#his defense when confronted with his own bullshit was to tear down the women he chose to sleep with

[anxiouspotatorants]

With genuine respect to those who like and root for this character I have officially become a Logan hater

[msindrad]

Nobody needed it, I know

I wanted to be reasonable, okay. But it’s Sunday, and I’m about to tell you about Justified the musical instead.

In my defense: first of all, I love musical theater because I think that like any poetry and any expressive symbolic/abstract medium of presentation, it can emotionally accomplish something that other genres just aren’t allowed to, which is why I’m always unironically invested in headcanons about the musical episodes for the shows that I like.

Second, no matter how madly infatuated I become with various things I encounter (*cough* 3:10 to Yuma, somebody shut me up or watch this film and fall from grace with me already *cough*), I always go back to Justified because you can never leave Harlan alive.

SO, this is serious.

1.     There would be a song about drugs. Except the word “drugs” wouldn’t be used once in it; the song would be employing euphemisms instead. Drug trade is a huge theme in Justified together with the discussion of the social/political factors that enable it, which would also definitely be referenced in the song. It would be kinda humorous but at the same time the lyrics and several small moments in the visual presentation would imply that it’s actually, well, super depressing because it’s indicative of economic ruin, lack of any faith in the future, destructive coping mechanisms, and that people don’t do drugs for fun but to escape the reality of Harlan, which they can’t or at least don’t think they can fix. In the end, second best thing to getting out of Harlan is forgetting that you’re in Harlan and what Harlan makes you. Also, there would be people flushing their toilets, as a reference to Tom’s dry observation in 2.1: “With our little convoy, you listen closely enough, you could have heard toilets flushing up and down this holler, everybody dumping their stash.”

2.     Raylan would not sing. Like, no. The man who can’t allow himself to emote can’t sing. Raylan would be all about recitative most of the time, specifically about precise snarky comments expanded only by mocking imitation of somebody else’s tune when he would continue their lines for them to make fun of how ridiculous their hope of bullshiting themselves out of the situation with him would be. You know, like how he always does with Dewey? But also with basically every criminal who’s not too dangerous and tries to argue with him. Or, when I think about Helen or Arlo, family member. Or friend… Or acquaintance… Well, maybe, Raylan does it to pretty much everybody when he is annoyed. All the more reason to highlight his sarcasm in the musical episode. But he would mostly just stand, walk, wear his hat, laugh, do his job, be observant, cool, and “an asshole” in Boyd’s interpretation.

3.     Speaking of Boyd. You _know_ he would sing. Boyd is musical, he told Ava that he wanted to be in a band, also he can dance, and I assure you that Walton Goggins can sing. Together with excellent Jennifer Nettles, he moved me to tears the first time I saw the clip of them performing Misbehaving (a super innocent children song) in The Righteous Gemstones; however, I still wouldn’t recommend the show to you. Anyway. Boyd has a lot to say, Boyd loves to perform, Boyd would sing. There would be a song about his motives and plans, addressing his followers/staff/team. There would also be a song for a confrontation with his rivals. It would start off awfully polite, but the encounter would escalate in no time because Boyd would figure out that the opposite team is about to do something stupid (as he would expect them to). Also, there is a good chance that the scene would be timely interrupted by the marshal service.

4.     And there would be a song about how everybody in the office is annoyed by Raylan and yet also secretly wants to either be him or be with him.

5.     There would be a song for badass ladies of Harlan resisting domestic violence and being a force to be reckoned with. Something about how some jerks think that bruises suit women being countered by the statement that there is nothing that suits women of Harlan more than guns. Also, I don’t think that the show would dare it in earnest, but some critique of brothels and prostitution would be really nice, as a means to highlight how women are forced into being exploited by the same economic ruin from the song about drug trade.

6.     Everything else would depend on the timeline and the plot of the episode, but I think there is a good chance that Dewey would play an important role and so would get his own song: Dewey just happens to be in the eye of the storm all the time (see what I did here? the title of 2.3, anybody?). Loretta could be singing about the future of Harlan. There could be a song of Noble's Hollow about Limehouse knowing everything about everybody. Duffy could sing about his complex existence. There could be many things.

7.     But I’m certain there would be an encounter between Raylan and Boyd in which their usual banter would be accompanied by them literally dancing around and with each other (and everybody else rolling their eyes). And in a long enough episode they both could get in trouble and get out of it together, like they always do when they’re not pretending they’re not friends.

[hes-writer]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart (4)

Summary: Harry and Y/N are in an open relationship

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 3461 words

He sat on the foot of the bed while she fed herself with the creamy mash. His brain was going antsy with the conversation that he had overheard. “Who were you talking to?”

She hummed on a mouthful of food, “Shawn,” Although it sounded more like ‘Shom’

“What erm, what were you guys talking about?”

Y/N waved him off casually as if it was nothing, “Don’t worry about it.”

Needless to say, Harry was a bit more reluctant to invite another girl to his bed. Before hearing Y/N stumble through the front doors while tripping over her heeled feet was something that was unheard of. Harry would be l laying the nape of his neck on the soft fabric of the sofa with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, hearing her struggle over her purse and the metal keys. There were no tedious topics of what ran through his mind but overall; Y/N popped up from every corner of his brain as if to mock him that he deserved what he was feeling right now.

Harry felt disgusted; not at Y/N, but at himself. He felt worthless and guilty and he didn’t know how Y/N could stand through all his bullshit when he was doing it without saying anything as so much as a squeak. It seemed as though he had to staple his lips up every day to prevent him from saying something hurtful to her because after all--it would seem hypocritical of him to get angry at her for something that he did more-- twenty-three times more to be exact.

He wanted to scrub his body raw with the shower loofa as if thousands of bacteria littered his skin and all they wanted to do was taint him with infidelity and nip his skin to his skeleton as if it would rattle some sense into his dense mind. Of course, it was all in his head but he couldn’t stop his hand from moving aggressively, wanting to rid himself of any parts that screamed his connection with other women. Despite his efforts, the logical part of him knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe himself clean of the mistakes that he had made and repeated more times than he can count.

------

Seeing Y/N walk into their bedroom after showering made a revolting taste splash through his mouth. Although she was wrapped in a soft towel, Harry could still see the purple marks on her skin, the red love bites dotted on her neck and he was briefly reminded on what she said to him only a few weeks prior about the marks on his own body.

He was so mean to her. He was vile and rude, and much more defensive than he thought possible. He didn’t have to stand up for the women who left those marks because, in retrospect, Harry didn’t care for them as much as he cared for Y/N. But he did anyway. It was Y/N all along and he can’t believe that it took him such a long time to realize it. Regardless of any way he put it, he knew deep inside that he only said those words to her because the guilt was expanding through his chest, his neck, and to his face—which he was certain was turning into a light shade of red—as if his own body couldn’t help but own up to his wrongdoings.

-----

It was yet another time for an award show and Harry had been itching in his pants. He and Y/N usually had rituals for these kinds of things. As cheesy as it seemed, one of them would always ask the other if they could be each other's’ date for the night. It was their thing and as unnecessary as it is--since they were both invited each and every time--someone had to do it.

But it was a slap to the face when Y/N confronted him about it one night when they were both at home. Apparently, Shawn was following in his footsteps and took a step into the movie direction, just like he did with Dunkirk. Except for him, it was a romantic comedy that starred Y/N. Harry was shocked, hell, he knew that Y/N was in the means of shooting a new film but he didn’t know it was going to be this genre—or with Shawn, for that matter.

There had been some rumors regarding Shawn and Y/N—they always kind of existed but both of them got better at ignoring it. Shawn suggested going to the red carpet together, even though she was with Harry, because not only was it inputted by their PR teams—they thought that it would be great for the movie itself. Plus, given Y/N’s current relationship with Harry, it gives him a taste of his own medicine to see her enjoying herself without someone holding her back.

——

And Y/N was right. The media did go crazy seeing Shawn by her side instead of the usual man that accompanied her. Rumors flew minutes after the red carpet walk was broadcasted and she could hear screams of anguish and happiness mixed amongst the fans when the person dressed in the black suit was revealed to be Shawn.

“So, is there any particular reason why Shawn is with you tonight? Where’s Harry?” The interviewer asked, pointing the microphone towards the both of them.

Shawn and Y/N looked at each other, silently agreeing on what they had planned previously. Y/N gave a smile before answering, “Actually, Shawn is starring in a new rom-com with me!”

He flashed his signature smirk, eyes softening to give the fans a taste of how well he could do. “We haven’t started filming yet but I’m very excited,”

The woman continued to ask questions about the upcoming film to which Shawn responded. Meanwhile, Y/N eyes wandered away to the rest of the individuals littering the area. Squeals erupted when a sleek, black car approached the venue and she just knew that it would be Harry. She smiled sadly, her eyes stinging with slight tears. There was no doubt in her mind that she missed him, but she knew that he had to learn how it felt to lose her.

The moment he stepped out of the confines of the car, Y/N swore everything turned into white noise and she seemed to have tunnel vision. He was all she could see and god, did he take her breath away. His hair was parted elegantly, his suit—a royal blue that suited his skin tone and brought out the gleaming emerald of his eyes. His pink lips were so pigmented that she could see it from where she stood. His fingernails glimmered against the bright light—pink and blue polish decorating them. Y/N could see and understand what made her fall in love with him in the first place. How gentle he was with greeting the people who came to see him—to the chauffeur that drove and opened him for the world to see with a little shy smile.

What she didn’t see coming was a skinny figure emerging, first through the dazzling diamonds encrusted on her heels, then to the emerald green nightgown that seemed to hug her figure delicately—which was strangely similar to the one Y/N wore on their first carpet appearance together. In complete disbelief of what she saw, Y/N tightened her grip on Shawn’s arm whereas Harry simply offered his own to the woman he had invited with him. What the hell is he doing?

Y/N shifted her attention back to the woman in front of her, pursing her lips in a tight-lipped smile—the cameras were still flashing. What the actual heck was her boyfriend doing right now? Granted when she told him about who her date was going to be tonight, he was a bit upset. However, she wasn't expecting him to bring a whole ass date. Her being with Shawn was great publicity to the movie and kept people speculating about their relationship, keeping their attention on them. There was no doubt that as of right not—Harry and Y/N are over. And it might as well be the truth, seeing as Harry strutted with the lady attached on the crook of his arm, looking happier than Y/N had seen him in days.

