alone. On one side of the table two men sat - one small with short light hair and one tall and long-faced. On the other side was Professor Hange herself and beside her— a girl, brown-haired and lean.

The same girl Gabi had failed to kill.

Professor Hange was smiling - all of them were, but they were talking in low voices, too quiet to decipher the words. The conversation wasn't a tense one, though, it was obvious. It became even more apparent when Professor Hange raised her hand and ruffled the girl's hair, smiling gently all the while.

That gesture— Falco had seen her do it so many times before. She used to raffle his hair, Gabi’s, Zophia’s and Udo’s.

But it seemed like they weren’t the only ones, who were lucky enough to receive affection from her.

It seemed that, maybe, Professor Hange wasn’t as loyal to Marley as she had always claimed to be.

Gabi gasped, and Falco moved, clasping a hand over her mouth and dragging her a few steps back.

She didn't protest, staring at the scene in front her with shocked, glassy eyes.

"Devils," she mumbled against Falco's hand.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered and led Gabi back to where they came from.

It took them hours of crawling around to finally find the unguarded exit. Gabi was suspiciously quiet the whole time, and the eerie silence made Falco even more nervous.

He didn't dare to start a conversation, though, knowing that one wrong word, one wrong move and Gabi would tip over the edge.

And she did, the moment they were out of the prison and away from its grounds.

"How could she!" she roared, kicking the nearest tree. "How could she betray us like this? And for who? Those devils?" she turned to him then, eyes wild. "See, that's why you should never trust them! They tricked her, they fooled her, I'm sure! We can't trust Hange-san too. And Zeke - he might be with them as well. Falco," she took a shuddering breath and then looked up at the towering forest in front of them. "From now on, we can't trust anyone, but ourselves."

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #ok i think we had enough people hating on hange #(although pieck still hasn't showed up yet.....i wonder what she has to say about hange's so called betrayal)#but! don't you worry! i've got bored of hurting hange #it's time to hurt levi in the next chapter :)#(which i'm planning to post very soon so stay tuned!)

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cat-sapphics · 3 years

Text

racism in mcyttwt is an extremely ironic issue over there [READ & RB /SRS]

dare i say honestly that mcyttwt is far more racist than mcyt content creators (excluding schlatt) could ever be?

like... i have a lot of experience over there, and that’s moreso coming from watching from afar than actually having a public account. so imagine what it’s like actually being known on there, i definitely can’t...

i do wanna firstly say again that i’m white, but i’m making this post to specifically uplift poc voices and share awful behavior that i’ve observed over and over again, probably at least once a week, and that’s considering the fact that i’m never on there. so take that as you will. <3

but they weaponize “Black (and other poc) voices” that they don’t even really have to reference off of just to take down content creators and oftentimes, other stan accounts. they don’t actually listen to poc voices, and at best if a poc speaks out on being spoken over, they’ll get ignored. at worst, they get harassed, they get called that c word, they get their selfies torn apart, they get called a traitor to that specific racial community. and they get cancelled, to put it simply.

a clear example is this tweet, where one of those kpop layout mfs (who i don’t even think is indigenous) made some shit up about how all of a sudden calling them the feral boys was offensive to indigenous people, so an indigenous person explained thoroughly and respectfully in their dms why they were speaking out of their ass and that earned them a block. it’s just as LAUGHABLE as it is angering. it was also satisfying though, to see that tweet get attention and shut that mf down.

this blog post is also EXTREMELY well-written by a Black person no less, and i’ll reblog it after i post this so definitely give it a read!! it acknowledges different perspectives and validates different outlooks on instances while also drawing a line between what’s reasonable and what’s downright unacceptable and performative. it’s a person with common sense explaining why tommyinnit had the right to abandon twitter for his own well-being without first spending hours upon hours apologizing to each and every twitter stan of color before deleting his youtube channel and calling that “reparations.” (i’d like to think that’s an exaggeration but i’m 95% or more sure that some of them would genuinely like to see that happen and no less.)

i’ve had an undying anger over this shit as a whole that only continues to grow, both big parts and small parts, for over 4-5 months now at least, and that’s coming from someone who’s barely even been on the receiving end of this... this cult, not to mention all the white privilege i have anyway on top of all that. it’s disgusting. i worry sososo much for all the people of color who get treated unfairly and blatantly weaponized and i want to help them in any way i possibly can, but also - and don’t come at me for this or else you completely missed the point of this post - i genuinely have some sympathy as well for all the white people, both content creators & stans, who have been victimized by that cult. just because they have privilege and an undeniable duty to play their part in this ongoing fight for justice doesn’t mean that they’re immune to undeserved and unjustified harassment that absolutely destroys their mental health and friendships. i was one of those people back in april - if you wanna go check that out my @ was mcytdrama - but even if i wasn’t i’d still be saying the same. my stance on that doesn’t stem from me having been through it because as i said, i got rather lucky to not have gotten the worst of it being a private account and all and it’s not fucking about me anyway. no. i have this stance because when i fight for justice and morality, i fight for EVERYONE.

this ugly, immoral cult of performative activism is not what they think it is. but i’m sure they wouldn’t care; it was never about the activism.

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belit0 · 3 years

Text

Sibling Issues

Chap 2

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Uchiha Izuna / Fem Reader]

TW: nope

[DON'T HATE ME OMG THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND AND I HAD TO WRITE IT laufuekwslak]

Madara has always been perverse with his punishments, profoundly enjoying the sight of you suffering in front of his eyes, witnessing your despair to an almost maddening extent. It is not as if you had something to complain about, being tied up and over-stimulated to the limit of frustration by a man like him seemed like a dream, and every time you felt his expert fingers wandering through the scars he created in your skin, you wondered if your relationship with the Uchiha was not purely a charming fantasy.

That's how you felt at that moment, imprisoned in bed, naked and bound by hands and legs. With your limbs forced to stay apart by ropes, it is your man who watches you from his intimidating height, standing in front of you, rejoicing in your humiliation.

Gagged with your panties, you cannot speak or beg for mercy, for knowing him, you know that something heavy is coming, even considering the torture he has been inflicting on you for the past thirty minutes. How did you end up in this situation? You refused to accompany him to his meeting with Hashirama this morning, as the previous night was filled with passion and rudeness on his part, and you really needed to sleep. Of course he did not take your disobedience well, and no opportunity escapes Madara to punish you when you are a bad girl.

Crossed arms in front of the bed, wearing a black turtleneck shirt, with his hair pulled up in a ponytail and ready to leave again, he observes you with malice. In one of his hands, a black vibrator is off, glowing with your fresh fluids because it has been recently removed from you. He's only wearing gloves on one of his hands, and it's the one he's not holding the object he's using to tease you.

