#You may blame me and you may hate me for this

[jakesaverse]

QUIET LIKE US | INTRO OF YN’S STORY

Genre: angst; fluff ; college au; university au

Pairing: Jake x reader; mentions of ex boyfriend ; some other guys from school

Synopsis: After your ex-boyfriend dies, the blame nearly drowns you. So you run—to a new town, a new school, where no one knows your name or your past. You try to disappear, keep your head down, stay alone. But then you meet Jake Sim. He’s quiet too, not by choice—just the kind of person everyone avoids. As the two of you grow closer, you realize he’s hiding something, just like you. And no matter how far you run, some stories follow you.

warning: mentions of death

first chapter out on: May 5th

—————————————————————————————

You don’t remember walking to the podium.

One minute you’re clutching a folded piece of paper in your lap, your fingernails biting into the skin of your palm, and the next, you’re standing there in front of everyone—behind the mic, behind the weight of every gaze that dares to meet yours. Most of them don’t.

They look through you. Past you.

You’re a ghost here. A stain.

You unfold the paper with trembling fingers. Your voice comes out too soft, too shaky, too full of everything you’ve been trying to swallow.

“Chul-soon was… kind.”

Lie.

“He remembered the little things.”

Lie.

“He made people feel safe.”

That one nearly chokes you.

You blink down at the words you scribbled at 2 a.m., while staring at the ceiling and trying to believe them. You wrote about the version of him you always hoped would show up. The one you begged yourself to see when things were good for a little while. The version who smiled and kissed your forehead and told you he was trying.

But that wasn’t who he was—not when the doors were closed, when his voice dropped and his fists clenched and the apologies came too late. He didn’t make people feel safe.

He made you feel small.

And you’re still carrying that.

Still bleeding from it.

“I’ll miss the way he smiled when he was nervous… how he hated to see anyone cry…”

You feel yourself unraveling. Every word cuts deeper. Because none of it is real.

You’re not mourning him. You’re mourning the version of him you made up. The one you needed him to be.

The lies tighten in your throat. And then—

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know if you’re saying it to him, or to yourself. Or maybe to the version of you that believed he loved you right.

“I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve said something. I should’ve—”

The paper slips from your hands.

“I shouldn’t be up here,” you say, louder now. “It should’ve been me.”

Gasps ripple through the room. Someone mutters your name. Someone else stands up, maybe to stop you. But no one does stop you. Because no one ever does.

“It should’ve been me!” you scream, the words ripping out of your throat like they’ve been waiting to be free.

And then you run.

Down the aisle. Through the doors. Out into the sharp, cold air that slices through your skin and makes you feel just enough to stay standing.

You collapse just outside the building, folding into yourself. You sob like your lungs might collapse. Because you miss him. And you hate him. And you hate yourself more.

You loved the version of him that never existed. And now you don’t know what to do with all that love.

You don’t hear the door open behind you. Not until a soft voice calls your name.

You turn.

It’s her.

Chul-soon’s mother.

Her face is pale, carved by grief. She walks slowly toward you and pulls a tissue from her sleeve, holding it out like it’s an offering.

You take it with shaking hands. “Thanks,” you whisper, not even meeting her eyes.

She looks at you for a long, quiet moment.

Then she says it—calm, almost gentle.

“You’re right. It should have been you.”

And then she turns and walks away.

Leaving you in the cold.

Alone.

And that’s when you knew.

There’s no one left for you here. No forgiveness. No second chances. No home.

That night, you pack your bags.

No goodbyes. No note. No forwarding address.

Just silence.

And the hope that, maybe somewhere else, no one knows your story.

—————————————————————————————

taglist: @ikonsiconic @hvseunq143 @invsomnixa1

[vero-lynn]

Do you really think Brian blames Tim for everything that's happened?

Tim didn't know the sickness could spread, he didn't even connect the dots about the Operator in the entries being the same monster he'd seen in his childhood until much later.

As for forgetting Brian, the sickness causes amnesia, Brian should know that better than anyone, Tim wasn't aware of Brian's whereabouts after college because of said amnesia, he had probably tried to reach out at some point but it might have been after Alex killed him for the first time. Tim may have thought that Brian just moved on from him since he didn't reach out either, Tim had never formed a relationship with someone prior to Brian, the only one he had before was with his mother who left him in a psych ward as a kid which probably gave him some kind of abandonment complex, after never hearing back from Brian he might have felt that he should have seen it coming, that just like his mother no one else would actually want him around. Tim lived life as normal afterwards because that was all he could really do.

This isn't a jab at any of your analyses about Brian btw, I think you're probably the only person in the fandom who understands his character best and I love reading all your posts about him. I'm just asking this from the viewpoint of my own analysis of MH, and I'd really like to know what you think.

Smiles at you so cutely, thank you for this ask..

TLDR for everything I'm about to say: NO!!!!! NO. Brian doesn't, but I MYSELF DO. I always try to make sure that it's obvious it's my personal beef with Tim, not Brian's, but...

Let me yap about this, get comfortable..

SO BRIAN. That's a man that loves so much and so genuine. He's a lover and a giver.

He doesn't HATE. He never HATES anyone other than ALEX. Alex is the only person he has genuine hatred for and who he wants DEAD - AND YET!! He's unable to kill him himself. He is okay with holding the gun for as long as someone else pulls the trigger.

Now, you mentioned the sickness and that Tim didn't know, well, do you know who DID know? MASKY. Someone had to come to Brian, give him a camera and tell him to cover up his face, pointing him in the right directions - that being stalking and recording Alex because something was wrong with him. Obviously Brian would know that his best friend is changing, so he followed along. We know that he's been stalking Alex BECAUSE he's missing in entry 17 and 20. He's not there. He's... Somewhere! He should be on set but he's simply not! Or he's feeling sick! He himself is getting sicker and sicker the longer he's stalking Alex.

No, Brian doesn't blame Tim/Masky for this.

Brian and Masky had to be working together while marble hornets was being recorded, they knew it was important, but later on, after everyone is gone, Masky/Tim never go out of their way to follow Alex and finish the job, we know this because Tim is living a normal life FAR FAR away from where Alex is, HE HIMSELF doesn't even know he moved.

