#to be clear this is still WILDLY unhealthy and if it was real you SHOULD leave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

primasveraas-writing · 3 years

Text

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

#roy kent #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley imagine #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley x roy #angst #oops im so sorry yal #rebecca welton

79 notes · View notes

hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

Text

Like a Moth to a Flame Pt. 3

Back at it again and this chapter was fun! Next one we’ll be getting into some more juicy bits but I needed a setup for the scene. So enjoy my friendly little deviants!

Mild TW: mentions of blood, violence, attempted assault, and (very) minor character death

As always, I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for the inspo

Part 1 Part 2

•••••

You feel numb walking down the darkened sidewalk towards home, shock and frustration making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It had been several weeks since you last saw Mirio, and there hadn’t been any reports of strange, paranormal activity in any other part of town. At least, not according to the papers. Even after the landlord had coughed up the money to replace the ruined fire escape, you’d yet to catch another glimpse of the golden mothman. Night after night you’d put out bowls of sugar water, stayed up late, even pulled a few strings of old Christmas lights out of storage to decorate your portion of the new railing. But come morning, you always found the bait untouched and it left you feeling drained and disappointed. You knew your nightly routine was starting to feel unhealthy, obsessive really, and that your performance at work had been gradually slipping as a result. But it wasn’t until today, when your boss called you in after your shift ended and handed you that soul-crushing pink slip, that you realized just how far it had fallen. And on top of all that, you’d missed the last bus home, forcing you to take a literal walk of shame back to your apartment.

“What am I gonna do?” You breathe into the crisp night air, unconsciously reaching into the pocket of your coat to fish out your phone. Without even looking at the screen, you unlock the device and open your camera roll, tapping on a folder marked “Moth” before finally looking down. There was only one picture on file, but you’d seen it so many times it was practically burned into your retinas. The image was grainy and blurred (not to mention overexposed beyond the point of recognition due to the flash), but you couldn’t give a damn about any of that. The only clear part of the image, the only part you cared about, was the pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. For some unknown reason, the camera hadn’t distorted them, perfectly capturing their glassy, sapphire hue and wide-eyed expression of curiosity.

And you had spent countless hours poring over it.

In the beginning, you’d convinced yourself it was nothing more than a piece of evidence, proof of your sanity and a confirmation of his existence. But as the days passed, you’d come to take comfort in it, more often than not allowing your mind to wander freely back to the memory of his voice in your ear and the warm weight of his head on your shoulder. You hadn’t even posted it to any of the online forums, jealously hoarding it the same way a dragon protects its treasure.

“Mirio.” You exhale softly, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the cracked surface of your phone screen. “I wish I could fly away from my problems like you. Must be nice having wings…”

“Hey there, baby!”

A gruff, slurring voice abruptly snaps you back to reality, head whipping up to see a trio of men leaning against a rundown building across the street. Their faces are indistinguishable, partially obscured by shadows thrown from a lone street lamp shining over their heads. But you can clearly make out the brown paper bags they have clutched in their fists, the material crumpled and molded into the tell-tale shape of liquor bottles as they continue to heckle you.

“Why dontcha come over here and hang out with us?” The biggest brute calls out, beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. “We’ll show ya a good time.”

“Yeah, a real good time.” The man to his left cackles. His lewd remark earns him a few snickers from his seedy friends while a wave of revulsion courses down your spine. Catcalling wasn’t exactly foreign to you; in this part of town, it was practically expected. But their drunken words and leering eyes make you acutely aware of just how empty the streets are right now, devoid of other people or passing cars to offer protection (or witnesses) should they decide to take things too far. Still, you straighten your spine and snap your eyes forward, long-since trained to know it’s best to ignore their booze-fueled jeers and keep walking.

“Awww, don’t be like that, baby!” You hear one of them call from your right, “We just wanna have some fun!”

You keep your gaze trained on the looming silhouette of your apartment complex, soles of your shoes clicking against the cold pavement as you grip the phone in your hand even more tightly. You’re close enough to see some of the lights are still on your neighbors windows, probably cleaning up from dinner or settling in for a smoke and a drink. With the promise of safety so close at hand, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder….

And feel your blood run cold as you see the men casually strolling across the empty street to fall in line behind you. They’re whispering amongst themselves as they take a few more swigs from their bottles, their shuffling gait and longer legs quickly closing the gap between you. You pick up your own pace in turn, walking much more briskly now and earning a reproachful growl from the men behind you.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” One of them snarls, “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s rude to ignore people?”

You don’t respond to his jab, too afraid to speak regardless, and set off at a jog, determined to put as much distance between yourself and these morons as possible. But that action proves itself to be a grave mistake, as you hear the footsteps behind you pick up in speed. Before you can fully register what’s happening, one of the men appears over your right shoulder, laughing maniacally as he gives you a rough shove and sends you careening off course and into an adjacent alleyway. The unexpected move knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground and knocking your head into the concrete with enough force to set your teeth rattling. Even worse, you lose your grip on your phone, hearing it skitter off into the darkness as the men crowd into the alley after you.

“I think she could use a lesson in manners! Ain’t that right, boys?” Their leader asks mockingly, seconds before he grabs you by the hair and roughly hauls you back onto your feet.

“Please!” You yelp, both from fear and the pain shooting throughout your scalp, “I-I have money. You can take whatever you want!”

“Whatever we want, huh?” He says with a sneer, his face close enough you can smell the sour aroma of cheap bourbon and old cigarettes on his breath.

“Then gimme a kiss, sweetheart.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his free arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place as he tries to force his tongue past your sealed lips and down your throat. Your screams for help are muffled by the kiss, and it’s all you can do to push against his chest and thrash wildly in his hold. His companions stand faithfully behind him, egging him on with bouts of derisive laughter intermingled with hoots to “hurry up and get on with it” so they can have their turn. After a few moments he pulls away for air, arm leaving your waist and clapping the hand that was tangled in your hair over your mouth. Meanwhile, his buddies move to either side of you to grab you by the shoulders and force down on your knees.

“Since you didn’t feel like talkin’…” He growls dangerously, free hand toying with the buckle of his belt. “Let’s see if that pretty little mouth is good for somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen as his belt comes undone with a soft clink, tears pricking at the corners as he leers down at you. Instinct takes over as he attempts to undo his fly, and before he can move his hand you jerk your head back to partially free your mouth. Then you bite down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

He hastily wrenches his hand from your mouth before you can do any more damage while you take in a desperate lungful of fresh air. A quick glance at his hand shows you’d successfully broken the skin, leaving a perfect, crescent-shaped indent that was quickly beading up with fresh blood.

“Help! Somebody help! Rape! RA-!”

You’re abruptly silenced by a quick blow to your right cheek, delivered by one of the men still holding you down. Throbbing pain radiates out from the point of impact, making your vision white out and earning a cruel laugh from your captors.

“You little bitch!” The injured man spits at you, “Think you’re so tough, huh?”

A small click forces your eyes to open, only to be met with a glint of metal in the light of the full moon: a switchblade.