"Now, [Y/N], I'd love to stay and play with that sweet, tight pussy of yours, but I've been summoned by the elders of the Clan to a private meeting. You have 10 seconds to cum, otherwise you will remain tied up until my return."

Flushed and on the verge of tears, you did your best in begging him to take you, as the constant stimulus he had been applying to you for the past half hour was too much, and you could no longer bear it. In fact, you weren't even sure you could concentrate enough to cum with the speed he was demanding.

The incoherence of your words, which were suffocated by the fabric of your underwear, and the drool that fell from your mouth because of the inability to close it completely, only made Madara laugh in front of you, sending even more heat to your lower body and a feeling of deep humiliation to the whole situation.

This man delights in throwing you low.

"Keep quiet, are we clear?"

Approaching your dripping cunt again, he turned on the vibrator, while slowly positioning himself between your legs. He travelled all over your skin with the moving object, rubbing all areas of your body and purposely avoiding your clitoris. Staring into your eyes, the devilish grin on his face was unable to wipe off his features, enjoying your helplessness and cravings, the need to feel pleasure and liberation once and for all.

When a tear escaped from one of your eyes, he decided he could give you what you finally deserved, and without warning, he directed the vibrator that was slowly massaging your nipples towards your pussy, pressing it directly on your sensitive pearl, watching you with expectant eyes.

Your back curved upwards, while you pressed your hips towards him, seeking even more support and contact with the object that would give you your long-awaited orgasm. Your eyes inevitably closed, and your mouth opened in an incredible way, making your underwear go even deeper into it.

“1… 2… 3…”

In the face of Madara's hasty account, you remembered with effort his warning, and made your greatest effort to direct your mind to the greatest point of pleasure, even without being able to move your legs or arms.

"4... 5... 6... such an obedient little whore..."

At the compliment of your man, the motivation you really needed appeared, and you could feel the much-awaited moment finally arrive.

“7… 8… 9…”

And before he could reach the end of the count, one of your best orgasms hit your senses, causing your whole body to shake and your limbs to seek compression against your figure, protecting your sensitive clitoris from the abusive prolonged sensation of the vibrator.

When he saw that you met his demand, he walked away from you and removed the object, took the panties from your mouth and gave you water to drink.

"Well done [Y/N], I expected nothing less from you... but I regret to inform you this is not enough."

"W-Wha-at?"

"You abandoned me all alone with Hashirama and his delusions of worldly friendship all morning. Did you think such a modest punishment would save you, doll?"

"Madara please!"

He took your jaw with his gloved hand, exerting a slight pressure to open your mouth, and pushed the same underwear back into your cavity. A muffled scream escaped your mouth in surprise, which the Uchiha easily silenced with a slap on your thigh.

Leaving you tied up, he turned on the vibrator again, and there you understood the worst was what you were about to face. He pushed the object deep inside you, wiped his fluid-soaked hand on a towel, arranged his clothes and put on the missing glove.

"I'll take my time; I expect to return and find you a mess."

You couldn't even think of an answer, as the pleasure and sensitivity your body was experiencing at the same time was too much to concentrate on anything else.

With a firm step and completely unconcerned with your condition, Madara disappeared out the door of the room, while his steps were heard increasingly faint in the corridor. A second later, the front door opened before closing again, leaving you alone in front of Uchiha's mansion.

Your figure twisted in bed, thanking every orgasm caused by the vibrator inside you and trying to cooperate with the over-stimulation, forcing the ropes that kept you tied up, trembling at every sensation and movement, your skin bristling and your eyes watering from such torture.

So abstracted were you in your world of self-indulgence that you did not hear the front door open and close again.

Nor did you hear the footsteps outside the room.

Nor did you hear the voice of a man who was not Madara asking if everything was okay.

Reality hit you again when your reddish eyes met those of Uchiha Izuna, who, for some reason unrelated to you, was at your house, at your bedroom door, witnessing the kinks you and your man shared.

"...I-I... I-I... shouldn't b-be here..."

As the Uchiha was about to leave, the vibrator touched a key point inside you, making you scream loud and deeply while another orgasm was released into your body. The muffled moans caught his attention, and the way your body contorted itself mesmerized him into an inexplicable spell.

Awakening from the enchantment of your figure, Izuna realized that his Sharingan had been activated, and that in his memory now lay engraved the intimate moment of you reaching your peak of pleasure. Ashamed of himself for even having such thoughts with his brother's partner, he walked over to the bed, and removed the garment that prevented you from speaking.

"I'm sorry [Y/N] I'll leave you alone and..."

"PLEASE IZUNA HELP ME."

Stupefied by his uselessness and feeling guilty about your clear suffering, the Uchiha tried to regain his composure and not let himself be carried away by the image in front of him.

"S-Sure! Just... just tell me what I have to do."

"UNTIE MY HANDS."

Obeying your demands, he quickly released your two wrists, having to lean slightly over you to untie the one at the other end of the bed. When you regained movement, something fierce took hold of your mind, and the fact of having another Uchiha in front of you, belonging to Madara's family, no less than his little brother, set your senses on fire even more.

Taking him by the hair with force, you made his face bend towards you, brutally bumping his lips against yours. Izuna found himself reluctant to reciprocate the kiss at first, but when your tongue slipped over his lips in hunger and need, his mouth opened without hesitation and devoured you with the same intensity.

Separating slightly and for a second, you managed to look him in the eye and tell him.

"Please fuck me Izuna."

"Shit, if you ask like that."

He quickly positioned himself between your legs, and rapidly Dropping your almost numb extremities on the mattress, you watched as he removed the vibrator from your interior, moaning at every centimeter of the object.

In the blink of an eye, his clothes lay forgotten somewhere in the room, and a hardened limb stood in front of your entrance. Aligning himself with you, his thrust was sharp and direct, penetrating you mercilessly.

He leaned over you, hiding his face in the hollow of your neck and biting into your skin, while your legs locked around his waist to feel him completely within you. Your hands became entangled in his hair, and soon you found yourself undoing his ponytail so you could pull his strands more easily.

His breaths became agitated, short and deep, arousing you even more, to the point where you thought it was no longer possible to receive stimulation. His muscles above you tensed with every movement of his hip, and with your tightened eyes, you breathed in his male scent with despair.

"I'm going to... ah... fuck you so well... shit... that you'll forget... his name... Kami... you're so tight [Y/N]"

"I-Izuna-a -gasp- I'm c-com-ming -gasp-"

Upon hearing your response, his thrusts took on a new speed, an almost overwhelming pace for your labored body, making you reach the last orgasm of the night with just a few moves. You felt his cum spread inside you, covering your walls with that warm liquid, and your mind was delighted with satisfaction.