No, Brian doesn't blame him for forgetting about him, but he is bitter about him not finishing the job and not coming with him to do so. We see that in TTA and the constant calling out and mocking from Hoody. (Messages is a good example, and so is BROADCAST that's posted right after Masky's leg gets broken. Are you drowning?)

In short, Brian doesn't hate Tim. He doesn't blame him for anything. He knows his situation and not once would he be angry at him for his choices. He doesn't WANT to hurt him, but he IS willing to do so to get what he wants and what they all need. (The pills, and Alex dead and gone.)

Tim is incapable of going straight for the kill, that's what Masky was always good at. He needs Masky to come out so they can hunt Alex down and kill him. Tim won't help him. He knows this. Tim is aggressive towards him, Tim doesn't remember him, but again, MASKY does. He doesn't hurt Tim just to see him suffer, he doesn't want that! At all! But there's simply no other way. And he's willing to take it.

Even after he dies, he NEVER. EVER. Blames or is mad at Tim for it. He's so relieved he's okay and safe and ALIVE. That's all he wanted. THAT'S ALL HE WANTED. He doesn't blame him for his own death, but the ark is pushing him with the whole "I KILLED YOU! AND YOU'LL DIE HERE SLOWLY BECAUSE OF ME!" nightmare he had with Tim's mask. And yet.. he doesn't. He loves Tim. He never stopped.

His actions are out of anger and frustration, sure, but the deep love and care never left. He never wanted to hurt anyone.

I do though, I hate Tim for how he treated Hoody. I don't care that it was a stranger, you can see that a person is sick with the same disease YOU have medicine for and you're unwilling to help them even if all THEY did was to help and guide your ass. He's a hypocrite to me, and I understand his reasonings, but I'll never not be bitter about it. -- that's a whole different thing though haha...

MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPENED FOR DISCUSSIONS BTW!! I LOVE TO YAP!!

[mortishine]

rant ahead, may be upsetting to survivors of grooming / sexual assault. see tags for context / summary. if you cannot bring yourself to read, at least reblog these:

victim statements: chaos (chaosblast) , imani (geencream) , more coming soon probably

donation links can be found here

the more openly predatory kittycorn gets, the more she just proves everything that was said about her. not even in the “believe it and fuck off bc i know its not true” way, shes just admitting shes into children and actively encouraging people to feed her fetishes.

honestly? part of me is glad shes going mask off about it now. because now people dont have to pull out a long document or speculate, we can just point them to her official blog for it and thatll be enough to paint the picture.

notice how the only people defending her now are the confirmed preds? how even previously uninformed proshippers have turned against her? theres a bit of a silver lining here, kit keeps making it easier and easier to call her a pedophile and justify hatred towards her. she keeps proving exactly what she wants to run from, i wouldnt be surprised if she just openly victim blames nick, imani, etc. real soon.

she does not care for healing anymore, i dont know when she stopped caring but she has completely ditched the concept of recovery as anything but an r-word she can use as an excuse. if she truly was “pro FICTION” she would never have even thought of normalizing her kinks to OTHER SURVIVORS OF THE SAME SHIT.

the shipcourse is the LEAST of my worries, but the extent shes taking it to is so blatantly tangled with her real actions. this is not a case of “big scary antis harassing a 24 year old minor🥺🥺🥺” this is a grown adult refusing to confront her trauma and instead grooming her (ex-)partners into being just like her.

she, the groomers she associates with, and anyone defending her or keeping quiet need to be locked the fuck up. now. i usually hate saying this because i am radical when it comes to promoting recovery. but they keep actively fucking denying help so i will not bother.

[lixzey]

Letters

a/n: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION ‼️‼️‼️ This has very detailed scenes which may not be suitable for everyone. The three letters will be the same, so heads up!

warnings: mentions of bullying, humiliation, name calling, implied claustrophobia, cancer leading to death, mentions of alcohol and possible drugging, implied sexual abuse and harrassment, victim blaming, slut shaming, implied post-traumatic stress disorder, trauma, etc

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED !

Lots of thanks to @lilmaymayy for helping me out <3

word count: 3.5k

The Fifteenth Letter

Timothée sat in the waiting area, his hands pressed together as he watched the monitor for his flight to finally board. It was already close to midnight, and he had already been waiting for four hours. After failing to find any information on Y/n back at the old children’s home, Timothée felt like he was following a dead end. Sure, he wanted to find her so badly—to be the hero she desperately needed—but at this point, he was clinging onto false hope. He had only four letters left to read, which terrified him to the bone. What if there weren’t any clues left for him to find? 

Would this wild goose chase end in vain? A pathetic attempt at searching for a person who probably doesn’t want to be found. 

Or so he thought. 

Sighing, the young man pulled his carry-on bag onto his lap. In one swift motion, he unzipped it and fished inside for the letters. Pulling the remaining envelopes, he chuckled. They were crumpled but still readable nonetheless. After taking a deep breath, Timothée mustered up the courage to read the next one from the series.

August 23rd, 2023

Dear Timothée,

High school was NOT like the musical. 

Jesus, I was too fucking naive to even believe that a normal high school would be like that movie. 

I mean, sure, you had that high school musical experience at La Guardia, and based on the internet, you were loved by everyone in your school. Who wouldn’t? I’m pretty damn sure that you were that class clown that everyone couldn’t hate because your smile and laughter are infectious, and besides, those high school performances? THE ABSOLUTE BEST! I wish I had your confidence back in high school.

You might be asking, what was my high school life like? Let’s just say I was mostly invisible—what’s new, at this point? —and most of the time, I kept to myself. I didn’t have any friends, because let’s be real, who would want to be friends with a sad and depressed girl? I often ate lunch in the girls’ bathroom because I was never allowed at any table; basically, I was a target for bullies.

There was this one girl who absolutely fucking hated my guts. Her name was Kayleigh; she was the daughter of the principal. She wasn’t really the brightest bulb out of the bunch, since the only things she knew were bragging and bullying. I’m fairly certain that her mother probably threatened the whole school so that her daughter wouldn’t fail or anything.