She wasn't sure if her eyes were too dilated that it made the curve on his face bigger or if he was actually having the time of his life right now. Y/N meant what she said. She really did miss Harry and she absolutely loves him with all her heart. One more glance at him and the girl had her wanting to rip him to shreds but at the same time, walk up to him and kiss him like he was hers.

Y/N didn't have to do any of the walking, though, as Harry took it upon himself to lead his body towards her. Through wishful thinking, Y/N hoped that it was because he still gravitated towards her but she knew that it was too far-fetched to even be true.

“Harry! Nice for you to join us,” The interviewer greeted the new additions. “And who is this stunning woman with you tonight?”

The woman by his side shyly smiled and Y/N wanted to slap her face impulsively. Who does she think she is?

Harry chuckled, “This is Tanya,” He looked Y/N straight in the eyes while saying, “My date.”

Y/N internally rolled her eyes, cursing him out in her head.

“Now, I'm sure everyone wants to know what’s going on here,” She spoke, raising an eyebrow. “Shawn’s here with Y/N because of their new film. What about you and Tanya?”

“I have no comment on that,” Harry gave her a smile, shutting down any advances.

“Come on! What is she to you?”

All four of them shifted uncomfortably knowing that the interview was getting into business she had no reason to be in.

“She's uh—she’s a special friend, I guess,”

“Are you saying you and Ms. Y/L/N have broken it off?” She pried, looking giddy that she might've been the first person to find out this news.

Harry whipped his head to face Y/N, nodding his head hesitantly in the heat of the moment but the damage had been done. Y/N gaped at him with a slightly opened mouth, brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden confession she had no memory of happening. They never spoke anything of a breakup and here he was subtly confirming it on national television.

“Is this true, Y/N?”

Y/N couldn’t move but she was grateful that Shawn’s lean body was there to support her paralyzed one. Common sense was spiraling down the drain—if they never spoke about it, then it must be a show. Maybe his management requested for him to do that so his image won't be ruined with rumors. Nonetheless, shouldn't have Harry talked about it with Y/N? She spoke to him about tonight. Couldn't he do the same? Or was his plan to publicly embarrass her?

She can imagine her face resembling a goldfish with bubbles popping out of its mouth and an attention span that lasted as little as the ‘break up’ conversation happened. She must look a fool, looking as if she had no recollection (and she doesn’t) and now she will be portrayed as the woman who was too clingy to let the past go. They are never going to paint him in a bad light--no--just her.

----

The night continued with sympathetic glances from her celebrity friends who must've heard the news. Some even came to her, declaring their availability in her ‘need for comfort’ to which Y/N was forced to nod and swallow the huge lump in her throat because she felt like she was about to puke.

Yes, she is madly in love with Harry and it took a lot from her to even move her body in ways she only had for him. But she really wished that he talked to her about it instead of dropping a bombshell.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shawn asked, shrugging on his coat while handing Y/N hers. She nodded slipping her arms in the holes, adjusting the collar to fit her better before glancing around to find Harry. “I’ll be fine,”

----

As Y/N entered the limo that was to drive them home, she was surprised, to say the least, to see Harry trampled on the leather seat, being straddled by Tanya. Both of them seemed to not notice her standing on the pavement. The empathic part of her knew that she had to prevent pictures from being captured and so—she had no choice but to scurry inside as quickly as possible, not caring much for interrupting the heated make-out session.

Y/N sat across the couple, averting her eyes somewhere else except it was impossible for her to do so. The windows were tinted dark enough so that she couldn't see the outside—all there was was a reflection of the inside of the car. She cleared her throat.

“Is she riding with us?” Y/N questioned, trying hard not to let bitterness escape her tone. She was really hoping that she could to Harry tonight. She couldn't do so because it was busy the whole evening.

Harry tilted his head over Tanya to see her, eyes widening in realization. His large hands grabbed Tanya’s waist to pry her off of his lap to which she plainly complied. However, he seemed to forget about the problem in pants, grasping the tent in an effort to hide it.

“Y/N! Wha–when did you get here?” He was breathless with eyeballs on the verge of popping out of his sockets.

“About two minutes ago,” She crossed her legs over the other, repeating her question.

“Uh yeah, she is,”

Y/N nodded, whipping out her phone and immediately texting Shawn about whatever. From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry mumble to himself, closing his eyes while shaking his head. None of them spoke for the rest of the car ride.

---

“Mind explaining what happened back there?” Harry tensed, his feet chasing after Y/N who was light on her steps.

She shrugged her shoulders, muttering a “what do you mean”.

“In the car,” He continued, “You made Tanya uncomfortable. She's my guest.”

Y/N slammed her purse on the dresser, fingers pausing from the action of swiping the cotton pad across her face to remove her make up. “I'm sorry, I guess?”

He rolled his eyes, sitting himself down to remove his shoes and dress socks.

“Coulda been a little nicer,”

“You want to know what's nice, Harry?” Y/N slammed her hands flat on the wooden vanity. “You telling me that we decided to break-up! I mean, what the hell was that?”

Harry gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing from the side view Y/N could see. “I didn't even know we were ‘broken up’.”

“It was nothing. I just thought it held some truth, don't you think?” Harry quirked a lip.

“What?”

“You and Shawn,” He spat. “There's something going on between you two, isn't there?”

Y/N swore she was about to rip her hair out of her head. He was being ridiculous. “No, there isn’t,”

“That's bullshit,” Harry laughed, balling his fists.

“We’re just fucking,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. The skin on her forearm rubbing against the scratchy fabric of her dress. It was vulgar, but it was the truth. “Unlike you and Tanya,”

He shook his head incredulously. “It was a joke! Live a little,”

“That was not a fucking joke. That was humiliation,”

“Sorry, I didn't realize it would hurt you,” He mumbled, not sounding like he meant his words. Y/N didn't know if he was taking this seriously or not.

“Of course it would hurt me!” Her voice turning into a pitch higher to defend herself. “You think I’d just be fine with that?”

“Wouldn't know that,”

Was he seriously blaming her for this? For being hurt? She thought.

“You're an asshole,” She turned her back on him but still keeping a close eye through the mirror.

“Me? At least I don't lie,”

She was confused, “What the hell did I lie about?”

He stared at her as if the answer was plastered on his forehead, “You and Shawn!”

“There is nothing between us,”

“And I told you, I wouldn't have known because you haven't talked to me  at all,” Harry stressed out his words, elongating certain syllables to emphasize his point.

“You really want to discuss talking? Then tell me why you basically told the whole world that we broke up,” She snarled. “These things are something that we talk about in private, Harry”

She took off her heels, bare feet making contact with the carpeted floor. “This is our relationship, not theirs so please—please tell me why you did that. When you knew that it would hurt me?”

Her voice progressed to a whisper the longer Y/N talked. Her figure slouching some as she became vulnerable with her feelings.

He sighed, eyes softening at her worn out appearance, “Because I was jealous,”

She pulled back, appalled at his words. Jealous? “Jealous?”

He nodded, breathing heavily through his nose as if to gather the courage to continue.

“I realized that I couldn't see you being with another guy,” He stares at her deeply while his mouth ran its course. “I couldn't see you with marks all over your skin because of him. I didn't want to imagine you being intimate the way you did with me. I couldn't handle it,”

He swallowed before continuing, “Everyday, I thought about how you must have felt when I–,” He trailed off a little, emerald orbs breaking their contact with hers. He cleared his throat, “I was so selfish and I realized that I took advantage of you,”

Y/N couldn't help but agree with him. She felt used and abused during their time together, but she was glad that he was owning up to it.

“And I was wondering why it hurt me so much,” Harry took her hands into his, pulling her closer to him. “It's because I love you, Y/N.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn't have done what you did tonight,” She spoke thoughtfully, glancing to the wall in conscious thought.

He nodded profusely, “I know, but believe me. I do,”

“You do?” She asked rhetorically.

“I do. I don't want to be with other women. I don't want to as much as taking a second glance at them. I'm happy with you, Y/N and I know that I have a lot to make up for but I'm willing to show you everything,” He pleaded with her, hands squeezing right. “Please give me another chance,”

Y/N stared at him with glossy eyes. She loves this man but she didn't know if she could handle being with him. They've been in an open relationship for too long that she didn't know if they could still be a normal couple with each other. Too many things have changed and there's no denying that some things were far too different to even be considered them.

She was using all her brain power to gather the advantages and disadvantages of the two decisions she was allowed to choose. On one hand, breaking it off with Harry would be like escaping a mob. She was so suffocated by his presence that it would be nice to break free from it and run to Shawn. He was always there for her anyway. It would be a new start for the both of them it wouldn't hurt neither parties too much because they already sort of had closure with the distance that pried them apart.

On the other, Y/N was smitten with Harry and it seemed that he was, too. There's no use throwing away something that's broken when it is only bent on the edges. And maybe that was them. Maybe all they had to do was to polish off the rough creases before their love could fulfill each other to the fullest.

Minutes of silence passed and the hope filling Harry’s eyes slowly dispersed. But he kept determined to wait for her response—not wanting to rush Y/N. But Y/N had already made up her mind.

“I want to end it.” She heaved punctually, closing her eyes as to not see his reaction.

Harry thought and for a second, his heart beamed in pure joy before pounding in worry. End it?

“You mean the open relationship?” Harry asked, “Or us?”

-----

wooooooo!

permanent taglist; @ynm1505 @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @ofpeppermintbays @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @particularnarry @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @arypesanchez

jalboyh taglist; @harryspirate @officiallyunofficialperson @gviosca @llandaaa @mutuallynotmutual @mellamolayla @madformichael @toolazymyguy @sauveteen @joycelovedorial @rebelflower19 @stella95827 @katelynmusic-blog-blog @loganmay19 @harryisalittleshit @codyanjuns @yoannacm @trcymartel @serensxx @pxrrishly @calssunflower @bluelalal @cuddlebughazza @ilvebeenabad @youpenguinadonis @advesperasci-t @elainiaaaa @move-to-england @shhh-you

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (23)

Icy and empty

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: 4,460 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This starts exactly where we left off, after Amara sees the picture of Ilya, starting with Amara’s POV.

