#(this is ~1.4k so i cannot stress that `long post` enough)

[aregebidan]

Notes from a review of the first section of the Ainulindalë, aka: There Was An Attempt

To be clear, the “first section” refers to the part from Eru’s introduction to the end of the Music/discord song battle.

The notes are for the most part organised into three points, that being the characterisation of Eru and the Ainur; the timeline and presentation order of events; and notes on the discord and Melkor specifically. (The notes are also highly extensive. Please proceed with caution.)

Characterisation

One obvious difference between Eru and the Ainur is that the Ainur are clearly described as singing to make music, while Eru simply has to lift up his hand to produce a complete theme in what is probably his most explicit display of supernatural power since creating the Ainur. 

This appears as part of a larger trend in the text, where Eru is portrayed as far removed and transcendent and the Ainur are portrayed as more “of this world” and even human-like, possibly to foreshadow their eventual state of being bound to Arda:

Eru is implied to be all-knowing, while the Ainur have a limited understanding of themselves and their surroundings and have to actively seek out this knowledge (“in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly”).

Most strikingly, the voices of the Ainur are compared to “harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and…countless choirs singing with words.” These are all instruments that exist in the world and are likely handled by the Children. 

Even Melkor’s music is described in earthly terms- the author compares it to the sound of “trumpets,” and the clash between the discord and the Music is compared to a “storm” of “dark waters.”

Eru’s music, on the other hand, is described only in abstract terms: “a new theme,” “a third theme…deep and wide and beautiful.” The chord that ends the song-battle comes closest to being compared with things that exist in Arda, but even that description sticks close to abstractions: “deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament.”

The last chord is also described as “piercing as the light of the eye of Iluvatar”- associating Eru with the Abyss and the Firmament, and confirming that he is equally strange and awe-inspiring. 

And while we’re on the subject: Despite naming him as “Eru, the One” in the very first line, the text mentions that “in Arda [he] is called Iluvatar,” then sticks to the latter name throughout. Eru has a name and an identity outside Arda and his role in it, and if I remember correctly the name “Eru” itself doesn’t mean much of anything.

In contrast, most of the Ainur are named after Arda is created; their identities are bound to it, and their names are less names and more expressions of what they are like in Arda- “Varda” means “lofty,” “Manwë” means “blessed one,” “one closest in accord with Eru.” Even Melkor, named (by the author) before the creation of Arda, has a job description for a name (“he who arises in might”). 

To conclude: the Ainur and their music are largely defined and described in terms of their role in Arda, while Eru is clearly outside Arda and not limited to it.

Timeline / Presentation of Events

This title is a bit vague, but I couldn’t think of a better way to describe the way Tolkien juxtaposes the start of creation with the end of the world, alludes to things that haven’t yet happened, and generally plays with the timeline of the Silmarillion (or at least the reader’s perception of it) from the beginning:

One thing about the Ainulindalë that threw me off balance on the first read was that there’s a reference to the Second Music, an event “after the end of days,” before we’ve even hit the chapter on the “Beginning of Days” or the First Music has been finished. 

The “human” descriptions of the Ainur’s voices add to this effect- musical instruments haven’t been invented yet, the ocean isn’t a thing, storms don’t exist, and yet the text makes a lot of references to them. 

Aside from helping the audience (both in-universe and out of universe) better picture the described events, this sort of language supports the idea that the Music transcends history, and is closely connected to the flow of history itself.

The author’s nonlinear presentation of images and the resulting sense that “everything is interconnected through the Music” is backed up by his punctuation, specifically his frequent use of semicolons (“There was Eru… called Iluvatar; and he made first the Ainur” “while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended” “began to fashion the Theme…into a great music; and a sound arose”). 

Many sentences in this first section also start with transition words- “And he spoke to them”; “But for a long while”; “Then Iluvatar said to them”; “But the discord rose”- once again emphasising the continuity of the Music and the story of the Silm at large. 