That bitch of a girl made my high school days a living hell. And the fact that I was an orphan made it fucking worse.

It started when I accidentally tripped in the cafeteria and spilled my sloppy joe all over her. I didn’t mean it, obviously. Who would purposely trip themselves in a crowded cafeteria? Anyway, I apologized over and over again, but she wasn’t having it. Typical mean girl attitude, if you ask me. Apparently, I ruined her limited edition Chanel top or something like that—I can’t remember if it was really Chanel, or was it Gucci? Well, who cares? It’s just clothing. 

Not.

From that day on, she made it her personal mission to humiliate me every chance she got. God, who knew someone could hold a grudge just for spilling something on her ridiculously expensive outfit. 

She called me names; her favorite insult was "street urchin"—yeah, that one from Aladdin; she was never original, unfortunately. She mocked me for not having parents, for not having people care about me because I was just, in her words, a sorry excuse of oxygen and that my parents killed themselves to get away from me. Oh, and she absolutely loved to trip me in the halls, push me around, and pour my lunch over my head—she once sent photos to everyone at school, captioned Garbage can!—get me into detention purposely, and a whole lot more. It was annoying, but I didn't have much of a choice. I practically just accepted my fate and endured all of it.

There was that time she locked me in the janitor’s closet, and no one let me out until the next day. Yeah, just don’t try to imagine me being claustrophobic. And there was that time when she told everyone about my murderer of an aunt—I really don’t know how the fuck she got that information—and told everyone that I’m a dangerous killer. Did everyone believe her? Yes. Even the goddamn teachers. They treated me as if I were a ticking bomb that would explode any minute and kill everyone in sight.

If I wanted to list down every shitty thing people have done to me, I would need to write a whole ass book. ‘The Diary of a Sad Girl’ sounds good, right? Yeah, I know, Diary of a Wimpy Kid reference. 

All I can say about Kayleigh? She’s a fucking bitch. She’s a mix of Regina George and Karen Smith, except she made Karen her whole personality. 

Okay, so enough of the negativity. We’ll get back to that in a while. I’ll tell you about someone who made my life a little bit brighter, at least just for a short while. 

Halfway through my junior year, I decided to get a job. I landed one at a local bakery near Sweet Angels. Pretty sure that bakery’s gone now, though. The bakery was owned by this sweet old lady. Her name was Charlotte, but she always insisted I call her Lottie. Unfortunately, her daughter died when she was twelve years old, and she started the bakery to honor the memory of her daughter. I think it was her way of reliving those precious times with her child. If I had died when I was a kid, my mother would’ve done the same thing.

I always helped out as much as I could in the bakery, like putting the pastries in the oven, cleaning, and mostly at the counter. I assured Lottie that I was alright without any pay, but she always insisted. She’d always say, “No, no, honey, you need it more than I do. You have a long way to go in this life.”

Do I?

Pretty sure she was thinking about her daughter; she would have been the same age as me if she were alive. Despite everything, I just went with it. I mean, I wasn’t going to deny an old woman a little glimpse of what should have been.

As the days passed, I’ve saved a lot from what Lottie was giving me. Honestly? Promise me you won’t laugh, okay? I wanted to get a pretty dress for juniors' prom with the money I saved when the day came. But who was I kidding? I won’t look like Cinderella. I would most likely look like one of her stepsisters; my money’s one hundred percent on Drizella. I decided to get my first phone instead. It was a Samsung, nothing special, really, just my escape from reality.

Okay, so, back to my shitty life.

At the start of my senior year, Lottie was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer.

Just as my life was slowly starting to get better, shit happens. It was like the universe absolutely despised me.

I was there for Lottie every step of the way. I wanted her to get better; I wanted her to live. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but she was the only family I had left. I know we aren’t related by blood, but fuck DNA; it’s the bond that makes a family.

Eventually, the cancer worsened, and Lottie just accepted the fact that she was going to die. I begged her over a million times to fight, but she was already at peace with death because she was so close to finally meeting her daughter again. Soon after our last conversation, just a few days before I turned eighteen, she passed away in her sleep. Smiling through the end of her wonderful life. 

I wish I could say that I was fine after that, but I wasn’t. It was like losing my parents all over again. Throughout the days of arranging the funeral, I was a mess. You can probably imagine the endless hours of crying I spent alone at Lottie’s house, trying to figure out what to do next. For the last year and a half, I had Lottie help me with deciding practically everything. I still tried to get it all together because she deserved a proper burial and a beautiful goodbye. 

A week after the funeral, Lottie’s lawyer contacted me. Apparently, she left me everything. Her house, bank accounts, jewelry, and the bakery, which was her most prized possession. I had to physically stop myself from crying after the lawyer informed me because Lottie entrusted everything to me. I mean, did I even deserve it? 

I tried to get back to normal after Lottie’s passing. I was out of the system, but at least I had a roof over my head. I still cried at night like a baby, but I had to go on with my life because I knew that’s what Lottie and my parents would have wanted. 

Instead of locking myself inside of my room, I decided to focus on my studies, since I only had a few months left of my senior year. Surprisingly, I made a few friends. It was mainly because of school projects and shit, but it was better than nothing. I don’t have any contact with them anymore, but I’m sure they’re living their best lives, unlike me. Rotting day by day, waiting for death to take me by force. 

Okay, okay, I’m getting a bit sidetracked. Are you ready for another traumatic bitch-ass event in my life? Promise not to hunt those people down, yeah? 

Senior Prom. 

I know, quite the cliché. I was initially against the idea of it, but it’s the last event before graduation. It didn’t help that my friends were absolutely hyping it up, as if it was the fucking MET gala. 

So, we went dress shopping like two weeks before prom. I got a beautiful teal dress that had a sweetheart neckline and a slit that reached up to my mid-thigh. It’s simple, I know, but I loved it so much.

Fast forward, prom night. 

It was honestly just like the movies, the getting ready part with your friends. Laughing and giggling about what could happen at the event, like first kisses and prom queen nominations, even though it was a long shot for girls like us. It was fun gossiping over the possible king and queen of the night while doing facials and mani-pedis.