*****

Her hands still shaking, Amara drops the picture into the plate, as if it had burned her fingers. Her first instinct is to look directly at Drake, who’s seated in front of her. He looks equally as shocked as her, and mouths ‘Fuck’ to her as they make eye contact.

Amara’s eyes dart to Olivia, a couple of seats over. Rashad, next to her, is putting a comforting hand on her arm, a compassionate look on his face.

Liv’s eyes are glassy, icy and empty. Upon looking into them, Amara feels a deep chill.

Many whispers go around the room, a few gasps, but no one speaks clearly for a few minutes. After staring into the void, Olivia gets up, turns around and leaves the room, without looking back. Amara proceeds to get up to go after her, but Hana grabs her arm. ‘Wait. Give her some space,’ she whispers in her ear. Amara nods. She’s right. Liv isn’t gonna want to talk right now, she needs to cool down first.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Liam says, after getting up and clearing his throat. ‘It appears that the person who sent the slandering text about Lady Hana has struck again. I would like to suggest that everyone put the pictures away, and respect Lady Olivia’s privacy. This way of proceeding is extremely insulting and unruly. If the person who has put the pictures on the table is here, I officially ask him or her to stop this little game immediately. This is not how this court functions.’

He looks around briefly and takes a seat again. Next to him, Drake pats his back. Amara feels a pang in her heart upon witnessing some of the friendship she will inevitably break. She looks next to her at Hana, who is smiling sadly. She squeezes her hand.

‘Everyone, enjoy your meal. Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us,’ King Constantine exclaims.

As the servants start putting the plates down, Amara gets up and excuses herself to Liam who, a profoundly sad look on his face, nods and offers her a faint smile. She crosses the hall and reaches the balcony, where Olivia is standing, alone, a cigarette in her hand. Amara wonders for a second where Liv found an emergency cigarette so fast, but quickly remembers that her friend is resourceful.

‘Liv?’

She turns around, her face as tense as humanly possible. ‘Yes.’

Amara gets closer to her and places a hand on Olivia’s back, slowly, as if she was scared to be bitten. ‘Are you ok?’

‘What a fucking stupid question,’ Olivia spits.

‘Fair. In my defense, I was just trying to start a conversation.’

‘Well, do better,’ Liv says through gritted teeth.

‘Talk to me, Liv.’

She turns around, facing her, her eyes bloodshot. ‘We all fucking know Madeleine is part of this bullshit. It will become more and more evident as people around her start to fall. But she’s fucking protected. Nothing we can do but fall.’

‘No. Liam is appalled at the methods, and he’ll never choose her.’

Liv rolls her eyes and sighs. ‘Poor child, you know nothing. Liam is not in charge, he’s the instrument of his family.’

‘Look, we can fight this. This is an easy picture to fake, you get any sort of nude and make up a screenshot, it’s easy to disprove.’

‘But it’s not fake. I WAS sexting with Ilya. That’s how pathetic I am, Amara. Liam is not giving me what I want, so I fuck my hot bodyguard to forget. Some Queen I’d be…’

Amara grabs her arm tighter. ‘You stop this shit right now, Nevrakis,’ she whispers, her voice lower by an octave. ‘I don’t want to hear anything about being pathetic. I know you’re sleeping with him, but it’s NO ONE’S business but yours. And you’d be the best queen, we both know it. Let’s deny the whole thing, ok? Let’s say it’s a fake. Defamation.’

Liv thinks for a minute and says ‘No, I don’t want to lie. Then I’d be looking over my shoulder for the whole remainder of the competition, and what if they have other proof? Not worth it.’

Amara nods. She gets it. It must be relieving not to lie. ‘Ok. You do what you think is right, and we’ll be there for you.’

‘Go back to the brunch. You don’t want to piss off anyone. I need to be alone, I’ll decide what to do shortly.’

*****

Amara had socialized during the brunch, not very enthusiastically, but still. She’d talked to Queen Regina mostly, and to Rashad for a while. But her mind was elsewhere. Trying to connect the dots, figuring out who had placed the pictures. It couldn’t have been Madeleine, she had been mingling all before brunch, Amara had not let her out of her sight. Bastien, on the other hand, she hadn’t seen at all today. Coincidence?

She had tried to avoid looking at Drake too much, for fear of being discovered, but she could see in the corner of her eye that he was tense. He kept looking behind him and onto the halls.

Once brunch is over and people are about to leave, Liam gets up, raises his glass and says, ‘Please stay for a while more, as our very own Lady Hana Lee has an announcement to make. Lady Hana, the floor is yours.’

Hana gets up, dignified, and clears her throat. Amara notices that Olivia has come back, and she is now standing in a hidden corner of the room, where most can’t see her. Amara’s heart sinks; and to think that Liv had once called Hana weak. Now she’s risking facing everyone just to see her friend be strong.

‘Thank you for staying and listening,’ Hana says, calmly. ‘I felt it was important for me to address the claims that were made about me recently. A picture of me surfaced, and I must admit that the photo is real. It was taken years ago, during a sweet moment between myself and the woman I loved, Caroline. I am, in fact, gay, and I was in a relationship with a woman. Even though I do not condone the way this piece of information was circulated --no one should be forced to share this news until they are ready--, I am proud to announce that I love women. I apologize to you, Prince Liam, and to you, Your Majesties. I have been wasting everybody’s time by being a part of the competition when I am not interested in marrying a man. But the truth is, until I came here and was confronted to the reality of who I am, I was not ready to own up to the truth, and I was intending to repress who I really am. So, to whomever found and sent this picture, thank you. Although it was an act of violence which I will never forgive, I am also thankful, for the long look in the mirror you made me take. I realize now that there is no reason to be ashamed of myself. That being said, I would like to ask whomever it was to please stop targeting us suitors. My friend Olivia Nevrakis does not deserve what happened to her today, and neither did I. I do not condone the circulation of defamatory pictures, but as it happens, you targeting me made me realize I need to be honest with myself. Thank you for listening.’

A long silence spreads as Hana curtsies and sits back down. Amara wipes a tear away from her eyes and starts applauding, soon followed by everyone else at the table. Liam, visibly moved, stands up in turn.

‘Thank you, Lady Hana, for this moving and heartfelt speech. I just wanted to add that you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. You did not waste anyone’s time, as it procured all of us the great delight of meeting you. You are welcome to stay until the end of the competition, and in fact, I encourage it. You will be my personal guest, as my dear friend.’

More applause. Amara fights back tears. She cannot believe how gracious her amazing friend is. She squeezes Hana’s hand and gives her a huge smile, which Hana reciprocates promptly. When Amara turns around, Olivia is already gone.

*****

Drake had stayed to congratulate Hana on her beautiful speech, which had really moved him. He had to remain positive, for all of them. For Max, for Hana, for Liv --poor, poor Liv who had not been able to face anyone after the picture---, and above all, for Amara. So, he stayed with his friends for a while. Even for Liam, who had been nothing but gracious through the whole ordeal. Drake had seen his face when he discovered the picture. He’d seen it fall, drained of its color, as Liam was trying to keep his composure.

So, after the King and Queen left, along with most suitors, who were going on to their free afternoon, Drake stayed behind, with Liam who was having another cup of coffee in the foyer, and Amara, Hana, Maxwell and Bertrand, who had followed suit to debrief with Hana some more.

‘Lady Hana, it was beautiful,’ Bertrand said solemnly, a sad smile on his face. ‘What you said was very moving, and also very poised, you can be proud of yourself.’

Drake noticed that Amara touched Bertrand’s arm and gave him an encouraging smile upon hearing him congratulating Hana. He wondered what this was about, but he was glad that Bertrand was showing some compassion and was letting some feelings go through his tough exterior. If he were to be in Sav’s life, and especially in their kid’s life, Drake wanted Bertrand to be the sweet guy he had never let himself be. He’d have to ask Amara to fill him in later about this little moment.

‘Thank you, Duke Ramsford,’ Hana responds with a wide smile. ‘It took a lot of effort, but here I am. And thank you, Prince Liam, for this opportunity to speak my truth.’

Liam smiles heartily. ‘You’re welcome, Hana. And please, I’ve told you before, call me Liam. Let’s not be bothered with silly tradition now that we’re officially friends, and you’re my guest here.’

Drake was proud of Liam’s reaction to Hana’s news. But he was a little concerned about his reaction to Liv’s. He’d have to check with him about that, once other people leave.

‘Well, Lady Amara, I think you have a one-on-one with the Prince,’ Bertrand says all of a sudden. ‘We should all leave you both to it. Right, Maxwell?’

Max, a hand on Hana’s shoulder, responds, ‘Of course! Hana and I are headed to have a celebratory drink at Ramsford, where she’ll be staying until our next event in a couple of days. Is that alright, Liam?’

‘Of course!’, Liam replies. ‘You guys have until Monday to rest, and then we’ll have our Portavira trip. You should go celebrate.’

‘Yay!’ Max exclaims. ‘Bertrand, come have a drink with us. Amara can get a ride from Drake later. Ok?’

Drake holds his breath. He’s never seen Bertrand say yes to a drink before, especially in the middle of the day. But, much to his surprise, Bertrand nods after a brief hesitation and the three of them are on their way.

‘Wow,’ Drake says as soon as they are gone. ‘What got into Bertrand? I mean...I’m not complaining, but why is he so cool?’

Amara smiles coyly. ‘Oh, maybe he’s finally learning to let go a little.’

Liam forces a laugh. ‘Ha! That would be great news, truly.’

Drake and Amara share a look, and Drake sits on the ottoman near Liam. ‘Hey Li, tell me if I’m overstepping or if I should leave you two to your...date. But I’m just concerned.’

Liam takes a sip of his coffee, which Drake realizes smells a lot like whiskey, and snorts. ‘Our date? I mean, Drake, I’m not gonna force Amara to spend time with me. I was just gonna tell you guys that you can head back to Ramsford.’