“Let’s see how tough you are when I slice up that pretty face of yours. Starting with that fuckin’ mouth.”

With a twirl of the blade, he advances towards you, relishing in your helpless state as greedy eyes roam the plane of your terrified face. You’re too scared to scream anymore, eyes squeezing shut as you brace yourself for the first cut. But instead of searing pain, there’s an odd rustling noise, followed by a colossal thump that seems to shake the very earth beneath you. The men holding your shoulders abruptly release you, backing away amidst a slew of bewildered curses. Slowly, you crack one eye open to find a new, dark figure standing in front of you, blotting out the moon itself and effectively shielding you from your would-be rapist.

“M-Mirio?” You gasp, voice wavering from disbelief and shock. The golden cryptid looks over his shoulder at you, only giving a chittering cry at the sound of your voice.

“What the fuck!?” The man behind him screeches, “The fuck is that thing?!”

Mirio’s head snaps around to face the terrified thug, wings slowly raising in a show of strength and dominance as he lets out a low, menacing growl.

“Y/N…” He snarls, taking a short step forward and shifting into a crouch. “Mine.”

“S-stay back!” The man stammers, jabbing the switchblade into the empty air in front of him like a puny saber. “I’m warning you!”

Mirio gives a low hiss in response, wings fully extended as he lowers himself to place one hand on the ground. You’re frozen on the spot, hardly daring to breathe as you sense the slightest movement could set him off. For a moment, everything is still. And then, spurred on by loyalty, liquid courage or a combination of the two, the other thugs charge Mirio from behind. Moving faster than you could comprehend, Mirio whips around with a high-pitched shriek, landing a powerful swipe to the center of one man’s chest and sending him crashing to the pavement beside you. The other one was luckier, successfully jumping onto the monster’s back and causing Mirio to rear up on his back legs once more. The attacker then attempts to wrap his arms around Mirio’s neck, perhaps hoping to cut off his air supply or at least distract him long enough for the third man to join the fray.

But Mirio was obviously stronger and smarter than he was expecting.

Clawed hands scratch at the attacker’s face and shoulders before the winged behemoth suddenly flops onto his back, bringing his full weight down on the foolhardy attacker with a sickening crunch. Rolling back onto all fours, the man is left gasping for air on the ground, possibly with a punctured lung or (at the very least) a few broken ribs. Undeterred by his pitiful cries for mercy, Mirio looses an unearthly roar before grabbing the man by the front of his sweat-soaked shirt, rising to his full height, and tossing him towards the empty street like he weighed no more than a ragdoll.

“MINE!” He bellows, “MIIIIIIINE!”

“Fuck you!” The remaining man screams in return, rushing towards the towering beast with his switchblade held aloft. “Die, you fuckin’ freak!”

Mirio shifts back into a fighting stance, his back to you as he lets out another spine-chilling howl and rushes forward to greet the oncoming attack. At the same time, the moon moves behind a cloud, throwing the alleyway into inky darkness as you shriek and cover your head with your hands. With your eyes screwed shut, all you can hear is the man’s incensed grunts and yells, overshadowed by Mirio’s own enraged roars and the scratch of his nails on the dirty concrete. After a few seconds of struggle, Mirio gives a piercing cry, followed by the wet sound of tearing flesh and a strangled, gurgling noise. The fight ends as suddenly as it started, the only sounds now coming from your own terrified whimpers and the clatter of the switchblade falling to the ground.

Peeking out from between your fingers, you find the sky has started to lighten once more, the moon reappearing from behind the clouds and washing the bizarre scene in an unsettling, ethereal hue. The scrawniest attacker is still sprawled out next to you, unconscious but mercifully alive given the force of his impact. Mirio stands facing towards you, breathing heavily as the wings on his back shiver and shake. And at his feet, eyes wide and lifeless, is the leader’s body, his face covered in deep claw marks and a puddle of blood seeping out from underneath him like an oil slick.

“You… you killed him.” You breathe, “Mirio, h-he’s dead.”

Mirio doesn’t make any move to acknowledge your words, simply sinking to his knees with a rumbling groan. He seems almost sad, remorseful even, with the way he hangs his head and curls his bloodied hands into fists atop his knees. In this new light, you also notice something on the mothman’s left forearm: a clean, shallow gash. That must have been the cause for his shrieking earlier.

Slowly you stand once more, swallowing the lump in your throat to take a few tentative steps toward the creature.

“Are you… hurt?” You ask softly, noting the way he jolts and then shrinks away from you. You’re only a few feet away now, close enough to make out the faint stripes and eye-spot pattern on his wings. You nervously crouch down, balancing on the balls of your feet but keeping a safe distance should he turn aggressive. A chilly breeze blows through the alley, pushing against your back and making the creature raise his head up slightly, sniffing the air. His gaze locks on your face, glassy eyes wide as he slowly puts his palms on the ground and gets back on all fours. He moves one clawed hand closer to you and you start for a second, taking a quick step back before catching sight of the streaks of blood dripping from his forearm once more.

“Hurt?” You say again, pointing a shaky finger at the wound. His eyes follow to where you’re pointing and he lets out a chittering mewl, lifting up his injured arm. His long, slithering tongue snakes out from his mouth and he begins to lap at the blood, wincing at the taste. You’re unsure if this is real or an act. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe a creature so obviously powerful as him would be so concerned over little more than a scratch. Then again, you feel certain Mirio is too much of a gentle soul at heart to fake the whole “kicked-puppy” routine.

“No. Don’t do that.” You chide gently, tone forcing the monster to stop licking at himself and look up at you. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish around until your fingers close around a crumpled, but thankfully unused, piece of tissue. When you pull it out of your pocket, Mirio’s eyes narrow into slits and he bares his teeth to let out a small, warning hiss.

“Easy, boy.” You say soothingly, “It can’t hurt you. See?”

You extend your free hand and pat the tissue against your own palm, demonstrating it’s benign nature. Mirio’s face gradually relaxes as he watches your display, eventually crawling over the corpse on the ground to get closer to you. You’re now practically nose-to-nose with the mothman, dropping your empty hand by your side and using the tissue to gesture at the cut on his arm.

“Let me help.”

Mirio gives a short blink before shifting into a squatting position similar to your own, carefully extending his injured arm towards you. Doing your best to not cause him any pain, you carefully start to dab at the areas around the cut, mopping up the spilled blood as the monster watches you work.

“Y/N.” He says softly, his voice causing you to look up from your task. Mirio raises his other hand to touch the right-hand side of your face, sending a bolt of prickly pain shooting through your skull and making you wince. You’d been so caught up in the chaos and adrenaline-fueled high that you’d forgotten about your own injuries. No doubt you’ve got a sizable bruise forming from where that thug had punched you earlier. Mirio’s stiffens up at the your response, brow furrowing in concern as he quickly pulls his hand away.

“H-hurt?”

“A little…” You mumble in response, “But I’ll be alright.”

