#and it makes me sad when people hate on it

[munsooooon]

Steve hates very much to be called "Steven" not even as a joke, he has not talked about it with anyone but implicitly everyone senses it in some way or another and therefore they do not call him that way, it is always Steve or Harrington or some nickname. That's because when his parents called him that it was because they were incredibly angry or drunk and therefore punished him in horrible ways, when they called him Steven he usually ended up getting beaten up. When they called him Steven in public it was enough to make him freeze and make him shiver, eventually he would be silent and terrified for the rest of the evening.

Now being older if someone calls him Steven, he immediately assumes they are fighting with him or that he did something wrong and depending on the situation or the person he will react with sadness or anger, for example, when Tommy called him Steven, it ended in a awful fist fight. It really makes him feel very bad, in recent years sadness is what he felt the most when he hears his name, because it hurts him too much to disappoint the people he loves.

Eddie doesn't know it, but he doesn't call him Steven either, it's always a nickname or Stevie, or Steve or even Harrington. Until one night, when they were in Steve's room kissing fiercely and passionately, Steve was under him doing whatever it took to feel Eddie rubbing his skin, between gasps and accelerated breaths, every little movement Eddie made or every little touch Steve felt, he reacted effusively with his whole body shuddering, he was and felt hypersensitive, he couldn't keep still.

"Steven" Eddie whispered with softness and a beautiful smile, Steve looked at him surprised. "Stay still, I need to take your clothes off, love"

Steve loved that. It was the first time someone pronounced his name with such love. He stood for a few seconds, processing what was happening. He began to shake in anticipation of what Eddie might give him. His brain was short-circuited, and all he could think of was Eddie calling him "Steven" with that authority and that beautiful softness that only he had. He felt loved.

"Are you okay? Do you want us to stop?"

Steve took a few seconds to appreciate him, ran his face gently, because the words wouldn't come out even though they were in his throat. He was always silent when he shouldn't be but he couldn't help it.

Eddie kissed the hand that was on his face, not intending to go any further, and Steve melted once again, he wanted to speak and express loudly the pleasure the other boy was making him feel but he couldn't. Instead, he took Eddie's hand and directed it to his pants to make him feel what he had provoked, to make him understand that he didn't want to stop.

"No, I don't want to stop" Steve said as he sat on Eddie's lap. "Call me Steven again, just you, just you Eddie, call me love, baby, tell me I'm your princess and never stop"

Steve was incredibly loud that night, moving his hips against Eddie's lap, trying to fuck himself harder, deeper. He spoke his name softly and lovingly, until he began to cry, begged for more as tears flooded his face. Eddie held him tight with his arms to keep him right where he wanted him but also to keep him safe to hold him as he released a weight he seemed to be carrying for years.

Eddie couldn't utter a word, it was unbelievable. Eddie was always loud and Steve was quieter, but in the dark, in the security of their love, Steve could be whatever he wanted and could act however he wanted, so he was being loud as he wished because in Eddie's arms no one could punish him.

"You're such a good boy, don't you?" Eddie says softly.

"Yeah?" Steve asks as he chases Eddie, he moans loudly as Eddie once again hits that place on his body, his mouth stays open as he moves on Eddie, soft sounds keep coming out of his mouth, he closes his eyes, because he can feel Eddie all over his body, even though he moves slowly.

"Yeah. You're so sweet, my baby boy, I can't even explain how much I love you, princess"

Steve smiles with his eyes closed. He looked precious, his cheeks were flushed, his lips red, and somehow the tears made him incredibly beautiful.

....

Steve still hates being called that, he finally confessed it to Eddie but also gave him permission to call him that on special occasions. Plus, he told him that he would love to tell his parents what he does with the traumas they caused him. Because now every time he's called Steven it's because he's loved, because he's revered and because he's being fucked incredibly well.

Steve get his name back, Steven belonged to him and Eddie.

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hi hi! The blue man deserves more attention. It's criminal how much I adore him. Anyways— Kurt x Reader(97' works fine but whatever you prefer)

Reader is a mutant with abilities that make her cold to the touch. So she wears gloves and sweaters and avoids touching people so they won't be uncomfortable. But oh the blue man won't just have that since it's obvious reader is touch starved. I mean, this man does not hesitate hugging Rogue. A bit of fluff, cuddles? Maybe a love confession from Kurt, like the definition of "your beauty never ever scared me" on both ends. I don't know anymore I'm rambling at this point

Chilled to the soul

Kurt Wagner x fem!reader Words: 1.2K A/N: The way I desperately need a hug from that man

It was a cold evening. She sat by the window, her gloved hands wrapped around a mug, looking out at the starry sky with sad eyes. Her legs were pulled up, almost disappearing under the long, thick sweater, which he knew she didn't need because her mutation didn't allow her to perceive or suffer from temperature differences.

Kurt hated having to see her like this. He knew she only wore those sweaters and damn gloves so that others wouldn't feel uncomfortable and she didn't like them herself, but she put up with it. He had watched her in silence for the last few months and years, but he had reached a point where he couldn't stand it any longer.

On quiet soles, he walked across the room toward her and settled across from her on the windowsill as his tail whipped slowly back and forth. "Are you all right, my dear?" She looked over at him and smiled, though he could see the slight glimmer her eyes held: tears. "I..." she wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"It's nothing. It really is. I'm just a little..." Her voice broke off and she took a deep breath to regain her composure. Carefully, his tail wrapped around her cup and lifted it from her hands to set it on the floor. With her eyebrows drawn together, she looked at him. "Kurt, what-?"

"Shhh," he murmured, taking her hands in his. Carefully, he began to pull on her gloves, whereupon she pulled her hands away, her fingers trembling slightly. "You don't want that." He looked up. "I know what I want. The question is whether you want it. If you don't, I won't."

Her eyes were wide and still glistening, but this time not with tears and hesitantly, very slowly, she put her hands back in his. He smiled and the tip of his tail ran over her calf. "Thank you." Tenderly, he plucked first one, then the other from her hands and placed them carefully beside him on the windowsill.

Then he held out his hands and waited. Kurt wouldn't force her, he knew how touch-sensitive she was and he would give her the time she needed.

Her eyes fluttered back and forth between his hands and his face and he could clearly see the doubt in them, but just smiled. "It's okay. As soon as you're ready."

She swallowed audibly, but nodded and stared at her hands as if she couldn't believe they were hers. Then she took a deep breath and gently ran one of her fingers over his bare palm.

The cold automatically spread through his body and he suppressed the urge to shiver, but she seemed to have noticed because she immediately withdrew her hand. "You're feeling uncomfortable, I'm so terribly sorry."

She reached for the gloves, seemingly with the prospect of leaving, however Kurt's tail wrapped around her wrist, intent on catching her by the fabric of the sweater, and she paused.

"Please don't. It's not unpleasant," he whispered, leaning forward slightly, his hands still outstretched. "It was just a little unfamiliar."

She looked at him and he could see the despair and at the same time rising hope in her gaze.

"I don't know Kurt..."

"Please." Her gaze traveled over his face and for a moment he feared she would refuse his request - which he would respect. But then she sighed and turned back to him. Slowly, her fingers approached his palm and this time he didn't flinch when her skin touched his. She was careful, her touch no more than a breath at first, but she became bolder the longer he let her do it and began to let several fingers dance across his palm at once.

His eyes never left her face and when she finally released hers from his hands and looked at him, she nodded slightly. That was all the invitation he needed.

Quickly, almost greedily, as if he had been waiting for this for ages, he closed his hands around hers and, after some difficulty, intertwined their fingers.

Her fingertips tapped against the back of his hand and he couldn't help but smile broadly at her, even as the cold spread through his body. It wasn't too strong, bearable, and clearly worth it if he could see her wondering, hopeful, craving look in return.

Tears gathered in her eyes and slowly began to run down her cheek. "Shhhh, it's okay," he murmured, carefully putting his arms around her, close enough for her to feel him, yet far enough away should she want to pull away. For a few moments she was frozen in his arms and Kurt wondered if he had gone too far, but she sobbed quietly and wrapped her arms around his middle.

She tucked her head under his chin and buried her face in his top as she clung to him like a drowning woman. Kurt smiled slightly and pressed his hand lightly against the back of her head, burying his fingers in her hair. He didn't know how long she had been in his arms, but he really didn't care. His heart was pounding in his chest, but this wasn't for him, it was for her.

It took a while for her to detach herself, but even then she only left his arms enough to look at him. Her cheeks were puffy from crying and her eyes were red, but she was beaming from the bottom of her heart and Kurt couldn't help but think that she had never been more beautiful. "Thank you, Kurt." Her voice hoarse and low. Despite its softness, he heard her perfectly. "Thank you for not shying away from touching me."

"How could I?" His voice was soft and gentle and he carefully ran a finger over her cheek to wipe away a tear. By now, he barely registered the cold. "You are beautiful, my love." His next move was a little forward, but he couldn't stop himself. He hungered for her touch and after tasting it, he was sure he would never get enough.

Kurt leaned in, but paused when his lips were just mere millimeters from hers. As much as he craved it, he was a gentleman. If she didn't want it, he wouldn't hold it against her.

She looked up at him in surprise for a moment, her eyes wide and searching his. Then, as if making a silent decision, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, closing the distance for good.

Kurt had the feeling that he had arrived in heaven. Her lips were cold, but so incredibly soft and tender that he felt like he was melting. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer, feeling her body against his. He closed his eyes in pleasure, his head spinning from her closeness and the sensation of her snug against him.

She, in turn, buried her hands in his hair, making it impossible for him to move in any direction other than forward, toward her. Kurt didn’t know why he should complain. The sensation of her fingers entwined in his hair sent shivers down his spine, grounding him in the moment. Every fiber of his being craved her touch, and he felt a profound sense of contentment wash over him.

She may be cold to the touch, but God, she sparked a fire in him that threatened to engulf him and Kurt felt no need to fight back as long as it meant he could stay in her arms.

[oblique-lane]

"I'm only valuable when..." of TF2 mercs

Personal mental stereotypes they follow, yet will never admit aloud. An analysis:

(Headcanons but I tried to be as compliant as possible)

Scout: I'm only valuable when people see me as cool and tell me that I'm cool... 'Cuz that means, it must be true...

(Constantly comparing himself to everyone, barely knows his true self, struggles to be alone)

Pyro: I'm only valuable when I have friends to care about! If there's none... It's so cold and lonely...

(Fear of abandonment? Fear of betrayal. Urges for revenge)

Soldier: I'm only valuable when my community needs me! I am all about loyalty and faith!

(Strongly identifies with the place or beliefs he belongs to, constantly feels threatened.)

Demo: I'm only valuable when people find me fun to be around. As soon as it gets sad, everyone leaves.

(Numbing his emotional pain in substances because he has no idea how to handle it, especially since these emotions push people away time and time again. Feelings of helplessness.)

Heavy: I am only valuable when I can protect people. Although I understand, when people are able to stand for themselves, it feels like my purpose is gone...

(Being protective is his identity. If he's not a big human shield for the people he cares about, who is he?)

Engineer: I'm only valuable when my ideas become reality. While I'm still alive, my mission in life is to make as many creations as I can.

(His work is more important than his personhood. He's the Engineer first, Connagher last)

Medic: I'm only valuable when people need very specific solutions to very specific situations. Let's say, some of these situations were also a work of mine.

(Too genius of a mind struggles to fit into the "normal" flow of things. Extending what's possible.)

Sniper: I'm only valuable when I'm useful. When my help is irreplaceable. Otherwise, why am I even here?

(Struggles with "fitting in" and finding a community/genuine connections. Doesn't believe there's anything to him besides his work)

Spy: I'm only valuable when people can look up on me, when they admire me and want to be like me. Or, otherwise, when they hate me and believe that I'm the only cause of their suffering. It's never too much when it comes to praise.

(Extremely fragile ego)

[not-goldy]

I've done a lot of thinking. Kind of long thoughts. Sorry.

When we got news BTS was joining MS. I threw up at the thought of Jimin going & panicking on behalf of Jikook. I remember saying I don't think Jikook can go 2 years without each other are they gonna make it, more importantly is Jungkook gonna be okay? Spoiler alert. The answer is NO & we saw that with his breakdown when Jimin was in reach, but busy during Chapter 2. Had that man in a downward spiral knowing he was still seeing Jimin & could pop over, but not as much as he's use too & was not coping well and told us & showed us he wanted his Jimin. Then it was Jimin's turn to pout when Jk was busy. Made me sad but then we saw them making the best of 2023 spending alone vacations together & couple days, even days before enlisting. And I was like pheew, at least they're spending time together so maybe when separation comes, they'll be okay. Spoiler alert. Jikook said NO we won't be okay & pulled the biggest FU you aren't separating us move, that's ever been pulled. I be damn if they weren't behind the scenes making arrangements to not only be together, but share a bed, a unit, living area & in a buddy program that has it where they even take their vacation days together & see each other every day til discharge. Blew my damn mind, but at the same time not shocked cause of course Jikook would pull off something like that. Everyone should've seen it coming to be honest. JUST WOW. The real definition of "Screaming, I testify that we'll survive the test of time. They can't deny our love. They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time. I promise I'll be right here."

That said. This woman pulling this with Jimin or that woman with Jk. Doesn't matter. I know regardless of what happens behind closed doors, my duo are the closest no matter what anyone says. Its a real genuine bond no one can break, not even random women or men for that matter. They're the two who are spending time in their rooms when they could be with others, spending their vacations off camera alone cooking at their house or coming back home together from LA when others went off on their vacations & them spending couple days together over everyone else. Enlisting together & making life decisions together. Dropping honorifics to show their closeness & even their parents show constant support toward the other. Who make time for each other on their birthdays & really commit to it year after year. Say what you want but I'm at peace knowing how much Jikook truly love each other. Its not fake or baiting. They're genuinely close & comfortable with each other, esp enough to cross friendship boundaries. Whatever that means for them. Take that how you want. I haven't been stanning two people who are exaggerating & making their bond seem closer then what it is for the sake of the group or to entertain fans, when in reality they're off building a relationship & life with their real partner over each other & don't even spend significant holidays or birthdays or couple days together. NO. Instead, I'm stanning Jikook who always put each other first (over their own partners if they have them) for when it really matters, including on couple days & does it year after year & are consistent. Jikook have proven for years they're the closest & the military enlistment solidified that cause you only join with a buddy program with friends you are the closet too or with your actual partner. Take your pick, cause we know both can apply here and Jikook did that. And no one can take that away from them. And guess what they're still together today through all the bullshit and hate. And that matters to me & I support whatever they have. They have nothing else they need to prove to me. I get others need more validation, but I'm content & at peace & just happy knowing while all this melodramatic bullshit is going down, that Jikook have each other and Jimin is not dealing with this alone. They have each other to rely on through good and bad in there. So I sleep well at night knowing that. They'll never make me hate you or turn my back on your Jikook. Thanks for listening.

Been awhile I read something interesting in my Ask box so thanks for your thoughts.

The Jimin going away had us all too so I understand what you mean. We try not to victimize him and treat him like a fragile being but sometimes instincts override our every senses.

I wanna dwell on that a little bit to say things are going much better than I thought.

The anxiety and panic attacks thinking he can't take that isolation for long but bro went in there and dominated 💀

It's a fuck you to every single person who thought him a feeble weak submissive gay man. Don't you just love it when it's the stigmatized gay ones who end up setting the standard of the ever cherished male masculinty and who end up dominating the upper echelons of their prized male sports???