Amara takes a seat on the couch opposite them and says, ‘Liam, you’re not forcing me to do anything. Maybe Drake and I could keep you company for a while, before we head back? I feel like it would be nice to...talk about some things, huh?’

Liam’s eyes gleam with excitement, which suddenly makes Drake very sad. ‘Really? I don’t want to impose, I know that you… well, we didn’t exactly set any rules or boundaries, and when Bertrand asked if I could schedule a one-on-one, I didn’t want to say no, but I was afraid you’d be angry with me.’

‘Angry?’ Amara asks, her eyes wide. ‘No, Liam. Honestly, I enjoy spending time with you. I’m sorry if you were ever under the impression that I didn’t. Before we cleared things up, it was uncomfortable for me to--well, you know. We talked about this.’ Liam nods. ‘But now...I’m happy to hang out. Let’s stay here and have coffee, ok?’

Liam’s face lights up a little bit, although a dark cloud remains above his head. Drake decides to bite the bullet and starts talking. ‘Any news from Olivia since...the thing?’

Liam shakes his head and glances at his phone. ‘No. Nothing. I texted her multiple times, she read my messages, but did not reply. Amara, you saw her, right?’

‘Yeah, right after brunch started. She was...it’s hard to describe. Angry, I think. Maybe a little sad, and ashamed. She told me to get back to the brunch, and when I protested, she said she’d contact me when she wants to talk. I noticed she was there during Hana’s speech. But nothing since.’

‘Alright,’ Drake says. ‘Let’s keep contacting her, let her know we’re here for her. She’ll resurface. Liam?’

Liam, distracted, gets out of his daydream as soon as Drake calls his name. ‘Hmm?’ he murmurs.

‘Are you ok?’ Drake asks.

‘Yeah. I guess. I’m just… Guys, I feel like I’m losing control. I want to do something, anything. Father doesn’t want me to confront Madeleine, although we all know it’s gotta be her, right? Leo had warned me about her.’

‘I don’t think there’s much doubt about that, unfortunately,’  Amara chimes in. ‘But I don’t think she could have done it alone. She was with us the whole time between the staff setting the table and the moment when everyone entered the room. It’s not possible.’ Amara’s eyes meet Drake’s, and in one swift head movement, they both decide to remain silent on Bastien’s possible involvement. For now. Amara continues, ‘Your father, with all due respect, has a vested interest in Madeleine staying in the competition, because she’s Queen Regina’s niece. So, I don’t think it would be productive for you to push any more for confronting her. He won’t let you.’

Liam nods, and takes another sip of his...beverage. ‘You’re right, Amara. Let’s all keep our eyes open. I just...ugh.’ He pauses for a long time, and Drake knows what he’s about to say. The look on Liam’s face upon discovering Liv’s screenshots can’t lie. ‘I just can’t believe it. At least Hana’s story has a happy end. She spoke her truth, and it was beautiful. But Liv, I mean...Do you think it’s true?’

‘Does it matter?’ Amara’s response arrived fast, before Drake had time to think of anything to say. Liam looks stunned. She continues. ‘I mean, what if it’s true? What’s the problem?’

Liam’s eyes dart everywhere in the room, carefully avoiding anyone else’s. ‘Well, if she were really sleeping with her bodyguard, it would be quite clear that she’s not interested in this. In...me.’

Amara sighs, and responds, ‘I don’t think you’re looking at this the right way.’

But Drake can’t focus anymore, his eyes are glued to the window. Suddenly, he can’t stop his train of thought. He has to get out now. He excuses himself, and looks at Amara before leaving. She follows his gaze out the window, and her eyes widen as she understands what he’s up to.

*****

Amara can’t stop Drake. She wishes he wouldn’t do anything yet, but she trusts him and his judgment, so she lets him go, hoping he won’t be too long, and won’t let the situation implode. For the moment, she has to focus on managing Liam’s expectations. She owes it to Liv, who has been such a support for her and Drake.

Liam looks at her and cocks his head. ‘What do you mean I’m not looking at it the right way?’

‘You’re focusing on what Liv is doing with her life, right? What you should ask yourself is, why does it bother you so much?’

He seems to hesitate, his eyes in the distance, but soon enough, he’s answering her honestly. ‘You may already know this, because the two of you are close, it seems. But Liv and I have been...intimate, recently, and I didn’t know she was also um...seeing other people. Provided the picture is real, of course’

Amara’s blood boils. ‘You would be offended if she saw other people, when you have a literal flock of women competing for your hand?’

She didn’t intend for her tone to be so harsh. She’s just defending her friend. Liam seems taken aback at first, but ends up laughing softly before answering, ‘Touché, Amara. I see the double standard. Although, if I may, the ‘flock’ you’re speaking of is getting smaller by the day…’ He stops to look into the distance before shaking it off and continuing, ‘Anyways, you’re right. It’s not fair of me to get upset. I suppose I’m just used to Liv being more…’

‘Available?’ Amara hopes she’s not out of place, but there’s no stopping now.

‘Yes,’ Liam agrees. ‘I suppose so. She’s been very available to me our whole lives. Decades, really. So, I have to admit it stings a little, if she also is sleeping with a guy she sees all day every day, and not giving it another thought.’

‘What tells you she’s not giving it another thought, Liam? I don’t want to speak for her, or speak out of turn--’

‘You’re not,’ he interrupts, taking a small flask out of his jacket pocket and pouring it in his mug. ‘Care to make your coffee Irish?’ he asks. Amara nods and hands him her mug. He continues while pouring, ‘I appreciate your honesty, always.’

Amara’s heart skips a beat. If only he knew. ‘Well, I’m just saying, and I’m not saying the picture is real, I don’t know if it is. Um...what I mean is, Liv has been giving this a lot of thought. And she is fully aware that you are used to her being available. One could even say that you may take her for granted at times, don’t you think?’ Liam nods slowly, his face falling. ‘If the situation bothers you, maybe you should do something to change it. A gesture. Something.’

Liam remains silent a while, sipping on his spiked coffee. Finally, he says, ‘You must be a fucking friendship genius if you managed to get this out of Olivia. Seriously, does she tell you all this?’

Amara shrugs, a smug smile on her lips. ‘Call it what you will, but Liv isn’t as closed off as you might think.’

*****

Drake runs out of the room where he left Liam and Amara alone. Should he be worried about them alone, about Liam trying something? No, not since they’ve had the conversation a while ago. Liam might have been holding out hope still, who knew. But at least, he was being decent with her.

He runs outside, towards the back garden, where he saw him walk out through the window. Thankfully, he’s not walking fast, and soon enough, Drake has caught up to him.

‘Hey,’ Drake says, grabbing Bastien’s shoulder to make him turn around.

‘Drake, hi,’ Bastien responds, slightly surprised.

‘We need to talk,’ Drake says curtly.

‘Not here.’

He gestures for Drake to follow him to one of the garages, the one that had the Queen’s Aston Martin in it. Bastien closes the door behind them, and they stand there, in the semi-dark. Drake wishes he were in control of the situation, and he had hoped Bastien would be taken aback by his confrontation, but for some reason, he seemed to half-expect it.

‘What is it?’ Bastien asks, his voice low.

‘I saw you, Bas. Today, headed towards the dining room, with a folder under your arm. You put the pictures there, didn’t you?’

Bastien sighs and puts his head in his hands. ‘You should mind your own business, Drake. Go home.’

His blood boils. How can he be so patronizing when he’s not even denying the accusation? ‘It is my business, Bastien, you’re targeting my friends--’

‘Your friends? I thought you despised nobles? How many times did you threaten to leave court?’

Drake freezes. ‘What? I mean, when Dad died, I was resentful, and I may have been ungrateful sometimes, but despise them? That’s not me.’

Bastien shrugs. ‘Whatever you say. Regardless, you should stay out of this. It’s bigger than you.’

Bastien turns around to open the door and leave, but Drake stops him, a hand on his arm. ‘Who are you working for? Madeleine? I know you threw out the phone that was used to send Hana’s picture.’

Bastien sighs again. ‘Look. You don’t need to know who’s behind this. This doesn’t concern you.’ He pauses. ‘It could have, but I made sure it didn’t. So cut it out.’

Drake’s eyes widen. ‘What do you mean it could have concerned me?’

‘You want me to be straight with you? Alright. Neither you or I can stop this whole thing from happening. If I back out of it, someone else will step in and get dirt on everyone anyways. If it’s not me, it’s someone else. And believe me, you want me to be involved.’

Drake shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

‘I know about you and Lady Amara. I didn’t tell anyone, and I don’t intend to. Another person might not be as kind to both of you if they were in my position. Let me do my job and no one finds out.’

‘Wh--what? How do you--’

‘Stop asking questions. I can’t tell you much. But as long as I’m in the picture, your secret is safe. I owe it to your dad.’

*****

Amara and Liam had been talking together for a while, and Amara surprised herself enjoying his company. Maybe it was because he was drunk, and sad, and honest. Maybe because right now, he’s focused on Olivia. Regardless of reasons, she liked this Liam, and could see herself being his friend.

When Drake comes back into the room, Amara has to fight her urge to turn back and look at him. She tries to still focus on what Liam is telling her, but deep down, she’s just hoping Drake is ok and that he didn’t show Bastien his cards too much. However, as soon as Drake comes to sit by Liam and she sees his face, she knows he’s tense, and that maybe the meeting didn’t go that well.

‘Hey guys,’ Drake says, visibly trying to keep it together. ‘What’s new?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Liam says, toying with the handle of his mug. ‘Just chatting with Amara. I should go back to my study soon, though, I’ve got work to do.’

‘Ok, I should probably drive Amara back to Ramsford to meet Hana and Max, right?’

Amara nods, and says ‘Yes, thanks Drake, that sounds great. And thanks, Liam, for the conversation. I enjoyed it.’

Liam smiles brightly. ‘Thank you, Amara, for the advice. I’ll think about it, I promise.’

Amara follows Drake to his car, too anxious to ask him what happened. When they hop in, Drake locks the doors and looks everywhere around them, to check that no one is watching. He takes her hand.

‘Bastien knows about us. He’s not telling anyone.’