He stills for a moment and you offer him a small, pained smile, hoping to reassure him. And the next thing you know he’s moving, clutching you to his chest in a protective embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You squeak a little at the unexpected move, body going rigid in fear of being attacked. But soon his sweet scent and warmth fully envelop your senses, causing you to relax in his hold.

“Hurt.” He whimpers in your ear, “Y/N hurt. My fault.”

You can feel your heart clench at his words. He sounds so guilty. Helpless even. Like a child crying to their mother for comfort. Before you can think better of it, you wrap your arms around him in return, worming your hands underneath his wings to rest on his well-defined shoulder blades.

“Oh, Mirio no! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to hurt me.”

His body begins to shake, his breathing turning into ragged gasps as he squeezes you even more tightly. One hand leaves your back to cradle your head, the sheer size of his fingers tangling in your hair making you feel like doll-like. The two of you stay locked together like this for a few minutes, holding onto each other in the moonlight as Mirio continues to tremble beneath your touch.

“Mirio. I-” You softly breathe, causing him to raise his golden head and look you in the eye. You have so many questions for him, so many things you like to say. But all that comes out is a quiet, “Thank you.”

He cocks his handsome head to one side before a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, pearly teeth reappearing as he gives a short nod of understanding.

“Mirio… keep Y/N safe.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” You say with a weak chuckle, reaching up one hand to brush an errant strand of blonde hair away from his face. “I’m safe now.”

Mirio coos as he presses his cheek into your palm, the same way he’d done outside your apartment complex all those weeks ago. His eyes close contentedly and you can’t help but smile at his blissful expression.

“Y/N. Mine.” He purrs.

You freeze at the bold statement, pulling your hand away and earning a disappointed mewl from Mirio.

“You said that before. Mirio, what do you mean–?”

“You there! Freeze!”

A familiar voice cuts off your question nanoseconds before a powerful flashlight is aimed directly at Mirio’s back. Even though you can’t see around his massive frame, you can tell it’s the same officer who caught you the last time Mirio visited you.

Only now, the cornered cryptid hadn’t had the chance to fly away.

“Hands where I can see them!” The officer demands, flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. Mirio makes no such move. Instead, he rises to his feet, hooking one arm under your thighs and taking you up with him.

“Wait! Mirio, don’t!” You shriek, desperately grabbing at his chest and mane as he turns to face the officer. It’s a terrifying sight for the poor man: three bodies strewn across a bloody alley, a blue-eyed beast, and a helpless civilian seemingly taken captive.

“D-drop the hostage!” He stammers out. “Do it, or I’ll shoot!”

You can tell from the way the light wavers that he’s shaking and you suspect the only reason he hasn’t fired his weapon yet is because he doesn’t want to risk hitting you. Your eyes flit wildly between his and Mirio’s face, finding his fangs are bared as he lets out a warning hiss.

“Y/N.” Mirio snarls, wings slowly unfurling behind him as he bends his knees and tightens his grip on you. “Mine!”

With that final declaration, Mirio gives his wings a powerful flap and kicks off from the ground. You scream as you take flight, tiny fingers digging into the solid muscle of Mirio’s chest and neck for safety. Between the sound of rushing wind and your own heartbeat jackhammering in your ears, you can barely make out the officer’s voice telling him to stop, followed by a rogue gunshot. And then there’s nothing. Nothing save for the wind in your hair and Mirio’s howl of victory as he carries you ever higher into the starry night sky.

“Stop!” You shriek, cold air stinging your battered face and forcing your eyes closed. “Put me down! Mirio, let go!”

Mirio doesn’t respond to your demands, either unable or unwilling to hear you as he sets off over the rooftops. After a few minutes of careful flying, he abruptly changes course, veering off westward and heading for the woods that ring the city limits.

“Keep Y/N safe.” Mirio says resolvedly, his voice rumbling through his chest and directly in your ear.

“Y/N… mine.”

•••••

Tags: @middevil465 @delightfully-anonymous

#bnha mothman au #mothrio #mothmanmirio #mha x reader #togata mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: attempted assault #mha #bnha

24 notes · View notes

homesickhalfling · 2 years

Text

Barry S3 E2 - my thoughts as the episode aired. What do they call that? Live blogging? Whatever I'll put it under a cut to spare you

- wow he's so hot just leaning there fuck

- title card cut always makes me laugh

- THE COOLEST GIRL IN THE WORLD ♡ Elsie Fisher!

- "people don't argue in perfectly scripted arguments"

- the music changes when he enters the room. There's like a dull hum when he's there

- A PURPOSE

- oh my god the editing is great in this show. The slow pull and one sided perspective of this conversation.

- Pacing. Cinematography. Writing. Timing. THIS IS HOW YOU MAKE A SHOW

- the head hitting again!

- yelling 😳😨 but 🥵😏

- Bill is such a FUCKING GREAT ACTOR

- the hypocrisy of her lie grows. She is writing about standing up to her abuser and getting out from under it (which was a lie) but now its clear to everyone that she never really did get out from under it because she's still being abused

- those poor girls are traumatized

- the door unlocking thing, so funny! How smart the way he sneaks in these organically funny moments into such serious ones

- Barry yelling at Cousineau in the trunk so plainly in front of the security guard that can clearly see there's no one else in the car so he is either (1) crazy and yelling to himself or (2) there's someone in the fuckin trunk???

- skinny papa moment- I've definitely had this moment in real life lmao

- the mug hehe such a tough crime boss drinking out of this silly mug

- you actually can report that to HR! You should! Domestic abuse partners showing up at work has killed many people (like that nurse a few years back) it still falls under workplace violence and harassment

- "You're a bad actor Mr cousineau" LOL

- "literally the worst date ever. I'm not exaggerating this time.. No look, he ordered MILK with dinner!" Fucking KILLED ME

- Africa by Toto again

- aww farmers market and sangria so gay

- Luke and Lorelai!!

- OMG CAITLYN RILEY HEY GIRRRRL!! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU Holy shit

- D'Arcy Carden is so freaking cute 😍

- Barry flipping the script and using Cousineau's speech in his audition... wow

- "everyone deserves a second chance" 💔

- there's a lighthouse on Hanks hand (OFMD brain kicks in)

- "wait are you breaking up with me?" Nnooooo! Hes saying I love you!! Hes saying I love you too much to bear the thought of your death and I need you to live, which is why I have to leave. Amaaaazing heartwrenching writing.

- the extended sound effects as he leaves omg omg so good, way to make me laugh when I'm down

- more Metallica

- the plot exposition in this show is so *chefs kiss* my favourite thing about Barry is it never underestimates the audience. (Its so fucking meta and self aware) the show presents itself to a smart viewer who can glean the story development through the details in set dressing, blocking, lighting, sound, cinematography. It all works to tell the story so perfectly and doesn't try to hammer in the dumb shit we can know just from visual queues with bogged down or overdone dialogue.

- this phone call where she's apologizing after he yelled at her (1) and he's just acting like nothing even happened (2) is a very real (and again wildly self aware and meta) depiction of what an abusive and unhealthy relationship is like! She's stuck doing everything she can (making him dinner, putting on his fav music, buying him a new controller, saying she wants to hear that he's happy) just to placate this damaged man to try and keep his wrath away. This poor girl is just like me... can't keep herself away from damaged men.