Until you realized what had really happened.

And when Izuna came down from his orgasm, he couldn't help but feel less guilty than you.

"[Y/N]... what... what have we done..."

#uchiha madara x reader #uchiha izuna x reader #madara x reader #izuna x reader #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna #madara #izuna #x reader #madara x izuna x reader #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader

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mydriases · 4 years

Text

Silent cry

Jamil Viper x Reader Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 3 600 Summary: In the aftermath, you wonder if his love for you was nothing more than another lie.

Winter break was a bit too long for you. You loved holidays but being away from your love for so long weighed on you. You remembered how warm his lips were when he kissed you goodbye before you went through the mirror. You wished you could have went along with him in the Country of Hot Sands but your family wanted deservedly to have you home. It didn’t ease your longing for him though. The desire to be reunited with him increasing the more you thought about him and the last smile he had given you.

You had finished your homework in a short time, putting in practice every study tips Jamil had gave you. Passing the time while getting lost in the colorful world of Magicam, the notification that rang in your ears easily caught your attention to inform you that Azul Ashengrotto had started a live stream on his account. With nothing better to do and wanting to avoid continuing to drown yourself in the gloom of this endless day, you pressed the screen without thinking.

You were surprised when the face of your love appeared in your field of vision. As far as you knew, Azul and Jamil were only classmates, so to see the latter on Azul's account was odd to say the least. The focus of the camera became a little blurred, highlighting the scenery instead of your beloved. You recognized the walls as those from the Scarabia Dorm. What were they doing there? Jamil didn't tell you anything about staying at Night Raven for the holidays. Had he received orders from his parents telling him to stay with Kalim in Scarabia?

The camera stabilized again and you were able to see Jamil more clearly. You expected to see his usually serene look, but what left you speechless was that Jamil’s expression showed a confusing wickedness. A sneer deformed his mouth while his arms made grand gestures as he spoke to someone in front of him. You found a look of resemblance with the face he did after winning against you at your favorite game. Nonetheless, you never had witnessed Jamil having on his face such a frightening contempt. Did they decided to organize a friendly competition in Scarabia’s dorm ? No, Jamil would have invited you if so, he always did.

The person who was filming zoomed out and you saw Azul, blank stare and dangling arms, direct opposite of Jamil's threatening aura. You immediately figured out the situation and prayed that you were mistaken. He wouldn't dare, would he? There was no more friendliness in the air, everything indicated a confrontation that took a turn for the worst. That was the only logical reason Jamil would have used his unique magic on someone, especially Azul with who he had a polite relation. But none of them had a hot temper so it didn’t make any sense in your eyes.

And then Jamil spoke.

What scared you, even more than the hatred that seemed to consume your beloved on every side were the words Jamil articulated without trembling. Revealing his desire to bring Kalim down from his position of dorm leader, he seemed drowned in joy as it was clear that his plan was working.

He had spoken without shame, his voice betraying that he believed in every word he said. You didn't understand, you didn't want to understand. In the hope of finding a logical explanation, your gaze slipped on the title of the live: "The dark side of a certain famous magic school". There was no information on the nature of the current events. So was it not a joke? Jamil was not the type to participate in this kind of thing. But maybe if Kalim had asked him he would have accepted ? But you were certain he used his unique magic and he had always been so secretive about it, there’s no way he would have used it in front of thousands of people. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

Jamil kept talking, spitting his venom on Kalim and on his position as vice dorm leader which he seemed to hate with all his heart. As hard as his words were, you couldn't help but feel your heart clench at the sight of the triumph that lit up his face. He had suffered so much that he felt liberated by the simple thought that Kalim would soon no longer be a part of his life. All this sick euphoria was the result of a pain you never knew anything about.

He used the word ‘free’, as if he'd been imprisoned in his role and his sentence was about to be served. He believed that the downfall of Kalim would be his ascension. Suffocating under the most negative emotions he saw only his own hatred, reason disappearing little by little.

Before you knew it, tears had begun to wet the corners of your eyes. Comments from other users were all expressing their shock at this student's behaviour. They were talking about how unacceptable his attitude was and that he was the one who should expelled from this school. Horrible. Everything you saw was horrible: Jamil's expression and words as well as the comments from people who didn't even know him, who didn't know anything about how he felt. Then, you wondered.

Did you know him as well as you wanted to believe?

One of Octavinelle's twins entered the camera field, accompanied by Kalim and Ramshackle Dorm's student. Jamil's face decomposed as he realized he had been tricked, in front of more than five thousand spectators.

You listened carefully to their conversation, their voices muffled by the rapid beat of your pulse. You saw Azul break out of his false hypnosis and Kalim ask, on the verge of a breakdown, if Jamil was really betraying him.

Jamil laughed. He laughed and it seemed to be liberating for him. He had lost, but there was no more pretending anymore. His laughter became a cry of hatred towards Kalim and, as it was apparently still possible, his face sank deeper into this malevolent expression as he conjured up his unique magic: Snake Whisper.

His unique magic was a secret for everyone in school, except for you and Kalim. When you took your relationship to the next level, he had accepted to entrust you with the real nature of his magic. Because you were equals, because you loved each other. And now, while witnessing his actions, you wondered what was left of this mutual trust.

A flash flooded your screen and you heard a voice uttering the beginning of the word "overblot". Then the broadcast was over and you were left shaken in the solitude of your bedroom.

Your brain filled with thoughts, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Your boyfriend was a manipulator (was he ? or it’s because you didn’t manage to see through him ?), he has just overblotted (thanks to someone who failed to alleviate his suffering) and was going to hurt loads of people (and to think that you could have avoided all of this). Did you fall in love with this person? Did you have any responsibility for his actions? (yes and yes).

Your conscience was being torn apart. Split between guilt and fear and incomprehension. You needed to do something, anything. You needed to go there so as to reason with him, so as to get explanations. Time suddenly seemed to accelerate as you hurried to put on your shoes and get your coat on.

You left a note on the kitchen table, summarizing the situation in a handwriting that betrayed a nervous tremor of the hand. You came out of your house -gasping for breath before you even started to run- and headed towards the nearest public transport.

Everything was long over by the time you got here.

You’ve asked everyone you encountered, pleading for someone who knew where Jamil was. The student from the Rhamshackle Dorm was your savior. Explaining along with their weird cat what happened in details and telling you that he was now resting in his room. You thanked the two of them and started to run to where you knew he was.

You stopped to hurry halfway through.