‘What?’ Amara’s eyes widen, she truly cannot believe what she just heard. ‘How does he know?’

Drake shakes his head. ‘I have no idea. He refused to answer any more of my questions. He is definitely part of the conspiracy, but he said he’s working for someone else. Maybe Madeleine, maybe not, he didn’t say.’

‘Oh my God, Drake, this is terrible…’

Her hands are shaking, as she has a lot of trouble envisioning a good outcome for this. If their secret comes out the same way Hana’s and Liv’s came out, Drake’s friendship with Liam is over forever, and he probably won’t have a place here anymore. She can’t let that happen, and yet, can she prevent it from happening?

Drake takes both of her hands in his and attempts to steady them. ‘Babe, relax,’ he says, his voice calm and reassuring. ‘He assured me he won’t say anything. He’s probably known a while, remember he saw us at the cop bar?’ Amara nods. ‘See?’ Drake continues. ‘It’s been a long time, probably, and he hasn’t told. He said that he doesn’t intend to tell anyone--’

‘So instead of our secret, it’s Hana’s that came out?’ Amara asks, furious.

‘I don’t think that’s how it happened, no. I really don’t think one secret has anything to do with the other, but it looks like whoever is digging for dirt is doing it to everyone. Bastien being there just ensures no one finds out about us, but the rest of it would happen regardless of him.’

Amara nods. ‘I get it, but come on. The guy participated in outing a person against her will. And slutshaming another. What kind of person does that?’

Drake sighs. ‘I know. I honestly blew it, I couldn’t get him to answer any of my questions, and I should have punched him in the face on the spot, I--’

‘Drake, no, that’s not what I meant,’ Amara says, gently stroking his hand with her thumb. ‘It would have made matters worse. You did the right thing by not pissing him off. Let’s hope this calms down.’

Drake sighs. ‘He did tell me that there’s no stopping this. We should probably brace ourselves for some more shitstorms.’

‘Great…’

Drake turns on his engine. ‘Let’s not go to Ramsford today.’

‘What? Where do you want to go?’

‘To my cabin. Do you want to? Just us, Amara…’

She sighs, desperately wanting to say yes. ‘What about the others? Is it the right time to abandon them?’

‘We’re not abandoning them. We’re taking time for us, which we need. Plus, it’s in Portavira, where we’re supposed to go on Monday. We can ask Max, Hana and Liv to come over tomorrow night for a barbecue, and all head to Penelope’s on Monday. Max will bring you your suitcase if you ask him. What do you say?’

Amara looks in the distance, tears of relief flooding her eyes. ‘Let’s go.’

*****

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @drakewalkerwhipped @drakxwalker @drakewalkerrosenberg @drakeswalkers @drakelover78 @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck episode 8 reaction

just making my way through the tumultuous lives of German youth! some of this is outdated since I fell way behind

Episode 8

Clip 1 - Hanna and Mia = so happy together

Hanna resting her head against Mia’s shoulder = awwwwww. Also cute is Mia hyping up her musical taste and getting Hanna to join in.

Here comes Alexander to ruin the moment!

For some reason it’s hilarious that he offers to sing with them. What if Mia was like yeah, let’s harmonize, show me what you got?

AHAHAHA OK, I know people want there to be a hint of ~flirtation and ~attraction on Mia’s part but you know, I fucking live for her just tearing into him and telling him off and that she’ll report him for harassment. Resounding applause!

On the other hand I cannot buy her falling for him in the slightest. By making her so firmly against him they’re making it an uphill battle convincing me that they’ll get together, especially since Mia seems perhaps the most outspokenly feminist remake Noora.

Hanna smiling and being like, “You’re so cool, Mia,” and Mia all like, “Thanks, I read this thing in an article about pickup artists using the wrong names for women to make them feel submissive!” And then the two of them happily go back to singing? This version of the scene is incredible.

Like Mia read some PUA bullshit about men trying to make women feel small, and she turned it back on a shitty man who treats women like crap! How can you not appreciate that?

Also I take back what I said previously about Mia and Hanna not being flirty compared to this pairing in other Skams. The end of this scene was total girlfriend goals.

Clip 2 - Nein, Kiki

Amira and Sam - the cutest. I would pay to see them operating that canine squad.

Well, I kinda hate Kiki again. That was a hell of a segue from her Amy Santiago-ing the party security setup to talking shit about Hanna.

I do love Hanna telling Kiki to drop it. I feel like we’ve begun to see more of a backbone on her. And Mia coming to Hanna’s defense, of course.

The reveal of the Hanna and Leonie friendship breakup is underwhelming compared to some other versions. It’s more focused on Kiki being an asshole than Hanna’s internal anguish. However, they did throw in one detail, about Hanna snagging Jonas at Sarah’s birthday party which I liked, because I’ve always wanted even more details about how they got together. I can’t remember, but did we ever hear about Leonie crying on Hanna’s shoulder while Hanna and Jonas were sneaking around behind Leonie’s back? Or is the implication that they hooked up at the birthday party and Leonie found out pretty soon, and that was that?

“Honestly, Hanna, you shouldn’t be surprised that everyone’s calling you a slut.” What the hell, Kiki. She delivers it so smugly.

Mia and Amira defending Hanna, I sure love these girls. And while Sam’s comment about “slut” being a compliment is not really the best thing to say considering the context, she was trying to be nice.

Mia also points out that it takes two to tango, it’s not just Hanna’s fault, and then Kiki says something spot-on despite her general unpleasantness in this scene - she mentions Jonas (not just Toilet Sam) for being a “slut” too, which I don’t think anyone in any of the Skams has yet done. I think it’s usually focused on the P-Chris character also being slutty? Not that I agree with the “slut” terminology specifically, more than I don’t think anyone ever singled out Jonas as a cheater, and I mean, I love him but it’s true. It’s not fair at all that the Evas have to bear the burden of the homewrecker label alone, especially when Jonas was the one already in a relationship.

Sam’s comment about “I don’t care about Jule, and Leonie is a bitch. And Jonas and Hanna are way cuter together” almost feels like commentary about the audience. Because that’s how it would be - we know almost nothing about Jule except she attacked Hanna, so who cares about her, and we’ve seen Leonie only through Hanna’s POV as an aggressive mean girl. And well, Jonas and Hanna are twelve kinds of cute. But of course that’s only one side of the story. Jule and Leonie are both wronged parties here and feeling hurt and betrayed for valid reasons even if they don’t express it in the best way. Kiki is right, Leonie is the victim here, whatever her other faults.

And again, Sam says this to help Hanna, it’s just not that helpful.

“In your Muslim gangster world, wouldn’t she have been attacked by acid by now or something?” WOW WOW. I sorta liked Kiki, but I’m definitely wanting to retract that statement.

Really, she unleashed that on Amira for absolutely no reason! Amira was just sitting there, not saying anything!

I think Kiki is lashing out like a wounded animal though. She’s trashing her friends with a viciousness that I don’t think Vilde had.

I love love love Amira though. Really, I would love to see S4 about her (with heavy rewrites, heh). You can tell that she’s really hurt by what Kiki has just said and needed a moment to compose herself.

Amira’s prayer alarm going off right then was a good clincher to that moment, a reminder of Amira’s Muslim-ness just to rub it in for Kiki, and probably to twist the knife a little for Amira, tbh. People will always judge her on her religion.

Also, great moment from Sam asking Kiki why she always needs to fight. It’s a big difference from Chris just sitting out this scene in awkward silence and trying to avoid conflict. But you can tell that Sam was trying to help out Hanna and perhaps neutralize the tension in this scene, she just doesn’t always know the right thing to say. I think it’s consistent characterization for her to ask why Kiki needs to be confrontational.

Lol, Kiki left her stuff behind when she marched out.

Clip 3 - Hanna and Jonas being sad together

Ahhh, it’s Jonas playing the guitar! Is that an existing song or just a tune he made up?

There’s a slight shift in context to having them sit in a bedroom (an intimate location) but far apart at first when they have this discussion, rather than in a public place like a skate park, but with seemingly less distance between them. The skate park is more like a neutral ground for them to meet. This is Hanna going into Jonas’ private space and being unwelcome. She knew it and started off putting space between them. It felt kinda uncomfortable. 

Also, major props to the Druck team for making Jonas play the guitar, which is clearly something the actor does in real life, and not a skater just because original Jonas/Marlon Langeland was a skater. I like when they can adapt the characters to the actors’ strengths.

The Jonas actor is doing a great job of conveying his hurt, and not just because he has a guitar to air out his sads and to use whenever words aren’t enough. Hanna too - she looks still and like a shell of herself as he questions her entire character.

Nice detail about Hanna suddenly being into the bands Jonas likes, as a way to add support to the “she doesn’t have her own opinions” line of development.

This scene really got across the theeeeme/message and showed how hurt they both were - of course it’s not nice for Jonas to say that, but you can tell he’s genuinely confused and torn about what she’s doing and he’s not just saying it to lash out at her, and of course Hanna is devastated because it always hurts to be told you don;t have your own personality, plus Jonas just laid out the reasoning in front of her.

Clip 4 - Menstrual message

Lol, not that this is funny in context, but I think Hanna’s the only Eva who throws the note in the trash instead of dropping it on the floor? Good for her, that way no hapless janitor or other student has to come across someone’s period blood in the hallway. Though I certainly get the instinct to drop it, I mean ... ewww.

(By the way, am I the only one who has questioned whether this letter, in any/all iterations, was really written in menstrual blood? Not that I would interact with the letter long enough to find out, if it were me, but is it possible it’s just paint or something and was called “period blood” just to get some extra intimidation for Hanna?)

They kept in this conversation with Kiki which is good, though she doesn’t clarify that she’s left the party because she thinks the girls hate her. I think if you didn’t know the plot, you could assume even worse of Kiki and think that maybe she quit to rid herself of the girls, the school slut and the scary Muslim. Her departing lines to Hanna do feel rather brusque.

Clip 5 - Matteo trying to do damage control

The music sounded a little upbeat for what’s supposed to be a low moment for Hanna, though the lyrics are melancholy. But it cracked me up that Matteo’s presence was announced by what sounded like a skateboard and yet Matteo did not appear to have a skateboard.