The repeated use of the archaic word “hearkened/hearken” in place of simply “listened” or “heard” could also be significant. Etymologically, “hearken” is related to “hark,” which has the additional meaning of remembering or reminding someone of the past in “hark back to.” (This is of course a bit of a reach. I honestly just thought it sounded cool)

The author’s tendency to hint that the order of events is flexible extends into the actual creation of Arda, which is outside the first section but still warrants mention because of Eru’s procrastination habits. When the Music is finished, Eru shows the Ainur a vision of the “complete” world, then creates the incomplete world as it was described by the beginning of the Music, leaving the Ainur to do the actual worldbuilding, as it were.

The Discord + Unity

Given the solitary nature of Melkor and the Discord and the implications that such solitude is fundamentally negative, it’s fascinating how his rebellion actually brings about a measure of unity in the Music and forces Eru to close the distance between himself and his creation.

We’ve already looked at how the Music is described, so let’s look more closely at the Discord: “The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes.” (emphasis mine)

This description, though short compared to that of the Music proper, offers added insight into Melkor’s character as well as the way Tolkien views the concepts of unity and isolation. 

Firstly, he makes a clear distinction between unity and harmony; unity being typical of the Discord, which consists of multiple (unified) parts under the control of one mind, and harmony being defined by the Music, which is a collaborative work centered around a theme. 

This unity-as-a-feature-of-Discord is linked to Melkor’s arc thus far—he’s said to “[have] a share in all the gifts of his brethren,” but begins to “conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren” after going out into the Void alone. Thus the use of these gifts that he has are confined to matters of his own limited imagination, which is in line with the description of Discord as unity without harmony—fundamentally selfish, many trumpets (varied gifts) playing a few notes (Melkor’s narrow purpose). 

But an end result of all this discord and defiance is greater harmony, in that Melkor’s rebellion is what finally makes Eru directly interfere with the Music. The Discord is “not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar”—note that Eru dictates the theme and leaves the details of the Music itself to the various Ainur. This is paralleled by the distance between the vision of the world, which Eru creates himself but can’t last, and the actual world that the Valar have to create on his behalf. 

Eru’s creation always takes place indirectly, with input from the Ainur, save when the Discord gets to the point where he has to produce songs himself. If we go along with the author’s view that what is close to Eru is good, by actively producing a flaw that has to be amended directly by Eru, Melkor is bringing creation closer to Eru’s vision. (Compare later interventions—the sinking of Númenor, Gollum’s death apparently?—all interventions against products of Discord.)

Perhaps to reflect that “he that attempteth this shall prove but my instrument,” all is according to the divine plan, etc., Melkor never gets his own paragraph in the text, which stuck out to me as he’s really the only individual character in this section aside from Eru. Over half the section is dedicated to the Discord and its clash with Eru’s Music, but the Discord’s creator is always mentioned/described in the same paragraph as the Ainur’s Music and Eru’s interventions.

TL;DR (which is very understandable really): Ainur are portrayed as earth-bound, Eru as otherworldly; the author seems to have a fondness for nonlinear presentation, extensive foreshadowing, and general connection/continuity between all events; Melkor is characterised as both saboteur and supporting agent to the Music, in that he provides an impetus for Eru to directly plan and realise parts of creation.

[paradife-loft]

In the blood orange sky

Well. Does anybody remember a couple months ago when I made this post? Because apparently I’ve been thinking about it a fair bit.

And also thinking about... maybe doing a thing? A thing that involves writing various vignettes as I’m moved to, very low pressure, but all in the same continuity, about sequences of various events that are related to one another and a central premise...? So kind of maybe like a “multi-chapter fic” as they call them, but y’know. No particular goals for “finishing” something, or requiring they be in chronological order or any other strict structure binding them together. Just exploring things for fun, and I’ll see where it goes!

But yes, so, I have written a bit this week that I think does what I would like for a first portion of something like this, and... here it is!