I didn’t have a date, so one of my friends asked her brother if he could find someone to dance with and take photos with me. You know, for the ‘experience’. 

How I wish I didn’t agree to a date. 

God, trauma is such a backstabbing bitch. 

How am I supposed to get through life when every little thing gives me a flash of the past? I hate my life; I wish I would just drop dead so I wouldn’t suffer anymore.

I don’t know if you’d like to know what happened on that night, since it’s quite…disturbing, to say the least.

Fuck it. I’ll just say it. 

I was abused…sexually. God, I still feel disgusted. That little prom experience idea? It turned into one of the most sickening memories of my life.

At first everything seemed fine; he was this perfect gentleman. You know? The usual shit. Corsages, respectful touches, and very convincing words.

The night was perfect, almost.

I don’t drink, since I’ve already seen the effects of alcohol firsthand with my aunt. It terrified me to the point that I just avoided the mere mention of booze. Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape it on that fateful night.

See, my date had coerced me into drinking spiked punch and basically whatever the hell was in the flask he brought with him. It took a bit of a struggle to actually make me consume alcohol, but eventually I caved at the insistence of my friends.

Worst idea ever. 

Since it was my first time, I got drunk way too fast. Or maybe…it was just something else. Maybe he drugged me? I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.

Long story short, I woke up in his room the following day. My dress was ripped, my underwear gone, and my whole body absolutely felt sore—especially down there. 

It was horrifying, I’m sorry. 

He woke up the second I got out of his bed, well, technically because of my screaming.

You know what the fucker did? He stood up and pinned me against the wall and started kissing my neck. I couldn't move. I felt so humiliated, disgusted, and just hollow.

I couldn’t fight back; he was too strong.

I couldn’t do anything.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t do shit.

Eventually, he pulled away from me and went to the bathroom. While he was there, I mustered every bit of strength I had left to walk out of the room and leave his house, which was empty. His parents were probably out on a trip or something that day, which explains why he had the courage to do what he did. 

I was a mess. I looked and felt absolutely disgusting. My hair and makeup that I’d put hours of effort into looked like shit. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I quietly walked away from that hellhole, barefoot with my ripped prom dress.

After what felt like hours into my walk of shame, a sweet old lady found me aimlessly wandering through the streets. She asked me what happened, but I couldn’t utter even a single word. Though, she probably knew right from the moment she saw me.

She took me into her house and called the police right away. Unfortunately, he was never convicted. His name? Damien Harrison. He never paid for his crime. I never got the justice I deserved. And you know what’s worse? My so-called friends all sided with him.

No one would ever believe a slut like me. 

No one cares about a whore like me. 

The names people called me back then were absolutely terrible. From being invisible, I became the laughingstock of the school. I was the girl who got sexually harassed by practically every guy on the football team. I was the slut every girl should look out for because I might just seduce their boyfriends and shit. Those last two? That’s Kayleigh. She made sure to make my life even worse than it already was. 

I don’t even know how I survived the last remaining months of my senior year. After graduation, I just distanced myself from everything. 

Until now, I still do. 

Maybe I just deserve to be alone because I’m a disgusting human being that no one ever wants.

I hate it. 

I hate everything about me. 

I’m so done with the effects caused by everything that’s happened in my life. 

I’m so tired, so fucking tired. 

I just want the suffering to end.

All I ever wanted was to be happy. Is that too much to ask?

I think love or happiness has never been in my cards. All of those people I’ve loved either died or have tossed me aside like I was nothing. Happiness? Trauma just sucks it all out of my system, leaving me so hollow and lifeless.

God rest my soul; I miss who I used to be.

Maybe I should just end it all; what do you think?

— y/n 

Timothée felt his blood boil, anger coursing in his veins as he finished reading the letter. He sat there, gripping the paper tightly in his hands, almost to the point of ripping it in half at how tight he was holding it.

He felt…fuck, he couldn’t even describe what he was feeling. 

Y/n did not deserve to be treated the way everyone in her life did. She was an angel of a person, and they fucking took advantage of her.

Especially that Damien motherfucking Harrison. 

What he did to her was just so fucking disgusting; Timothée wanted to track him down, chop his dick off, shove it down his throat until he chokes on it and dies. He wanted everyone who hurt her to suffer and get the punishment they all deserve for breaking her over and over again. God forbid that he finds those people because he might not be able to control himself. 

“Oh, y/n…” Timothée muttered, his heart clenching tightly in his chest as he tried not to break down at the thought of her going through the hell she’s been through. “Mon coeur, I’m so sorry all of this happened to you…” 

Timothée felt more determined to find her, just so he could tell her that she deserves to be happy, that she deserves to live without being haunted by her mind, that she deserves to be loved, and that she is.

Because he loves her.

Timothée Hal Chalamet has fallen completely and irrevocably in love with this broken girl, and he had every intention to fix her—scratch that, there was nothing to fix because she’s already perfect the way she is—and make her the happiest girl in the whole world because she just fucking deserves to be worshipped and adored. 

Now he knows how it feels to be a reader falling for the main character. It was absolutely maddening, having to feel her pain and sorrow from the other side of the ink and paper. 

Timothée quickly pulled out his wallet from his pocket, desperately needing to see her. As soon as he opened the leather piece, his eyes met the most wonderful sight God has ever created in this world. 

“Oh, angel, help me find you…please.” He whispered, pulling the photo out of its place. His fingers delicately trace over her image, thinking how her skin would feel under his touch. Timothée’s gaze lingered over her lips, imagining how it would feel against his, hopefully in a bruising, mind-numbing kiss. If he was being honest, she’s been haunting his dreams for a good while now, in the best ways possible, of course. She was just so….

God, he was pathetic. He was just so desperately in love with this girl who poured her heart out to him, the girl who somehow made it impossible not to love her.

Suddenly, he heard his flight being called to board, snapping him out of his daze. Sighing, Timothée stuffed everything in his carry-on before quickly rushing towards his boarding gate. He would just have to continue reading on the plane.

As soon as he boarded the plane back to New York, Timothée quickly settled into his first-class seat. 

After a few minutes of takeoff, a flight attendant approached him, offering him a menu. “Would you like a drink, sir?”