Loads of the damage he’s made was because of the fact he overblotted but that didn’t explain his disturbing scheme. If during all this time he had only been forging a perfect image of himself, hiding all his bad attentions, what was left of the sincerity you had sworn to each other? Jamil has just been unsmasked but you don’t change in the twinkling of an eye. It took time for Jamil to put up with his plan and it will take time to make a fresh start. Was everything before that a lie?

As far as you can remember, your relationship with Jamil was one-sided in therm of confidence. You told him your insecurities, your traumas and most of your philosophy on life. He told you loved you. Being evasive at the slightest question because when I’m with you I don’t want to think about bad things, you make me happy and I want this relationship to be about the love between you and me. Not my problems. I can be your confident of course, but don’t expect to me to share everything. It’s just how I am, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I really do.

That was the first time he confessed to you. You didn’t answer, because you were too busy embracing him and nuzzling the crook of his neck. It was also because you were feeling a bit disappointed. You didn’t want to be clingy if that’s not what he wanted, it was fine, really. But it made you feel like you were not as close to him as you wished. His arguments were justified : when you’re with your loved ones it’s normal to want to have fun and not think about all the depressing stuff that happened in your life. But now that Jamil has overblotted nothing is the same.

You sincerely wanted to believe him, to leave behind his bad deeds and start all over again. But a part of you pointed its finger at him while murmuring in you ear that he was a liar, a hypocrite that used you to appear less suspicious. Kalim choose to forgive him, obviously, despite all the suffering he endured. He has always been very lenient after all. You still haven’t seen him, nevertheless the chances are high that he would tell you that Jamil has always been at his side. Helping him through the hardest times, having been raised with him. That’s wasn’t your case.

If you wanted to leave him you’re sure he would understand. You could find another person to love and build a relationship not based on lies. But first and foremost, Jamil deserved the right to explain himself.

In front of his bedroom, as feeble as the first time you knocked on his door, except that this time it was because your relationship with Jamil was about to take a turn, not because you were excited to see him ; you waited for an answer that never came. You couldn’t be patient anymore. You pushed one of the handles and were surprised to discover that the door latch was unlocked.

Jamil was sitting on his bed, his gaze not lingering on you as he fastly looked away. It destroyed you. You thought you were ready to face him. To accept that he despised you, rejected you or begged you to forgive him, but not that he ignored you. Your voice came out hoarse, as wounded as you were :

" I came as soon as I could "

You wanted to cry at his feet and plead him to forgive you for not understanding him, you wanted him to cry for hurting you and Kalim, you wanted to leave him, you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

With his head down, one hand firmly clutching the sheet underneath him, he gave no answer. For the time being you were still lovers, but within the four walls of this room you were strangers. Because of him, perhaps because of you. You took a breath and knew what to say.

" I’m sorry "

For not being there when you needed me, for letting myself get attached to an illusion, for what you’re about to say, for everything that will be left untold.

" For what ? You did nothing wrong. "

He sighed and let himself fall backwards on the bed. He gazed at the ceiling, eyelids fluttering soflty as his hand was still grabbing the sheet under him. You walked towards him, he looked up to you and you found mixed emotions in his eyes. He seemed glad you were here but also like he would prefer for you to be anywhere else. You sat on the bed in a way that Jamil could not see your face, you didn’t need your voice to become tearful and trembling. The silence invaded the room as you were pondering over what to say. You tightened and loosened your grip on your coat, which you had been forced to remove due to the heat, and decided to cut to the chase.

" Jamil, I know I’ve never told you before but I love you. "

In spite of everything that happened, it was true. You knew that your endearment for him really had evolved in something stronger a long time ago. It's a shame it's only now that you're telling him.

You had to question him about his actions, make him spill whether or not he used you. But you didn't have the strength. Your spirits had never been so low, your self-confidence so damaged. Every answer to your questions would turn out to be a knife stuck a little deeper into your wounds and you couldn't take it. He knew either way, didn't he? He was observant, you were an open book to him so there was no need to ask questions he already knew.

You remember when you kissed for the first time and that the two of you became a couple. Everything was so easy, so simple. Never you would have thought that one day things would change, that you would want to run away from him. In the span of a few minutes, your whole life had changed. Anyone could be a traitor, from the most reserved friend to the one that couldn’t stop talking. Somewhere among these people was a liar. You had hoped it would not be Jamil, that it was just a misunderstanding and a bad joke from Octavinelle’s trio, but the facts were there.

You heard the rustle of the sheets, hitting that Jamil sat up again, and felt the warm contact of skin against your shoulder. Hesitantly, you turned your head towards him and he clutch to you a bit more as a sign of encouragement. His gaze was now overwhelmed by sorrow, mirroring your own expression. He sighed once again and reached into his pocket in order to pull out a bracelet decorated with a small red stone, similar to the one that adorned the ribbon in his hair.

" Here " he said, his voice trailing off as he was finishing his sentence " I wanted to give this to you to celebrate my rise as Dorm Leader but it won’t happen. I don't think I could give you things like this again after our talk, so take it. "

He handed you the bracelet, his fingertips brushing against the palm of your hand while doing so, you started observing the red gem so as to benefit from a pause in the conversation. He seemed sincere which illuminated a beacon of hope in you : Jamil meant to give you this after his accomplishment which signified that you were not a mere piece in his plan. That was one less thing to worry about, remained his disturbing attitude.

You played with piece of jewelry, observing the delicacy of the gemstone and the golden color of the bracelet. Giving you such an expensive item as a present was symbolic, surely it wasn’t just a piece of the richness of the Asim family. Jamil would have prefered to offer you something more personal, not showy but simple. He was like that.

Your heart sank.

" I’m sorry, because I didn’t see how you felt and also, maybe, because I feel uspset to habe been deceive by the person I trusted the most. I’m sorry for myself. "

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jamil straightening his posture.

" In a way, you’re both similar and different to Kalim " confied Jamil, " How could have you changed anything when I was the one keeping everything to myself ? " He crossed his arms, one of his thumbs circling on his skin. " That’s why I’m the who needs to apologize. Not because I regret my actions, but because I’ve abused your trust. If I had told you, there are chances that you would have tried to stop me. Now that I overblotted I guess that it wouldn’t have been a bad thing. " His hand almost went to hold yours, but he suddenly changed his mind. " Forgive me. You were the one person I didn't want to hurt no matter what. "

Although it was what you came for, his apology didn't lighten the load on your heart. You wipped away a tear you didn’t feel coming, silently hoping that Jamil saw nothing.