1.4k words, Xiyao, post-canon, dark-ish mystery/intrigue/character and relationship exploration I guess?; warnings for injury and general unpleasant body stuff, and also unpleasant mental health stuff, and also discussed off-screen (mass) murder.

*

When he comes to this time, he is sitting - propped up in the gentle rays of early sun against something he can vaguely identify as soft, with enough give to cradle his shoulders. That alone is a departure from each time previous… and Jin Guangyao supposes he ought to be thankful he continues to wake up at all; that his condition upon doing so this one time at least is no longer face-down, body practically smeared into the dirt.

An unpleasant prickling in one of his legs prompts him to open his eyes again, lift his head from where it’d fallen back against a pillow. His neck throbs with the motion. He sees a pair of hands - familiar enough that the distortions between his sight now and his memories cannot help but unsettle him - moving steadily with needle and thread through a deep rent in his left calf.

Ah. That would explain that particular discomfort, then.

Viewing the sight on top of feeling the muted, distant sensation it evokes, gives him the perverse and contrarian instinct to kick out and abort the effort of cleaning him up as it’s only partway done - but he recognises well enough that it would be a waste, and even now he isn’t so far gone as that. And he doesn’t want his leg to remain ruined. And to repair it himself now would be… possible, but far more difficult.

All arguments he has to pull out in front of his mind’s eye, like a text one might recite, to convince himself not to protest this time; but he does hold himself still, does remain for the time being a silent, compliant patient.

(Not entirely still, he must admit: his eyes follow the tiny shifts in those hands, trying to reconcile the absence of both manicured care, and the unique pattern of callused ridges he had memorised once upon a time. And yet more important, more incorrect when compared to the state he is familiar with: Lan Xichen has never known how to sew.)

(And yet. And yet.)

He presses his lips together as Xichen approaches the completion of the task, drawing the words he resents needing to speak up like pitchers of water from a drying well. They crowd his tongue, sour the inside of his mouth.

"I take it you found me quickly this time, after your target was done with me?"

Lan Xichen starts when he hears his voice, head jumping up and eyes round. Jin Guangyao had not taken him to be so absorbed that he hadn't even noticed him waking, but -

(He should have, perhaps.)

Xichen's expression hardens into something resigned after that, the dam holding back a great dredged mass of displeasure. Pain and anger in a hundred or more shades, silt and loam and sand.

"You tore apart the gravesites of three prominent clans, scattering the bones, and then did the same with the bodies of their living families when they came to drive out the robbers who defiled their ancestors' remains. The entire village has been terrified since last night. The news was not difficult to follow."

Jin Guangyao resists the urge to close his eyes, staring down the spray of blood to his face with the same dispassion he once used to with regularity. He is out of practise, however: he can't stop the reflexive flinch in his mouth, or his one remaining hand. It curls stiffly in the blankets pushed to one side of the bed pallet.

It’s not that he hadn't expected something along these lines, from the moment he’d woken up and taken in his surroundings. He hadn’t particularly relished the anticipation of hearing it, and so allowed himself a few moments watching Lan Xichen work in silence before disturbing him, it’s true - but he regrets the pain and exhaustion on Xichen's face and in the set of his shoulders and limbs more than he cares to spend his sympathy on another (inevitable) group of dead strangers.

He glances down at the long column of stitches holding the greying flesh of his leg together around the bone, and wonders which hapless, doomed villager from this new feat of resentful destruction had managed to inflict the injury.

"So it didn't require all that much searching, then. Nobody was angry with you, stealing away with the corpse that had killed all those people instead of burning it?"

"Not enough to express it to me. I imagine it helped that I spent several hours in the interim helping right the disturbed graves, and set wards around several of the neighboring houses," Xichen replies. Stress still lines his eyes, flickering more prominent like a candle flame as he speaks. Reconstructing the sequence of events implied, Jin Guangyao feels a twinge of - something - surprise, or hurt? he can't quite say - that Xichen had apparently seen fit this time to seal him away and then leave him, presumably alone, for some significant time afterward, while he tended to the village. Even though it was presumably an effective distraction, not to mention well-deserved.