I love that they have this conversation in person, though. Matteo sought her out to sit down and tell her that it’s unfair everyone hates her so much. Even though, you know … he caused it. But I think it’s a mark of how much he regrets his actions already.

I noticed he did the trademark Isak reptilian lip-licking at one point. Common enough gesture but I am always gonna associate it with that duplicitous Norwegian.

Matteo’s message didn’t seem to sink in during the conversation as much, with Hanna getting frustrated more than anything, but it’s great that he tells her it’d be a pity if she left right before he leaves.

Clip 6 - Hanna, Leonie, and Jule

We didn’t get the scene with the older girls, or with Mia/Amira telling Hanna that it was Leonie who hooked up with Sam. I guess because Leonie didn’t actually hook up with Sam in this version. Actually, it’s great that Hanna confronts Leonie without using the knowledge that Leonie made out with Sam as leverage; she just does it on her own in order to make her school situation more bearable.

Also, there’s no incentive for how the situation will impact the other girls, neither Hanna nor the other girls think the rest of the school is retaliating against them all for their association with Hanna. It’s just Hanna acting independently. Kudos.

As with the Jonas scene, we have Leonie sitting down against the wall closed off to what Hanna’s going to say, and Hanna at first puts distance between them but later tries to lessen it. This time a little more successfully.

Hanna talks about how at her old school she was the “fat girl that everyone bullied” - that adds a lot of pain to her backstory. In OG it was that when Eva switched schools, no one wanted to talk to her because of her accent and Ingrid was nice to her, I don’t recall any talk of bullying prior to that. This detail makes Hanna’s situation even worse. Especially if you think about she was planning to switch schools again this episode, and that this would be the second time she has switched schools due to bullying. At least I think that’s implied although she could have switched schools the first time due to a mundane reason, like moving. But it would also add some extra weight to Matteo’s talk about running away when things get difficult, and support why she would choose to confront Leonie on her own like this.

This is a pretty stark conversation with the lack of accompanying emotional music and the echo from the mostly empty room. Everything comes from Hanna baring her soul, basically.

Lol, Leonie just gets up and leaves at the end, which is fine, I guess. She’s not chased out by Jule about to beat her ass. Hanna discovers on her own that it was Jule who sent the threat letter, so good for her for connecting the dots.

Unfortunately they rushed this conversation with Jule, although at least they got the right points, with Hanna saying that she didn’t know Samuel had a girlfriend but apologizing for it anyway, and pointing out that it isn’t fair for Jule to be mad at her but not him. It was definitely disappointing that Jule wasn’t humanized that much, though, and that she walks away still having a chip on her shoulder, plus the reveal that it was Matteo felt forced.

I do love this closing song (”Devil’s Whisper” by Raury). A great RUN BOY RUN song to lead into Hanna realizing she needs to throttle Matteo.

General Comments

It’s too bad that they left out some very strong parts of the source material. For example, the older girls giving their wisdom to Hanna aren’t there at all, though I can see how with the changed context why it might have been hard (why would the older girls give a shit about ostracizing the kids working security at their party). Also Jule just doesn’t get the amount of time necessary to make us feel better about her. I think Druck has done a decent job of some of the Girl Power moments and those probably would have been executed well if giving the right amount of time.

Tbh this episode is full of material where that lays out for me why it’s good to have younger actors in these roles. They make so many mistakes and there are such little moments of hurt and frustration, and it just seems more real when you can fully absorb that these are kids. 

I don’t speak German, so if I misunderstood something, feel free to correct me.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[theliterateape]

Wet Rat

By Paul Teodo and Tom Myers

The following is an excerpt from the forthcoming novel Cross Fit by Paul Teodo and Tom Myers.

I SPENT THE NEXT COUPLE HOURS REVIEWING HVAC SPECS FOR THE OR WITH MY FACILITIES GUY, Joe Spanski, a bald, thick armed, second generation Pole from a family of Warsaw brick masons. He told me it was impossible. “Boss, it’s cooling, not refrigeration. Them people in there are alive, it ain’t the morgue.”

“That’s what he wants. Fifty-eight degrees.”

Spanski gave me a sly look. “Have you seen his wife?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“She looks dead. Maybe he likes ‘em cold.”

She did look dead. “Thanks Joe, so we can’t get any lower than sixty?” I was pretty sure Eriksen liked them cold.

“Right boss, and with that, we’ll have staff half froze.”

Joe lumbered out of my office, tool belt rattling down the hall.

It was only ten o’clock. Too long to wait. I couldn’t stand it. I needed this job. I had a mortgage, a car payment, my kid’s college debt and alimony. I couldn’t walk away. But most important I had my pride. I tried to act like I could give a shit, but getting canned would fuck with my ego.

I stepped into Jenna’s office. “I’m going for that walk now.”

“It’s pouring.”

“I’m going to see Greta.”

“You’re not supposed to see her till…” She paused, conflicted. We hadn’t discussed the meeting, but she knew what was in store for me. She was a Christian and loyal to me — her boss. But Greta had hired right out of high school.

I was pissed. “Tell me what you know.”

“I can’t.” She turned away hiding her tears.

I grabbed her shoulder and tried to turn her around. “For Christ’s sake tell me.”

Her body tensed.

What the hell am I doing? She didn’t deserve to be the recipient of my fear.

“I’m going to her office.”

“You know she doesn’t like when her schedule is altered.”

“I’m altering it.”

She gathered herself. “Take this, it’s pouring.” She pulled a large green and white golf umbrella from her closet, Western Highlands Medical Center emblazoned on its surface.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

“God Bless you.”

I doubted it.

✶

I BENT INTO THE WIND. Rain slopped from my shoes with every step. The storm fought the umbrella trying to turn it inside out. Tommy would tell me when you’re stressed take a walk. In the freaking rain? In some twisted way I felt if bad shit was going to happen it would be better to find out if I was soaked and shivering. Like a rat.

I stomped around the campus aimlessly, shivering, reading signs and planning my defense.

Emergency Department Fitness Center Valet Parking

It always irritated me that in this town you couldn’t park your own car. I never felt comfortable here. I parked my own car.

Physician Parking

An arrow pointed into the heated garage, red warming lamps glowing in the gloom.  A black 7 Series Beemer shot by splashing dirty water on my knock-off Armani. Now I was soaked to my skivvies. The testicle Mr.Vitorri personally attended to in 1969 retracted, searching for someplace dry.

I was wet and freezing. I needed shelter. I headed into Building 2. When I yanked the door against the wind it whipped wide open. I thought the hinges would pop. “Nasty out there.” Rachel, our greeter (yes greeter) smiled as she handed me a small towel. I smiled back (why not?).

 “You’re soaked!” She realized that in spite of the eight-hour class she took on smiling, and the three hundred dollars we were invoiced for it, a big-toothed grin when your executive vice president was standing in the doorway soaked to the bone was not in accordance with that expensive training. “Good thing you have an umbrella.” She caught on to the fact I was dripping from head to toe. She ended our awkward curriculum-driven encounter with a final cliché. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Really? Who says that shit in real life, other than those force fed the line in a three hundred dollar an hour customer service class?

“No Rachel, nothing else.” I shook Jenna’s God’s umbrella and it sprayed on the floor, the glass entryway, and even on dear smiling Rachel. “Nothing at all.”

I stood in front of one of the vents trying to warm up and dry off. A walk in the rain had not calmed me down one bit. I was irritable, discontent, and ready for a fight.

✶

I COULDN’T PUT IT OFF ANY LONGER. I sprinted toward the Admin. Building. The rain was relentless. Sheets of cold pellets bounced sideways off the asphalt cascading down the parking lot. The big umbrella lost its battle with Mother Nature.

Finally, I ducked under the canopy of the Admin. Building. Home free. Out of the downpour. But no. Not today. Keycard. I must have dropped it somewhere. Shit. I buzzed. Buzzed again. “May I help you?” Joan, Greta’s dour gatekeeper. Yeah, make it stop raining. Dry me off. In fact make this meeting just go away. “May I help you?” Again. Her annoyance made clear even through the garbled speaker.

“I don’t have my keycard!”

“Jesus,” she mumbled. The door clicked. I stomped into the lobby then stood motionless absorbing the heating lamp’s infrared rays. I shook like a wet dog.

“You’re wet.”

No shit. ”I’m fine.”

She handed me a few useless brown paper towels from the bathroom. “You’re going to need to wait. You were supposed to meet at three. She’s clearing her schedule.”

Jenna had warned them; her loyalty split between her funnyman boss and her practical fear of the person who buttered her bread.

I plopped down on the cream-colored leather chair, water sluicing off, running between the cushions. Carefully placed in front of me on a cut glass coffee table was a stainless steel carafe, tall and elegant, and two mugs, engraved in gold with the hospital logo. Precisely spaced spoons, napkins, sugar, sweetener, cream, and two cookies were rigidly arrayed, discouraging disturbance. Just like when I interviewed three years ago. It didn’t impress me then, and it didn’t now.

“She’s ready for you.”

I looked up, startled. “Ready?”

“You came to see Greta?” She looked down on me knowing full well what was about to happen. “She cleared her schedule.” Her voice like my third grade nun, Sister Lillian. Judgmental, arrogant, and punishing. I was ready for her to complete her chastisement with “You boob!” and smack me with her ruler.

“Thank you.” I said meekly, disappointed that I was so terrified.

“You make the staff uncomfortable.” “Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for? “See. You blurt things without thinking.”

She led to me to Greta’s office in accordance with her training. I knew my way but we were an organization that operated appropriately and people were led into Greta’s office, you didn’t stroll there on your own.

Greta didn’t look up when I walked in. I stood wet and silent as a servant, dripping on the blue sculpted carpet.

Her desk was actually a large table with ornately carved legs exuding French elegance. I know shit about furniture, but if this wasn’t Louie-the-something-French, nothing was. In contrast the papers in front of her were strewn about. A marble pen holder engraved Greta Washburn Chief Executive Officer, emphasized her importance. Neat piles of red, blue, and tan files were stacked to the left. Expensive paintings of pastoral waterfalls cascading down mountains with gurgling brooks and dark green trees hung evenly on her walls. A fish tank off to the right, flat black fish eyeballing me through the glass and a potted Norfolk Island pine big enough to climb guarded her back.