The light of the room was getting dimmer as the sun began to disappear into the horizon. In the silence and darkness of the place, the gravity of the situation was crushing you. Here we are, the time to choose to forgive or not. You would be a liar if you said that you didn’t still want to be with him. To hug him and run your hand through his hair like before, to work beside him -paying more attention to him than to your homework- to talk to him about whatever interests you at the moment. But it would also be a lie to say something hadn't been broken in you. If he’s lied to you once, there was no proof he wouldn’t do it twice.

" I wished there was a way I could make it up to you " Jamil mumbled and you authorized yourself to turn to him. His eyes were glistening lightly, half hidden under his locks. That was a odd thing to see him moved, as well as a huge step forward.

" It will take long before I can trust you again, Jamil " you sobbed unable to restrain yourself any longer. The back of Jamil’s hand came to wipe away the tears that escaped you. Your gazes met. His expression was worried, his movements were uncertain and his voice wavered when he whispered your name.

" Do you want anything ? Maybe a handkerchief? "

The tears multiplied, but it didn't matter when the man in front of you wore the same expression.

" Hug me. "

More of an order than a request, but Jamil complied without hesitation. His arms wrapped around your form, you leaned into his touch and the two of you sank into the bed. One of his hand caressed you head as you nuzzled his neck, still sobbing, maybe a bit less loudly. From the start, his warmth was what you were looking for, finding his embrace again and spending your time by his side. Little did you know that the moment of your reunion was going to have the bitter aftertaste of tears.

" Can I stay with you for the night ? "

" Yes, you can. Of course. " he whispered, "Does your family know you’re here ?"

" I left a note, they’ll understand. "

There was still several thing you needed to discuss but for now you let yourself fall asleep in the soothing embrace of your love. You had been deceived and hurt, Jamil had been belittled and probably just as hurt. Maybe it was necessary to pass through all of this in order to better your relationship. Regardless, that was all in the past now. You weren’t sure wether or not you forgave him, the scars being still opened and far from being healed, but you were ready to try again. And hopefully, your couple wasn’t going to be as one-sided as before.

Underneath you, Jamil reflected on the consequences of his actions. In spite of all his bad deeds, Kalim, you and so many others have decided to forgive him. He felt good, he felt awful. Mainly he felt grateful for all the kindness he received and that he didn't deserve. Things will be different from now on, he’ll be Kalim’s servant no more, at least not as much as before. All his plans had been revealed, there was nothing left to hide.

He synchronized his breathing with yours and realized you had fallen asleep. There was still a long way to go before the damage he's done can be repaired but he’ll try. Because you, and even Kalim, deserved to be happy. His arm wrapped a bit more around you as he waited for sleep to take him.

It was strange but the darkness of his room didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Hey, it’s been a while. I’m still a silent lurker who doesn’t want to bother at heart that’s why I don’t post updates, hope you didn’t forget about me. I’m still working on requests but I struggle a bit to convey what I want sometimes and end up deleting what I’ve done because I don’t think it’s good enough :’) I hope all of you are safe, my inbox is open to anon again if you want to talk.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader

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morningflames · 4 years

Text

a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia.

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted.

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences.

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them.

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency.

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc.

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating.

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today.

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively.

this horrifies me to this day.

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back.

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant.

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

#wrymrest accord #wra rp #wra community #okay to reblog #i am going to basically go dark on here now and not check on this #i have gotten ohysically ill from dredging this shit up #i will not be engaging past this point so whether you believe me or not i do not care #i know my truth and i know what happened to me even though i was gaslit to hell and back

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firstumcschenectady · 3 years

Text

“Every. Single. Time.” based on Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15

As far as I can tell, the stories of the wandering in the desert are stories of the people learning dependence on God. Many of the stories of Exodus repeat the narrative “(1) Something was wrong, the people were worried. (2) The people complained. (3) God provided.” Since deserts aren't super hospitable to life, they make sense as places people can learn their dependence. The writer of Deuteronomy ends up worrying that once the people enter the “land of milk and honey” they'll forget that they are dependent on God. In the early centuries of Christianity the “Desert Fathers and Mothers” returned to the desert to seek connection with the Divine, and learn again the lessons of dependence.

Historically, there are some reasons to question the overarching narrative of the 40 year wandering in the desert. It may be MORE true that some of the proto-Israelites were desert nomads for a prolonged time in their history, and some of the proto-Israelites were slaves who had escaped from Egypt, and some of the proto-Israelites were Canaanites who decide to follow YHWH when the nomads and former slaves told their stories about YHWH. I rather like this idea, because it is pretty easy to see how nomadic hunter-gatherers in a harsh desert climate would definitely experience the gift of life as a gift from God. And, that their descendants who lived a more settled and fertile existence could relatively quickly change their minds about how lucky they are to be simply alive.

I rather like how these stories begin. The people are frightened for their lives. There is a lack of FOOD or WATER, and those are seriously dangerous lacks. The stories present frightened people as appropriately and realistically negative. They grumble. They mumble. They complain. They romanticize their former lives. In this case, they say, “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger." And, I'll admit, I feel for Moses and Aaron. That ISN'T FAIR. It isn't even TRUE. But, I also feel for the people, because when humans are frightened for their lives, they really can't be held accountable for being “unfair” much less have reasonable perspective.

In these Exodus stories, every single time, God intervenes and provides. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Sometimes Moses and Aaron get annoyed, sometimes God gets annoyed, sometimes as a reader it gets annoying that they don't learn how to trust faster, but God provides EVERY SINGLE TIME.

And I have some feelings about that, because in our world today there is both an abundance of food and an abundance of hunger. Based on both the stories of our faith and the miraculous food producing capacity of the earth, I'm pretty sure that the story is STILL that God provides. But... human beings get in the way. We hoard (the US government is one of the worst), we promote “competition” for who gets to eat, we blame the hungry for being hungry, and we permit wealth to rise to the top no matter the cost to the bottom.

God provides.

Humans intercept.

The challenge is not scarcity – there is enough. There is MORE than enough. The problem is distribution . That is, the problem is acting out the belief that all people are worthy of surviving and thriving, as beloveds of God.

Around here, we try to do our part to change that story. We promote the humanity and belovedness of all people. We have a free breakfast, and we give people extra food to help them make it through the week. We advocate for policies to alleviate hunger everywhere in the world. We donate to SICM and help with summer lunches. We educate ourselves about food distribution, and work with “Bread for the World.” Our tithes and offerings promote justice and compassion programs around the world, and our extra gifts to UMCOR just add on to it.

But, it is a big problem and there is lot of work to be done to BOTH feed all of God's people AND change policies so we don't allow anyone to be hungry.

Some of the reason I said all that is because it is true. Another reason is because I'm about to take this story metaphorically, and I could not do so in good faith until I also took the literal meaning of hungry people seriously as well. Especially now when A LOT more people are hungry world wide then were before the pandemic.