Who's your daddy

Better say his name bitch

I feel yuh on the other stuff too

We riding till the wheels fall off

Old Town road style 😎

[deerainy]

hello! I need some advice, I've been questioning my sexuality recently. I'm a lesbian, I've come to terms with that years ago but recently I've been wondering if I'm not asexual too. The thing is I struggle with depression and anxiety so it can be difficult for me to even want anything, I've also not been in a romantic relationship since I was 15 and have never been intimate with anyone apart from kissing. I have however desired one person more than romantically and would have been willing to be involved physically with her (it was lowkey driving me insane how down bad I was). The thing is I know asexuality is a spectrum and I rarely feel the need for intimacy with anyone if I don't have a crush. I think I could go on forever without it if I never fell in love again. Though I feel extremely sad over having never experienced intimacy with someone and I crave it. I'm wondering if it isn't linked to the loneliness that comes when you realise you're a lesbian and no one you know is and to have never been desired by anyone, so any thoughts? I'm asking because I've been doing quizzes online and I struggle with it because I notice the obvious in the questions that I find extremely stupid and there's no context whatsoever like the first question is 'how do you feel about touch and intimacy?' a. strangely against it b. I like cuddling but don't want more c. I like kissing but nothing more d. I wouldn't mind being physically intimate with a partner

BUT WHAT ? I don't have a partner, I haven't been hugged in literal months and have literally no memory of cuddling with anyone but I know I crave touch, I'm strongly against physical interaction because I was physically abused as a child, and I like kissing but I don't know??? this test seems to have been made for people who ALREADY know it's so silly like I hate it because the questions aren't detailed at all and obviously the first answer is for someone who is most likely asexual and the last for someone who isn't...

Also I must say I feel extremely awkward towards the idea of physical intimacy, not mine but others. I find it very funny and odd. I don't really understand why people do it. I also don't understand how it works in the sense that it doesn't make sense to me as to why people need it so much. I hate seeing scenes in movies because I find it so useless and unnecessary, same in books and especially in fanfictions to me it ruins everything. I actually despise how sexualised everything is and I don't understand it.

So I'm hoping someone on this app may help me out! This is a very scary thing for me to ask even to friends because I fear being judged and misunderstood so that's why I thought about asking here, thank you for reading!

[velvetvexations]

I don't understand why TME/TMA is viewed as a concrete you are or you aren't? I've always thought about TME/TMA as it's something are, until you aren't. Having not experienced transmisogny at the current date doesn't mean you'll never experience it. So, theoretically "eggs" would be TME as an "egg" doesn't face the transmisogny a "clockable"/out transfem would, but does this mean if that "egg" became transfem, they be TME still? It feels like it's been used to replace asking someone's AGAB in a "nicer" way.

Bullseye!

It exists because queer culture hates transmen for various reasons, to the point that the majority of people I've personally seen arguing in favor of it and that things like transandrophobia don't exist are themselves "TME" because they're just that convinced it's necessary to put themselves below transfems and let us suck the all the air out of the room as much as we like. And them, man, they can be annoying, but I mostly pity them. Like I saw one post the other day by a self-identified TME that was so desperate to get things right and be "good" that it really did break my heart to pieces. Like I wanted to give them a fucking hug.

That is not to say that transwomen don't also do it! I never want to downplay that or make it seem like I'm victimblaming the people who are most affected by it. And another sad part is, I think, the active rage me calmly disagreeing with two separate transwomen in the past couple of days has caused, when I've been arguing about it with transmascs for ages and never once was accused of harassing them. Transwomen are not categorically better or more oppressed than other trans people and it's extremely uncomfortable when people act like we are. It's also extremely uncomfortable that because I don't agree with the current consensus all that will go out the window and people will reframe my disagreement as harassment the way cis transphobes reframe everything a transwoman does as being somehow evil.

[sollsmith]

Changes to HOTD Season One

I may get jumped for this but this was in my drafts after I saw someone else mention some changes they would have made to season one. So in light of season two arriving in a month, here are mine that I would added/changes to make the series run and little more coherently without changing the entire plot; 

More highborn ladies around Rhaenyra and Alicent. 

I just found it a little unbelievable that the Princess and named heir had a grand total of one friend. I like the idea of Rhaenyra and Alicent having a small core group of highborn ladies. I also think it would have been great to add to the dynamic of when their friendship falls apart. 

Maybe they gravitate to Rhaenyra’s ‘side’ as she will be future queen, further isolating Alicent, adding to her eventual hatred/treatment of Rhaenyra. I think the fall out of Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship especially in the beginning needs a little extra kick, and this is a simple and effective way to do so. Not only was Rhaenyra given the freedoms Alicent never was, she also ‘took’ all her friends with her.

Once we made the jump to Olivia taking over as Alicent I would have gone full ‘book Alicent’, or at least once Driftmark happened. 

I think the flitting between hating Rhaenyra and caring for her doesn’t work (unless you are a Rhaenicent, if we are being honest!). 

They should have let Alicent fully believe Otto’s brainwashing, especially after the response to Aemon being marred. I genuinely believe that would have made Alicent even more sympathetic to the general audience as well, as I just don’t think the back and forth is really logical after that point, and the general audience just sees her as a hypocrite, not as another victim to Westeros’ patriarchy. 

I think it would have been beneficial to see more Alicents scheming against Rhaenyra in court etc. It would have been very cool to see her go fully spiteful and powered by fear (mainly because of how Olivia played the small glimpses we did see at times, and they worked better for me than the more sad/passive Alicent we got at other times).

It also would have prevented having the foot fetish scene with Larys. I do not understand why that was the route, when they could have Alicent be a willing participant in those schemes, which is much more interesting. Also no ‘misunderstanding the prophecy’ scene, or the green council going the way it did, or Rhaenyra crying over a 20 year old piece of paper….

Either given Rhea more screen time, or went with the book version of events with killing her off screen.

I understand logically why they had Daemon kill her, but due to the lack of screen time, I just don’t think the audience cared about her enough to really hold Daemon to it. I think killing her off screening, and having Daemon find out in the Stepstones via letter, and a scene of him actually going to the Vale to try for his inheritance all smug without a care for his dead wife, would have been just as an effective way to show Daemon’s disdain and hatred for his first wife, if not more effective.

Daemon and Laena’s relationship. 

I think it would have been nice to actually allow Daemon to be shown to be a somewhat decent man at certain times. I just think if canonically the character is described as ‘made of light and darkness in equal parts’ they should have made more of an effort to show that, have Daemon’s love for his family be his light. It also means that when he is dark, it’s actually more shocking and cruel as we know he is making an active choice to be that way, that at his core he is not a good man, despite the light we see with his family. It reduced Laena to a stepping stone plot point, and I just wasn’t a fan of that. 

Inclusion of Laena and Rhaenyra's relationship. 

I just think this would have played well into the fact that to Alicent, Rhaenyra, no matter how much she believes she breaks the rules, does what she wants etc. she is still constantly surrounded by people that love her, while all Alicent has done has lived dutifully and ended up in a loveless marriage with no one to turn too but Larys fucking Strong. 

Bi Daemon 

Because that is something I want, and I’m allowed to be selfish every once and a while!

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: drake v. kendrick

DRAKE'S 5 & 18 THROAT CHAKRA

oof the ghost writer energy is real. moon energy reminds me again of lying. in music the greatest deception is to make it seem like you wrote something even though you just performed it. drake is a performer, not a writer. to me that makes him sorta lesser (compared to kendrick) because it's not even his words that he is singing.

the hierophant energy tells me just how influential drake has been in the industry emotionally that is.

KENDRICK'S 5 & 12 THROAT CHAKRA

he does indeed see dead people lol. no but kendrick sees things that the average person doesn't, so he speaks up about it - hence why we see the hanged man on his throat. he has a gift when it comes to curating and telling a story on an album.

the hierophant energy tells me just how influential kendrick has been in the industry in written sense. he has a natural talent as a lyricist.

DRAKE'S 4 CAREER

red flag moments. i feel like all emperor career people need to be on the look out for people who will try to "de-throne" them. they are the type of people who believe that they are the very top of their game. and it might not be true but it is important for them to feel that way and to feel confident or else their career will go sideways. these people also tend to get too comfortable in their situation - they will feel they are immune to the system and they are above the law in some regards. they tend to abuse their power.

KENDRICK'S 8 CAREER

the more emotional the better - vulnerability is key to him being at the peak of his game. so every time he is blunt with how he is feeling, the better the response is from fans. that's why the damn. album did so well, in my opinion! as eminem says "don't get sad, get angry" worked out perfectly for "like that" and "euphoria".

16 AS THEIR HIGHEST RELATIONSHIP POTENTIAL

i don't think everyone will agree but them having beef with one another has been the best thing for their careers. very much a survival of the fittest moment and 100% necessary for the rap game. kendrick no doubt has proven he is an incredible lyricist despite his sporadic music drops. while we are learning (in my opinion) that drake can't really compete though so many people thought he was king in this game.

14 AS THEIR RELATIONSHIP CORE

am i the only one that noticed the rap beef was the heaviest on star wars weekend - "i hate you" "you were my brother, anakin! i loved you!" that is REALLY what i was thinking the whole time because they used to be friends, and i often think of temperance as the energy of friendship and brotherly love ("philia"). they have been quiet for weeks now, so i am wondering if it was all for publicity to begin with and if this was really just a show for the fans - they are really just friends at the end of the day? but at the same time, silence and waiting periods are typical with this core in a relationship.

3 AND 20 LOW POTENTIALS

i think the rap beef will either sunset into nothingness or we will have another xxxtentacion situation on our hands... I DEFINITELY BELIEVE the rap game has changed - when there is beef, we will see more people just going at each other like they did. the creativity has reactivated in the craziest way with that empress and plutonian judgement energy paired (it screams diss tracks and rap battles).

21 RELATIONSHIP BLOCKER

there can only be one type of energy... we shall see what that means for sure because either drake will for real flee to canada, retire, and/or go to trial/jail OR kendrick might get the xxxtentacion treatment.

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[ash5monster01]

One’s Hour Has to Come

Dead Poets Society Fic

Summary: A story in which you walk through the timeline of each of the Poet’s deaths and how they faced their end and experienced their lives in all endeavors. 

word count: 13.4k

Masterlist

1959

The first time any of the boys experienced a funeral that actually affected them, they were only sixteen turning seventeen. Too young to ever know the unforgiving cold heart of death and how in just seconds it could turn your entire life around. It was seared into each of their brains. How it had snowed that day, how the women cried, how heavy the casket was on each of their shoulders as snow crunched beneath their feet, how the roses already started to wilt due to the cold. 

They had lost a friend, a companion, and worst of all someone their age. It was a wake up call, a notion that life wasn’t as dependable as they thought. That at any moment anything could possibly happen to change that. Life wasn’t guaranteed and the timeline was unknown. Hadn’t that been what Keating had talked about this whole time? To make much of time and experience it as one should. So how come his teachings had played a part in the very death of their friend? It may have not been the reason but now that each of them were aware, it already started to feel like the time was running out. 

Neil Perry was an irreplaceable soul in a world of people who wasted the hours away. So as each of the boys faced the question of ‘why him?’, they realized death didn’t pick and choose. It was required and could not be changed or erased. Whether you were a saint or devil incarnate, your time was your time, and nothing could get in the way of that. Neil was only on this earth for a mere 17 years and that had to be enough, even if it felt like it didn’t. It had to mean something or the world wasn’t as each of the boys had thought. The world was cruel and unforgiving and happiness could be crushed at any moment. So as they faced the death of their friend together, mourned and lost, they realized one day it would be their turn, and there was no telling when. 

1968

Nine years. That was all it took. Barely even a decade before the group had to face another death. Pitts often wondered what it was like for Charlie the day Neil died. The thoughts going through his head as he set his sadness to the side in order to inform all of them. Pitts figured he would never have the answers to these questions until the telegram in his hand trembled. His mind hadn’t caught up with his heart yet. His body reacting as if it had just experienced deep trauma, which in a way it did. 

Gerard Pitts,

The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that Sergeant Steven Meeks was killed in action on Thirty January 1968 in South Vietnam. This confirms personal notification made by a representative of the secretary of the army Major General, USA F48 Adjutant General. 

He wasn’t sure what to think at first. He hadn’t seen Meeks since they had graduated from Yale, he had briefly heard he had been drafted but what he never expected was this. This meant Meeks had listed him in his emergency contacts and now on this very day he had to face exactly what Charlie had too. So dropping the telegram from his trembling hand he reached for the rolodex in search of numbers he prayed would still reach each of the boys despite it having been years since contact. 

That was how they had all ended up here, in a stuffy church among the pews that they once found unbearable in their formative years. The wooden seats have provided nothing but stiff backs and unwarranted lectures in discipline. Now Pitts liked the feeling of it, the pain reminding him that this moment was real as he sat beside Meeks’ parents, who were now worn with age. Mrs. Meeks red hair had now started to fade into white and Mr. Meeks face had begun to sink in. Pitts briefly wondered if that's what Meeks would have looked like if he had made it to old age.  He hated that there wasn’t more family here to grieve, just the three of them, yet when each of the Poets walked through the door the weight on his shoulders lifted more and more. 

Todd had been able to take off of work a few days, leaving his third graders behind with a substitute teacher. He had really come into his own in college and found a love for teaching, but preferred kids much younger. When you're a kid the world is much less daunting and people are much more forgiving, he wasn’t sure he was ready to take on the responsibility of influential teenage minds. The best he could do was teach them young and hope they did what was best as they grew. 

Charlie, now as influential as his father in the business world, left behind the big city and stocks, driving somewhere other than Wall Street to send off a friend. You could smell success on him from the perfect cut of his suit and the expensive fabric. All with a dainty brunette tucked against his arm, the boy had made something of himself whether he wanted to or not. It was comforting to see, not knowing how the boy would end up after he had been expelled.

As for Knox, much to no one's surprise, he came with a still just as beautiful Chris by his side. He had taken over his fathers firm right after college and had been doing well for himself since. He was living the life he always dreamed of having, you could see it in his eyes with the way he looked at the one year old boy in Chris’ arms. They had been married right after college and before he got busy with the firm, it just made sense that babies were on the way. They had eloped, mainly to avoid an over the top wedding provided by his parents, and after their anger subsided they started to live a beautiful life together. 

What shocked everyone the most was to see Cameron walk through the door. Still just as awkward as he was as a teenager, slipping into a pew in the back as if not to be seen. He wasn’t even sure himself what brought him to come today. He hadn’t seen Meeks since High School graduation nor heard from him. He was shocked to hear the boy was even in the war let alone lost his life to it. Something deeper though, more important than even him or the other poets drew him here today and if he was anything, he was a man of deep respect. These were guys he grew up with and it was important to offer his condolences, at least to him. 

In front of them the Pastor starts to speak, a casket covered by an American flag in the front of the room and Pitts can't bring himself to believe that his friend was now inside of there. His body had been shipped back for the funeral and was to be a closed casket for undisclosed reasons. Whatever Pitts imagined made him sick anyway. Steven Meeks, the army hero, who would've thought? He never imagined what their funerals would’ve been like but if you had asked him years ago, the last response he ever would've had was a military funeral. 