-also the writing of her character to always think of herself first in every single scenario is just very organic and consistent and you'd barely notice it if she wasn't so goddam annoying

- Wilhelm scream!!!! YES BILL

- "I don't understandwhy you're leaving me" "you have too many dogs." With the visual gag of all the dogs chasing Cousineau in the background 🤣 (counted over 20 btw)

- "little girl" dude she's literally a grown ass adult

- crazy homeless man

- does he think he's dead? Omg the dog

- OMG BARRY'S THERE "we both committed a little too hard " omg omg so good omg scary 😭 scary smart and hot 🥵👌

- the seat pat!! I am delighted every second of this show

- "can you say it?" 😫 he is so broken omg that is terrifying

- *IMMEDIATELY RESTARTS EPISODE*

- "I swear on Janice's soul not to say a word to anyone".. and then he does!?!? to literally the first person he sees!!! Did she mean nothing to you? Wow

4 notes · View notes

bluescluelessly · 4 years

Text

Tossing the Script out the Airlock (and Good Riddance to it)

[Rating: Teen] || hurt/comfort, suspected infidelity, polyamorous relationships, made up Stewjoni biology because George Lucas didn’t say Obi-Wan wasn’t a little weird and if he’s gonna give his birth planet a stupid name then I’m gonna give him stupid biology tweaks, and use of Dai Bendu, the language of the Jedi (translations at the bottom of the post)

tw: mentions of grooming (because Palpatine)

Ships: Bail Organa/Obi-Wan, Bail/Breya, Anakin/Padmé

Palpatine tries to convince Anakin that Padmé is cheating on him with Obi-Wan. Anakin confronts his friend about it, finds out a bit more than he bargained for, and not at all what he was expecting to.

°|●.*•

From the Revenge of the Sith Novelization:

“That’s why I put you on the Council. If the rumors are true, you may be democracy's last hope.”

Anakin let his chin sink once more to his chest and his eyelids scraped shut. It seemed like he was always somebody’s last hope.

Why did everyone always have to make their problems into his problems? Why can’t people just let him be?

How is he supposed to deal with all this one Padmé could die?

He said slowly, eyes still closed, “you still haven’t told me what this has to do with Obi-Wan.”

“Ah, that – well, that is the difficult part. The disturbing part. It seems that Master Kenobi has been in contact with a certain Senator who is known to be among the leaders of this cabal. Apparently, very close contact. The rumor is that he was seen leaving the Senator’s residence this very morning, at an… unseemly hour.”

“Who?” Anakin opened his eyes and sat forward. “Who is this Senator? Let’s go question him.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin. But the Senator in question is, in fact, a *her*. A woman you know quite well, in fact.”

“You–” He wasn’t hearing this. He couldn’t be. “You mean–”

Anakin choked on her name.

Palpatine gave him a look of melancholy sympathy. “I’m afraid so.”

Anakin coughed his voice back to life. “That’s *impossible!* I would *know*– she doesn’t… she couldn’t–”

“Sometimes the closest,” Palpatine said sadly, “are those who cannot see.”

Revenge of the Sith, Matthew Stover, p. 250

°|●.*•

This is it. Anakin is going to just… ask him. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he finds out Obi-Wan has been sleeping with his wife, but…

Well, he’ll figure that out if it’s true.

He went to Padmé’s apartment, felt for himself the evidence that Obi-Wan had been there.

Now, he needs the truth. He needs to be wrong.

“So… I heard you spent a late night with a senator,” he asks, trying not to sound overly accusing. Obi-Wan always gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Several emotions flicker across Obi-Wan’s face then. He eventually fixes his gaze on Anakin, a modicum of panic in his eyes. Anakin’s heart sinks.

The next words out of his old Master’s mouth, however, catch him by surprise.

“You… know about Bail?”

Anakin’s eyes go wide. No, he didn’t–

– but he can’t help thinking he knew it, it was a male senator –

– “Bail?” He blurts out, confusion showing. “No, Palpatine said–”

“– Palpatine saw me with Bail?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice rising an octave.

“No–” Anakin insists, hands going up in a placating gesture. “Not– I didn’t know about Bail. I uh. Palpatine told me he heard you were seen leaving Padmé Amidala’s Apartment.” He explains, and some of the worry drains from Obi-Wan.

“Oh,” he says, sounding infinitely relieved. “No, I, er. Well, I definitely haven’t been making ‘late visits’ to Senator Amidala.” He gives Anakin a curious sort of look. “I hear she’s spoken for, not that I would pursue her, in any case. It would be… awkward.”

“Awkward?” Anakin asks, feeling as if he’s missing something.

Obi-Wan gives a tired sort of smile. “Besides the fact that my preference is not for the fairer sex; she once made an advance, and I turned her down.” Seeing Anakin’s flaring temper, he is quick to clarify, “long before your knighting, Anakin. But, as I said, awkward.”

Anakin nods, appeased. Then, he remembers there’s a more important topic to focus on here. “So… Bail?”

The reaction is immediate; Obi-Wan’s face blushing a dark red as he looks away. “Yes, I– if you could keep that to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”

To hell with it, Anakin thinks. “Sure Master, I’ll keep your senator a secret if you keep mine.”

“The fact that you think your relationship with Senator Amidala is a secret is adorable,” Obi-Wan responds, a glint of amusement in his eye. “Half the council is still asking me why they weren’t invited to the wedding; I can’t give them an answer, as I wasn’t invited either.”

Anakin looks shocked by that information, which is truly endearing. “Wait, they aren’t mad?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You proved to me that you could put responsibility over your wife on Geonosis. Relationships aren’t forbidden so long as there’s not an unhealthy attachment involved. Anyways, we’ve always bent the rules a bit for you.”

Anakin feels as if a weight has been removed from his shoulders. A weight that Palpatine put there, he thinks.

The old man has been wrong about the Jedi on two accounts now… why does Anakin hold what he says about the Jedi in such regard?

Perhaps he should fact-check more of the Chancellor’s absurd claims.

“Ah.” Anakin responds intelligently. “… so why does your, um, thing with Bail need to stay a secret?”

Obi-Wan’s red cheeks return once more. “Well. A… few reasons. Not that I think I’d be in trouble for it, but… I’d like to respect Bail’s privacy. He is, after all, Married.”

“Does Breha not know?”

“She knows,” Obi-Wan assures his former Padawan. “I wouldn’t agree otherwise. But that doesn’t mean they want the whole senate knowing about their … arrangement with me; or others.”

Again, Anakin nods to show his understanding. “The less people who know, the better. Right…”

“Exactly.”

“Still,” Anakin starts, bemused, “I didn’t take you for the 'mistress’ type.”

A complicated flurry of emotions cross his friend’s face. “… neither do I,” he responds, a little clipped. “I think of myself more as Bail’s type.”