Timothée nodded, not even bothering to check the menu. “Can you please get me the strongest you’ve got? Thanks.”

The flight attendant smiled. “Of course, sir.” 

Taking a deep breath, Timothée reached for his bag, opening it with one swift motion. He then fished for the last letter he read. “Let’s just hope I don’t go full-on Hulk.” He muttered, getting riled up by the second.

As he waited for his drink, he quickly skimmed over the letter and noticed something. There was something missing from her letter. Timothée ran a finger over the smudged ink where she had signed her name, realizing it was missing the all my love part she usually added in her letters.

He suddenly felt his stomach drop, dread consuming his whole body like a fever, and he was not liking any of it. 

“Mon coeur, what’s happened?” He asked, as if the letter was going to answer his question.

Letting out a deep breath, Timothée realized that he hadn’t paid attention to a detail that was absolutely heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. This woman who helped her, Lottie. She was probably the one good thing that’s happened in y/n’s miserable life, and for that, he’s eternally grateful. Lottie made y/n’s life a bit happy, even just for a little bit of time.

“Sir, here’s your drink.” The flight attendant who previously took his order served his drink that looked like either whiskey or brandy. “It’s whiskey, sir. Our finest on board.”

Timothée gave the attendant a small smile before muttering a quick thanks just as the attendant left. He then brought the glass over to his lips, letting the alcohol glide down into his throat with that satisfying burn. 

Staring at the glass, he suddenly felt uneasy.

Maybe I should just end it all; what do you think?

Oh, God, no. Fucking hell no. 

Timothée had just been so consumed by his own anger that he let it devour him and blind him from what truly matters.

Her, always her. 

“Mon amour, please,” Timothée silently pleaded as he held the letter close to his chest, clinging onto the sliver of hope that she was still living and breathing after everything that she’s been through. “Stay with me…”

[mattscoquette]

hi all, i wanted to make one final and formal apology before i go. i’ve been trying to stay off tumblr for the last few days, but i’ve been seeing a multitude of people saying they want me and the other former members of the tripouts gc to deactivate to show that we truly are sorry. personally, i don’t see the reason in that, i think deactivation makes it look like running from the situation. however, i understand why people would want us to deactivate - to show we are sorry and don’t just care about our image.

i’ve been back and forth with the idea of deactivating since yesterday morning. i always said if i ever left tumblr, i wouldn’t deactivate because i want to keep my fics and other writings up. i still agree with that, and for that reason, i’m not deactivating, but i’m abandoning this blog. i was planning to just private all my posts, but i felt like that is the same as deactivating. i can’t say for certain if i’ll return and post on a new account, but i can say with nearly 100% confidence that i’m done posting on mattscoquette. as much as i wanted to leave tumblr on my own terms, i only feel that this is the right thing to do. thank you to everyone who supported be over the last year, i truly took every kind word and compliment to heart. i’m so appreciative for the friends i made on here, whether we talked once or everyday.

before i fully get into it, i just would like to say i am so so SO sorry for how i acted. i didn’t handle any situation in a correct or mature manner. i’m sorry if anything i’ve said made me come off as disingenuous, or like im trying to push this situation off and blame it on association.

i shouldn’t have immediately come to my friends defense when the slur was first posted, even if i thought she was allowed to reclaim it. it was wrong, and i’m sorry. i deleted and left the group chat, so i don’t have any original screenshots, but i can say that i didn’t respond to the text with the r slur. although there was more than one conversation going on at the time, it still doesn’t make it right. it was a stupid mistake that should have never been said or posted. with that said, i’d like to make it known we didn’t call chris the r slur. i don’t think anyone should ever be called that word, joking or not. i can speak for myself when i say i love him, and his brothers, to death. i always joke around about them, but at the end of the day i always go back to them. i wouldn’t have been writing and posting about them for so long if i hated any of them the way tumblr thinks we do.

as far as the group apology goes, there was no ai used. we did check it through grammarly, and used that, which is often flagged for ai. but the original post was not ai, nor were any of my apologies post. i can’t speak for everyone in the group, but mine and the group account’s were not ai.

i would also like to say i’m sorry to anyone my actions or my friend’s actions may have hurt in the past. specifically to cherry (@luvs4matt) and the girls in the sturnholics gc. although i didn’t personally partake in any hate towards that groupchat, it was still given on behalf of a group i was in, and i’m sorry. i’d also like to say sorry to cherry and for the way i treated her, she is a minor and i publicly accused her of copying me when i should’ve handled it privately. it was immature and stupid, and i regret my actions greatly because she still receives hate messages in her inbox on my behalf. i feel terrible for how i acted and handled that situation.

i don’t want to say names either, but there are a few close friends who this situation and hurt greatly, and i’m so sorry to them. i never ever wanted to make friends upset, and i greatly apologize. alongside that, i’m sorry to any mutuals, followers, or ANYONE i have upset with both my actions and the group’s actions.

i will say, however, although i do own up and admit to all my mistakes, i find it very unfair there are people on here trying to run both me and the other members off the app. i’m talking specifically to the tripoutsweirdos account, and rose (@bernardsbendystraws). we made a mistake, owned up to it, and apologized. there is no need to make continuous posts of hate directed at any of us. i turned off my inbox because i was being sent multiple hate messages and threats. targeting people for a mistake that they apologized for is not only wrong and immature, but extremely damaging to the people who were directly affected by the situation at hand. fighting this issue with more hate doesn’t do anything but create more drama, and make tumblr less enjoyable. dragging this out and making it more than it needs to be does no help at all.

in the end, what’s done is done, and there isn’t anything anyone can do to undo it. the only thing is to learn from it, and improve behavior. i am a firm believer in your actions speaking louder than your words. i can say i’m sorry until i’m absolutely blue in the face, but i feel that apology won’t be accepted until there is a visible change in my character. i’m choosing to leave this account behind to show it isn’t about the “clout” or the “fame” one gains from sturntumblr. i still love the triplets, and love to write, but i can do that on other platforms or another account. as appreciative as i am for the space i created on tumblr, i think it’s best for me to leave it to rest now. i always preached about making my blog a safe space for everyone, and i’m sorry if i ever didn’t make it seem that way.

again, thank you to everyone who supported me, and to everyone who held me accountable in this situation. it gave me chance to reflect on myself and really think about how i present myself online and who i surround myself with. i love you all, and thank you for listening.