When the crowd leaves the church to go to the gravesite, the majority of the boys have found themselves in tears. Todd stands beside Charlie and Knox, their wives behind them as they watch them lower the casket in the ground. Todd flinches when the rifles go off for the Three-volley Salute. This brings Charlie to wrap an arm around his shoulders, tears in Todd’s eyes matching his own. After they all walk through to drop roses on the casket, the group finds themselves off to the side, sharing a moment alone in the memory of their friend.

“Long time no see fellas’ Charlie is the first to say, a prideful arm still wrapped around Todd and his wife. Knox brings himself to smile softly, cradling the small boy in his arms.

“Been too long” he agrees and Pitts finds himself reaching for the child, long fingers grazing along his hairline. It was so odd to him that there could be something so young and safe from the dangers of the real world, that this child was starting on the path of a lifetime with an unwritten ending. 

“Clearly, you have a kid” Pitts chuckles, glancing up at Chris who held the same features as the small boy in Knox’s arms. He liked that there was hope for the short lifetime you were given, that you could be with your one true love and live a happy life. 

“I did, everyone meet Johnny” Knox offered up his arms, showing off the boy who was just starting life at a gathering over the end of a life. Pitts found tears rimming his eyes just at the thought of how much Meeks would've loved to meet him. 

“Hi Johnny” Todd smiled, face a mix of happiness and sadness. He had become quite fond of young life after years of teaching and to see Knox, who once was young, now holding him was unreal. 

“Like Keating?” Charlie said with a nod, half question and half matter of fact and Knox smiled as he removed an arm from the child to wrap around Chris.

“Yeah, like the Captain. The man who made me confident enough to chase after the girl of my dreams. Little Johnny wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him” Knox confirms and Todd steps out of the grasp of Charlie who had oddly taken over the role of Neil, making sure Todd was well looked after. He got a phone call once every two weeks, a lot like a mother hen, just making sure he was still alive. 

“Can I hold him?” Todd asks and Knox smiles, immediately offering up the young boy to his meek and quiet friend. Todd carefully accepted the child into his arms, tucking him against his chest and admiring the softness of his skin. 

“Meeks would've been just as surprised you actually had a kid” Pitts suddenly says and the group freezes, almost not expecting any of them to actually bring up the reason why they were all here. 

“I didn’t even know he was drafted” Knox whispers, ignoring Pitts statement and nods came from each of the boys amongst the group. Charlie had once tried writing to him but had never received a letter back, he just assumed he may have had the wrong address. He had no idea the boy was off at war when the majority of them had been able to avoid the draft due to money or ineligibility. 

“Couldn’t avoid it, he was a radio operator in the field. Doesn’t surprise me that Steven would be able to make a radio work and contact people in the middle of the jungle” Pitts says with a teary laugh and the boys let this sink in, picturing their small red headed friend in army green and deep in the woods fighting a war none of them could truly comprehend. 

“He was too smart for his own good” Charlie says with the shake of his head, remembering all those school years where Meeks had practically carried him on his back though the classes he struggled in. 

“He would've been glad we were all here, even Cameron '' Todd says, eyes never leaving the bright blue ones of baby Johnny, because of this he doesn't see how his sentence makes each of them stiffen. Things with Cameron never got smoothed over and they all went their separate ways. Pitts wasn't even sure why he called him, some deeper force out there brought him to do it. 

When no one responds, Todd finally lifts his head to see each of the boy's eyes cast on the red haired boy who was talking to Meeks parents. It was odd seeing him all these years later. He hadn’t really changed, he was just a touch taller and his eyes weren’t as bright as they once were. That much is true when his head turns to spot each of them, a tight lipped smile crossing his face before turning and walking off in the opposite direction. 

“Feels like a lifetime ago” Knox mutters, not really needing to explain his reasoning for the sentence. Cameron had always been uptight but he was once one of them. A young and innocent kid who thought the entire world was his oyster. They were all going to conquer it together until it all fell apart. 

“It’s nice, that he came” Charlie says with a cough, eyes darting to his wife in order to avoid eye contact with any of the boys who are shocked by this sentence. Charlie had never had anything nice to say about Cameron, they’d just have to chalk it up to grief over Meeks. 

“It’s nice that you all came” Pitts says and the group smiles at him, a sadness in each of their eyes as it finally settled that Meeks was really and truly gone. Charlie is the first to usher them into a group hug, one that each of them welcomes as they accept the embrace of friends they hadn’t seen in a longtime. 

“We always will”

1980

Charlie dreamed of the day he would finally receive a letter from John Keating. With how quickly both him and Keating had been booted from school he was never able to find a way to contact him. He had spent many years exhausting searches for a man that more than likely returned to his life in London, too far for a young boy in the 60’s to ever discover. So he gave up, he met his wife, worked hard at his job, and raised his two kids. So when he opened the mailbox one morning, he never expected to see a letter marked with multiple postage stamps, a return address scribbled on the side of a Keating in London. He never moved so fast, rushing inside in search of his letter opener in order to read the first words he’ll ever hear from Keating after all these years. 

Dear Charles Dalton, 

I’m writing to you on behalf of my husband John Keating who had once teached you for a few brief months back in 1959. I regret to inform you that my husband passed away due to a cancer called Hodgkin's Lymphoma that has been slowly eating away at his life. I want you to know that he did not die in vain and that he was very happy with the life he lived before it was taken from him. He always loved you boys and he never stopped thinking about you once. Up until the very end he would share stories of the best students he had ever taught. Please do not resent him for the distance that he has kept all these years. Despite how much I assured him, he still felt like he took some blame for the death of your friend. Unable to escape that guilt he felt it was best to keep his distance in order to avoid causing anymore harm. My husband was a smart but stubborn man which I am sure you know. 

His funeral will be held here in London in a week's time. I know it is short notice but if you’d like to attend or have further questions I’ll leave my number here. Please do reach out, my husband was very proud of each and every one of you and I’d love to get in touch and meet the boys that changed his perspective on a lot of things. He passed very young and had a lot more life to live but thankfully my husband knew how to seize the day and I hope each of you still are too. 

Sincerely, Elizabeth Keating

Charlie can’t bring himself to comprehend what he has just read. Tears rim his eyes as he realizes all the possibilities he imagined when opening this letter, not a single one included his death. The death of the very man that single handedly changed his life for the better. He always wished he’d have the opportunity to thank him but now that chance is gone. With his eyes trained on the number written at the bottom of the letter he finds himself picking up the phone and making a call he never thought he’d have to make. 

After discussing things with Keating’s wife he went through and called the rest of the poets that he was just realizing now that he hadn’t heard from in almost ten years. He hated that they had all lost touch but that was sadly how life worked. You grew up, moved away, met new people, and as the days go it gets harder and harder to reach out. Charlie didn’t find it hard this time to inform them all of another death yet the part that hurt was how he knew how to do it, He had once broken the news to them all before. When they all agreed to go along with him, Charlie booked the tickets and pretty soon they were off. 

Keating’s wife still looked just as she did in the picture that used to be in his room at Welton. Her hair was lighter but she must've still been dyeing it, other than that only a few new wrinkles covered her face. Charlie didn’t expect the tug on his heart when he saw her, especially since he had never met her in person before. For him though, it was the closest he ever got to seeing Keating again which is why he is the first of the boys to pull her in a tight hug. 

“We really loved him” he muttered into her shoulder and the small woman slowly rubbed a comforting hand over his back which brought tears to his eyes. 

“He loved all of you, the boys that continued his legacy” she fondly says as Charlie pulls back, offering a warm and gentle smile. 

“I thought we rather mucked it up” Todd says and Elizabeth turns to see the young blonde boy she could easily recognize from all the descriptions Keating had given her. Yet she supposed he wasn't so young anymore, nearly forty years old now. 

“I wouldn't say that, John was quite fond of your book” she tells him and Todd freezes, resembling the quiet boy he once used to be. Todd had never planned to write anything worth reading in his entire life but all these years and nowhere to put his ideas they just fell on a page, as if he had to get them out. The last thing he ever expected was Keating to read it. 

“He read it?” Todd asks, voice just as mousy as the seventeen year old boy within him. 

“Of course he did. He kept track of all of you. He was quite proud in knowing his young pupils had paved the way of great lives. Todd not only a teacher but author, Charlie the legend of Wallstreet, Knox the head of his own firm, Pitts the successful engineer, and Cameron the strong politician” Elizabeth proudly says, having developed a sense of pride over the boys her husband never shut up about. All four boys follow the gesture of her hand to find once again Richard Cameron among the crowds and Charlie is unable to stop the anger from crossing his face. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” he seethes, fists clenching at his side. Meeks funeral was one thing, that was a peer, a friend. This was different, Cameron never liked or understood Keating and was the sole reason blame was put on him when Neil died. If anybody shouldn’t be allowed at the funeral, it was him. 

“I invited him” Elizabeth calmly says and each of the boys look to her with shock, confused as to why she would dare do that when she definitely knew it was the boys fault Keating had been fired. Elizabeth laughs lightly at their bewildered faces before deciding to explain. “A few years ago when Cameron first ran for office he found our address and reached out. He apologized to John who never blamed him for what happened. He has been a kind and good friend to us the last few years. It was only right to make sure he would be here today”

“He got to talk to Keating?” Charlie whispers, entire body deflating at the idea Cameron got to speak to him one last time and he never did. It wasn’t fair. 

“Keating would’ve liked that we were all here” Pitts says, eyes darting between Cameron and Charlie, just waiting for a reaction he knew they’d have to stop if Charlie got too upset. 

“He would, he would've liked seeing how well you all grew too” Elizabeth confirms with a nod and Knox smiles at her, feeling a sense of happiness despite the heavy reason for them all being here. 

“My son Johnny, I named him after Keating. I always hoped they’d get to meet one day” Knox tells her and tears well up in the older woman's eyes at the thought. 

“How old is he?” she curiously asks, noticing how Charlie still has a glare plastered in the direction of Cameron as he lets the new information sink in. 

“Thirteen and he is definitely giving me a run for my money. Especially with his two little sisters” Knox says with a laugh, thinking of the twin girls at home, Clara and Chloe. They were only five and guaranteed neither him or Chris ever got any sleep these days. 

“I’d love to hear more about them, in fact I’d love to learn all about each of you” Elizabeth says and the Poets find themselves recognizing Keating in her. That spirit that always made them feel safe. 

So that's what they end up doing, they tell her all about their lives and milestones they've experienced over the last few years. Knox explains they waited a while after Johnny to have their girls and now that they had twins it made sense to wait before having anymore. Todd talked about how he just got tenure and still loved teaching third grade. Yet with the safety net surrounding his job he had more time to write now and that was exactly what he did. It all worked out for the best anyway considering the young publisher had caught his eye and they had now been married for four years. Charlie and his wife Emerson waited a few years before having kids, now they had Elijah who was seven and Nell who was five. The young girl named after Neil because from the moment he held her he just knew that she embodied his spirit. He wasn’t sure they’d have anymore kids but he was quite happy with where he was now. As for Pitts he was unmarried and spent the majority of his time dedicating himself to work, yet Elizabeth could see it in his eyes. He hadn’t found a companion yet because he wasn’t looking, he had lost too much. 

“I better be off to greet some more guests, thank you so much for coming” Elizabeth says once they've all caught up and the boys smile, bidding her goodbye in various ways as she moves across the room. They had learned Keating didn’t want a stuffy and formal funeral, just a wake where people could mingle and discuss their favorite memories of him. It was interesting to see the differences of the people in the room that the man had touched. 

“I’m going to say something to him” Charlie starts, unable to distract himself from the anger held towards Cameron. Yet before he can stomp over there Todd grabs his arm and stops him from making any rash decisions.

“Don’t Charlie, this isn’t high school anymore” he says, voice steady and eyes begging him to not do anything stupid. 

“I know but this isn’t right. It isn’t fair that he got to be in contact with Keating all these years and we didn’t. I tried for years to find him and Keating did so much more for us than Cameron. Cameron is the one who wanted to place the blame on him, he didn’t deserve to be the only one who got to talk to him.” Charlie says, the anger turning into tears, words crying out as he practically pleads with Todd to let him go and say something. 

“Keating forgave him, Charlie one day you will have to.” Knox tells him and Charlie breaks his arm from Todd’s grasp and wipes away the tears that had streamed down his face. He knows they're right but he hates it, he hates it so much and he hadn’t felt this type of anger since Neil died. 

“Let’s pay our respects, '' Pitts says, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him to the casket in the center of the room. It's hard for them to see the face of their old mentor, beat and worn with age. His hair was entirely gray but features were still soft. Charlie always wondered if he’d be able to recognize him if they ever crossed paths and he knew now he would. That Keating hadn’t really changed, not at all, and that fact alone was comforting enough. 

“He got old” Charlie snorts, more tears filling his eyes and the boys laugh as they each stand over the casket of a man that meant so much to each of them. 

“It’s a nice thought knowing they're all together right now” Todd says looking at his friends with teary eyes and they nod, knowing exactly what he means as they think of their lost friends. Enjoying the very thought they were together and experiencing poetry and freedom in the after life. 

“Just like us,” Pitts says, using his large arm span to squeeze the four of them together. The boys smile, now realizing they were depleting in numbers and maybe they don't talk or see each other anymore, but the love was still there. Charlie finds his gaze returning to Cameron one more time who was already watching the four of them say their goodbyes. Cameron slowly moved his hand up in a small wave but Charlie just turned away, not returning the same sentiment and staying in the moment with his friends. 

“The way it should be”

2000

The phone that was once in Todd’s hand lays on the ground, dial tone deafening as the words that he just heard continued to ring through his ears. He’s unable to process anything he has just heard, all he knows is that tears are falling out of his eyes and his body hasn’t caught up with the devastation that has just occurred. The last thing he expected when he sat down in his home office was a phone call from anyone, especially Chris Overstreet. 

“Todd, it's horrible. He was on his way home, he had just left work. I don't know how it happened. They say it was a drunk driver but it can't be true. He had just called to tell me he was leaving, we have Liam’s soccer game in an hour. I don’t know what to do”

That was when the phone dropped from Todd’s hand, disconnecting him and the blonde girl he hadn’t heard from since the announcement of their son Liam in 1983. He had to be seventeen now. Seventeen, the age they all were when Neil died. Now his father is gone. Hit by a drunk driver at only 59 years old, still half of his life head of him. As soon as these thoughts register he scrambles to pick up the phone and redials the Overstreet number, ready to help wherever he can. 

Which is how Todd finds himself on a journey back to Vermont, a series of taxis, trains, and ferry’s, all in order to leave the city and return to a town he hadn’t been in since the day he had graduated. He always wondered how Knox had stayed all these years but as he spots the Fall leaves crumbling off the Vermont trees, he’s reminded of how serene this place really was. It only held bad memories he never wanted to return too, and now sadly he had to add one more. As he stands in the driveway of the Overstreet home he sees geese flying above his head, perfect V formation as they head south for the winter. Todd wishes that was him, flying far far away from here and the sadness he has to face. When the front door opens Chris crumbles to her feet before him and he knows he made the right choice to be here. 