"I was intending on returning this afternoon, to add more wards to some of the other houses, and suppress any other spirits roused in the process,” Xichen adds. Half an afterthought, half an explanation.

The emotion, whatever it is, crystallizes into a spike of irritation. "Temporary wards aren't going to be enough to turn away a determined corpse-raiser of this strength if he has unfinished vendettas against anybody left there," replies Jin Guangyao, snappish.

Lan Xichen’s lips thin. "I would still prefer to comfort some of their fears, however unrealistically, in the time before the problem has been solved, than leave them with no help or explanation at all after such a loss."

Jin Guangyao knows this. Agrees with it, even; it had been one of many principles they shared in the nighthunts they used to investigate. If Lan Xichen is frustrated at having to reiterate such a thing to him specifically, rather than in general, it doesn't show amidst everything else on his face.

He does stand though, turning away from the bed, tucking the medical supplies he’d been using back into their pouch and going to check on an iron kettle perched over a fire.

“Where are we?” Jin Guangyao asks, preferring the abrupt change of subject to a continuation of the prior topic. Xichen glances back at him - not for long.

“The abandoned house of one of the walking corpses I suppressed a few months ago,” he replies. He pours hot water into a skin, tying it off, and then another steaming portion into a tea pot - drab by Gusu Lan standards, but still likely worth more than the entire roof they’re under. “Don’t get up on that leg yet; you’ll split it open.”

Silence clouds between them, as Jin Guangyao stops shifting his way toward the edge of the bed pallet and lets the leg stretch out in front of him, holding back his weight against his arm. His fingers itch.

He’s asked Lan Xichen before, how long he’s been living like this, although not in those terms; and Lan Xichen has responded only with obvious deflections, despite giving perfectly cogent answers to less savory questions, such as how he’s managed to take a room at an inn with a resentment-spilling corpse in tow. There are many people in need with no one else to turn to throughout the countryside. A simple glamour works well enough when neither the inkeep nor other patrons are cultivators. Spending nights at the house left abandoned after a prior nighthunt certainly sidesteps the minor inconveniences of the latter, but leaves him even less sanguine about the former.

Would you rather neither of you were here at all, and in all likelihood even more people were dead? his own mind poses snidely, while he sits and watches Lan Xichen putting the hot compress over his lower leg, manually drawing up the blood in his body toward the region. He sips the cup of medicinal brew pressed into his hands, despite strong doubt in its capacity to do anything now for him in particular.

When he can acutely feel the spiritual energy circulating through his through him - pushed by Xichen’s intent and core, urging tissue to repair itself in the same way it would in a living body - Jin Guangyao finally admits the need to push on the issue of what they both have surely understood by now.

“I need to come with when you leave,” he says. He doesn’t make it a suggestion.

Lan Xichen closes his eyes, and Jin Guangyao’s still heart seems to squeeze like a vise. Go back to Gusu! he wants to yell; fuck the villagers, and fuck whatever further bloody deaths he won’t be conscious enough to care about causing.

Lan Xichen only nods, like it pains him. “Yes. I suppose you do.”

[ilikeoldchangke]

My boss is an influencer

This is a work of fiction.

..................................................

I met Ning when we were both doing temp jobs at a pharmacy.

She’s doing it as a temp job during her school holidays whereas I’m doing it because I need to make a living.

Armed with only a ‘O’ Level cert with mostly ‘F’ grades, there’s not much for someone like me in Singapore.

The only ‘B’ I got is for English.

At 16, I started working, hoping from temp jobs to temp jobs, I wanted something permanent too but no one wanted me.

Most companies stopped using me after the initial trial period.

The pharmacy job was the one that lasted the longest, 6 months.