I stood silently, waiting, as she continued to pretend she was reviewing exceptionally important documents, peering through her Kate Spade reading glasses.

Tired of this subservient crap I snorted. She looked up dropping her glasses to their diamond chain. “Oh, I’m sorry. Take a seat.” She pointed with her pen to the smallish chair strategically placed in front of her desk just for this encounter. “Coffee?”

“No. No thanks.” I could be a smug prick. But now, at the moment of truth, I was starting to sweat into my already wet suit.

“You’ve been here, how long? Four or five years?”

“Three.” I tried not to sound like I was correcting her.

“Fit. I’m not sure how to describe it. You know it when you see, feel it.” She paused, looked down, and sighed, “and you know when you don’t.”

Like porn? No don’t say that.

Suddenly, the gorilla was back. I tried a deep breath, but it didn’t prevent the trembling. I had all that debt. But it was just stuff. Getting fired was so belittling I wasn’t sure I could continue. Without a drink.

“Fit?” I’d needed to say something. “I went to your classes.” Too defensive.” I’ve tried to be more tactful.” It was stupid, but I forged ahead. “Can you give me more of what you mean?”

Her lips twisted like she’d just swallowed bad medicine. She knew I was staring at her mouth and I could tell she didn’t like it.

“We have a culture. People here.” Again with the lips. I tried not to look. She placed her hand over her mouth. She poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher engraved with two tennis players. I hated the game. “The way people treat each other. You,” she paused, sipping the water, ice clinking in the glass, “act different, it makes people feel awkward, uncomfortable. It insults them.”

I do that. I know. Sometimes because that’s the way I am and sometimes because I feel awkward.  It’s worse with women. I don’t fit. And there were women everywhere around here. I needed this job. But I needed not to have my ego torn from my chest more than this job. How could I tell people that I got canned, separated, replaced, whatever the buzzword was this month for getting fired?

But I tried. “We’re ahead of budget. Three years ago you were in the… crapper. People are happy. Patient Satisfaction rising.”

“You make the staff uncomfortable.”

“Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for?

“See. You blurt things without thinking. You confront our doctors. This morning with Bjorn.”

The asshole already got to her. “He’s an asshole.”

“Again. You don’t think.”

Actually I think about what I’m going to blurt out and then I do it anyway. That gets me into trouble.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors. I decided right there I wanted out. “Thank you for the opportunity to work here. I learned a lot from you.” I was unaware I could say such bullshit so sincerely.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t respect me. It’s written all over you.” I didn’t, it was, and like the asshole I am, rarely tried to hide it. Now I saw where it got me. Out the fucking door.

“You may not believe this Greta, but I am sorry if I have caused you or others any harm.”

She studied me. She looked down at her desk. Shook her head. Face softening. Lips normal. “You have a lot of talent. Learn how to use it without shoving it in people’s faces.”

“I do that when I’m feeling less than.” I did, and I also knew that an asshole doesn’t evoke much empathy.

“Talk to HR about your separation package and your rights. You can come back this weekend and clean out your personal belongings or do it today. Your choice. Please place the articles on this list in this envelope and deliver to HR by Monday.” She handed me the list and the envelope. She extended her hand. I grasped it. She gripped mine firmly. “I wish you well.”

I believe she did. But I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe that’s part of what she meant about fit. I get these feelings, they burn inside me until they force their way out. They do me no good. And here I was again.

Everybody knew. Her assistant. Jenna. Security, who now stood at the door, just in case. They reported to me. I was the last to know. My pride was shattered. Fear filled my chest. I tried to hold my head up. It’d be over soon. I’d done it to others. Now it was my turn. The second time for me. The first time. I was a kid, twenty-two, helper on a beer truck. I wasn’t stealing, it was the driver. I didn’t rat him out.

Out the door. The torrent had turned to a drizzle. I walked aimlessly towards my car searching for my keys. Should I leave? Go back to my office? It really didn’t matter. Two hours ago I was in charge of multi-million dollar budgets and hundreds of people, who at times respected or feared me. Now some would be celebrating and some might be mourning my demise. Shortly, I’d be forgotten. Everybody survives without you, to think they won’t is bullshit. Anything else is an over assessment of my importance. I’m just a guy. Not a savior.

The wind had died. I was both sweating and shivering. I felt very much alone. A year was going to be hard to get.

I had nothing to report, and no one to report to. It was barely noon. I hadn’t spoken to my ex in twelve years. My two boys were gone, one in Fiji teaching yoga and meditation, the other living in the city at a job he’d just started. They didn’t need my grief. My dog loved me, but lately it seemed like I bored him. Most likely when I got home I’d find a pile on the floor to welcome me.

I’d clean out the office later. I found my car in the visitor lot where I always parked. I pressed my fob. Nothing, not a twitch or honk or anything. Again. Nothing. Dead. Just like me. I stabbed the key into the door and twisted the lock open. I slid into the seat. My soggy suit stuck to my chilled skin.

And yes, Rebecca was gone. After four years she’d left the ring on the nightstand and shut the door. She had pushed for that ring. But we never set the date. Never called me her fiancé. Walked out with a sad look on her face, but not enough sadness to get her to stay. Maybe we weren’t a good fit either. I don’t think it was the drinking. I kept that from her pretty good. And the few times I didn’t she joined in. Her reasons were just as clear as Greta’s. “We’re going nowhere. We don’t communicate. You’re far away and we have no future.” Stuff I knew was more true than not. So instead of fighting for us, I let us drift away.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors.

A triple Dewar’s White Label with a splash of water would go good right now, but I was almost at a year. The last time I had that drink I woke up in Mexico laying on a cot embracing a bearded goat. Turns out I’m not a farm animal kind of guy.  So I couldn’t let Rebecca’s rejection and the evisceration by Greta with all its accompanying humiliation drive me to the bottle.

I could hear Tommy telling me “cunning, baffling, powerful”. He talked like that. He was my sponsor. And he worried too much.

I should call him. I always felt better when I did. He’d chew my ass. But I was sixty, not a kid. And I just got fired.

I started the car. Cold air blasted my legs. I was jumpy, rubbing my hands together, waiting for the air to warm. Some idiot was barking on sports talk radio. I didn’t need his big mouth yelling at me. He was trying to make everything sound important or profound, but like he was from the neighborhood. He probably was a media-wise shill, from an Ivy League school, knocking down a couple hundred K a year, selling Viagra to guys who didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the day. Now, I was one of them. How long before I started calling in?

I’d call Tommy instead. He’d give me his crap, and I’d listen, then feel better, and then he’d throw in, “Let’s go to a meeting.” A meeting was his answer for everything. Sometimes, you know, it’s not. Sometimes you have to hit the problem between the eyes. He’d always say “Pause, pray, proceed.” Sometimes it was just too much. I threw on Puccini’s Tosca instead. Depressing as hell, full of torture, murder, and suicide, but the music was beautiful.

I backed up the car. The white Crown Vic I signed a requisition for just months ago edged closer. For Christ’s sake, what did Greta think? I was going to go nuts? Randy, the old guy, sat behind the wheel, Brylcreemed hair and weird handlebar mustache. Junior, his sidekick, a steroid pumped over-caffeinated blonde kid coiled next to him, ready to jump out of the car. Both carefully watching to make sure I left without incident. Security. Highlands’ finest.

I threw it into gear. Randy and Junior in pursuit. What the hell, give them something to do, I’d liven up their day, and make them earn their money. I drove slowly around the campus heading towards Greta’s office. Would they just follow me or flip on their lights? Training would indicate caution, but no lights. I shouldn’t be doing this. One was old, near retirement, and the other’s juice-strained mind was totally unpredictable. As I exited the campus they looked relieved, staring between the wipers on the Crown Vic. With a nod they each saluted, acknowledging my final departure. I was touched by their deference and as always, disappointed in my behavior.

[forgottenotes]

looking back at our 17s, i have stopped counting. but so far, this is where i stand. I’m writing this in order to flush out all the bad about the past, so that i won’t have to bringing it up again. PS, i love you.

I was only 25 when I met him. I was recovering from a heartbreak that I took every passing chance that I might get another love. He came along, so charming and full of himself. He’s smart and bright and he looked like someone who’s going to be something for the next 5-10 years. He got a lot of potential and also very promising. Now I’m going 28 and I am convincing myself that this is the man I wanted to marry.

I got an instant crush on him on the third day of our encounters. Just by a look from his eyes and I fell down on my knees. The next thing I know I declared how I feel that I wanted us to be more than just flirty friends, and he said yes.

IT all happened quickly and we’re so distant, I missed all the red flags along the way. He had some issues, he’s a temperament man, but at first I thought I was because of his stressed at work. He was never available and was always ignorant, and when he was confronted, he’ll get all impulsive and defensive and denied everything, he’ll do gaslighting and blaming things to me, as a way to distract me from the truth that he’s been unfaithful. But I accept everything. We rarely see each other but I put my trust and faith in him. I have no doubt of everything he said. We had the same circle of friends is another reason why I never do a background check on him.

He met my family, he come and visits me sometimes, and we had our times. Yet deep down I know something was off, but I can never tell. My gut always told me that I should not believe this man and I always ignore that. Until one day I finally found what he kept hidden in his drawer. But I believed him, I believe every word, every story, every promises.

Yet he kept lied. He kept breaking promises. He broke my heart over and over and over and over again.

He lied almost about everything. Big things, small things, I don’t even know if anything he said to me was true. I don’t know if he truly loves me, or it’s all just a lie.

My heart crushed. I feel betrayed. I was lied to, cheated over and over and over again and he kept on doing things that he knows will hurt me. Love? All of this time it was all just one sided. I got fooled.  IT was the blackest day and I could never see him the same way ever since.