A week later after funeral planning and many tears shed, Todd finds himself standing at the front of the chapel next to Chris, Johnny, Clara, Chloe, and Liam. They had all grown so much since he had last seen them. Johnny was thirty three now, was working with his Dad at the firm, and married to a beautiful young girl named Marie. They had a four year old daughter Olivia, and she was adorable in her little dress and small white shoes. It was comforting to know Knox at least got to be a Grandpa, even if only for a short time. Clara and Chloe were twenty five and had been out of college for two years now, they started their own fashion line and had a small boutique in town. Still just as identical, and still a mirror image of Chris when she was that age. As for Liam, he was seventeen, and eerily looked just like his father when Todd had first known him. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” an older woman tells Chris, Todd's arm wrapped around her as her back shudders with the tears that never seem to stop. That's when he sees Charlie and Pitts greeting young Liam, faces looking an awful lot like his when he realized Liam could be Knox’s twin. You could see it made the young boy uncomfortable, knowing how many people here saw his father in him. Saw the Knox that Todd first got to meet. Charlie had opted to leave the family behind to be there for Pitts who still was unmarried and dedicated to his work. He had designed some of the grandest buildings in the world but still lacked any conviction in his personal life. The boys worried, had tried talking to him even, but Pitts was broken. He gave up on love a long time ago when he lost too many people in his life. 

“Chris” Charlie calls out as they make their way down the line of kids and as the blonde girl turns to spot more of Knox’s friends her tears turn to full on weeping, pulling Charlie into a tighter hug then any other guest here. 

“I’m so sorry” he whispered to her, hand rubbing up and down her back and trying to keep his eyes off the urn in the center of the room. Chris cried into his shoulder, body shaking harder as Pitts wrapped his arm around them both.

”He really loved you, you know” Charlie tells her as they pull back and she nods, wiping at her eyes which is useless as more tears come. 

“He loved you from the moment he saw you” Pitts says with a smile, still remembering that day Knox came back completely smitten over a girl he barely talked to. Chris tries to laugh through her tears but it comes out strangled, any memory of her husband making the crack in her heart grow bigger. 

“Thank you for coming guys” Todd tells them and Charlie is quick to wrap the boy in a hug. When Todd had called to tell him the news he wasn’t sure what to think, yet his heart eased when he knew he’d be here for Chris. Once Charlie lets go Todd guides the two boys away to give Chris the space to greet more guests. 

“Is the family coming?” Pitts asks Todd, referring to his wife Anne, and their eighteen year old son. Todd wasn’t sure he wanted kids after knowing all the things him and his friends had been through. So he and Anne agreed on one. Not long after that they had a son named Walter and every time Todd looked at him he remembered the quiet boy he once used to be. 

“No, Anne had a deadline to meet and Walter had exams at school. My son is a college boy if you could believe it” he tells him and the boys chuckle, Charlie himself knowing all too well how surreal it is to watch you kids grow up. Elijah was twenty seven now and engaged, and Nell was twenty five, fresh out of college and just hired as a big time journalist for the New York Times. 

“I can’t actually” Pitts jokes and Charlie and Todd laugh lightly, almost forgetting the heavy reason they were all here. Todd ushers them to the side, allowing more people to shuffle down the line and offer their condolences. 

“I saw Cameron is here” Charlie nods, having spotted the boy right away when they walked in the door. Charlie didn’t give him a second glance but Pitts offered a wave, so many years having separated their anger with him now. Charlie still wasn’t entirely over the Keating thing. 

“Yeah, I figured he should know and considering he’s been to them all, it seemed only right” Todd tells them, leaving out the part he had a good long chat with the boy who had become Governor of Vermont. Made sense honestly, especially with how much of a rule follower he was back in the day. Cameron had made something of himself and was married with four kids. It was surprising at first but then Todd realized it kind of made sense that Cameron became exactly what he thought he’d be. You had to respect it even if he didn’t let himself enjoy life like he should. 

“It’s nice that he comes” Pitts agrees as he spots the once red headed boy who watches them with hope. Dying to talk to them, apologize, reconnect. Yet as Charlie and Todd turn to look in the same direction, their eyes catch another person in the crowd that’s just as surprising. 

“Is that Chet Danburry?” Charlie asks, voice a shocked hush and Pitts turns just to confirm that the once meat head boy was now a full grown man with a wife and kids, offering his condolences to his ex girlfriend. The very girlfriend Knox stole from him. 

“It is, I never would’ve expected that” Todd says with the shake of his head, watching as Chet guides his family to some seats for the service. 

“It’s kinda cool, big of him. Glad to see he isn’t an angry teenager anymore” Pitts smiles, knowing long ago they all cringed at the thought of big ego Chet Danburry. 

“Sorry to interrupt boys but the service is about to start. Would you please sit with us?” Chris asks, eyes glimmering with hope and tears. Todd had already planned on it, knowing how much Chris was struggling with the idea that she has to continue to go on and take care of her kids for many years to come, all without the loving support of her husband. 

“Of course Chris” Charlie agrees, smiling at the line of kids and legacy that Knox had left behind. Once Chris and her children were sitting in the front row, Todd and the boys shuffled behind and took their seats. Charlie fought tears as he watched Todd squeeze the girl's shoulder to remind her they were right here. 

“Sorry, do you mind?” a voice interrupts and the three look up to see Richard Cameron pointing at the open seat beside them. Charlie can’t help but sneer yet Pitts has already shuffled over to allow him to sit. 

“Dad would be happy to see you guys here” Johnny turns with a smile, the four year old girl sitting in his lap and offering them a wide grin. When the Pastor sets Knox’s picture on the easel at the front of the room, the little girl reaches to it, soft giggles falling from her lips. 

“Papa” she calls out and Chris starts weeping again, Clara wrapping an arm around her in a hug as she cries beside her mother. Tears stream down Pitts face, Charlie reaching over Todd to rub his back as he fights off his own tears. 

“Thank you all for coming today to celebrate the life of Knox Overstreet. Husband, father, grandfather, and most of all, friend” the pastor starts, eyeing the large crowd the boy had brought in. Charlie’s own tears break through as it settles in that his old friend is now gone. His friend that once seemed so unwise about life and had become the most successful at it. As the pastor talks the group passes tissues, waiting to see each of the kids stand to give a speech. Johnny was first, smiling out to the crowd of people who also loved his Dad as much as him. 

“My Dad was the best, and I’m being serious. He was always there for me. Never said no when I asked to play ball in the yard, always supported me no matter what crazy thing I told him I wanted to do next. He always let me borrow the car, and was there anytime I struggled at work. He never let life or his job slow him down. If I wanted a treehouse, he’d build it. It didn’t matter that he had no idea how to use the tools and that very treehouse had fallen down a day later with him in it. He just wanted to make sure I was happy. Thing was, he never had to worry about that because I was already the happiest kid for having him as my Dad” Johnny laughs lightly to himself, thankful he had gotten so many years from the man he admired so much. “He will forever be the greatest loss of my life but at least I got to be loved by him, if only for a short time” Chris is in tears, watching her oldest son mourn the loss of her father, trying to manage her sadness and all of her kids' own. As Johnny leaves the stage he smiles at his two younger sisters who stand to take his place. 

“Our Dad could never keep up with us” Chloe started, a light smile on her face as the crowd laughed. “The good thing was at least he tried”

“He never got mad when we would try to switch places and confuse him. One time we even switched at school so Chloe could take a test for me. He was more impressed than anything” Clara adds, smiling at her sister with misty eyes. The crowd laughed again, the majority of them knowing that was exactly something Knox would do. 

“He did his best. He came to every tea party, let us cover his face in makeup, we even got him in a pink tutu once. He was the best at playing Barbie’s and told the greatest bedtime stories. Most people in life aren’t lucky enough to have even one great parent and somehow we got two. Two parents who loved each other more than anything, well maybe except for us.” Chloe is in tears now, words croaking out as she struggles to get them past the tears. Clara wraps an arm around her sister, struggling to keep her emotions at bay as well. 

“We could only hope that one day we get to see him again, dance on his feet like we’re little girls again and laugh when he’d tickle us both. If we had known the last time we saw him was going to be the last, we’d have hugged him just a little bit tighter” Clara finished for them and the two young blonde girls are hugging in front of everyone, tears streaming down. Not a dry eye in the building, attending the funeral of a man who left this earth way too soon. 

As Liam ascends the stage Todd recognizes his body language, mirroring his own when he was that age. A fear buried deep in his gut as he looks out to the intimidating crowd of people he now has to share his sadness with. When he catches Todd’s eye in the crowd, he gives him a nod to reassure him, reminding him that this was for his Dad and nobody else.

“My Parents would never admit it but I was an accident” the crowd laughs despite Chris’ mortified face, yet the giggles from her other children quickly reassure her. “It's true, and it's okay. I know most people who have already had three kids and are in their forties don’t normally have more. Despite all of that, my father never wanted me to feel any less than my siblings. I knew he was tired, he was just beginning to move a little bit slower. The thing about my Dad though was he never stopped trying. He came to every game, helped with my homework every single night, reminded me it was okay to be sad” the boy's head dropped as a fresh wave of sadness washed over him. 

“The worst thing about all of this, is he would be the only person in the world able to comfort me during this, and he isn’t even here. What happened to us is unfair but it’ll get easier. It won’t always hurt this bad and that’s because I had a Dad that showed me it was okay to have a big heart. I got to love him with all of mine just as he loved me, and because of that I’ll forever get to keep him in here” the crowd watches as Liam holds a hand to his heart, tears rimming his eyes and Todd finally breaks out in a sob he is unable to stop. He had told himself he’d be strong but to see someone who reminded him so much of himself at that age struggling with heartbreak just as he did, he couldn’t help but cry. 

The boys turn to face him, memories of the very day they watched Todd breakdown coming back. It was so long ago now that sometimes it felt like a dream, but the old man beside them now looked seventeen years old all over again in the face of grief. Charlie hugs him tightly, crying into his shoulder as he offers any comfort he can. Liam descends the stage just as Pitts grabs onto the both of them too. Cameron reaches a hand out, nearly an inch from touching them but he freezes in place, remembering that it had been a long time since they ever sought any comfort from him at all. With a heavy heart he drops his hand and allows the boys to grieve on their own. 

“We're going to offer up the floor to anyone else who wants to speak on Knox’s behalf” the pastor says softly into the microphone, trying his best to accommodate the heavy sadness filling the room. 

“I’m going to say something” Todd says suddenly, wiping his tears as the two boys release their hold on him so he can stand. They watch with worrisome looks as he navigates himself past Pitts and Camerons legs just to move to the stage in the front of the room. Todd uses the pedestal to ground himself as he faces the large crowd of people that once would have froze him with fear. If only Keating could see him now. 

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Todd Anderson. A lifetime ago I attended high school with Knox at Welton. Yes he was just as big hearted and goofy then, he just wasn’t as cool about it,” laughs come from the crowd and it gives Todd the confidence to keep going. 

“When we lost our dear friend Neil, Knox took me under his wing. We even roomed together our senior year. He was there for me in ways I never would've imagined when I first met him all those years ago. You could say he once took care of me just as he did his kids. I loved Knox like family and that's why I’m here with them today.” Todd offers Chris a smile who returns it with a puffy red face covered in tears. 

“We once had a teacher who taught us about Carpe Diem. In latin, that means seize the day. Some of us took that seriously and others not so much, but Knox, he wouldn't have had this beautiful life if it wasn't for that very lesson. The idea of seizing the day brought him to call Chris for the very first time, I should know because I was standing right there. In every moment after that he seized every opportunity he could when it came to love and life. He married Chris, the girl of his dreams, and got to raise a beautiful family. I’m going to miss my friend more than anything but there is something awfully beautiful about knowing there is more of him in this world and he’ll get to continue on in many generations to come” Todds eyes are glassy from the tears but the smile he offers Chris and her beautiful children is nothing short of genuine. In this moment they feel closer to him than ever, knowing there were still people here who knew their father in the intimate way they all did. He was always telling them about the good old days and it was nice knowing there were still people here that could talk about them.

“Thank you Todd” Chris mouths as he descends the stage and Todd nods in acknowledgment, slowly returning to his seat where his friends greet him with prideful pats to the back.

“Knox would have loved that” Pitts tells him and Todd smiles, looking at the picture of their lost friend. Another Poet passed on to a different life and Todd hopes that whatever is out there after death includes something as beautiful as them all being together again. What a comforting thought it was to think that in the next lifetime and others after that, they would all find each other once more. 

“All of them would have”

2007

Charlie sits at his desk at work, readers resting low on his nose, as his eyes scan the computer in front of him. It was odd to think that when he first started in this business, computers weren’t even a thought, and now the entirety of his job relied on it. He hated to admit that it confused him, practically deeming him an old man in mockery. It made sounds and showed things he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Just as it dings again, a new sound he hadn’t heard before, he groans out in frustration, ready to just give up and call it quits.

“Mr. Dalton, is there something wrong?” his secretary Elise calls from the doorway. Charlie sighs, pulling the glasses from his face to rub a hand down it. 

“My computer just dinged and I have no idea what it means” Charlie feels stupid for saying it, remembering when he was once the cool hip guy at work. Apparently berets were long out of fashion and saggy pants were in, who knew?

“It sounded like a Facebook notification sir” Elise said, entering the room and preparing to assist the man because after all, it was her job. Charlie automatically rolled his chair to the side so Elise could save him from whatever mid life crisis he was experiencing. He wished Meeks was still around, he not only would have loved Facebook but he would have at least taught him how to use it. 

“Anything important?” he inquired, leaning forward to see she had brought up the profile his wife had made for him around the time Facebook first came out. She claimed it was a good way to reconnect with old friends but so far Charlie had only received one flimsy notification from Hopkins and another from Spaz. 

“You have a message sir, from a Mr. Pitts” the excitement of hearing from his old friend nearly has Charlie knocking the girl over as he rolls back in place to see. He quickly guides the mouse over the message button just to see what his old pal had been up to. It had been since Knox’s funeral he had seen him last. 

Charlie, I hope this message reaches you since it was the only form of contact I can find. You should know Gerard passed away two days ago from liver failure. He has been a struggling alcoholic for quite a few years now and never wanted you and your friends to worry. His funeral will be held at the end of the month. Please share with whoever else you think would want to know. Thank you for always being a good friend to my son. 

“Oh God” is the first words to fall from Charlie’s mouth and Elise realizes this is her cue to exit since whatever Charlie just read, was not good news. 

In the next few moments Charlie has Todd on the line, informing him of the message he just received. As the words come out of his mouth he realizes just how real this all was. When Todd finally calms down he tells Charlie he is going to call Cameron and the boy can’t bring himself to sneer in face of the bad news. Letting him off the line he calls his wife next in order to tell her the bad news and that he was expected in Vermont at the end of the month. 

For the entirety of the funeral Charlie finds himself more angry than anything. The anger wasn’t directed towards the universe for taking his friend and it wasn’t directed at Cameron who he sadly had to sit next to the entire funeral. The anger was directed at Pitts himself. Charlie had known to an extent that he was struggling. You could tell since the boy never married or made new friends, devoted his entire life to his work until he ran dry. He was angry that Pitts never told any of them and had chased the bottle for comfort instead. That he had sought a drug to heal wounds that it could only worsen. Pitts killed himself, slowly but intentionally and Charlie was angry. Then he was angry with himself for being angry with Pitts when Charlie knew he could've done more to reach out even if he was busy with his wife and kids.

“I wish I had known,” Todd says, eyes cast over the large lake he hadn’t seen since his Welton days. It was pitch black out, only the moon illuminated the black water beneath them. Charlie chuckles dryly, eyeing the bottle of whiskey in his hands that he can’t entirely bring himself to drink under the circumstances.  

“You're telling me” he sneers, tipping the liquid back and allowing it to burn down his throat. He reminded himself he never abused the substance and he was free to have a drink while facing the loss of a friend. 