So for 6 months, I worked with Ning in the same shop, arranging items, attending to customers, her sweet demeanour made her the customer’s darling.

Everyone wanted to be served by Ning instead of me.

It’s not a gender thing, it’s because I’m stupid.

Yes it’s true.

I’m stupid and clumsy, I make mistakes all the time and despite repeated reminders, I would still make the same mistakes.

I can’t help it. I know I’m stupid, low IQ , I don’t know. Something is wrong with me.

Ning on the other hand, is so much smarter. Let’s not forget she is smoking hot as well.

Her long legs looked so good when she turned up in shorts. I always imagined I was hiding in the store where she changes into her long pants for work. That way I would be able tot steal a glimpse at her panty.

Ning scolds me sometimes when I mess things up but it’s ok with me.

She will always remain the sweet helpful girl in my heart.

You can probably imagine by now I’m that loner hiding in a corner of the room with a book in hand.

The one with no friends.

It’s true, I feel more comfortable spending my time with books that with other people.

Ning knows this, and she gives me quite a few books she no longer wants. I took them all. It didn’t matter if the covers were pink and the titles were girly.

I treasured everyone of them, arranging them neatly in my shelf.

I would even smell the books and imagine I was smelling Ning’s hand.

I masturbated to Ning regularly, I want her but she would never want someone as stupid as me.

She’s a smart university undergraduate, whereas I’m just a lowly stupid guy working in a retail store. It wasn’t long before I started writing poems and love notes to Ning.

She read each one and laughed. She thinks it’s a joke.

I don’t blame her.

It’s like a toad lusting after a swan.

We kept in touch after she went on to study full time in university while I enlisted in the army.

Kept in touch meant sending each other a merry Christmas, or New year message once a year, usually one of those meaningless animated stuff other people forward.

I followed her social media feed, I stalked her postings.

Everytime there is something new for me to masturbate to, I will download and keep it in my computer.

We may be apart but my infatuation with her grows ever stronger.

After my service in the military, I started doing work as a security guard in a condominium.

It was simple work, recording vehicle numbers, and patrolling the grounds and scanning the various checkpoints. I still get scolded though, some residents can be pretty mean, expecting me to do everything from catching a lizard from their unit to changing a light bulb or helping them bring their trash to the recycle bin.

3 months into my work at the condominium, I got a shock when I saw Ning walking towards me at the pool.

Ning : JAMES !!! oh my god !!! what are you doing here !!!

James : Oh…. Ning…. You stay here ??

Ning : are you a security guard ?? hahahaha….

James : Yes…. It’s…. the only thing I can find … after I finish my army….

Ning : It’s been so long since I last saw you !!! my god… years… !!

It may be years since she last saw me but it was only last night when I saw Ning, not in person though.

On a screen, with my hand wrapped around my cock.

We caught up a little and Ning told me she is starting her own branding company slash online ecommerce slash marketing company.

James : wow… that’s impressive….. you’re so smart… I’m sure you will do very well….

Ning laughed as she looked at me in the ill fitting security uniform.

Ning : James…. Cannot la… you… you don’t look like a security guard… hahaha….

I smiled and immediately was a bit conscious of how I look.

I was about to excuse myself to save me the embarrassment when Ning held me on my shoulder.

Ning : JAMES!! James !!! look… I have an idea….there is no future…. In doing this… I mean… come on… security… ??

James : i…. I’m not exactly flooded with choices…. You… you know how I am…with work and all…

Ning patted her chest and gave me that sweet cock sure smile.

Ning : work for me James….

James : what ?

Ning : I have so many engagements, I have no time to edit my articles…. And write my reviews…. This is perfect….. remember you used to write those notes and peoms…. You write so well !!! what do you think ??

James : huh ?? .. i….

Ning : ok… look… I’ll pay you…. There’s CPF, there’s medical benefits…. I have a proper office….. you have your own desk, computer… a real office job….you deserve better….