I tried to rationalize everything. Did I wasn’t good enough for him? Was I too protective? Did I too spoil? Did I too ignorant? Did I careless? Did I love him less? What have I done to him that he tricked me? But no, I was never too protective. I was always freeing because I trusted him, even if my own parents told me he wasn’t good for me, but I fought them, I believe this man was not like what they said. But it’s true. This man was always a bag of disappointment.  Why did he cheat on me? He told me his ex was sleeping with other man before, he should have known that IT IS cheating and it is hurting and it is unforgivable. But why? was that all lie too?

But I am a woman and I am in love. That makes me a blind fool that’s willing to get hurt by the faith that someone might change for her. Woman, always try to fix their man. It’s in our stupid nature to fix something. Maybe that is why women attracted to bad boys more often. I accepted him again, forgive him, and I tried, God knows how hard--  I’m still trying to learn how to trust him until this day.

Struggling with my own logic, my heart declares that I should see him as a new man and love him all over again. But my mind and my heart was so wounded that I built my own defense mechanism. I kept my rage. I seek vengeance. I wanted him to be hurt like what he did to me. I wanted him to feel how it is to be betrayed, how hurt it is lied to, to be cheated. I wanted him to feel my pain.

Okay, frankly, I was trying to make sense of it all, why he did what he did to me. I read journals, articles, consult the shrink (I myself was a patient), talk to every psychologist friend I had. Of course I didn’t tell them it’s me or my partner, I don’t know if they know, I don’t care. But they all sing the same song.

I asked them to give me the worst and the best scenario.  They said, all I can do is to accept things or to let go. If I decided to accept things, it means I have to prepare to get hurt, with a reward greater than anything in this world; his love as a man who’ll commit and change himself to be good for the woman he claimed to be his future, for good, forever. If I decided to accept things, I also have to accept the possibility of the worst outcome: that he’s a sociopath, compulsive liar with a lack of empathy and no concept of commitment and will never ever be able to maintain any relationship with other human being, that’s he’s rotten to the core, and nothing in this world could ever fix that. In other word, he did not deserve any chance or love from any other decent human being.

If I choose to go; which they all thought is the best way, I should seek peace for myself and start to open up again for any possibilities to come. Either way, I should realize that my happiness is within.

I choose to stay. I choose to accept things as they come. As I told you, I’m a woman in love. I am blinded, maybe. I am a fool, indeed. This is unreasonable decision that hopefully I will never regret.

But in the process of accepting things, i have lost myself. I changed. The wound and heartache and all the negative emotions have taken the best of me.  I become an insecure annoying moody bitch. With irrational decision, come irrational acts. I doubt everything, questioned everything, everyday. I gave him no room to breathe in order to protect myself from being hurt again. Every day I am struggling with my own thoughts, I was caught in the battle between what’s wrong or right, between reality and fantasy. I cried for no reason, for the wound cut open, almost every night. I become bitter inside and all the heartache eats me away. My words and acts were becoming a sign of punishment, I resent him. I resent us. I convinced myself he’s the reason of all my pain, that ever since he lied and cheated he’s no more than a man with no honor. To me, he has no more pride for all his broken promises and wrong doing. He’s half less than a decent man. I wanted him to suffer like I did and there’s not a day I made him forget all of his wrongdoing. I wanted to get even. I admit that there were times I tried not to care about for this man. There were times where I think he don’t deserve my attention at all, I was so hurt by the fact he did all he wanted in my back, knowingly I’d get hurt. IT’s a pain I will never recover from.

And I hate things that happen to me. In the end, it made him lie to me more. With this attitude, he might found another reason to start acting out again, or worse, he’ll blame his craving for another girl because I was always giving him hard times.  But I can’t help it because everytime I remember what he has done my heart is breaking all over again, everytime I got a new facts about the past coming up on surface, I felt betrayed again. Everytime he ignored me, not answering my calls, I got this chills he does that on purpose because he was busy dating someone else. Everytime he does not reply or even read my messages that was because I was never important to begin with. I feel worthless. I feel useless. I feel like I love a man who doesn’t love me back. I tried to repress all these wounds as they starting to bleed in my head, I left it unspoken, but it escapes through my words and my acts. I ignored him back. I act like he didn’t exist. I wanted to show him that he has no rights to ask forr anything because everything I am now is because his fault. I wanted him to know that he lost all his privilege as an equal lover once he cheated and lied. Forever I will always be in doubt. This relationship was always one sided since the beginning, this whole relationship was a lie, bullshit, because he does things that he knew will ruin this forever. I will never be this damaged and this wounded if it’s not because of him in the first place. I will never be this bitter and pointing fault every time if it’s not because I wanted him to feel what I feel.  I admit I might have hurt him intentionally. Which one? It’s many things, up until the day before I begged him.

I begged him? He’s to blame for every wrong doing I did to him yet I begged him? Yes, I know, I realized that this is not the way to fix relationship. He said he’ll leave, I don’t want it and I admit I was wrong so I begged him to stay. That was the first and the last time I’ll ever beg for someone. And I tried my best to be good ever since.

And after all I did, why hasn’t he left yet? MY hurt feelings told me because he knew I’ll always be forgiving and trusting no matter what he did, unless I got a prove he does so. Honestly, I am worried that up until today, he’s still flirting with other girls, he still seeing someone else, he still lied, I am still unimportant, I am still ignored, and that I was nothing but a burden he wished to get rid soon. My hurt feelings told me that he’s too afraid to break up with me because he’s a coward, he doesn’t want the blame on him, he wants his name to be good to other, he wanted to me break up with him. But I swear I’ll only do so when I know he’s been cheating again. So, he’ll be stuck with me doubting him all over the place, until he’s proven innocent or the otherwise.

But seeking revenge is just a waste of time, isn’t it? After all, the worst case scenario is that my man was a sociopath with lack of empathy toward others, even for his significant other. No matter how much I tried to hurt him, it won’t do a thing. That he was never sorry doing things he admit was wrong , that he will do it over and over and over again despite his fake promises and insincere tears, begging, and apologies. He only said sorry because he got caught. And he only stayed because he wanted to look good, not because he genuinely love me and wanted to be better.

Then I realized these, all of these negative thoughts and traits, and words and acts, all of these things I’ve done, was not love. There is no more love if these things continue to take place. I can’t forgive him and if I have changed myself just to be with this man, this is not love. This is not I and I will never going to live with this negative acts and thoughts forever.

I haven’t trusted him. Indeed. I haven’t really forgiven him, it’s true. As long as I wanted him to feel my pain, I will never be at peace. Because no matter what I do, he’ll never felt the way I felt, he’ll never feel how hurt it is to be betrayed and lied to, he’ll never have the same wound as I did. I was mad by this fact but all I can do is to accept.

It is easier to let go, but why didn’t I do so? Every time goodbyes were just within reach, every time every chances of going away from all the pain, never I wanted to take it. Why? Because I remember this man was not all bad. Because this man were once my world, were once my happiness, were once the reason I smile from ear to ear, because this man once saved me. No matter if it’s all just fake memories or was never true, but what I felt was real and for a moment, I had the happiest time of my life with him.  I made a vow that I’ll leave only because I know he lied betrayed and cheated me again. Trust me, no matter what the circumstances, I’ll do what I said I’d do.  

All of this time, I have never been fair to him. I have never been really given him space to be good, to prove himself as a decent man with pride, a man to live by his words and actions. All I did was to break him to his limit point. It’s not good. If I wanted him to be good I should give him chance to do so. It’s his job to be a decent human being, not mine. I will never alter what he did and I could never fix what’s already broken from someone. Just like I pull myself when I saw him, this time it’s his time to stand up again. It’s his time to be a gentleman he said he was; a loyal, true to his words and actions, loving, caring, patience, proud and decent human being, not a manipulative coward cheater liar asshole that always gaslighting and being impulsive and defensive because he knew he’s wrong and he denied that he’s bad, like he did once.  He’ll be good for himself, he’ll commit to what’s good for him, his job, his family, his relationship with other. No more lies and deceitful and betrayal, hopefully. Because there’s no life lower than a life full of imitation.

Has he changed? I don’t know and I will never know. All I know he’s been doing good and looking good to me, like him always do, just like the days when he tricked me. I could never tell the different. Maybe this time, it is real, maybe he’s being honest all this time, maybe he does wanted to change, maybe he really is sorry, and maybe he’s true when he said he’d stop doing what he did.

All I can do is to accept. I accept his apologies, whether it’s sincere or not. I accept his faults. I accept his flaws. I accept my heartache, my wounds. I accept that he’s trying to change. I accept all his words. I accept that we’re in a bad shape and we’re going in the same boat trying to fix things to be better.  I accept that I have been as bad as he was and I am not proud of it. I accept that this is the man I wanted.  I accept that he’s the man I love and that we’re on the same war to make our future happen.

All I wanted is a man I could love and trust and to build a family with, with honesty and loyalty and less abusive, different like how we used to be raised. I’m trying to understand that our flaws were the imprint of our abusive years growing up, and I don’t want that to my family. I just wanted a family where my children will be better than their good father and mother, where lies is not allowed, where cheating and stealing is the greater sin and that breaking promises is the sign of the loss of pride. There’s no honor in not keeping your words. I wanted children where they could look up to their parents and said that they’re proud to have us as a parent. I don’t want any story in the future, where I told my kids that their parents separate because one of them was a cheater and a liar. Can we really make that happen?

I hope if he read this and he has done the worst scenario, he’d be a man for once and admit things and just end this fake relationship, that is the only way he could regain his pride, and for us to stop all those tiresome arguing and endless fights over misunderstanding, to stop all the pain and heartache..I’ll never regret anything. And we could end this less bitter. Hopefully i was wrong. And there is nothing i could do about it. 

I truly believe that IF someday what happen is the worst scenario, God will show me, and I’ll accept it with no regrets.  Then I’ll live with the consequences and by that time I’ll be long gone and move on to seek for somewhere or someone who’ll love me as I do. At least I have loved him the best. I’ll love him best and unconditional just like how I did back then. IT’s hard, but I’m willing and trust me, I’m on my way to believing. Even if finally we failed to build what we always wanted, I could always say that the fault was never and will never be mine.

this is the last time i’d ever talk or mention anything about this. up from this point, i’ll just pretend that was never happen, no matter how hard it’ll be. I know God will show us the way, just like He showed me back then. 

-