“You could've at least shook Cameron's hand” Todd says as he sits beside him, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig himself. Charlie is impressed that the alcohol doesn’t bother him but he supposed there were a lot of things he no longer knew about the boy. 

“I was in no state to play nice, even with Cameron” Charlie tells him, accepting the bottle back but not taking a sip quite yet. He trained his eyes on the soft ripples in the water, the way the wind blew them slowly against the shore. He once used to spend hours rowing in this water and now even just the thought hurt his shoulders and knees. He hated that he was getting old, slowing down, losing his friends. 

“Did you notice he turned all gray?” Todd asked with a chuckle, remembering just a few hours ago he saw his once red headed friend with fully gray hair. Not even a sliver of the youthful boy that once used to be. 

“We all are, I just tell my wife I’m turning blonde. It also doesn't help that he’s a politician” Charlie says with a smirk even though he hates the wrinkles on his face and the deep bags under his eyes that never went away. Sometimes when he looked in the mirror he could picture Nolan and that thought made him angrier than anything. 

“I suppose that's better than getting old” Todd agrees and Charlie sighs, head tipping up to glance at the stars that somehow seem brighter tonight. Brighter than they ever were in all the years he lived here. Tears burn at the back of his eyes as he thinks about his friends. 

“I hate that he did this to us” Charlie mutters, chin trembling at the admission and Todd is surprised to see the sadness within his friend. He’s quick to wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close into his side. 

“He was struggling, Charlie, no more than Neil,” Todd reassures, feeling his own tears building up at the sight of his strongest friend breaking down. Charlie shakes his head, sighing heavily as he leans to rest his cheek against Todd’s shoulder. 

“That doesn't matter Todd, he knew how badly Neil's death hurt us and he still did it anyway. All those years, he was all alone and none of us did anything” Charlie cries and Todd feels his own tears seep out as he rests his head on top of Charlie’s. 

“We didn’t know and he didn't want us to know. Losing Neil was hard for all of us and he lost Meeks right after. Loss like that can do a lot of things to a person. Pitss tried to go on and we can’t judge him for how he handled it. You have to remember he hid it from us, all those times we saw him” Todd says, his own eyes casting up to the sky to keep the rest of his tears from spilling out. Even he hated that today he had to face his friend's 90 year old Dad and offer his condolences for losing his son after already losing a wife. No parents should outlive their child, even Mr. Perry. 

“He deserved more, they all did” Charlie says with a sad sigh, realizing that in this very moment it was just him and Todd. If he was to be honest with himself, Cameron too, and he found himself briefly wishing that he would go before Todd because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to attend that funeral. 

“Promise we keep in touch, I don't need you disappearing on me either” Todd says, not caring if he sounds like a sap or some emotionally unstable old man. His friends were lessening in numbers and the only two left on this earth that understood everything he had been through were too distant for his liking.

“I promise, if not for us but for Pitts who deserved so much more than he got” Charlie says and Todd chuckles even though nothing about this is funny. In reality they were just two old men drowning their sorrows in a shared bottle of whiskey by a lake that once felt like a barricade to a life they couldn't escape. 

“To making the most out of the rest of it”

2012

He had just celebrated his 70th birthday. That was all Charlie could think as he ended the call with Anne Anderson. Just last week he had called to wish the boy a happy birthday and now he was gone. Lost to a broken heart or in other words a heart attack. The strain of which his latest book had put on him and all those years of teaching. Charlie briefly wondered if the damage had begun to start when Neil had died. Either way he was brought back to the night of Pitts funeral and he realized that his wish didn't come true. Todd had gone before him and now he had to face something he wasn’t prepared for. Being the last poet alive.

Then it suddenly hit him that he wasn’t. The dread that fills his gut instantly makes him feel guilty because this was for Todd. The grudge he had all these years should not be stopping him from doing what was best for his friend. So much to his dismay he went into the contacts on his phone, doing exactly as his daughter Nell had taught him when he got this dreaded Iphone. He still remembered when you had to spin a dial just to make a phone call and now something as small as this could fit in your pocket and be with you on the go. If only these had been around when he had received a phone call from God. 

“Hello” the sadly familiar voice picked up and Charlie scowled before loosening his shoulders and responding into the phone. 

“Hey Cameron, it’s Charlie” he muttered and the worn down man quickly perked up because he knew what this meant. There was only one thing in the world that could get Charlie Dalton to call him. 

“What happened?” he instantly asked, tears already flooding his eyes. He’s brought back to the very first time he ever saw Todd, how he called him a stiff. He suddenly cringes at the memory. 

“Heart attack, Anne said it was a long time coming” Charlie said, suddenly reminded of the very reason he was having this phone call. He had lost Todd, they had lost Todd, and none of it was right. Todd deserved to be here longer, he had more reason to be here longer. 

“Jesus,” Cameron said, falling back into his seat. Charlie stayed silent, letting him process the very thoughts he still hadn't come to terms with. Todd was an unexpected friend. They all may have not known him as long but he had been there ever since. In a way he was the last piece of a puzzle that made them all feel close to Neil. That’s when Charlie realizes the two are together again. At least that was a comforting thought during this har time. 

“Anne said the services will be held next week, I can text the information as soon as I have it” Charlie whispers, trying to imagine Cameron sad. It was hard considering the two barely knew each other anymore. At one point in time this was the guy he slept in the same room with for years. The last time he saw him was when Neil died and even then his vengeful actions covered up the sadness pretty well. The only time Charlie ever saw him since then was at funerals and even then Cameron was tough as stone, never breaking down like any of the boys had. Face as still as a painting in a museum.

“Thank you Charlie, thanks for calling me” Cameron brings himself to say and Charlie feels seventeen all over again, innocent and excited to be in the real world. If he had known it was this sad, he might've stayed a kid a little longer. 

“Yeah, sure” Charlie says before muttering a goodbye and hanging up the phone. As he drops the device on his desk his eyes catch the old black and white photo. The gold frame is a stark contrast to the pale faces of the young boys who had no idea what was to come. Despite the fact none of them had ever stayed that close it was heartbreaking to know that all but two were still alive. He once used to look at this picture and only miss Neil, but now, he yearned for all of them. As much as he hated to admit it, a small part of him yearned for Cameron too. 

When the day of the funeral comes Charlie finds himself in the back of a taxi alongside his wife Emerson. He’s wearing the same suit he wore for Pitts funeral and he hates that this had now become his death suit. This was the suit he made Todd promise him to go first in and now here he was saying goodbye to him too. The brunette girl shuffled closer to him in the backseat, streaks of gray now filling her hair. They sadly were getting old too. 

“Are you okay?” She curiously asks and Charlie offers a weak smile, one she knew well after all these years. She fell for a prideful man but even the happiest of them all had to fake it sometimes. 

“I will be” he tells her honestly and she nods, curling her hand into his own and feeling the sadness pour out of him. She had only seen Charlie beam a few times in her life. When she said yes to marriage, their wedding, the birth of their kids, and whenever he talked about the Dead Poets Society. She knew that a loss like this cut deep. 

When they pulled up outside of the funeral home Charlie saved face and helped his wife out. He watched as many people passed and entered the building. He briefly wondered who each of them were. It was odd to him that he once knew all the same people Todd did and now every single one of these people was a stranger.

Anne has him pulled into a hug the minute he finds her inside. Crying softly against him and muttering condolences as if Charlie had lost something more than her. Charlie once used to be an important person in Todd’s life but now none of it compared to her. The only girl Todd ever loved. The only person Todd ever loved since Neil. “I’m sorry Annie”

”Hey, don’t be. It’s life and the doc had been telling us for a while his heart wasn’t good” she assures Charlie as she steps back from the hug but Charlie can see the heavy sadness in her eyes, the desperation for her husband. Now he was wishing he would go after Emerson because he never wanted her to wear this look.  

“Where’s Walt, is he doing okay?” Charlie curiously asks as Emerson pulls Annie into a brief hug, offering her own condolences. The blue eyed girl smiles and nods her head to the side. Charlie turns to find the spitting image of Todd standing beside a young red headed girl, accepting condolences from other guests. 

“He’s holding up, that’s his fiance Ariana. She’s been a big help during this whole process” Anne catches them both up and Charlie wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, remembering a time he was once young and flaunting off his beautiful fiancé. 

“He’s so grown” Charlie tells her and Anne nods, smiling at her only child who hopefully pretty soon would make her a Grandma. Yet the excitement wasn’t entirely there now knowing there wouldn’t be a Grandpa by her side. 

“Walter, come say hi to your Uncle Charlie” and the man’s chest constricts as Anne calls him this, suddenly feeling like the worst person alive for never actually getting close with the kid. The kid who was now thirty years old, much expired from the lessons he once learned at seventeen. 

“Hey, thank you so much for coming.'' The boy approached, a smile on his face and Charlie realized just how tall he was, most definitely taking after the bigger side of the Anderson family. He had to have been taller than Todd even. 

“Of course, I loved your father like a brother” Charlie nods, feeling the tears coming to his eyes again and Walter chuckles at this sentence because if there was one thing he knew about his father, it was how much he loved all of them. 

“Yeah I know, he never shut up about you guys” Walter says and Charlie smiles, head tipping back to avoid the fall of any stray tears. Of course Todd would be the one to continue their legacy, even if the rest of them grew old and got distracted. Todd would always be back in that Welton classroom. 

“That’s good to know, especially since there was once a time I couldn’t get Todd to talk” and everyone laughs despite the sadness surrounding them. Two families who had all faced loss and somehow still had each other, even if only briefly. 

“Here, I actually wanted to give you this, '' Walter says, letting go of his fiance's hand to rush over to a small table. The group watched as he dug into a bag there, pulling out a stack of white papers and moving back towards them. “It’s a printed copy of Dad’s book. He had just finished it the day before. I’m pretty sure he wrote it for all of you”

“Walter this is so kind, thank you” Charlie says, ready to cry all over again for something entirely different. Walter smiles and nods, knowing that Charlie and his Dad once shared the same sadness and that things like this could be so healing.

“We better find our seats, we’ll catch you after” Anne says, grabbing her sons arms and offering the pair a smile. Charlie and Emerson bid their goodbyes, watching as they moved into the mass of people. Once they're out of sight Charlie looks at the first draft of the book in his hands. It was heavy and for a moment Charlie pretended it was Todd’s hand in his own, bidding him one last goodbye. Slowly he flips the pages until his eyes finally catch something worth stopping for. 

For my friends, the Dead Poets Society. My life wouldn’t be what it is without any of you. I once thought no one would understand me and in the end I found six people who did. The powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. Thank you for being a part of mine. 

A tear drops on the page, soaking through the paper and Charlie finds himself unable to stop, staring at the black ink. The last thing Todd would ever say directly to him. It was as if he had known. Charlie hates he wasn’t there to say goodbye to him. 

“I’m really going to miss him,” Charlie says, tears streaking down his face. Emerson gives a pressed smile, wrapping an arm around his waist as she watches her husband grieve. She didn’t need to see what Todd had written to know it struck deep with him. 

“I know baby, I know” she comforts and Charlie is quick to wipe his eyes, tucking the book close to his chest. When his vision clears he spots Cameron across the room, already looking at him with a sad stare. For a moment Charlie allows his eyes to lock with his own, looking on with no anger or resentment. This time he looked at Cameron with understanding and peace. Cameron stays frozen, waiting for any possible reaction from his old friend, desperate to grieve alongside him. Acknowledge they shared the same sadness. Slowly Charlie offers him the smallest of smiles in which the boy quickly returns. Comforted by the fact that after all these years Charlie had finally accepted him as he was. 

“Let’s go find our seats” Charlie urges his wife and Emerson nods, glancing at the man her husband just stared down. If she was correct, that was Richard Cameron, and her husband had just communicated with him in a way she would never understand. They shared a moment meant to be healing for them both. 

Charlie and Cameron may always be opposite sides of the same coin but they shared one thing in common that would always tie them together. They once were just boys together. 

2033

Cameron hates the way his hands shake as he tries to read the morning paper at the kitchen table in the morning. The very hands in front of him looked nothing like they once did. He wouldn't even recognize them anymore. He was an old man, a lifetime beneath his belt and not many more years ahead. All he had was this old rickety house that he once raised his kids in. Now they were off raising his grandkids and for some reason he was still here, waiting to join his wife in heaven. 

As he flips the age of the newspaper he finds he's reached the obituary section. Faces old and young littering the page, people who lived lives just as interesting as his own. It’s when his stare falls on a familiar set of eyes does he freeze completely. The picture is of an old man, that much was abundantly clear, but they were the eyes of a child. Very eyes he had looked into a hundred times in his life that always held a freedom Cameron never understood. A childlike wonder he yearned for even as he got older. 

Charles Dalton, 1941-2033. Loving husband, father, grandfather, and friend. Charles Dalton is a proud alum of Welton Academy and Columbia University. He went on to become a very successful businessman, a proud member of Wall Street. He passed on Thursday December 15th surrounded by friends and family. Services will be open to the public on December 23rd. He is survived by his two kids and their families. 

Cameron sucks in a sharp breath as he rereads the date one more time. Seventy four years ago to the day Neil Perry had passed. Cameron's eyes darted around the page, much faster than his body was these days. He wonders if it means something, if the universe had connected to the two still after all of these years. He once used to be jealous of the friendship the boys shared and the fact they had spent over seventy years without each other and still had a bond stole his breath away. 

Cameron finds his heart stuttering in his chest, trying to comprehend the tears that are coming to his eyes at the realization that washes over him completely. For the first time since 1959 he realizes what a fool he had been. He knew he was somewhat wrong, had accepted the blame, but suddenly all these years later it just clicked. Life wasn’t all about following the rules and leading a path of success. It was about love and friendship, feeling free and tied to the world in unexplainable ways. All these years doing what was thought of him and never enjoying it the way he should. 

“God dammit Charlie, you were right” he mutters through his tears as he drops the trembling newspaper down. He no longer wanted to be reminded he was old now, a shell of the boy he once used to be. A stubborn boy who just now at 92 years old realized there was so much more life to live. 

When the revelation began to wear off Cameron finally decided to attend the funeral. It didn't matter he now had a cane and every step he took hurt. It didn't even matter that he looked nothing as he once did as a boy. Charlie was the one poet that would have sacrificed everything for them, in a way he did. It was Cameron’s turn to be there for him, especially as the last remaining member of the Dead Poets Society. 

“Dad, let me help you” Violet, his youngest daughter of four kids, scolds him as he attempts to get out of the car himself. She was in her 50’s now and the only child of his still willing to help him get around, even if her own kids were now in college. 

“I’m fine Vi, I once was nimble” he tells her, trying to muster as much arm strength as he could to pull him out. He doesn't miss the roll of her eyes or the ‘not anymore’ she mumbles under her breath. He lets her hook under his arm just as he gets close to up right and smiles at the big church in front of him. Only Charlie could manage one of the grandest buildings in the city and have it opened to his adoring public. Cameron was just thankful he was never famous. 

“This friend of yours was a popular guy” Violet mutters as they approach the church steps, taking them slowly up to a line of the recently deceased family. Cameron’s heart races for something entirely different then old age. 

“Thank you for coming” an older boy says when they get to the top and Cameron reaches his trembling hand to shake his own. For a moment it feels like Charlie and he pulls away quicker than intended. 

“Of course, Charlie was my roommate many moons ago” Cameron says and suddenly their eyes light up. Cameron hopes it isn’t from terrible stories Charlie had shared of him over the years. 