When I first considered this passage, my attention was drawn to that complaining and yearning for Egypt. It seemed worth talking about our yearning for what used to be, and how the yearning can erase the realities of the past – things like slavery for example. Much of what I hear, and a good portion of what I experience these days is a yearning for pre-pandemic times. Recently, after I'd shared a bit about how odd it was to give birth during a pandemic and how unexpected parenting a baby during a pandemic has been, a perspective person said, “Well, and you got pregnant before the pandemic, you didn't sign up for any of this.”

I sighed with relief, like you do when someone really understands. Also, I think that applies to all of us a little bit. The things we were thinking about, planning, and even worrying about 2 years ago all changed on us in early 2020. And we didn't sign up for this! The stressors and conflicts we live now we wouldn't have been able to dream 2 years ago. And we didn't sign up for this.

2 years ago wasn't great. It really wasn't. There were serious injustices happening, and the things we were worried about were real. Comparatively though, I see why we want to go back. I can even see why the people grumbling in the desert would have wanted to go back. With death looming, anything else looks better. But Egypt wasn't their future, it was their past. And we aren't going back to pre-pandemic times either.

The wandering in the desert, as the story says, was important for forming the people, forming their faith, teaching them their dependence on God. It got them ready for the Promised Land, but it was so hard and so terrifying, there were a lot of times they thought going back was worth it. Without knowing what the Promised Land would be like, or when they would get there, the only things they knew were the terrifying lack of resources of the desert and the utter oppression of slavery.

For most of us, our pre-pandemic times weren't THAT bad, but I hear people saying now, “Having had a break from it all, I don't want to live like that anymore.” We're different. We've been formed by this time in the desert. We're still being formed by this time in the desert. I'm not sure when the Promised Land is coming.

As much as the desire to go back to Egypt caught my initial attention, I couldn't help but notice that it is only the beginning of this story. This isn't the story of landing in the Promised Land. This is a story of having God provide. This is a story of there being BREAD on the ground in the desert that would sustain the people AND quails flying overhead for protein, and both of them being gifts of life from the God of life. (In the desert, where other people didn't interfere with God's gifts.)

This is the story where God says, “'At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the LORD your God.'" And then when it happened, and the bread showed up, the people said, “What is it??????”

And this is where I think God is leading me today.

We're in the desert, dear ones. Whatever our roles and circumstances were in Egypt, it is far behind. Whatever our roles and circumstances will be in the Promised Land, we aren't there yet. We are DEEP in the desert, learning our dependence on God. And that means that God is giving us gifts that we desperately need to survive.

And most likely we're responding along the lines of “Huh?” or “What is THAT?” Or “I'm not sure I want that.” Maybe more than anything we're thinking, “I'd rather have bread from Pereccas, or Gershons, or Friehofers.” These gift that God is giving, we might not even recognize them. We might not want them. We might be a little horrified.

Today's story ends with Moses telling the confused and hungry people, “It is the bread that YHWH has given to you to eat.”

What is the bread that God is giving to you to eat right now? How are you feeling about it?

Holy One, help us see what you are giving us, and help us receive nourishment from what you offer. We are tired, weary, weak, and frightened people. Your nourishment is what we need to go on, and we know that this desert wandering is not your final plan for us. Amen

August 1, 2021

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

#Desert #Manna #What is it #Every Single Time #God Provides #Thinking Church #Progressive Christainity #Rev Sara E Baron #FUMC Schenectady #UMC #Sorry about the homophobic UMC world #We're working on it #Pandemic desert #God STILL provides #Hunger

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louloubabys1992 · 3 years

Text

Ask for writers

Tagged by @theisolatedlily thank u babe xoxo

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted:

I got so into the 1D fandom that I opened a tumblr account and found loads of fics about Harry and Louis. I got hooked. I go way back as a fan. am one of those who started reading fics from tumblr accounts and livejournals. I know a lot still read from those until now, even me, until ao3 became the basis of fics. I read so many fics that i wanted to write my own as well. my first ever fic, officially, was an apocalypse/zombie au called Nothing Can Come Between You and I. I say officially because I posted a couple of fics before this one but they were edited fics from a writer who took down his/her fics for reasons I don’t wanna get into. I asked permission to post them and edit them. That’s when I started joining up as a beta as well :D

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

I typically write in Louis’ narrative but I don’t usually base it on any perceptions I have of him, even if it’s canon. most of my fics are inspired by circumstances I see around me in my day to day life or by events that one can relate to because they do happen.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

I read a lot of fics as I’ve mentioned before and each and every one of them has left an impact on me that made me the fic writer I am today. Whenever I lack inspiration, I just open my bookmarks on ao3 and read. And then, a bulb lights up and voila, inspiration hits

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

helped a lot! i wrote more during quarantine than I do now even though am somewhat working from home. but when corona was at its peak back in March, everything was on hold and I turned to writing.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence?

silence. Am sadly not one of those people who could write in a corner in a cafe even though I wish I could do something like that.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

word vomit. not into that.

7. describe your ideal writing setup:

after midnight, laptop on a cushion on my lap, neck pillow for my neck, my bed, and a quiet house where everyone is already sleeping and my mind is brimming, racing faster than my fingers could type hahahaah

8. favorite time of day to write?:

after midnight. it mostly has to do with the fact that I am not available during the day but even before when I wasn’t working, i would find myself procrastinating all day or totally lacking inspiration and then come night time, and my mind comes alive hahahaha

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

Canon fics

10. do you struggle with writer’s block?

I mean, who doesn’t, right?

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult?

easiest is after I’ve day-dreamed the scene because when I day dream, its detailed to the tee, down to the words and the dialogue but the most difficult is when I postpone an idea I had in my head. If I don’t write it down instantly, it never turns out the same and that’s quite frustrating

12. how do you come up with original characters? (

I do insert a lot of original characters in my fics and they are sometimes inspired my real people but only in terms of appearance not by character or name. so, if am describing an original character in any of my fics, know that he exists but his character is not the same in real life hahahaha

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? f

wow, this is random. um. fav would be scars and least would be veggies

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

I don’t think it was something I was proud of at first but a lot of people who comment on my fics say that they like my pacing and the dialogues. so maybe that? I would say I think I need to work more on my originality. sometimes, i find myself drifting to a fic I’ve just read, especially if its the same trope and am like, wow, that’s not mine at all.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

definitely my first abo fic Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die. I love that au and I’ve always wanted to put my own tiny twist in it. am really proud of how it came about and am massively humbled by the comments and support it received :D

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

arial, font 18 and sometimes bigger because I don’t have good eyesight

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?:

names, because sometimes the names I choose are apprarently just not cool with microsoft word for some reason....sighs

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

yes, but its not intentional, it just happens

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?Angst because that’s just me hahahaaha. the most difficult? hmm, emotional love confessions maybe or the transition from friends to lovers. yeah.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

the passion behind it maybe?