This is like a fucking dream come true man.

Working for the girl you are masturbating to regularly.

Even if I’m stupid, I will not say no.

I nodded my head and Ning punched a fist in the air.

Ning : You are my first employee James !!! yes !!!... hahaha

She added that together, we will grow the company to great heights.

It all happened so fast, within a month, I was out of my uniform and i find myself standing in front of Ning at her so call office.

It’s a industrial unit in Paya lebar, it’s big, about the side of a 3 room flat.

It’s stacked full of sponsored clothing and samples. There are shoes and heels piled on top of each other on the metal shelves.

Clothes were strewn all over the place like it’s a war zone.

My own table was a cold metal desk and the computer I was given is Ning’s old laptop with 3 hello Kitty stickers.

It’s ok, I don’t mind.

Beggars can’t be choosers right.

I start work at 9 and I usually leave at 7pm.

There is so much to do.

Besides editing Ning’s work, I need to take photos, I need to drive her to engagements and events, I need to buy her meals, I need to wash her clothes.

I’m being worked like a slave.

Within a couple of months, Ning’s true colours started to show.

In front of the customers, the clients, she is the sweet darling of the influencer world. In front of me, she is at her absolute worst.

“ JAMES !!! OH GOD!!! FUCK…. WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID !!!! “

“JAMES !!! DON’T WASH THE COLOURS WITH THE WHITES !!! “

“ JAMES !! DAMM IT… FUCK…..!! WHERE IS THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS SOCK !! “

“ JAMES !!! WHERE ARE THE SCISSORS !! “

“ JAMES ….MY GOD.. CAN YOU FUCKING DON’T BE SO STUPID !!! “

Abuses like this fly on a daily basis.

Ning gets especially angry when the photos I take are not satisfactory.

“ MY LEGS ARE LOOKING FAT YOU STUPID !!.. NOT THIS ANGLE… !! “

“ AGAIN… NOT NICE !”

“ THIS VIEW CANNOT !!! ARE YOU DUMB ??  YOU’VE SHOT ANGLES LIKE THIS BEFORE SO MANY TIMES !!! “

“ NO… NO… NO…. TAKE AGAIN….!!! “

“ I SMILE UNTIL MY JAWS HURT ALREADY… YOU STUPID….FUCK…”

“ CAN YOU DO IT PROPERLY…?  USE YOUR BRAIN FOR ONCE !! “

I continued working quietly and I took the abuse, because I like Ning.

She looks so good in the photos. Especially in her sports attire. She’s pretty big in the sporting scene, doing active style type of clothing and endorsements.

The smile, the slim and tone body, that pair of sexy legs.

In photo, everything is perfect.

What about my pay ? Well, I’m being paid 1200 a month. The same rate I get for being a security guard. At least I get to work with Ning, a pretty and hot babe.

How do I handle the stress then ?

I masturbate of course. Almost on a daily basis.

Ning’s clothes, her worn shoes, socks. Everything her sponsor gives her, she wears them for the shoot then chugs them in the office.

I was tasked to wash and hang all of them up nicely. Before I do, I would indulge in them.

Sports bra ? Yoga tights ? those are my favourite.

Sometimes I wonder myself if I deliberately made the shoot more difficult to see Ning sweat and get all worked up, or maybe for her to stay in the clothes longer.

The longer she wears the clothes, the more of her smell accumulates on them. The greater the satisfaction when I use it to masturbate.

She usually leaves office around 5pm, leaving me with enough time to jerk off with the day’s offerings before heading home.

It’s a good thing for me, I get to see Ning, masturbate to her clothes.

Ning did not know that I have secretly taken pictures of her undressing.

I also have video of her peeing in the toilet.

Yes, I also have plenty of her upskirt.

At the days turn to months, and the months to years, Ning got more popular.

She started to get more busy but I remained her only staff.

My pay went up to 1.4k and I spent many night in the office.