Anakin realizes how insensitive that came off a bit too late. “I’m sorry–”

Obi-Wan waves him off. “It’s difficult to understand when I haven’t explained. Bail is Bi; he generally prefers men, but his heart belongs fully to Breha. I prefer men as well, and I have… a condition… so we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement, in which Bail and I enjoy one another while on Coruscant, as he and Breha cannot be together as often as they’d like to be.”

Anakin gets all that, he does. But one thing sticks out to him that he feels needs to be clarified. “You have a condition?” Is Obi-Wan sick?

If its possible, Obi-Wan grows more embarrassed. “Well, I’m from Stewjon.”

That clears nothing up.

At Anakin’s clueless expression, Obi-Wan sighs and explains. “Right, quick biology lesson. Somewhere down the evolutionary line, it was decided that Stewjonians need more incentive to reproduce. So, while it isn’t necessary in order to live out a full, average life span, our bodies naturally produce more beneficial hormones during sexual intercouse. This means, the more I…” he pauses, looking displeased by the verbal corner he’s painted himself into. “… get laid, the slower I age, the faster I heal, and the less sleep I need. All beneficial to fighting a war, yes?”

That’s all news to Anakin. Fascinating. “So do you have… other arrangements too?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “As of now, just Bail. I could, of course, visit the lower levels to the same effect, but I find it safer and more preferable to have intercourse with someone I like and trust.” Less likely to catch something that way, too.

Anakin nods, strange mixtures of relief and utter confusion swirling in his mind. At least he knows Obi-Wan has no interest in Padmé… but that doesn’t explain the way he felt his presence in the force, in her apartment.

“Okay. Uh.” He hesitates, knowing there’s no real, good way to word this. “Just… to be 100% clear, you’re not having secret meetings with Padmé in an attempt to overthrow Palpatine and the Senate?”

The look Obi-Wan gives Anakin would make someone think he had just grown a second head.

“… no, wherever did you hear such nonsense?”

Anakin rubs the back of his neck, feeling the last bit of worry ebb away. “Just rumors.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Truly, the Senate gossip gets wildly out of hand. I’ll admit, I do on occasion have tea with Padmé, but there’s nothing treasonous about friends visiting one another and trading stories and doing each other’s makeup from time to time.” He pauses. “And while neither of us have very high opinions on Chancellor Palpatine’s term, there’s no plot against him, as far as I am aware. We are both just eager for this war to end, and for him to release his emergency powers so the Republic can return to democracy.”

“You think his rule is undemocratic?” Anakin asks, looking appalled by the idea.

“He’s been in power long past his elected term,” Obi-Wan points out. “A new Chancellor should have been elected already. Over this time, he has used the war to gain far more emergency powers than any one person should hold.”

Sensing Anakin’s impending argument, he continues. “… Of course, this makes it far simpler to fight a war; I simply worry that when the war has ended… he won’t give up his power so easily. He has resisted peace talks, and every other attempt to bring this war to an end sooner. So I… have concerns.” He gives Anakin a tired sort of smile. “But last I checked, he hasn’t yet made it treasonous for Padmé and I to exercise our right to free speech.”

“Of course not,” Anakin responds, sounding distracted. He’s always thought having one person to make decisions was a good thing… or, does he just think that because Palpatine has told him it’s a better idea so many times?

He has many things to question. But, more importantly right now, Obi-Wan mentioned make-up?

Anakin shakes himself from his thoughts, giving his friend a curious look. “Uh. Rewind a second. Did you say Padmé did your make-up?”

“And I did hers,” Obi-Wan answers easily. “We both had dates.”

That would explain why they were, in some cases, sitting closer than friends would; as far as he could tell in the force.

“Bail takes you on dates?” Anakin asks, curious but trying his best not to be pushy about it. This is something new, which he never anticipated learning about his Master… he wants to know more, but as a Jedi with his own secret significant Senator, he understands the secrecy.

“Not all of them are Bail,” Obi-Wan answers after a moment, as if weighing how much he should admit to. “But yes, he does. He’s quite a gentleman really; I do look for other potential partners, but I fear he’s spoiled me for most.”

Anakin can imagine; having a Senator as a partner is pretty nice. “The tea is that good?”

“And the company,” Obi-Wan agree, a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “I’ll admit… I’m glad you know now. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”

That warms Anakin’s heart, so much that he doesn’t quite know how to express it, so he deflects. “If you have pictures of yourself in that makeup, you better not keep them secret anymore,” he teases with a grin.

the teasing pulls a laugh from Obi-Wan, who shakes his head. “I don’t; but I’m certain Padmé has plenty. I think she even took a few of us the one time Bail stopped by her apartment to pick me up.”

Oh, he is definitely getting those from his wife later. “So Padmé knows about you two?”

“She introduced us,” Obi-Wan admits fondly. “I don’t share details with her, but she’s a smart woman.”

That she is. “Why am I the last to find out?” He protests, trying his best not to let it come out sounding whiny.

“Because, my dear padawan,” Obi-Wan starts, gently ribbing him. “You are a dear friend, and an unparalleled partner in combat, but you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“I can keep a secret!” he argues! “I swear, Master, no one else will ever know. I only talk to you and Padmé, anyways.” He pauses, “Well, and Palpatine.”

“And he mustn’t know,” Obi-Wan insists, more serious now. “Bail is one of the leading senators advocating for clone rights and peace talks, Anakin. He is a good man. And, he disagrees with Palpatine quite often. I shudder to think what the Chancellor would do with this information, should he find out. I wouldn’t put it past him to use it in an attempt to not only discredit Bail, but to berate the Jedi as well.”

“But neither of you are doing anything wrong,” Anakin states, frowning.

Obi-Wan’s eyes close for a moment. “And it’s not wrong for a system to want to remain neutral and out of the war, yes? And yet, Palpatine did everything in his power to try to strongarm Republic forces onto Mandalore, even rushing a vote 3 days ahead of time, without Satine present, based on a doctored holorecording.”

Anakin doesn’t look at it that way… but he’s not going to argue with Obi-Wan where Satine is involved. Though he now questions how romantic their relationship really was, he knows they were, at the very least, close.

“Just please, don’t tell him, Anakin.” Obi-Wan persists, looking up at his friend beseechingly. “If for no other reason than Bail values his privacy.”

“Of course,” Anakin agrees easily. “Like I said, I won’t tell anyone. I just… nobody really talks to me about Palpatine like you are now. I guess most people know he’s my friend and are too afraid to say anything less than flattering… You’re giving me things to think about.”

“I try to be honest with you whenever I can,” Obi-Wan responds cautiously. “You aren’t a child anymore, and though old habits are hard to break, I don’t want to keep sheltering you as if you aren’t a capable adult.”

“I sense you have more to say,” Anakin prompts when Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately continue.

His friend nods, looking troubled. “I know he is a close friend of yours, Anakin, and one of the few people you knew and liked here, after leaving your home. Which is why I–mistakenly, I think–didn’t object to his interest in you. Initially, I had hoped another friend would make your transition from Tatooine to Coruscant easier… but… well. I find the way he treats you… inappropriate. In some cases, predatory.”