“Cameron right? Back in his days at Welton” one of the older girls says and Cameron nods, shaking her hand as well.

“That would be me, and you are?” he inquires, desperate for a glimpse into the life of a boy he once knew like the back of his hand. A hand he no longer recognized as his own, many years between it and the days it once knew Charlie. 

“I’m Nell, and this is my husband Robbie” she says, arm reaching to hook around another gentleman beside them. ‘This is my older brother Elijah and his wife Diane. Our kids are around here somewhere. It hasn’t been easy for them, they really loved their Grandpa” Cameron realizes the boy that had greeted him was a direct extension of Charlie. It was no wonder his hand had reminded him so much of days as teenage boys. He takes a moment to soak them in, noting the features that had to have been Charlie’s and the features that were definitely his wives. “This is my youngest daughter Violet”

“Nice to meet you” Elijah smiles, shaking her hand and Camerons heart clenches in his chest, wishing Charlie was here to see their kids together. Versions of themselves they once used to be. 

“I was so sorry to hear of his passing” Cameron brings himself to say and they smile at him, comforted by the fact there was someone still here who knew him as intimately as they did. Someone his age still carrying life lessons that he did. 

“He was too. You know our Dad. Always claimed he’d go out with some big bang, a great ending like James Dean. He was so disappointed to know it was as an old man in a bed surrounded by his family” Nell says with a chuckle, still able to see her father so full of life and so loud. It used to embarrass the hell out of her how outgoing he was and now it was all she yearned for in the face of his loss. 

“If I knew anything about Charlie he didn’t mind that at all. He was happy to know he had great kids and people who truly loved him as he went out” Cameron says, smiling softly at each of them even though the majority of his face had sunken in with age. “Charlie was good at talking straight out of his ass”

“Now isn't that the truth” Elijah laughs along with him and Cameron laughs hard enough for it to lead into a cough. Violet rubs his back as the group calms. 

“You guys got a good man for a father, I always wanted to be him” Cameron says and they smile, knowing this is most likely a statement their father did not get the privilege of hearing. Cameron smiles anyway, happy the Dalton line would continue to live on when he once wished he could remove it from the world. 

“Thank you, he really would have appreciated you being here” Nell tells him, knowing he needs to hear it, a deep sadness surrounded by regret clear as day on his face. 

As Cameron steps into the church he vows to not waste another day, even if there isn't many left. He’s going to make the most of life and not when he comes to die discover he had not lived. For the first time in seventy years he understands the true meaning of Carpe Diem, seizing the day. For the first time in his life he was actually going to do it. The only thing was he wished the Dead Poets were by his side to finally see it.

Charlie most of all. 

2035

Two years. That was all he got out of a lifetime finally living his life the way he wanted. Cameron passed away as an old man with a big beautiful family and an honorable career. He made his life exactly the way he wanted and in the end died with only one regret. That he did not seize every opportunity at its fullest. 

A funeral was held for not many people to attend. For he was one of the last people his age to die. So the service was not surrounded by loving friends or thankful peers. It was a memoriam for his kids and the people he passed his legacy onto. None of them would know him for the Dead Poets Society or have no idea what it had entailed. 

They had become lessons lost to a lifetime, ones lived in various different ways. Cameron had decided during those two years that if he was not capable of seizing the day, his blood line would. He shared these lessons with his kids and their kids and hoped there was still some chance for them yet. To not lose the people closest to them. No one should watch all their friends die and in the end find themselves with regret. Cameron would always have that, a deep sadness that out of everyone he was the only one to waste it and live the longest. 

On his last day all he could think of was Neil. The one out of all of them who deserved the long and successful life. Cameron had lived triple the amount of lifetimes the boy did and yet he was still the biggest part of him that came to him in his final moments. Neil may not be remembered anymore, a flicker of a lifetime that once existed long ago. A boy who faced tragedy in just a few short months. He had deserved to live but life was not that fair. Neil was survived by each of them and that was all there was to offer. 

Poets who found successful careers, made families, legacies, and shared the knowledge of living life the way it should be. Living life as your own and not as who people want you to be. Boys who once spent their adolescent years in a small cave bursting with big and hopeful dreams. Freedom becoming the very reason for their being. Saved from a life full of resentment and hate. Now survived by lives full of respect and love. They may all be gone now, lost to nothing but memories told through stories they had shared. In the end there was only one thing.

They were now all officially members of the Dead Poets Society. 

Taglist: @octaviasdread @jeantjoque @desire-mona @good--merits-accumulated @theluminoussunflower @pencileraser1 @xxselenite @inamagicalhallucination @ionlycareaboutyou @domorebemore

wanted to include my lovely DPS Discord community <3

[jackdaniel69nice]

Another tokoyami bird traits post because I’m crazy

Birds have very little sense of smell so he’s got a very weak olfactory system.

Birds can’t taste capsaicin so they can’t taste spiciness. Tokoyami’s food is a bit bland to some because he never really adds any to it. On the other hand he’s one of the only people that can handle bakugo’s curry. I’m going to go out on a limb and say dark shadow can’t taste spice either.

Tokoyami has shown minor territorial traits when it comes to letting people in his room. This can be explained with him being shy but I’m going to take it a step further. I think his room is like a safe space for him and he is very paranoid about people stealing things. He HATES when things get moved around and panics if he loses something so he gets very aggressive if someone tries to touch his stuff. He also has problems with being vulnerable and having people see his things because it lets them know his interests and he hates that. Do not sit on his bed without permission. He also has food anxiety so do not touch his food in the fridge or you will die. Dark shadow is even worse about this but they keep all their stuff under the bed so as long as you stay out of there you’ll be fine.

To add onto this tokoyami also has nesting tendencies. Unfortunately Tokoyami’s mother discouraged this behavior and tried to keep him from doing it. When he was little he would make his nests under the bed because it was well protected and dark. Eventually he outgrew the bed space and moved it to the back of his closet. He still has anxiety about someone finding one of his nests so it’s very small (literally only one blanket) and he keeps his closet door locked. Dark shadow still has their nest under the bed. Tokoyami only allows himself to be in his nest if he’s having a breakdown and needs comfort. It’s sad that he denies himself basic needs because of how he was raised.

Alright this one’s a little crazy but I think it would be cool if he had two stomachs. The first stomach is pretty normal, maybe it has a gizzard component so he can digest bones. But the other one is a crop so he can carry extra food to digest later, this would make sense because of his fast metabolism and he wouldn’t need to stop to eat so much. This entire thing was inspired by joke in the light novels where they said tokoyami has a “second stomach” for anything apple related XD

Do not get me started on dark shadows digestive system I have no idea how that works. They drank in the light novels that’s all I know. I guess the stuff just disappears, unless they don’t want it too.

Tokoyami’s beak perpetually grows so he has to file it down, I’ve heard you can use certain bones to do that so that’s kinda badass B)

I’ve seen a lot of debate about whether or not tokoyami has feathers or hair and my pick is both. His feathers don’t have a hollow shaft like hawk’s does and continually grows out of his head like hair. They still have the general shape of a feather though and need to be taken care of in a similar manner. The shaft is stronger than normal hair so it sticks up when it’s shorter but it’s still flexible and won’t break. Dark shadow is responsible for all preening fumikage would be useless without them. New feather growth is still covered in a sheathing that needs to be removed. Since it grows continuously it needs to be cut and shaped, dark shadow does this with their beak. During training all kinds of dirt blood and sweat will get in his feathers so he uses a special shampoo hawks recommend to him (hawks is unfortunately on the front of the bright red bottle).

This last part is a bit sad and has some trigger warnings I guess (tw self harm, hair pulling, eating disorders). Birds don’t do well with stress and tokoyami has some bad habits because of that. He will pull his feathers and bite his nails down to the bed until they bleed. He also has trouble eating and simply won’t do it when he’s too stressed. If he did eat and has a panic attack it might come back up. He was very underweight growing up from constant stress and was malnourished because of it. He has been a lot better about these things since coming to UA and even tries to follow a strict eating schedule but he still has bad days where he may skip several meals a day. You can almost always convince him to eat an apple or white rice tho (safe foods my beloved~). He wears special nail polish to keep him from biting his nails. If all else fails dark shadow doesn’t particularly like when he hurts himself and usually tries to intervene (sometimes their state of mind is in even worse shape though).

[starsreminisce]

His gaze didn’t lighten, though that smile again played about his sensuous mouth, no doubt his favorite mask. “Only occasionally will I do that. And I can’t help it if you send things down the bond.” I contemplated refusing to ask as I had done last night, but … “How does it work—this bond that allows you to see into my head?” He sipped from his own tea. “Think of the bargain’s bond as a bridge between us—and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge unless they’re very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As Fae … ” A little shrug. “Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up—sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don’t.”

I tried to convince myself that everything I��d done had made you hate me. But I felt you through the bond, through your open mental shields. I felt your pain, and sadness, and loneliness. I felt you struggling to escape the darkness of Amarantha the same way I was. I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you’d earned that happiness.

But Elain studied me, the map, then nodded. She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns.

Considering that we don't know where Elain is with her training, the only tidbit we have is her saying that she needs to get reacquainted with her powers. This suggests she hasn't been experiencing them much, especially when Feyre mentions Elain hasn't had visions or any foresight regarding the outcome of Feyre's pregnancy or the search for the trove.

What’s interesting to me is how early Nesta started to train to shield her mind in ACOWAR. I believe that’s why Nesta was able to ward off most of the mating bond's effects, except when Cassian stabbed himself—she kept her shields up most of the time.

Feyre says Elain has no mental shields or barriers, and I don’t believe that has changed. If Elain had been practicing, she would have argued that to make a case for her to search for the trove. Additionally, Feyre describes Elain's mind as a result of lacking sunshine, likely since Lucien has been away on his quest to find Vassa. As much as people argue that Feyre should disclose to Lucien who his real father is, we drew that conclusion because of Elain's revelation.

I believe that Elain and Lucien likely communicate more through their bond than is explicitly shown in the books, especially considering the hints we get from both ACOSAF and ACOSF. Rhys's experiences with Feyre might provide some insight into this, as their bond seems to allow for an intimate understanding of each other's emotions and thoughts.

It's possible that one of the reasons the bond might be uncomfortable for both Elain and Lucien is the sudden shift from being able to hide their true feelings around others to having someone who instinctively knows when they're lying. Elain's words, "he doesn't know me," could reflect this discomfort and the unsettling feeling of being seen so deeply by another person.

[multi-fxndom446]

Think of me once in a while

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Warning: literally angst. I have no excuse I had an urge to write something sad so now you all suffer with me.

Summary: you sacrifice yourself for Johnny.

Word count: 1.3K

The violins started slowly, one by one joining the next until it was an overwhelmingly devastating sound.

He liked to think you would’ve liked it had it not been so sad. You always did like slower songs, if the orchestra he took you to years ago was anything to go by.

You were in tears by the end and he never understood how something without words could have such a drastic impact.

He understood now though.

He understood as he stared blankly at your coffin being lowered into the ground. The few people there were making there stops to put a rose down on the casket as it was being lowered and he couldn’t help but think how you deserved more.

Your line of work wouldn’t allow you to have a public funeral, not that it would’ve mattered. There was no one else beside the 141 in your life and they were all there watching.

But still…he couldn’t help but think how you deserved something bigger, something that you would be recognized for. Something that he could say a speech on how you saved many lives..how you saved His life.

He clenched his fist. He wanted to hate you for this. He wanted to hate you for taking the hit for him, for laying your life down for him. All because, in your words, the team needed him more than you.

God if you were stood next to him he’d be shaking you, calling you an idiot and to never do it again. He’d tell you to never lose your life for his. Hed-

Johnny stopped. His heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He’d cry.., he’d hold you just to feel you alive against him and maybe just maybe he’d get the chance to finally tell you he’d loved you and maybe you would’ve let him kiss you.

But he can’t now.

“Johnny.” Ghost laid a hand on his shoulder. He could tell he was trying to be gentle but he didn’t know if ghost had a gentle bone in his body. “They’re gonna start with the dirt soon..”

Johnny nodded in a daze. “Johnny.” Simon said again quietly. “The rose.”

He looked down to his clenched fists and saw what he meant. The rose, the same ones everyone had thrown onto your casket, was still clutched tightly in his hand.

Simon gave him a nudge forward and he took reluctant steps, his gaze falling onto his captain who wore a mask of indifference. Though if he looked close enough he could see the cracks.

The last time he saw you before you were laying in his arms came flooding to the forefront of his mind each step closer to the hole in the ground.

~

You were standing at a booth, pretending to look at some greeting cards when he appeared on the other side.

He picked up one of them but wasn’t paying attention to it. He was trying to discreetly get your attention but you wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/n, you seein’ anythin’?” Simon asked and Johnny watched as your gaze finally flitted up to meet his for a second before scanning the crowd.

“Targets getting ready to move.” You muttered softly and moved away. Johnny watched you get further from him and his heart ached.

He was angry, he had been angry for what felt like months since Makarov escaped. Sometimes his anger blinded him but he tried his best to never let it be directed at you.

Even if it had you had seen his anger a good amount of times, you’d been on the shit end of the stick more times then he’d like to admit but you never batted an eye. Never shut him out when he snapped at you, so why now?

You almost seemed distracted. Floating through the task at hand.

Johnny wanted to reach for you, wanted you to tell him what was wrong but when he took a step forward Prices voice cut through. “Soap get a move on.”

“Ey.” He forced himself to look away and move on. He wished now he would’ve taken the second to brush your hand, something small but comforting.

If he’d known it would be the last time he saw you breathing he would’ve told you to stay where you were. To not move.

But he couldn’t turn back time.

The dreaded moments that came after were ones he wished he could bury so deep they never resurfaced.

One minute he was calling orders at price so they could diffuse the bomb then next Makarov had a gun pointed to the side of his head.

His life flashed before his eyes. All those moments with you, the moments he should’ve said something, should’ve kissed you, held you, loved you. All gone.

“No!” Your voice cut through the fog. His eyes widened in shock when you seemingly came out of nowhere and managed to direct the gun to you the second Makarov pulled the trigger. Shooting you in the chest.

Johnnys eyes stared at you in shock as you looked at him with the same expression, blood already coating your clothes.

He caught you the moment you fell to the ground. The sounds of gun fire as price shot at Makarov falling on deaf ears. All that mattered was you.

“What-“ Johnny choked, hand fumbling with the straps of your gear so he could get a better angle of the wound. So he could put pressure on it. “What tha hell did you do.” He gritted at frustrated when your gear wouldn’t move.

“It couldn’t be you.” You told him. You had the audacity to look relieved about what you did. Like you accomplished your own goal. “They need you more.”

“What?!” He shook his head. “What the hell are ya’..?” Johnnys sentence trailed off. The distance, you being distracted, It all made sense. He recalled then the time he walked in on a heated conversation between you and Price. He thought he heard his name once or twice but the moment you saw him your whole demeanor changed and you were all smiles as you ushered him out.

You knew you were going to do this. You knew one day you’d give your life up for his. “Why…?” But you couldn’t talk anymore. Your body growing colder in his hold. All you could manage to do was grip onto his hand and nod as if that would explain everything.

The rest was a blur. Makarov got away but Johnny sat there with you in his arms until Simon came up, checking your pulse then shaking his head in Prices direction.

You were gone.