-rylee

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Hi sorry I don't want to be another bummer in your inbox but you're just. One of the only people listening to us. Please ignore if you're not in the right headspace.

It hurts and is fucking infuriating that transandrophobia as a concept has nothing to do with transfems really. It's just a word for us to describe our experiences with.

But now because a couple motherfuckers decided to blame another group of trans people for their struggle instead of. Like. Cis people. None of us can talk about our struggles without being forced into a conversation about trans women and how much we must hate them.

We have to justify ourselves and our struggles to people who weren't invited to be part of this conversation, in fact there's a general conclusion that transmasc people are the LAST people you should listen to on the topic of transandrophobia.

It's our word, for OUR experiences and struggles, but we're the ones who aren't allowed to talk about it without being harassed. And we've heard everything from being called TMRAs to being told "Yes trans men have struggles but actually 'transandrophobia' is a transmisogynistic dogwhistle so you can't have that word"

We've had many words and ALL of them have been branded wrong, I've lost friends and mutuals for not budging on the idea that transmascs should be the ones to ultimately choose how to talk about their own issues.

But no. We're ugly disgusting oppressive MEN. We're gender traitors. We just want attention. We're whiny. We're just hysterical bitches.

We're hated and turned away by the queer community for our masculinity while being treated like the women cis society wants us to be.

We have both cis man and cis woman privilege so we should shut up.

We can't win. No matter what we are or how we present ourselves we're WRONG.

I don't know what to do anymore. Society won't have us because we're queer, the queer community won't have us because we're not queer in the 'progressive' way.

Sorry if this is incoherent. I'm tired.

Yeah it really is upsetting that people out here try to claim that transmascs and trans men can't talk about their own oppression, using words that they choose.

There is absolutely nothing transmisogynistic about the discussion. Sure, some trans women may come along and try to talk over trans guys, or say that you're somehow a bad person for using a word that you want. Then trans guys may be like "hey girl, this isn't your place to be correcting us, please stop". But that's not transmisogyny, that's reminding someone of common decency.

I absolutely agree that you should be allowed your own word, and to talk about your own experiences without people coming along to "correct you", and call you names. It's unfair, and reeks of sexism.

Nobody I've talked to has been transmisogynistic towards me, which is telling because I am very active in the discourse. Total bullshit, easily disproven by my own experiences.

[magiclwritings]

Truth be told, Al had never been a true fan of this game. If for no other reason than the rest of his family delighted in making his life a living hell with it. Rose in particular when they were younger. So when he saw that glint in Lily's eye he had a sinking feeling that he was truly going to be in for it. But a notion had entered his brain about the point in time that the pig's tail had made it's appereance and he decided it was truly one of the best revelations he could have. Albus Potter no longer cared. And while he would have said he'd been that way for a while, this time he truly meant it.

The ruckus of Andrew and their table was drowning out what voice of reason the middle Potter had. He should have gotten up and helped him. Should have been the better person and put a stop to all of this but seeing all of that happen and not having to feel responsible for it kept his behind parked right in the seat he was with Scorpius. The back of his neck was on fire and there was no question that conversations would be had until they were both blue in the face over it all but damn if it didn't feel good when he flashed that smile at his sister and her anticipation.

"Seeing as Teddy seems to care very little for the well being of the patrons tonight ..." He started, taking his glass in his had to slam back the rest of his drink. His cheeks puffed out with the contents before he swallowed it all back, eliciting a hushed snicker from Rose. "I think a truth may actually hold more harm than good tonight." The threat of a blush was edging on the sides of his face but he refused to give in to it. Though he could blame it on the alcohol, a certain someone would know better. He hated that much hadn't changed for him since the last time he and the blond at his side had seen one another but that was just the nature of his beast at the end of it all.

Albus was who and how he was, for better or worse. The older they got the worse it seemed to end up but who was to say it wouldn't have been that way anyway? The four of them cluttered around the table had more in common than they thought, Albus just didn't have the strong constitution the rest did. Or whatever Teddy tried to tell him the last time Al found himself in a moment of weakness and ready to whip everything into oblivion.

"You know team secrets are off the table." He warned, jokingly but not. Lily's quick nod let him know she understood, no matter how she disagreed with it. "Give me your worst."

There was that shy yet genuine Albus Potter smile. Back at school, Scorpius had always thought that smile was solely reserved for him. He still felt that today since he had been around Albus and his boyfriend for a couple of hours and had failed to see Andrew make that smile bloom. It didn’t take a genius to see the cracks in the foundation of their relationship. All it took Scorpius was one conversation with Andrew and one look at Albus to see them. 

“I’d be honored, Lily,” Scorpius replied, leaning forward in his seat, chin craddling in the palm of his hand. Here was the thing about their version of truth, dare or shot. It was all or nothing. It was a ruthless game set to challenge each of them individually. It was also, ironically, how they worked all of their shit out when they were kids and at the end of the game, nothing could be held against them because it was all in the spirit of the game. Back at school, other students tried to play with them, but they rarely lasted. The little group had been far too competitive for the likes of regular people. But Scorpius liked it that way; it was all theirs.

“Truth or dare, Lily,” He asked, a smirk upon his lips. He wasn’t surprised at all when she confidently replied with dare. Lily never passed up an opportunity for a dare. Just like Rose always went for the truth. Albus was 50/50, depending on his mood and how many beverages deep he was when they started playing. Scorpius was at a disadvantage now. The three of them had been together for the past five years, he hadn’t. So, he needed to use this opportunity to get the information he had missed throughout the years. “I dare you to give the person you know the least in this bar a pig’s tail that lasts for the next 12 hours.” 

Lily giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as she mulled it over. “My, my Scorpius. Starting slow, are we?” Her eyes scanned the room, looking over everyone in the bar. Then she closed her eyes, murmuring the incantation. Minutes went by without any kind of reaction. For a second, Scorpius feared his dare had turned on him. He very well could have been the person she knew the least because of his prolonged absence, but she had been the one who helped him come back home. She still knew him enough to allow him to return to the fold. 