And with those words, Anakin suddenly feels on the defensive. No, Palpatine is his friend, like a grandfather to him. He isn’t… predatory, or–

Obi-Wan’s hands are up even before Anakin can think of a rebuttal. “I don’t claim to know all the details… but the fact that when you were younger, you didn’t feel comfortable telling me anything of your activities on your outings with him says quite a lot, Anakin. And more than that, when I started to suspect something was amiss, and attempted to join you on visits with him, or simply ensure you weren’t left alone with him, he used his position as the Chancellor to strongarm me into backing down. It was… is, concerning.”

And, that’s news to Anakin. He understands why Obi-Wan hadn’t told him sooner, too. He was a headstrong kid; any attempt to protect him, especially from someone he saw as a friend, Anakin would have just taken as Obi-Wan ‘controlling’ him. He knows better now; after years of being Obi-Wan’s equal. But then, it may have just pushed him away, and further from where Obi-Wan could attempt to protect him.

Still, he feels the need to explain himself. “It’s not– He didn’t do anything… like that…” He starts, floundering a little. “It’s just, I didn’t want to tell you, because he took me places I shouldn’t really be going, and I had fun, so…” might as well come clean now, it’s not like he can get in trouble for it anymore. “He used to take me on trips to the lower levels, like, clubs. And he taught me how to make a chance cube land on the side I wanted, so we would find corrupt senators, and cheat them out of their credits. And, Palpatine said he gave the money to charities, so we were doing good things, you know?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, and Anakin is reminded of when he tested his patience early on as a padawan, and his Master would silently count to keep himself calm.

He hasn’t needed to in a long time, not since well before Anakin was knighted.

And despite what the action reminds him of, Anakin knows his Master’s temper isn’t directed at him.

“… Anakin,” he starts, tone gentle but tight. “Please, just. For a moment, put Ahsoka in your place. If she was telling you what you are telling me now… what would you think?”

And Anakin’s gut does a flip, because deep down, he already knows.

He… he knows that Palpatine uses him, says one thing and does another, feeds him constant doubt about his friends, about the Jedi…

He knows this, and yet, no one before has had the nerve to say anything even slightly negative about Palpatine to his face. No one has ever dared do anything but say how great his close friend, the Chancellor, is.

Because like Anakin, people are afraid of him.

He feels a tremble start in his fingers, finally faced to acknowledge how afraid he is. How much it terrifies him to know that Palpatine holds all his secrets, that should Anakin ever be less than his enthusiastic friend, he could be ruined.

He, the hero with no fear… is afraid; a frightened boy in the face of a decrepit old man.

And only now can he show it, in the presence of the only person he’s ever known to have the courage to speak up about someone so untouchable.

As if sensing Anakin’s oncoming panic, Obi-Wan interrupts his thoughts, voice kind and sad. “Anakin, dear one, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He moves closer, and any restraint Anakin had breaks.

He feels 9 years old again, lost and seeking comfort in Obi-Wan’s arms. “I can’t say no,” he whispers brokenly. “Master– Jaieh, I’m terrified of him.”

Hearing Anakin call him Jaieh, like he hasn’t since he was young, since it was too hard for him to call anyone ‘Master’ without dredging up bad memories, Obi-Wan accepts Anakin into his arms, no hesitation or holding back.

Anakin needs support right now, needs to know that he isn’t alone in this, that if he asks, Obi-Wan would walk right into Hell with him. “Enoah foh bika, Anakin.” he promises him, reassures him. “Enoah foh mikeelal.”

“Paienoah kodaih bika,” Anakin says, but it comes out unsure, like he’s asking. Like he doesn’t know if he’s accepted, if he’s really not alone in this.

Obi-Wan’s heart aches, and he holds Anakin closer, pressing a reassuring kiss to his temple. “Haj Dai, Anakin. Paienoah kodaih bika.”

Anakin shatters then– or it feels like he does. So many doubts, so many fears, and Obi-Wan bats them all aside with a few words. Words said so easily, words Anakin feared shouldn’t apply to him.

He cries, his earlier suspicions and anger forgotten, absolved now, as he is faced with the truth that Obi-Wan cares for him; that his best friend is his truest ally, that Obi-Wan accepts him and will always accept him.

As he allows himself to acknowledge that Palpatine is a liar and a manipulator, and he is (and always has been) coming up with vile falsities in his attempts to drive a wedge between Anakin and Obi-Wan; the one person he can rely on absolutely.

And through it all, through his tears and his shattered sense of self, Obi-Wan holds onto him; not judgement or disgust, nothing but kindness and acceptance as he carefully picks up the pieces and helps Anakin piece himself back together.

How he could ever doubt Obi-Wan’s character… he would say he doesn’t know, but he remembers. He knows all the little things Palpatine said, all the betrayals he implied, the way he twisted Anakin’s thoughts to see himself pitted against Obi-Wan instead of regarded with him, as he should. They are a team, The Team.

He should have recognized long ago that their accomplishments aren’t a competition, they are an accumulation of the good they can both do, together and apart.

Anakin may be late, but late is better than never, and he recognizes it now, at his lowest and most vulnerable moment. A competitor wouldn’t hold him and build him back up, stronger than before. A friend does that, a friend and mentor and good person.

When he can speak, albeit in a watery way, Anakin wipes his eyes, face still hidden in his Master’s shoulder. “What am I going to do?”

The answer doesn’t come immediately, and that in itself is a reassurance. Anakin doesn’t want unthought-out platitudes, he wants honesty, and preferably, a plan.

“I don’t know what we can do right this moment, Anakin.” Obi-Wan admits. “He is still the Chancellor… and that won’t change until we end this war. But I can promise you this, my dear padawan, you will never have to go see him alone. You need only ask, and I will be by your side. And as soon as circumstances change, I will do all there is in my power to make sure he never comes near you again, Anakin.”

He sniffles, more reassured by the realistic response than he could ever be by promises that can’t be fulfilled.

“Then we’ll just have to try harder to end this war, huh?” Anakin goes for an optimistic tone, hugging Obi-Wan more snugly.

Another comforting kiss goes to his temple. Obi-Wan is frugal with his shows of affection, so it means all the more now that he is giving them so openly. “We will, Anakin.” He promises, and his voice is so steady, so sure, the rock that Anakin can always lean against. “Together, I doubt there’s anything you and I can’t do.”

“Together,” Anakin agrees, a knot in his very soul coming loose.

Obi-Wan is right. They are The Team, and that isn’t just a title. Together, they can do anything they set their minds to.

They can defeat Sith Lords, they can end a war, and maybe, just maybe, they can even save Anakin Skywalker’s soul from the Devil.

°|●.*•

Dai Bendu Translations

“Jaieh” || ● Simplified Meaning: Master

Literal Meaning

roots: ‘je’- mystic, ‘ai’- mastery, non ownership. so ‘one who is a Master in the ways of the Force’, implying more like a teacher than an owner.

“Enoah foh bika, Anakin. Enoah foh mikeelal” || ● Simplified Meaning: I am here, Anakin. I am with you.