~

Johnny kept his eyes on Price until the very last moment when he dropped the rose down. Watching it as it joined the rest of the bouquet.

He glanced up. The violins had stopped playing. He realized it was because the funeral they were there for came to a close and they were all leaving and he was left feeling emptier.

“I know you won’t like the answer.” Price said with a sigh as he came to stand next to him. “But I think you want to know.”

“You knew.” He muttered.

Price nodded. “I knew she cared for you.” Johnny scoffed.

“She knew from the beginning this is how she wanted to go out.” Price continued. “She decided that on her own. Don’t waste what she gave you.”

Johnny titled his head toward the sky to try and stop the tears. Price patted his shoulder before he walked away, taking Gaz with him.

Simon watched further away so Johnny could have a moment.

There was so much Johnny wanted to say. So much he wanted to yell. But knowing he wouldn’t ever be able to come back to this spot to see you again, he said the only thing he hoped would give him closure.

“I love you.”

-

[cinnamonest]

how do you think goro would feel about a childhood friend!darling?

Goro Akechi has a lot of hate in that heart of his, but other than the man he hates more than anything, there are two other things he hates the most: lack of control, and vulnerability.

He needs control over situations, over people, and when he can manage it, over the course of fate itself. The Metaverse and years of hard effort into a public persona he wears so flawlessly have granted him the sort of control he desires, for the most part.

He hates to be vulnerable, hates his own weaknesses, hates them being perceived by others.

You present both.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Really, up until the point you saw his name on screen one day, you admittedly remembered him as ‘that sad boy at school I was nice to when we were little,’ and your memories of him had all but faded into the background of your life, never thinking of him much after that until he pops back into your life.

At first, you think it can’t be the same person, surely. At least until the familiar — albeit aged a bit older than in your memories — face comes on the screen. It feels quite surreal. A drastic shift from the little boy you remember angrily sulking on the playground all by himself away from the other kids, whom you admittedly talked to mostly out of pity. Still, you felt like you bonded in the end, before he got whisked away when the relatives fostering him decided to dump him off onto someone else, thus forcing him to transfer schools.

You’re happy for him. He looks very happy now, you think, his situation must have improved. He’s even living in the city now apparently, just like you.

The positive coincidences stack atop each other when you actually get to see him.

Completely by chance, not seeking him out or anything, you just so happen to be walking home on an uncrowded street, and he just so happened to be coming back from a hit, now as normalized and mundane to him as any other work-related task — and you just so happen to meet right as you each turn a corner, perfectly scenic, as if ordained by fate.

And while Goro Akechi has spent a very long time by now perfecting the art of composure, what he sees takes him so far aback that even he lets the mask momentarily slip — completely freezing up, slack-jawed and stiff with shock and disbelief. There’s a moment where only silence passes, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost, an expression almost like horror managing to escape his automatic efforts to keep a straight face.

You don’t notice that part. You’re too caught up in the surprise and elation, gasping and smiling and rambling on about what a coincidence it is, and—

Do you remember me…?

The shock only lasts a split second. The composure is back, the mask pushed back into place, and with practiced mastery of charm, he bounces back near instantly.

Even in spite of the sudden onslaught of emotions and memories that feels like his very soul is being stabbed at, he manages to keep up the usual Prince-Charming act of his. Says the lines expected of him, so standard you could probably guess them before they come out of his mouth — wow, long time no see, what a coincidence, it’s good to see you, how have you been, all the generic phrases and lines one should say, just like the ones you provide in return. A back-and-forth dialogue predetermined by conventions and standards of normalcy and expectation as composed by a given social framework in which all humans live. You do mention that you’ve seen him on TV — for some reason, it makes his stomach feel like its twisting, but he gives you a humble-sounding reply all the same.

All as his heart pounds so heavily it feels like it’s going to burst though is chest. Adrenaline surges thought his veins and every nerve on his body feels like it’s frozen over, an ice-cold chill that runs through his blood, a ringing in his ears, even a lightheadedness that begins to take hold, his entire body reacting in shock and panic.

You fetch a piece of paper from your bag, scribble something down, hand it over to him — his own hand moves reflexively, as if out of his control, to take it. A series of numbers — oh. Your contact. You’re smiling now, saying something about how you would love to catch up sometime. Your voice sounds far away, his head feels like it’s spinning, but he still manages his signature soft smile and voice as he gives you yet another generic reply.

Sure, that would be wonderful.

A few more lines back-and-forth that he doesn’t even remember by the end of the day, his brain essentially giving replies on an auto-pilot means of conversation. He manages to make some excuse about work, churns out a farewell, briskly walks off with a noticeably deliberate fast pace.

You feel a little embarrassed, as you walk home. He seemed in a hurry to end the conversation. Perhaps it was presumptuous to give him a contact. He probably couldn’t care less. He’s a big, important person now, someone like that has no time for someone like yourself.

…

Your suspicions are more or less validated. He doesn’t contact you.

In fact, from the moment he gets home that day, he tries to forget the interaction entirely.

There’s multiple reasons why. For one, you present a potential obstacle, a burden, a risk. He can’t afford to have you complicating things, getting in his way. It takes some time for his heart to stop racing, and that alone irritates him — why do you get to have such a reaction from him, beyond his control?

Moreover, the emotions that hit him when he saw you were too much. Dangerously intense, something he can’t allow to weigh on him, doesn’t have the time to focus on.

To be frank, those emotions were largely negative anyway. The mere sight of your face stirs up all sorts of memories from that era of his life, most of which were deeply unpleasant. There’s a deep-rooted bitterness that rises up in his stomach, old emotions he’s worked so long to suppress, and you came and dug them up in just a few brief minutes. In truth, he thought about you very often back then — he never really got to say goodbye to you (even if, he often bitterly thought, you never cared that much about him anyway), and he had to force himself to forget you over time, and yet you’ve come and undone his efforts.

And finally — the thought of you makes him feel a new emotion, one he does not like. Something like anxiousness, fear, and in turn, anger at himself and you alike for inducing such a feeling. You stand as a sort of weakness, a single unstable factor in a world where he feels like he has some degree of a grasp of control on nearly everything — you feel uncertain, unsteady, out of his reach… no, it’s not just that. You feel unsafe. You have knowledge and memories of him that no one else does, you have seen him at his weakest, and that makes him feel far more vulnerable then he can stand.

And yet, he saves your number to his phone all the same. Lets it sit there.

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore. He is a busy person, he can keep himself distracted. Sometimes, though, in the odd hours of the night when his emotions are at their peak, he types a message, two, a dozen, he loses count — only to shake his head and come to his senses, huffing in frustration and holding the backspace down until it’s all deleted, cursing himself internally for even coming close to doing something so foolish.

You keep coming up in his thoughts, an emotion he can’t pretend is anything but yearning feels like a knot in his chest, yet the very thought of you makes him feel sick to his stomach. The conflict between the emotions is unbearable, makes him lose sleep, makes him lose focus.

You who knew him when he was this quiet, sullen, embittered child — you were nice to him, one of the only people who showed him genuine kindness back then — you who certainly knows that the charming act in front of the cameras is merely that, an act, a mask, a lie. It feels as if playing a game with one’s own cards facing outwards towards the opponent, completely exposed, laid bare. The act can’t work on you when you know what he’s really like, know his pains and vulnerabilities, have the potential to strike at the weakest parts of him.

Nor do you fall under his realm of control. The means he has for control relies on his ability to enforce it — means to kill and ruin lives. What he wants from you, though — at least, what he wanted from you back then, he won’t let himself even consider the matter now — falls entirely out of the realm of how he likes to control people, the usual purpose for which he desires the manipulation of others — power, advancement in his goals, to snake his way inside to strike.

It's all confusing. Irritating. It's outside the realm of what he has an easy way to manipulate, and that means he's at a disadvantage, that you have an upper hand, and he can't stand for that.

Still, he wonders about you. Every time a camera faces his way, he wonders if you’ll see the filming. When he makes posts to the little page he runs that the fans eat up, he wonders if you visit it too, if you’re one of those thousands of faceless followers. He wonders how often you think about him. He wonders about the day the two of you ran into each other for the first time in so long — did you go home, and look him up online? How long did you spend doing so? What did you read? Did your view of him change, positively, negatively?

And of course, he thinks about you and your life. What have you been up to, since then? Where has your path in life taken you? You probably have friends. You probably have a partner too. You’re someone who always seemed to be loved by others — he still recalls perfectly the burning bitterness in his stomach when he saw your happiness, your family, your friends, the things you had that he did not. How he resented you for it — he still does, even if he tries to tell himself such emotions are childish. Sometimes he almost thinks he hates you, even if in the end he always finds that he can’t.

And worst of all, he finds that the mere thought of you changes how he behaves.

When he’s at a lower-end news outlet interview, he doesn’t put quite as much energy in… until it occurs to him that there’s always a chance you’ll see it, and he finds himself sitting up straighter, putting in more effort into being charming and witty for the camera.

He almost says something in another interview, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know how you feel on the matter, and he finds himself taking what was originally a strongly-worded response in his head and neutralizing it as much as possible, to avoid upsetting you should you see it and disagree with him. He doesn't even realize it until the words are out of his mouth.

You do that to him. He who has come to think of himself as so far above others, and yet you — some child from long ago who just so happened to find him again and speak to him for no more than a few minutes — influence his actions, you consume his thoughts. You control him, and you don’t even know it, nor did you have any intention to. And even though he recognizes it, even though he tries to put it to rest and forget you entirely, he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t tap the screen to delete the contact.

It’s infuriating. He can’t stand it. The fact that you do what you do to him so effortlessly leaves him seething and stewing in a rage you probably don’t even realize he’s capable of. And that much he’s acutely aware of as well. You know more of the “real” him than anyone else, you saw him in a phase when he was always pouty and melancholic — yet even then, you don’t know the half of it, don’t realize just how much malice and fury rests beneath the calm outward surface, nor how deep it runs.

He’s not a delusional sort, he’s very self-aware, and he knows how ridiculous the thoughts he’s having are — yet he has them anyway. It’s what, three in the morning, and here he is sitting on the edge of is bed, hunched over in the dark with his face in his hands, stewing in bitterness because he just can’t stop thinking about you. Yes, he knows the thought is absurd, yet he allows it anyway — allows himself to blame you, to resent you for it as if it were an intentional act on your end, to think of you as audacious, having committed some grand transgression against him.

He’s a celebrity, a genius, he has powers unfathomable to the average person — and here you are, you’re nobody, making him think about you. The more he gives in and allows himself to slip into that way of thinking, regardless of how nonsensical he knows it is, the angrier and angrier he gets, the greater the malice that swells in his chest—

—and the darker his thoughts become on what to do with you.

If he forces himself to think it through reasonably, of course, he realizes that you’ve done nothing wrong, that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him even feels guilty for any unwholesome, sinister thoughts run through his head — you don’t deserve anything bad to happen to you, and he’s being embarrassingly childish for such boorish, overly-simplistic thoughts like keeping you and taking you away and hurting you and making you pay. Particularly the last — you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve any harm, and in the rational part of his mind, he knows this.

But if he were to allow those petulant feelings to take over…

If he let the irrational resentment and yearning and attachment and bitterness take over, if he stopped being rational about it, if he just acted on impulses and feelings alone, then he would have something to make you pay for. To make you the object of all the negative emotions that plague him, make you an outlet for his crippling desperation and rage and affection and covet and pain and misery and yearning — yes, he could put all those emotions into you, unload that burden and force you to take it off his shoulders, force you to be something for him to have to himself and use for his own desires and ease of his pain like he always wanted back then.

Maybe he never stopped wanting that, even if he forced every thought of you to the back of his mind for so many years. It was easier to deny the yearning when he could tell himself he would never see you again. He doesn't have that to hold him back anymore — he stares at the screen of his phone that burns his eyes in the darkness, knowing contact with you is a few mere taps away.

But even back then, he wasn’t so stupid as to not realize you interacted with him because he was pitiful and pathetic and obviously troubled and you were the sort of sweet person that went out of your way to be nice to such other children. He was acutely aware of that fact, it irritated him then, it irritates him now. Yet he latched on like a leech anyway, a fact that makes his face feel hot with embarrassment when he recalls how his child self clung to you so strongly, so pathetically. He couldn’t help it. He was so weak, back then.

But here he is, spending hours of his time thinking about you — can he really say he’s less weak to you now?

It’s not as if it’s the first time he had dark thoughts regarding you. Of course, he envied your life back then, but far more than that, he envied you. To have you to himself, as if an object from which he derived happiness that should be just for him. How upset he was when you were kind to people who weren’t him, spent time with others. Even back then, as a child, you have no idea the sort of things he crafted in his head, elaborate fantasies where everyone important to you died off somehow so he could have you all to himself. Fantasies that soothed both his bitterness for you and his desire for you — let you feel pain like he had felt, make sure you couldn’t think yourself better than him, while still ending up something all for him alone to have and enjoy for himself, ensure your kindness was just for him.

Only back then, he had no power to act on such fantasies.

Now…

…

…

...And one night, his resistance finally breaks.

You know what? Maybe he does deserve that. After all the effort he’s put in, after all the things he’s endured, maybe he does deserve to have something all for himself, something he truly wants, something he can secure and know with certainty won’t ever leave his side — you can’t if you don’t have the option.

Maybe you’ll hate him for it. Maybe he’d deserve it if so. But if you do, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

His fingers move without having to really think much about it. Generic, typical lines, just like when he spoke with you. Apologizing for the delay, but surely you understand he’s busy and all, so on and so on. He only pays attention to the very last line, as his fingers slow down in their typing with nerves and anticipation.

>Would you still be up for getting together sometime?

[archivalofsins]

The Futa and Mikoto dynamic in the latest minigram-

MILGRAM EP57 "Caffeine"

[57-1]

Mahiru: Would anyone like some coffee?

Yuno: Do you have any sugar?

Mahiru: Of course!

Yuno: Thank you very much.

Mahiru: Want some sugar?

roar

Futa: Why are you only asking me?!

[57-2]

Mikoto: I don't think she meant anything by it.

Futa: I can't keep my mouth shut when they want to make assumptions and treat me like a little kid.

Futa: It's bitter.

Mikoto: (Maybe it's because you act like this.)

Mikoto: It's a matter of taste.

Mikoto: So, I don't think it relates to being a kid or an adult.

Mikoto: Also, you should apologize later.

Futa: How about you then?

Mikoto: Me?

Mikoto: I've gotten used to drinking coffee.

Mikoto: It's not really a love/hate thing.

OVERTIME

ENDLESS PHONE CALLS

PILES OF WORK

Mikoto: Coffee was more like something like a must have...

Futa: ?

The way Mikoto says taste has nothing to do with being a child or adult. That mindset right there is why I believe Amane let's her guard down around him and allows herself to be childish when he's around.

21/04/16 (Amane’s First Trial)

Amane: …………

Mikoto: Oh, welcome back Amane! ……what’s with the grim face? Ah, right, the guard summoned you! How was it? Did you cry? I bet you were so scared you cried, right!?

Amane: ……alright then. If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get.

Mikoto: Huh? Oooi! Hey, are you listening?? Ooooi!

Along with why, when he became more standoffish in response to her verdict and she saw him being avoided, she began to avoid others. Turning people away when they approached her as she saw them not approaching him. So, she may have gotten the impression that others were only approaching her due to her age, not because they cared about her.

Something that could give further context to Shidou noting Mikoto and his behavior specifically in his second trial written interrogation,

Q.07 Are there any prisoners you get along with?