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

best advice is to sleep on it because I do come up with scenes for my fics when I am about to sleep ahahahah. the worse one I got came from someone who obviously doesn’t know a thing about writing. he said, ‘’just don’t write it and do something else.’’ I mean, really?

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

nope, not happening.

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?:

most of the time in order.

24. how do you handle criticism?

quite well I think.

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

Go for it. Writing is not a silly hobby. if it’s really something you wanna do, even if its just for fun or to pass the time or to make new friends. go for it, There are so many fics in this fandom that until this day, are still ingrained in my mind because they were so touching and moving to me. you never know what your words could do for someone or how much your words could make a person’s day a better day

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

the comments posted on my fics in ao3 always make me happy. I feel like its the best to find out if my work is worth someone’s time, you know? even though I do write for myself most of the time, the validation is nice sometimes :D

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?

wow, all of them?

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

hmm, I mean people could ask what they want so am cool with anything. am not picky. I get asked about plot lines or what would happen next when it comes to cliffhangers and I do my best to answer them without revealing too much :D

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

I definitely made new friends through it and it’s been great :D

30. why do you write?

it’s my favourite thing in my entire life. It’s the one thing that no one in my life knows about, as in the people that I work with, my friends, even my family, none of them have ever read anything I’ve ever written and am fine with it. I feel like writing is purely for me and it’s something I’d like to keep as a part of me you know?

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

Harry smiles despite himself. Three years together, since he was nineteen, and it shouldn’t be a surprise that Louis knows him so well, can tell by the sound of his voice if he’s okay or not, nervous or not, happy or not.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

the one am writing for the harry/men fic fest

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of:

‘’You’re being really quiet and I don’t like it,’’ Louis points out.

‘’Just a bit tired,’’

‘’Stay here then,’’ Louis pats the bed. ‘’Sleep next to me,’’

‘’Are you sure? I don’t want to mess with anything by accident or…’’

‘’Harry?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’I won’t get a wink’s worth of sleep if you’re even an inch away from me,’’ he says firmly. ‘’And I’ll go on a limb here and say neither will you.’’

‘’But…’’

‘’No buts, I’m serious.’’ Louis cups his cheek, his blue eyes big and beautiful, like an entire fucking galaxy. ‘’I missed you something terrible these past few days,’’

‘’Lou…’’

‘’Be here with me, Haz. Please?’’

Harry hums before he pushes himself forward. He cannot stop it, cannot keep himself from gravitating towards Louis, taking what he wants, what he needs to make it through the night. He cups Louis’ face and kisses him but even then it’s not enough and he skates one arm around Louis’ small shoulders and tugs him closer, careful not to jostle Louis too much and kisses him like Louis’ a mermaid and he needs his air or else he’ll drown.

It eases an ache in him he didn’t know was trying to get his attention the moment he entered the room, something deep and visceral, calming down with the way Louis’ molds his lips against his, with the shape of his mouth fitting with his own, with the way his body is trying to align with his, like a constellation, each star coming together to mean something greater than they can ever grasp, something more infinite and vast.

‘’I love you,’’ Louis whispers into his lips.

‘’I’m never letting you go,’’ Harry says before he reaches for another kiss. ‘’Love of my life, fucking best thing to ever happen to me, you know that?’’

‘’My rock,’’ Louis kisses him back. ‘’My fortress,’’ and kisses him again, ‘’my strength,’’ and again and again. ‘’I love you so much. Would be dead without you,’’

‘’Don’t say that,’’

‘’It’s true,’’ Louis gasps as Harry devours his mouth, trying to stop him from saying another word. ‘’I would’ve crawled out that room right to your feet, Haz. I would’ve…’’

‘’Shh, just me kiss, babe. Just kiss me,’’ Harry pleads.

And so they do.

4a; line from my fics that I am most proud of:

hard to choose really

5a. link the last fic you read:

bang bang (my baby shot me down) by thepolourryexpress

6a. link the last work you published:

Ellen's haunted house by louloubaby92

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable):

https://archiveofourown.org/users/louloubaby92/works

8a. someone that inspires you

Louis Tomlinson

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year:

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag!

@falsegoodnight @twopoppies @mediawhorefics

#this was nice

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chappedandfadedvds · 3 years

Text

Dec 13th, Sunday 13:32

oh no, guys!!

I was out all day and just got back home to realise that I didn’t set the time when to publish todays’ clip... it just sat there in my drafts... so could everyone reading just imagine to be teleported back to this very early afternoon?

I’m so so sorry!! 😰

__ __ __

Hey Jens,

I know this may be a bit out of the blue as I hadn’t contacted you for over two years. I hereby do not ask for forgivness if any shape or form. A lot had happened and for a while it was close to impossible to have contact outside of work. Obviously it doesn’t excuse my absense. I am pretty confident that I may even not have written you yet, wouldn’t it have been for Helena.

Your mother was also the person to give me this email-address, I hope you aren’t too cross with her. She meant well.

I am very positive you aren’t interested to read of anything that had happened to me since our last meeting in 2016. Already four years have passed. It doesn’t feel that long ago. But obviously you may feel different about that.

So where to begin?

Helena wrote me a long text, detailing the main events of the last year and her diagnoses. I had to read it a couple of times for it to settle. It still feels surreal to have to accept her leaving earth that early. I am most sorry for you. I wish I could have been of more support from the very beginning. But now I have the chance to do something and I hope you will consider my offer.

She told me of Lies and that she no longer lives in Belgium, which leaves you at home with your mother and Lotte. I can barely imagine how very hard that Must be on you. I do hope you have enough people who can take care of you, when you put your energy towards your family.

There isn’t much I can do from my position here. But be assured that I already signed the documents to waive my choice of guardianship over Lotte. You mother was strictly clear that that was your preferred arrangement and I am in no position to interfere in your affairs at home. So they should be on their way and at yours rather soon, hopefully in time early next week. Just in case, I attached a pdf scan. Should you need anything else, please do not hestitate to ak.

I also hadn’t forgotten that you turned 18 and unfortunately I haden’t yet congratulated you. I would like to do that now, even if it may seem shallow. But I send you all my best wishes and do genuinly hope that you will find success and love along your way. I am proud that you have the strenght in you to get through such a difficult and exhausting time and I believe with all my heart that you will make it to the other side.