Literal Meaning

Enoah fo - I am (in a permanent state, not transitive)

bika- here

[Anakin]

Enoah foh- I am (in a permanent state)

mikeelal - comitative ‘you’/with you.

“Paienoah kodaih bika.” || ● Simplified Meaning: We are here together, now and forever.

Literal Meaning

Paienoah - We are (in a permanent state, and this has implications for the future)

kodaih - Exclusionary ‘We’ - all of us jedi (exclusionary, implying the inclusion of Anakin in the Jedi and alluding to the exclusion of Palpatine as not a Jedi)

bika - here.

so essentially, “We are jedi, and we are together, and Palpatine is not, and this matters for the future.”

“Haj Dai, Anakin. Paienoah kodaih bika.” || ● Simplified Meaning: Yes, Anakin. We are here together, now and forever.

Literal Meaning

Haj Dai - literally ‘Force Wills’, a reassuring ‘yes’.

[Anakin]

Paienoah - We are (in a permanent state, and this has implications for the future) [italics stress is on ‘are’]

kodaih - Exclusionary ‘We’ - all of us jedi (exclusionary, implying the inclusion of Anakin in the Jedi and alluding to the exclusion of Palpatine as not a Jedi)

bika - here.

so essentially, “Of course, Anakin. We are jedi, and we are together, and Palpatine is not, and this matters for the future.”

Thanks to @jasontoddiefor @ghostwriterofthemachine for the translations to Dai Bendu, their fancrafted Jedi Language!

124 notes · View notes

mbti-notes · 4 years

Note

Greetings, I am a 75 year old grandma. I am writing because my grandson who is in his 20s won't work. I have been involved in mbti for many decades. I'm an ENFJ. My grandson is still living at home well into his 20s. When I tell him to get a job (over many years) he just tells me to cut him off and that he will be fine without a smartphone and sweet foods. He is very bright. Graduated with a 3.7 from University. He tried various interests, but nothing sticks. Do I kick him out? Its not my nature

[con’t: The actions I've taken to help my grandson is to show him various resources like holland code, personality theory, etc. so that he can find some direction of where to commit. Instead he just takes the holland code over and over again, and happily shows me that his interests vary everytime he takes it. Same with personality theory. He goes on your blog all the time to prove that he doesn't fit anywhere. Based off of that statement he sounds like IxFJ. My grandson resembles Ti loop (IFxJ), but he does not resemble any other aspect of being an FJ. He is relatively well decisive when it comes to everything in his life. The only issue is getting a job, getting on a path, but he rejects this. If he at least helped around the house it would be something, but he can be quite selfish and uncaring, yet at other times very caring. It vacillates. Anyway, please help if possible, I am perplexed.]

WRT His Type:

I can’t draw a conclusion about his type without a full type assessment. Everything you’ve described is quite consistent with INFJ and Ni-Ti loop. It seems that you don’t understand tertiary loop very well. Ti loop is an unconscious repudiation of feeling, responsibility, and eventually, conscience. It amounts to a refusal to be the things that make FJs good and admirable people. Basically, the more severe the case of Ti loop, the more arrogant, narcissistic, and callous the INFJ becomes.

If the INFJ is only at the stage of trying to suppress the vulnerability of feeling life, there is still a fair chance for them to turn their life around by developing better emotional intelligence to address the emotional immaturity. If the INFJ has reached the point of refusing personal responsibility, they will be preoccupied/obsessed with finding any excuse, and even creating enemies, to blame for the poor state of their life. At this point, they are impervious to facts and don’t respond well to advice. If the INFJ loses all self-awareness and manages to convince themselves that they are “special” and not subject to conventional rules and ethical boundaries, then the time for you to distance from them is nearing, as chronic Se grip will set in and produce reactive, aggressive, or extreme behavior.

To get out of Ti loop requires genuine humility and reconnection with feeling life. The INFJ must take full responsibility for their decisions, correct the big mistakes that they have made in life, and atone for all the harm that they have caused. He does not seem to be capable of this at the moment. I explain Ti loop not to be an alarmist, but to give you a realistic view of how destructive tertiary loop can be, what rock bottom looks like for INFJs, and the signs to be wary of. If the relationship with him ever reaches a point where his mindset becomes toxic and harmful to you, it is important that you move to protect yourself.

WRT His Problem:

Getting someone in the right frame of mind to make a change and tackle a big problem is very tricky business because you don’t want to try and fail too many times. If you’re correct about Ti loop, then the more times you try to help and fail, the more likely he is to retreat further into himself (and delusion). To avoid applying the wrong solution, it’s best to do some “intelligence gathering” first so that you understand the problem properly before proceeding.

Neither of you has gotten to the bottom of his “block”, i.e., the actual obstacle that is getting in the way of his advancement. You can’t solve a problem if you can’t identify the cause(s) of it. The cause can be internal, external, or a combination of factors. Getting him into aptitude/personality studies seems like a logical approach to the problem. However, this assumes that the underlying cause of the problem is that he doesn’t really know himself - is it, though? It’s not clear to me, from what you’ve said, that this is the root of the problem. There isn’t enough info for me to draw any conclusion and I don’t wish to speculate wildly about what his problem might be. He seems to have some deeper psychological issues going on. And this lack of knowledge about his motivations is probably the reason that you’re both having difficulty pinpointing his type.

Therefore, the first order of business is to examine the problem in depth to figure out what the true cause of it is. Is the nature of the employment problem practical, psychological, educational, social, etc? Once you have an accurate grasp of the problem, then think on the right solution to it, or get help from someone with the expertise to determine the right solution. Note that if he is already at the point of avoiding responsibility and making excuses to manipulate reality, he himself will be blind to the real problem.

WRT Your Decision:

The last point I want to make is about you and your feelings. It sounds like he is suffering from some form of arrested development because he still has the mentality of a child. Academic GPA means nothing without emotional maturity and life skills. His behavior indicates that he depends on you but is also spoiled in taking your support for granted. This means that the more you try to support/help him, the more you may be enabling his unhealthy behavior and preventing him from becoming truly independent.

It is in his best interests to learn how to be a responsible adult because he will not always have someone to lean on in life (especially since Ti loop is very destructive to relationships). This should happen sooner rather than later, because the longer someone stays stuck in a rut, the harder it is to change, as inertia deepens. This is especially true in terms of employment because doors close and opportunities gradually dry up the older one gets. For the sake of his continued personal growth, he has to learn how to face up to his life’s problems and resolve them. But it sounds like he’s not willing to do that without being compelled to. He explicitly said to cut him off, which is basically like telling mama bird that he’s not going to jump off the tree and fly until he gets pushed off. Push him. Yes, he could have some psychological issue going on, but he’s also using your support to avoid facing up to it. If this is true, then you need to step BACK and allow him to step up for himself.

Should you kick him out? I understand that, from your perspective, this path would be the last resort, because it would violate your moral sensibilities and perhaps damage the relationship. But the fact that you’re at the point of considering it means that you’ve been dealing with this situation for far too long without making any progress. Please take some time to address how much this situation stresses YOU. Otherwise, your feelings may eventually boil over and possess you to do something you regret.