Shidou: Kayano-kun has become like that, and I can’t spend my time smoking at the moment, so the smoking trio has disbanded, which is a bit lonely.

Despite him and amikoto around this same time being drawn smoking together. Along with Kazui literally encouraging Shidou to take breaks in the timeline as well. Plus, Mikoto's change in attitude having very little to do with him not smoking to his own admission in the same answer. Like he states he just hasn't had the time to do it at the moment but starts with noting Mikoto's attitude isn't helpful. Probably because he thinks Amane is mirroring him and he's not srtying a good example for the kids. Which isn't his fucking responsibility since he's in a high stress situation for one.

Secondly, despite being like this, he's still better with kids than Shidou is. Let that fucking sink in.

Amane let's herself be childish around Mikoto because he's less likely to judge her solely based on being a child. Instead as he would treat her like any other person. He'd treat her as herself and someone he only knows about through their own individual actions.

Not base his judgment of her off of something she has no control over like her age-

20/06/13

Amane: ……what’s wrong, Shidou-san? Your hand has stopped marking. This is mathematics, so there’s no questions about the answers. If I got something wrong, please mark it with an X.

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad……

Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself? ……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead.

Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

Mikoto, in contrast, recognizes that Mahiru asking Futa if he wanted sugar had nothing to do with her treating him like a child. Instead, this was Mahiru being considerate and taking note of Futa's taste and behavior. Then giving him the opportunity to adjust his drink to his liking. Something that goes totally unappreciated because he gets upset that she didn't ask Mikoto the same thing.

When in all honesty I wouldn't put it past Mahiru to have taken a glance at Mikoto soulessly drinking his coffee and internally go,

"Nothing will make him like this drink. I don't even think he tastes it. There's hope for Futa though."

That's how neutral he is to it. Hell, he even admits he's neutral to the drink in this same conversation. Referring to it as a must-have or a necessity for his job. He's basically just drinking it because it's there, and it's now a habit for him to drink it when it's available due to the environment he was in prior to this. He just mindlessly with no real thought went hey there's coffee might as well get some then when asked went oh yeah I have no feelings towards this drink.

Leaving Futa there confused downright puzzled like of you don't like or hate it why did you voluntary get some as Mikoto is their having trauma flashbacks like,

"God the work, the hours, the phonecalls...coffee my only reprieve and fuel. The thing I needed but..."

Yet this also shows off something about Mikoto that gets overlooked. The guy is no pushover. Even though he doesn't want to be rude he will be direct and tell others when they mess up. Going ad far to tell Futa,

"You should apologize later."

While talking Futa through the mistake of tying taste to maturity.

Because that's a stupid thing to fucking do. Assuming having preferences when it comes to what one eats or a person has to eat a certain food due to their age alone and no other health reasons is stupid.

20/06/03

Futa: ……huh? What’s your problem? You’re just leaving all your meat? What a weird kid.

Amane: You say that, but you’re not eating all of your food either. ……are you not able to eat your vegetables? Even though you’re an adult.

Futa: Huh, what, so you’re just eating grass? What are you, a rabbit or something? Since you’re just a brat, you should be eating your meat properly. You won’t grow if you don’t.

Amane: ……you make some really funny jokes, don’t you, Futa-san.

Eat what you like regardless of age isn't a hard concept to grasp. Going I can't eat this it's too childish or drinking something a way you don't like to seem more mature is a waste of your own time..if it doesn't taste good don't eat if you don't want it politely decline. If you actually do want it eat it.

Mikoto respects Futa's behavior here but ultimately gets the point that Shidou has been failing to get with Amane. If the problem is the act of consuming certain things has been intrinsically tied to a person's age you should remove that pretense entirely by going,

"I don't think it relates to being a kid or an adult."

Taste is just taste. Instead of continually pushing like you're a child, children like sweets come have some pancakes. Can I tempt you into these childlike pleasures, Amane? Shidou they're fucking pancakes they don't have an age restriction you absolute tool. A lot of adults enjoy them, too. Shidou goes through every possible reason Amane should try these things while missing the point of why she ultimately doesn't taste it. Because he's arbitrarily decided she should like and try these things because she's a child and has consistently chosen to ignore the fact she declined.

Unlike Mahiru, who gets yelled at and just leaves. To the point that even Mikoto says Futa should apologize for that. This is why I find the dynamic between Amane and Mikoto, and Futa and Mikoto so interesting. Because when they get upset he stays leveled for the most part and gives them space to be themselves without outwardly labeling their mindsets as childish and immature. Because on some level he gets it which makes him more likely to talk it out to them like they're people instead pf just blatantly lecturing them about being roo childish or immature.

Instead of going you're acting like a child he'll just bluntly go its a bother having you be angry all the time in a way of seeking attention.

20/06/15

Mikoto: Hey, it’s kinda a bother having you be so angry and tense all the time. You should stop trying get everyone to pay attention to you. You’re a uni student, right? You can’t act like that once you start working properly.

Futa: Huh!? Shut up. Not like I care what you say. Even though we’re in this shitty situation, you’re just chatting away, it’s stupid. Aren’t you the one who’s acting out of place here? ……also the fact you give everyone nicknames is just gross.

Mikoto: *sigh* It’s more stupid to be taking this all so seriously. I mean, it’s definitely just a reality TV program. There’s no way a real prison exists that’s this lax. Also, I don’t give nicknames to everyone. I don’t give them to young kids like Amane, or to the hard-to-approach types like Shidou-san. I mean, I’m not giving you one, right?

Futa: ……oi, which group are you trying to say I am?

Futa "I don't care what you say" Kajiyama. Also how do you feel about coffee, which group do I fall under there. You called out my anger as attention seeking well the way you nickname people is gross.

*sigh*

Is right Mikoto it's absolutely right. Even when reprimanding him and bringing something adjacent to age Mikoto still focuses on social standing. How it won't be beneficial and instead inappropriate for Futa to behave how he is here when he does join the workforce. It's a perspective hard to combat because it's reasonable and straightforward. It's also something Mikoto doesn't have to say at all unless he is genuinely concerned in some way. Futa's behavior can lead to him being ostracized or deemed unapproachable and rude in a work environment who cares it's not his job to correct that. He can just learn the hard way like everyone else has to.

Haruka's social skills are kind of poor and could lead to problems with others.

20/06/05

Haruka: Ah…… ah, u-um, Mikoto-san. The c-communication……? thing, that you were saying was important. I-I thought, I’d give it my best…… Um, so, Mikoto-san, what’s your favourite food……?

Mikoto: Ooh? Nice going, Haru-kun~

Yeah, we still have no idea how long this lifestyle will go on for, so it’s best if we all get along together here.

My favourite food…… I like pasta and horse-meat sashimi. Also bubble tea, and recently I’ve been big on custard puddings. What about you?

Haruka: ……ah, I, I wonder…… H-hamburg steak, and omurice, a-and also…… what else? Ah. Cotton candy……

Mikoto: C-cotton candy!? That’s the first time I’ve met someone who has that in their top three favourites!? ……man, Haru-kun, you really are hilarious.

Who cares it's not his job to tell him how to practice that or make sure everyone is communicating well with others. He is in this weird situation it would ve so much easier to just keep to himself and mind his business. Like Kotoko does at the start but instead he behaves in a way similar to Mahiru.

Yet, instead of just talking with others to include them, Mikoto gives them pointers on how to further include themselves. Whether they're talking with him or not. He goes well- Here are these tools that could make communicating easier and more beneficial to you. This is important to setting the right atmosphere now off you go. Then when it works out he's proud of them.

He states they've grown and changed into good people and he doesn't shove the thing in their face or even take any credit for it.

22/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday)

Haruka: Mikoto-san. Um, are you ok……?

Mikoto: Ah, Haru-kun. It’s been a while since we last talked, huh. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you doing ok……?

Haruka: Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been enjoying myself, a lot. Um, I’m sorry, for avoiding you. I was a bit scared. Of you, honestly……

Mikoto: Ahhh, yeah. I’ve been lashing out whenever I go to sleep, right? ……it’s fine. Even I think you’re right to be scared.

You know, I kinda just hate that I don’t even know what’s going on myself…… haha.

Ah, but despite all that you still came and talked to me because it’s my birthday, right? Thank you, you’ve grown into a good man.

Then he just continues living like oh that's good proud of you for coming so far back to the suffering I go now.

Haruka: Wait you said you were fine.

Mikoto:

Even when it comes to welcoming Amane back and seeing that she was upset after her interrogation. Why was Mikoto the one who did that and not Shidou?

Why did Mikoto see Amane being quiet and clock that something was up and not the guy literally attempting to force himself in a parental role over her. Why was it when Amane was actually upset he was the only one to take a second and go hey are you good oh wait yeah the interrogation of course you're upset- my god it must have been terrible for you!

Why was he here in regard to any of these situations? When literally anyone else could have been noted. Because Mikoto, unlike Shidou and possibly to Shidou's annoyance- Is good with those Shidou regards as children. When he talks to Amane, she listens and takes him seriously. She even takes notes when Shidou talks to her he gets pancakes thrown in his face. This is all because Mikoto's way of speaking respects that someone is a person first and doesn't emphasize the things they don't have control over and may be sensitive about.

Outside of blatantly telling them like here, being an adult or a child isn't tied to things like that. Because it's not tied to food preferences it's tied to the choices we make and why. Anyone can be a better and more considerate person if we just work on communicating properly with those around us. That sort of mindset and knowing when not to rub someone's face in something because he doesn't rub in Futa's face that he complains about the drink being bitter after complaining about being asked if he wanted sugar which at that point he clearly needed it. No he keeps that's shit to himself and just thinks pinpoints what caused Futa to respond in such a hostile way and goes I don't think that's how that works. He goes to the root insecurity and goes no what you like to eat is not tied to whether you're a child or an adult. It's just what you like to eat or don't.

Which is really good on so many levels and highlights so well why he does get along with most of the younger prisoners.

[these-godforsaken-halls]

They fall back into silence, and this one lasts longer than the others had. Mumbo is starting to feel miffed, himself, the more he thinks on it. The more he focuses on the pit in his stomach, and the two years of radio silence, and everything that used to be normal and isn’t anymore. 

Grian disappeared on him.

“I’m sorry,” Grian says finally, and he sounds genuine enough that Mumbo’s shoulders relax. Against his will. All the miffed-ness seeps right out of him and into the ground, gone forever. It is inconvenient, because Mumbo was planning on staying miffed, but he has known for awhile now that Grian can do this to him whenever he wants just by sounding a little bit sad. He has (mostly) made his peace with it. “It was weird. I've been weird. Sorry.”

“...it’s alright, G,” he finds himself saying, sighing a little. He wants to say more. He tries to gather his thoughts, and a little bit of courage too, and he continues, “I love you, mate, that’s why I don’t like it when you — when you get weird like that, when you pull away. We were having a nice conversation. We could just go back to that, why don’t we go back to that?” Why do you keep dragging us away from nice conversations, he wants to ask, why do you shut down, why do you say those things but never really talk to me?

Another long pause, and Mumbo reminds himself to be patient, though his leg has started an anxious wobble. “You… what?” Grian asks, and gods above, his voice is watery . Mumbo’s stomach drops.

“I —” he’s already stumbling over his words, great. “I don’t like it when you get — ? Oh. Oh, you mean the other thing. The I love you thing. I’m — I mean. Should I not have said that?” Right, he is sweating now. Properly sweating. His head hurts and he thinks it’s the emotional whiplash. Because that’s what this conversation has given him. Emotional whiplash. 

“I just thought — well, you know, we’ve been friends a long time. Good friends, really good friends. You’re my best friend, actually. Now that I think about it. Certainly haven’t got one better. Not that I’m ranking you, oh dear, don’t go telling people that I’m ranking my friends, just — best friends? That’s something normally people say, isn’t it? It isn’t weird? So I love you. Ah. I’ve said it again. I can take it back if — do you want me to take it back?”

(Please don’t ask him to take it back. He does not want to take it back.

He doesn’t — he doesn’t want the version of Grian who makes him take it back. That sounds bad, doesn’t it? He doesn’t mean it that way. He wants Grian , whatever Grian might be like, and it’s not like he’s ever abandoning this friendship for anything, but he has known this version of Grian: the one who vies and vies for attention but scrambles back the moment it’s given, the Grian who loves to be noticed but hates to be seen, who’s a lot less careful with the hearts in his hands, who’s a little bit more mean. There was a Grian who would have died before admitting that he cared about something or someone, anything or anyone — who’d shrug off praise for builds he’d poured months into, desperately pretending that it didn’t make him glow. 

Eventually Mumbo got to have a happier Grian, a bright and open and honest Grian. That Grian disappeared, and in moments like these, Mumbo feels like he didn’t come back.)

“No,” Grian says, and Mumbo accidentally sighs out loud with relief. “No, you don’t have to take it back. You dork. No. It’s okay. I — me too. I mean. Yeah. Me too.”

They sit with these three words between them (two in Grian’s case, but yes, Mumbo does know what he means) for several uncomfortable seconds.

Where did you go, Mumbo is thinking, and his chest aches with it — where did you go, and what did it do to you?

...

from quality entertainment, chapter 3 (ao3)

watcher grian! waffle duo agony!! huzzah

[infernomicia]

You mean that you’re a troll and an awful human for free? For enjoyment? How pathetic and sad to get your source of happiness from treating others badly, @baybmetal

Where have I sent harassing messages and comments directly to Natalie and Henry? Where have I demeaned them or anyone just because I can? With no reason? Hurling verbal abuse, slander and swearing at them? Funny how pointing out discrepancies and stating an opinion with no hateful or attacking speech is considered trolling by those who don’t agree or like it! @baybmetal

Trolling is harassment with no reasoning as the troller gets the attention they wanted all along. If the non famous person broke lock down, behaved hypocritically and treat people poorly to benefit themselves and shared all of it on public platforms, making it public information up for public scrutiny and accountability, yeah! I would! @baybmetal

You just said that ‘I never said you harassed anyone’ but now I do? Again. Pointing out bad behaviour, actions and condescension’s that someone has used to garner fans and relevancy isn’t harassment nor illegal as it’s public information up for public opinion and scrutiny. Where have I verbally attacked slandered Henry or Natalie just because or to laugh at them cruelly? I haven’t nor ever would. @baybmetal

How is saying someone looks ill and run down for health is insulting? I’ve never blindly called him ugly or gave no reasoning to why I think what I do. Nothing I say is baseless or just because. @baybmetal

I wouldn’t be insulted and if I looked off, I’d look into why and seek medical help. No, it’s not just because YOU don’t like what is said. @baybmetal

Saying someone looks unhealthy and ill as a personal opinion is an insult? And Chadwick Boseman was ill and unhealthy as he was fighting cancer and chemo. Those observations weren’t wrong. However, calling him ugly and other derogatory words would’ve been an insult. Things I never said towards Henry @baybmetal

So you are allowed to hurl insults and swear at me, but when the shoes on the other foot, you don’t like it? @baybmetal you want me to stop the consequences brought on from your own actions?

Calling me dumb and swearing at me which is something I haven’t done is an opinion? People know my stance on racism, however I don’t control others actions. 🤷🏾‍♀️

And what facts have I given you; a stranger who doesn’t know me, to infer I’m dumb? @baybmetal

No way does an adult think this way and openly acts this way. I’m going to stop responding to a child! Have a good day! @baybmetal