The scrap of a chair sounded through the bar, and Scorpius glanced over to see Andrew, red in the face and his hands tracing along his lower back where a curled pig’s tail peeked out from a rip in his pants. With wild eyes, he scanned the bar for who had done this to him, and then, at the last second, his eyes found their table. All Andrew saw were four sets of innocent eyes looking back at him. Another rule of the game was that no one could rat out current players. It was the sacred rule of truth, dare, or shot. But Scorpius knew the blame would lie with him when it came to Andrew. That was fine, too. Andrew’s presence in Scorpius’s life was only temporary. The man scoured the bar, trying to figure out what had happened and who had done this to him. Teddy shrugged apologetically and offered the man a water. 

Scorpius turned his attention back to the game. 

Lily sat on the edge of her seat,  looking between them with glee. Then her gaze settled on her brother, an evil grin spreading across her fingers. “Truth or dare, Al.”

[originalleftist]

First:

You can disagree with me. You can think I'm wrong. But I was not "dishonest." I meant what I said.

"You did not dispute anything I wrote (or anything Murray wrote), you just call it fascist, antisemitic, white supremacist, misinformation etc."

I did, in fact, give reasons why I felt those terms fit, though I will elaborate further now. I objected to your post because I felt that it over-generalized Muslims, it drew a connection between the number of Muslims/Muslim voters and the level of antisemitism in a society, and it evoked a specific figure known for his racist, hardline anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim views (among other things) and suggested that he may be "right about Islam and the impending death of the West." (the narrative of the decline and eventual destruction of "the West" due to immigration by a threatening Other is a core fascist belief).

I also noted that fears about an increasing Muslim population are tied to other fascist ideologies related to demographics, including eugenics and anti-abortion politics (ie the supposed need to increase the white/Christian birthrate). I do not and did not assert that it is your intent to support any of those other views- I am simply noting that the positions you are advocating and sympathizing with here do not exist in a vacuum.

It is of course not inherently bigoted to discuss demographic changes, nor the possible impacts of them- but that's also not the point. The point is the drawing of a direct connection or equation between the increase of one group, and an increased threat to another. And then citing a notorious far Right, anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim hardliner's claim about "the death of the West."

Re "Replacement Theory"- Murray's Wikipedia article references this allegation, and I believe it has some merit based on his overall narrative of the West being destroyed by Muslim immigration, as well as specific quotes the article cited (admittedly out of context) in which he called London a "foreign country" because "white Britons" were now a minority in many of its boroughs. This idea, that the West is being weakened and destroyed because white people are being "replaced" by immigrants is a core part of Replacement Theory. I am not aware of him specifically blaming this on Jews, however I have no doubt that many on the fascist Right would fill in that blank for themselves. If you prefer, I would say that he echoes elements of Replacement Theory, with the rest being implied or suggested by context.

Re oppression of Muslims in the West, however, I will concede that I misread your post here. I apologize, and retract the claim.

I will note that even the global Muslim population is only a quarter of the planet, so is still a minority, and generally concentrated in less wealthy and powerful countries- but within many of those countries Muslims are indeed a dominant and oppressor group.

I also agree with you entirely that it is absurd to argue that Jews are a privileged group. If, as you say, I "ignored" this point of your post, it is because I agree with it entirely, and there was nothing for me to argue with.

"I think Murray may be right that Western self-loathing and hated of Israel in Millennials and younger folks is a product of a concerted, directed effort at higher education. The amount of money which has been pouring into US universities from Qatar in recent years is extraordinary."

You did not specify this particular claim of Murray's in your prior post. But I will address it now.

I think this has an element of truth to it (it is a cliche that all good propaganda does). I am aware of the way in which anti-colonial movements in academia, particularly in the social sciences, have morphed into pushing antisemitism as well as tankie bullshit, and I do think that is a partial factor in the indoctrination of the younger generations. Qatari (and Saudi, and Iranian) money may also play a role. But I think another large factor is obviously social media, and of course all of this is drawing on a much older foundation of antisemitic rhetoric. Regardless, this is not a consequence of immigration or the number of Muslims (which is what your prior post was focussed on), but the influence of big money on white Leftist-dominated institutions. And it is well-off white people, on both the Left and the Right, who are the predominant pushes of antisemitism in Western nations (and, therefore, the most powerful nations on Earth).

I don't dispute that there is widespread antisemitism in the Muslim community. There is also widespread antisemitism in many other communities, as you are doubtless well-aware, but yeah, its widespread, and intense. Nonetheless, I will push back against any argument which appears to suggest collective guilt, or to stereotype the entire community based on the presently dominant views.

If there are any points on which you feel I have been unclear, or have misunderstood your position, I would be happy to clarify them.

As far as I can tell, the Liberal election victory is likely better for Canada (and for Canadian Jews) than the alternative...but this is a small comfort given that the Liberals' current coalition prevents them from combating antisemitism at all.

A Poilievre-led Conservative victory would probably have led them to "fight antisemitism" as dishonestly as Trump.

It seems to me as though Canada's Poilievre and Australia's Dutton are repugnant Trump-wannabes who only seek to use antisemitism as a political wedge.

So regarding the Canadian election: ...yay...? Maybe? Fingers crossed, I guess?

---

Despite the last several years of worsening antisemitism on both the far right and far left in the US, the situation seems markedly worse in the UK, Canada, and Australia.

I think most of it is just demographics.

In the US, Jews are perhaps ~2.4 % of the US electorate.

That's already a tiny minority nationally, and some localities/congressional districts/states have almost no Jews, so their elected officials can safely ignore Jewish concerns. In Wyoming, for example, Jews are less than 0.02% of the electorate.

In other US localities, however, the Jewish population is more significant. In New York State, Jews make up almost 9% of the electorate. Consequently, US Jews have some political influence in some localities and some congressional districts as politicians seek their votes. By contrast, only 1.34% of the US electorate is Muslim.