Our office expanded to include a small studio and with 2 sections converted into 2 small bedrooms.

One for me and one for Ning.

There are nights when we are simply too tired to go on and we would just sleep over in the office.

I would touch myself under the blanket, thinking of Ning sleeping next door from me.

I thought maybe one day the shouting, the scolding and the verbal abuse would stop but it never did.

It’s ok.

It’s ok because I like Ning. She is my angel.

Until one day everything changed.

It was a Sunday.

I felt this throbbing need to jerk off and I did not want to do it at home.

I want to do it in the office, surrounding by Ning’s belongings and clothes.

I want to smell the clothes she has worn that week that is still lying in the laundry basket.

I made my way to the office and I was in the midst of picking out a bikini she modelled a few days ago when I heard commotion at the door.

I could hear Ning but she was not alone.

I panicked and I tried to find a place to hide.

I dashed into a large full height wardrobe with held all her long dresses and gowns and I held my breath.

Seconds later, I saw Ning come into office with a guy.

Another man.

They were smiling and giggling, they were holding hands.

I felt the anger rising in my heart but I felt that familiar rise in my cock.

Ning’s giggling stopped when the guy took her in his arms.

My erection throbbed when I watch them kiss and the guys hand started roaming downwards to Ning’s breast.

I find myself shaking and trembling in the wardrobe.

I was angry.

So angry that I felt like charging out and pulling them apart.

I watch Ning pull her own top off as she smiled at the guy.

That slut.

That fucking slut.

She has never smiled in that manner at me before.

I watched her remove her skirt, revealing a cream pair of lacy panty I’ve masturbated to before and before I realised it, I was smiling.

I was smiling as I look at Ning.

I smile not because I’m watching her undress.

I smile not because I know I’m going to get to see Ning have sex.

I smile, because my mind started to get flooded.

Flooded with images of the things I’m going to do to her.

She’s so proud of her body.

She like to show of her flesh and tone abs and humble brag about it.

I should grant her that wish of sharing her body with the world.

And before I do that, I’m going to enjoy her body.

Every

Single

Inch

………………………………………………………..

Get it here

Gumroad

Webstore

[jungk0oksthighs]

i so desperately did not want to address this. 

1.4K of a raw emotional meltdown and spelling errors

caught up in a moment of mixed emotions and hurt, i almost deleted my blog today. why? because it’s very easy to dissociate real life from ‘tumblr life’ for most people, but over the past 24 hours it was impossible for me. 

as many (if not all) of you know, my real life best friend also has a bts writing blog, i got her into kpop two years ago and that was that. we never shied away from the fact we were best friends, we did tags and posts and other bits and pieces to showcase our friendship. when two real people in their real lives drift apart to the point of not being friends anymore it’s quite easy for them to turn to tumblr as a form of escapism, to get away from stress and immerse themselves into this site. 

but imagine logging on to tumblr to see people begging to know what happened, assuming that it’s all your fault, blaming you because someone else is sad, saying hurtful things based off one tumblr post, sending message after message demanding answers. i write shitty fanfics on tumblr, i don’t owe anybody anything. and the fact the messages were left unanswered, the fact i didn’t reply to people i usually message frequently, should’ve been obvious.

i didn’t want to talk about it. and people who had already messaged her about the situation decided to message me, as though i would give them a different answer and ‘spill some tea’ (disclaimer: those people shall remain nameless, and i do not know 100% what was said in their conversations with the other person)

i will try to articulate this is elegantly as i can, but it all became too much. i hovered over the ‘delete account’ button in tears because my real life had taken over my tumblr life, it ruined my escapism and i was being blamed, bullied and belittled because people assumed i had done a shitty thing. they assumed she was the victim, and i was the villain. 

however we are both victims in this, as we are both villains. 