Regarding my mentioned offer:

I want you to be able to persue your goals in life. Surely you must have some dreams about the future you’d like to see come true. It isn’t much, but I am obviously sending money into your mothers, and now your, bank account, for Lotte and yourself since our separation. And if you would allow me to increase the amount by whatever the house or the corresponding insurances may cost, I’d be more than happy to do that. As well as money for university. A good education takes you far in life.

This is not the greatest help of course, I know this. And I hope that you’ll understand that I can’t just leave my work behind, but I am already areaging to go visit Helena in January. I have to see her before I nay no longer have a chance, and she as well asked me to.

If you, for some reason, want to meet me as well, it would make me quite happy to see you too. I understand though if that is out of question for you.

I hope to hear back from you, so we can discuss the reality of help I can provide and anything I may have forgotten to bring up. I didn’t wanted this to get too long.

You’ll find my mobile number in the document as well, but as I said, a signal is a rare occurance.

With kindest regards,

Hendrik

—

Jens, who had been hunched over his laptop for the better part of the email, leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind them on the bed.

Reading the long message hadn’t helped to clear up any conflicting emotions he had felt since the notification had arrived a couple days ago. Jens had expected the worst and the best simultaneously, and what he actually had received left him uncertain about the right reaction to such a message. Was it anger or gratitude?

„So? What does it say? Is it bad news?“

No it wasn’t really, was it? If it wouldn’t have been for the sporadic contact with his father, and the suddenness of this mail, Jens perhaps would only have a more positive attitude towards it. However it wasn’t that simple unfortunately.

Jens hadn’t told Robbe about the content of the mail or why he hadn’t opened it yet. But when he had announced that it had been his father, Robbe hadn’t asked anything else. Instead he had draped an arm around his back, before putting his attention on his phone, promising not to look. Jens trusted his best friend to keep his word and had thus quickly opened the message. Before he had a chance to change his mind.

That didn’t meant that the boy snuggled to his side wasn’t curious.

„I don’t know. I honestly don’t fucking know. I’m glad to hear from him, but I am so pissed about the way he wrote it. For example: Already four years have passed. It doesn’t feel that long ago. But obviously you may feel different about it.“ Jens read out loud, ending on a heavy sigh. He probably could have just quoted everything but that would be bringing up topics that Jens wasn’t ready to share.

„Or this bullshit of three sentences: I also hadn’t forgotten that you turned 18 and unfortunately I haden’t yet congratulated you. I would like to do that now, even if it may seem shallow. But I send you all my best wishes and do genuinly hope that you will find success and love along your way.“ He continued, almost mockingly, huffing an unamused laugh when he reread parts of the mail. „Like, fuck him. What am I supposed to do with that?“

„Seriously? That’s why he wrote you?“

It was very nice to know that Robbe seemed a little pissed off by it as well. It definitely validated Jens‘s belief, that this was a shitty thing to write given their history.

„No.“ Jens sighed again, this time a little deflated. His eyes darted briefly towards his best friend, feeling rather timid as he contemplated how to formulate his next words.

„I needed a signed document from him for the thing that is stressing me out.“ As if he couldn’t be anymore vague. „And my mom was so kind to get into contact with him first. So he basically just let me know that he send it off and attatched a pdf as well. That’s something I guess.“

„I see.“

Robbe’s second arm sneaked around his stomach, thus wrapping him into a tight embrace, as he rested his head against Jens’s shoulder.

„I think I would have preferred him to just let me know about the document and leave out the whole other stuff.“ Jens replied, leaning his own head into of his best friend’s.

He felt Robbe nodding, while his fingers stroked his back gently in an attempt to comfort his best friend.

„What did Lucas think?“ He asked Jens, receiving a soft snort in return.

„Nothing yet of course. I opened this for the first time here with you, dumbass.“

„Right. Sorry, my bad!“ Robbe shrugged a faint pink on his cheeks, as he instantly realised the his mistake at the same time Jens answered him.

„I think I’m glad that he wrote me. At least I know that he supports me in some way and I‘m not simply indifferent to him. It would have been worse, had I needed to chase him down for weeks to get the documents.“ Jens quietly said and swiftly closed the laptop. He pushed it away from them. Jens would definitely talk to his mom and perhaps let Lucas read the mail later on his own.

Robbe sat silent next to him.

„He offered to pay for stuff if I needed him to. Don’t ask me why. But it feels shitty. It is good to have, and I may take him up on it. But it is not what I really need.“ I’d rather have him around, back then and now, Jens finished his thought unspoken.

It was the truth something that felt hard to say out loud. He wasn’t unaware of the fact that he close to never spoke about his father. It wasn’t an important part of his life for years now. He wasn’t even sure what people thought about his father, his friends included. He had met them all way after he left. Did they assume he was dead? No one ever had directly asked Jens before. At least he couldn’t remember anyone had before. There were only a couple of pictures that excist in his home that showed him, and they were almost all a decade old.

“If you want my opinion despite only getting the tiniest details from you, I’d tell you to straight up take the money. My father is always a little stingy if I need more for a month. So if your father offers you something, say thank you and accept it. It is the very least he can do for you. Don’t feel bad or sorry about it, as he should do much more for you. Honestly.”

Jens sat up straighter at his best friends words, Robbe following suit as the unwrapped themselves from each other. It definitely sounded like a shitty thing to do, but then so was the offer. Perhaps Jens would just as Robbe had told him. Why not?

“And if you don’t want to spend it on yourself, use it for Lotte or take out your boyfriend or help your mom with the bills. Whatever.” Robbe added and then shuffled of the sofa, as his phone was ringing on the desk calling for his attention.

Jens watched him, not paying much attention to anything but his thoughts and feelings regarding his father. He was glad that he had come to his best friend who simply accepted Jens withholding most of the details and still helping out. He appreciated it so fucking much.

“Alright, we’ll be there in fourty minutes, I think... yea... sure... okay see you then!”

Robbe told the person on the phone, his best friend’s hand reaching for him to pull him rather clumsy off the bed. Jens laughed at the sorry attempt. Robbe just wasn’t strong enough. But he gave in the second the other boy glared at him.

“Come on. Mayo is already on his way and I’m gonna text Aaron. You can bring your laptop and everything, or you can come back here later to get it.”

“Nah, I have to pick up Lotte at seven from her best friend’s place.” Jens replied, getting up while he packed everything as fast as he could around an impatient Robbe, searching for his missing board. As if a whole fucking skateboard could just vanish?

Seriously how did Sander managed to endure this daily?

Jens must have said that last question out loud, because he was hit in the chest, luckily not by the found skateboard, but by one of Robbe’s loose scattered sneakers.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 8 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded

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