In Canada, Jews are less than 1% of the electorate, while Muslims make up almost 5% of the electorate. The Canadian Muslim voting block is five times that of Canadian Jews, whose votes the liberals have always taken for granted anyway. This seems to neatly explain the Liberal party's failure to combat antisemtism.

When you hear that 2/3rds of young UK Jews think there's no future for them in Britain, consider that Jews are less than 0.5% of the UK (the vast majority of those in England), while Muslims are about 6%. There are twelve times more Muslim voters in Britain than Jewish voters. Which population are elected officials more incentivized to listen to?

Jews make up about 0.4% of Australian voters. About 3.2% of Australians are Muslims. Eight times more Muslims than Jews. To which population will politicians seek to pander?

Look, it's fucking gross to have to think about western elections this way. Its awful that it breaks down to which minority population between Jews and Muslims has greater relative numbers, but it appears to be true. It also appears to be true that these three nations tend to see the world's 2 billion Muslims as an oppressed minority, while the world's 15.8 million Jews (still fewer than the 16.6 million before the Shoah) are not.

I don't see anything on the horizon which seems likely to change any of these realities.

If I was young and lived in Canada, the UK, or Australia, I'd be looking into making aliyah.

Lastly, younger US Jews need to be aware that we will be outnumbered by US Muslims in 2 or 3 decades.

In North America, Muslims and followers of “other religions” are the fastest-growing religious groups. In the United States, for example, the share of the population that belongs to other religions is projected to more than double – albeit from a very small base – rising from 0.6% to 1.5%. Christians are projected to decline from 78% of the U.S. population in 2010 to 66% in 2050, while the unaffiliated are expected to rise from 16% to 26%. And by the middle of the 21st century, the United States is likely to have more Muslims (2.1% of the population) than people who identify with the Jewish faith (1.4%)

I don't want to believe that Douglas Murray has always been right about Islam and the impending death of the West, but it sure feels, lately, as though he's perhaps a distasteful sort of Cassandra, uttering true prophecies which are never believed.

[citrsworld]

Happy birthday ritsuka uenoyama the entirety of given DOSENT DESERVE U AT ALL

[rivilu]

ok you know. the Ellu in dav crossover au is very fun but i am a little bit enchanted by the concept of him AND Rynn at once. Best of both worlds in a sense.

[widowshill]

r/v + loneliness.

102 / Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca, ch. 4 / 4 / 8 / Art Wallace, Shadows on the Wall / 603 / Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca, ch 4. / 473 / Richard Sherman, Demo: "Lovely, Lonely Man/Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Finale" / 2

[liinos]

Feel crazy seeing everyone talk about how good maestro is... I think it's okay at best 😭

[chaosisinsane]

*tests different styles and this happens*

uhm do I need to I explain or

ok imagine this is paldea, so teratypes exist

soren is mainly a ghost type trainer, but his main mon is jigglypuff with a ghost teratype. pretty cool right?

why is he a ghost type trainer? I think this is obvious given his backstory 💀 but basically laguz ignore him, he feels like he doesn't exist, so he feels kinda like a ghost!!!!!

[johnbly]

WIP game!

i was tagged by @tortoisesshells ✨

so i have two fics going one rn: 1) in the boat purgatory in at world's end, james comes across gov swann and the two have a final conversation together (not using that for this since i haven't done too much but something to look forward to i guess) and 2) bolt's "what if james had a dragon" fic and subsequent discussions and questions has me now doing a "what if hornblower had a dragon" fic so here is an excerpt from that:

“Who are you?”  The dragonet is speaking French, and internally Hornblower swears. Is French the only language the creature knows? It’s no issue for him, of course, but how can it be expected to be a British dragon if it only knows French? “Captain Horatio Hornblower, most recently of the HMS Sutherland,” he replies, also in French – awkwardly so, because it’s a ridiculously formal introduction to make to a dragon, but in light of never having conversed with one before he’s fallen back on the old habit of saying more than is necessary. “That is not a French name,” the dragon says. In English. “Non – no, it is not. You speak English, then?” “I do.” Pause. “That was a long introduction. I hope you don’t want me to use it whenever I want to call on you?” The idea of a dragon wanting to call on him at all is no less ridiculous than having a conversation with one, but it – he? The voice is deep – has a point. “You can call me 'Hornblower',” he says.

i don't remember who all is writing things that hasn't already been tagged, so if you see this and are a writer, feel free to share!

[jeanjwould]

anyways one thing led to another and now i'm daydreaming about may and nona dancing to "can't take my eyes off you" by frankie valli in the middle of their living room like goofballs because neither of them are really that good at dancing but they ARE really good at holding each other and laughing with each other and being mega in love

[marzipanandminutiae]

Sophia, the Boston woman from 1875 who haunts a lamp I got at Brimfield: what is a stay at home girlfriend, if you please?

me: well, it's a woman who's financially supported by the man she's dating, and she lives with him and usually keeps house and cooks for him

her: and they're not married?

me: well, no; hence "girlfriend" rather than "wife." I know that may alarm y-

her: oh calm down I know about Kept Women. he has no legal tie to her, though? she has no sort of standing with him in the eyes of the law? only his word that he'll follow through?

me: yes

her: and remind me again- you don't have to be financially dependent on a man anymore, right? there are more than like three careers open to women that will let you support yourself at a decent level now? and society isn't pressuring you 24/7 to get married and stop working outside the home?

me: yes

her: so these women. CHOOSE to be dependent on a man. who could leave them at any moment without legal consequence. because they don't like their jobs. the jobs, while imperfect, that let them live on their own, answerable to no-one

me: yes

her: that had better be some absolutely amazing jewelry they can pawn off if he leaves them, then

me: it's usually not

her: THERE'S NOT EVEN SECURITY JEWELRY?!

me: oh by the way they blame feminism for "having to work"

her:

her: I became fully dependent on my in-laws who hated me, after my husband died two years into our marriage, because I was a 23-year-old orphan with no marketable skills in any avenue besides Running A Household and the only men left unmarried in my social circle were widowers thirty years my senior. I also couldn't establish lines of credit as a widow because the merchants said my husband dying so soon meant that I didn't have stable enough income. and that was entirely legal

me: yeah

her: I'm going to go slam some doors please do not bother me