i could go on and write about all the ways she has wronged me, tell you about all the arguments we’ve had and all the nasty things she’s ever said to me, and i’m sure she could do the same thing about me. we could drag each other to filth and say some really hurtful things should we want to, we could start a war between our followers which is what had already started to happen, that’s the reason why i made my account private. but i have too much respect for her to let that happen. i have too much respect for myself to let that happen.

our friendship was toxic, it was unhealthy and we’re both adult enough to acknowledge it (even though i really didn’t want to on here) we became friends at a time when i was very vulnerable, i had just discovered my boyfriend of almost 5 years cheated on me our entire relationship. it was my first time being alone in so long. i was needy, i was hurt, i was a mess. she helped me in ways i will never forget. she was my rock for two years and filled the hole in my heart he selfishly left. we had great times, made even greater memories and i can honestly say i’ve never had a friend like her, and probably never will find one like her again. she’s an amazing person which is what makes this so painful.

for a while now we’ve been arguing almost every single week, sometimes multiple times a week. at our worst it was every day. for reasons i won’t disclose because i cannot stress enough how much i don’t want this to become a ‘my side’ vs ‘her side’ battle. there is no side, we’ve both done shit things and said shittier things because that’s what happens when people argue, they get caught up in the heat of the moment and unleash their frustrations. however sometimes lines are crossed, and that brings me into my earlier point about our friendship being toxic.

a couple of months ago a line was crossed, and ever since i’ve tried to distance myself. she knows this, she probably knows which argument i’m talking about too. whether it was a misunderstanding or not, i knew then that for my own, and her sanity i had to get out of the hell we’d created. i used to say “we should take a break from seeing each other” or  “we keep arguing we should stop talking for a while” but because our friendship was moulded around a mutual neediness and greed we’d grown accustomed to, it never lasted. 

i lied to her. mostly about things that didn’t matter like where i was or what i was doing, sometimes about bigger things when i was too scared to tell her the truth. but i created distrust, i probably drove her insane and some of the hurtful things she’d say in arguments i honestly can’t blame her for. i deserved it. and i know she’ll read this, because either she’ll seek it out herself or one of her followers will message her with ‘the tea’. but when you do see this sammy, i cannot express how deeply sorry i am. you might think words don’t mean shit, but i’ve never loved a person (platonically, before people jump on that) more than i love you.

this week i made the very brave, extremely difficult decision to walk away. it was physically draining, not to mention mentally and emotionally exhausting to argue with her every single day. my heart would sink when my phone lit up with a notification when she messaged because i knew that an innocent message would find its way into an argument. and it did, almost every single time. 

by no means is this a reflection of her as a person, or me as a person. yeah she might have written things about me that implied i made her feel like shit, or made out i’m the bad guy for deciding to end the friendship (and if she didn’t then some of her followers really need to work on their interpreting skills because wow) but that doesn’t make her a villain, if that’s how she feels that’s how she feels.

but it doesn’t make her a victim either. we’ve both done wrong by the other person, and this decision is what’s best for us both, deep down she knows that too, i was just the one who happened to call the final shot.

we are two people that met under the wrong circumstances and formed a friendship around toxicity. neither of us are to blame, it’s simple. don’t blame me and don’t blame her. i don’t want to find out she’s got hate messages because of this, because i know how shitty it is. 

the past ten days i’ve thrown myself into the gym, literally injured myself by doing so because i was determined to escape from this. i didn’t want to face it, i didn’t want to address it or believe it and i shrug it off when people in my real life ask about it. so of course i wasn’t planning on talking about it on here. 

in conclusion: 

i don’t know if it’s forever, i don’t know what will happen next, i don’t know if she’s mad at me, but i do know that this needed to be done. i wish her all the best with her future and i’m glad to hear that things are looking up for her already. 

i’m sorry sammy. 

please respect us both & let this issue be put to bed. it’s hard enough to lose your best friend without all the added drama. now let us be, please. i’ve unprivated my account but that doesn’t mean i’ll be very active for a while. 

i hope you understand.