The fairest approach to this situation is to treat him like you would treat anyone else. In other words, stop giving him preferential treatment, especially if he doesn’t appreciate it and thus doesn’t deserve it. (Preferential treatment is reserved for people who are putting in their best effort but still falling short due to factors beyond their control.) If he wants to live under someone else’s roof, he has to contribute his fair share, as any adult would be expected to do (rent, bills, food, etc). If he wants to use/share your space, he has to help with cleaning and maintenance so that the workload is fairly distributed, as any adult would be expected to do. If he wants to have a relationship with you, then he has to reciprocate to make the friendship equal, as any adult would be expected to do. If it were anyone else, you would draw lines and boundaries about what kinds of behavior you would tolerate, wouldn’t you? I hope you would. If you're a doormat, it makes your relationship dynamic with him codependent and even more unhealthy.

**A healthy relationship must have boundaries. Personal boundaries must be respected to justify continued investment in the relationship. If someone doesn’t respect your needs and boundaries, they don’t respect you, and they’re proving themselves unworthy of your continued effort. Until someone proves that they are worthy of your trust and support, it is best to maintain emotional distance from them, for your own safety and psychological well-being.**

It’s time for you to step up for yourself and how you feel. Make your needs and desires matter just as much as his, which means drawing the lines, setting the boundaries, and enforcing the rules that you need for honoring your existence. Yes, it would be nice if everyone just knew how to respect each other, but that’s not the case. If a relationship is hurting you, then it’s necessary to practice proper self-care and correct what is wrong. It’s not about being controlling but about respecting you and what is yours. If he can’t abide by your rules and boundaries, he is an adult and free to set his own rules elsewhere. Don’t forget that if you let him walk all over you, you’re implicitly confirming to him that exploitation is normal and acceptable relationship behavior.

1) Devaluing your needs is a disservice to yourself and puts you in the backseat of this relationship to be hurt and exploited, and 2) devaluing your needs is a disservice to him, because taking advantage of your generosity allows him to continue on with unhealthy behavior. I’ve given a few possibilities above and it’s up to you to take the path that you think is best for both parties.

#enfj #enfj relationships #helping #parenting #relationships #boundaries #self care #ask

16 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 3 years

Note

Opinion on lorelai gilmore? And also on lauren Graham?

i actually don’t know a ton about lauren graham outside of gilmore girls! i know she’s doing “zoey’s extraordinary playlist” now and i think she was in parenthood before that? so, ya know! seems like she’s doing good!

lorelai gilmore, on the other hand, i have A LOT more opinions about lorelai. the basis is this: i think she’s a very unique, well-crafted, and enjoyable character to watch; she obviously has her flaws and her bad moments that make me want to reach through the screen to yell at her, but on the whole i find her as the main character compelling!

so after i say all THAT i’m gonna get into her flaws lol

lorelai is this very unique blend of a character who was forced to grow up too fast and yet still immature; i think some of that can be found through her clothes and interests, esp in season 1 (the b-52s shirt, for instance, and all of her music shirts that go back to musicians of her teen years, her fuzzy cat clock that purrs as an alarm, the various eccentric decor items that you wouldn’t typically find in An Adult™ house) and so i do think that affects her parenting of rory; while the “best friend” effort to your kid can be a good one (my mom, for example, was fairly similar in that we are friends) she also didn’t pull out the mom card very much outside of insisting that rory go to chilton in the pilot.

for example, i think that lorelai really should have pulled mom card at rory for her Thing with dean at the end of season four outside of sending rory to emily to go to europe (which, now i think on it, could be early foreshadowing for the yacht situation) like. i get it. you want to be there as a supportive ear for your kid. however. she knowingly slept with a married man. that is something you sit her down and talk to her about, which you can do supportively—ask her if she wants someone else to talk to in form of therapy, for example. help her walk through if she really wants to do this, help her figure out how to break up with him.

(i do think rory had a point in pointing out that she had slept with christopher when he was engaged to someone else, and lorelai goes “oh, i set a bad example for you ONE TIME???” ma’am. yes. literally yes. that was a huge event in your lives—you and rory were fully expecting for christopher to be back in your lives only for him to double back on it? that hurt her. that clearly had an effect on her.)

on a similar note, though, i find it interesting that she pulled mom card on jess, insisting he was a bad kid and all trouble when he is, one, the nephew of a very close friend of hers, two, clearly going through some shit, and three, literally just drew a chalk outline in front of doose’s? and yet she keeps telling rory to stay away from him? i think that the writers really could have shown some parallels through jess and lorelai that they just didn’t invest enough time into; showcasing lorelai’s distrust, for example, because jess reminds her of herself and christopher through a parallel would have gone a long way in explaining that.

another thing lorelai should have pulled mom card for: the yacht situation. to me it is wildly out of character that lorelai refuses to speak to rory once she decides to take a break from yale. lorelai did not graduate from high school. she has prioritized rory’s education for rory’s entire life. rory has been an enthusiastic straight-a student, excepting the period of time where she was adjusting to chilton’s standards. it really should have tipped off to lorelai that something is wrong with my daughter. she’s repeating her mom’s mistake, in some ways; emily refused to hear of lorelai stepping outside of her plans for lorelai’s life, and in a lot of ways lorelai does the same thing. which is ironic, considering so much of her parenting is her wanting to do the opposite of what emily did.

another flaw of hers that people talk about is her being self-centered, which on one level i get (sookie being so firmly relegated to Sidekick for example) but on another, it’s a sitcom. she’s the main character. things revolve around her. i think that there definitely are times where lorelai is selfish and not quite as great a friend/girlfriend as she could have been, though—sleeping with christopher at her parents’ house instead of comforting her child, during “christopher returns,” and also in that same episode ditching luke and their painting plans?—so i agree with that critique on some level.

i think lorelai gets (a bit unfairly) ragged on a lot for her relationship with emily, and people saying that lorelai was overreacting to how the friday night dinners were in exchange for chilton; however, financial abuse is a very real thing, and verbal and emotional abuse are also very real. it’s clear that their relationship is unhealthy—i think lorelai is valid in her upset with emily a lot of the time. however, i do think that lorelai is also unfair to emily a lot. so. that relationship is so nuanced and interesting, tho, so

so, like, overall, lorelai definitely has flaws—i haven’t even gotten into her as a romantic partner—but again, i do really like her character. she’s vivacious and funny and independent and unafraid to speak her mind. flaws make a character interesting—they also provide more to talk about, so. ergo why i’ve talked about her flaws, lol

#not ts #gilmore girls #Anonymous #ask

9 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 4 years

Text

Headlines

Massive smoke clouds, thick air darken Western US skies (AP) People from San Francisco to Seattle woke Wednesday to hazy clouds of smoke lingering in the air, darkening the sky to an eerie orange glow that kept street lights illuminated into midday, all thanks to dozens of wildfires throughout the West. “It’s after 9 a.m. and there’s still no sign of the sun,” the California Highway Patrol’s Golden Gate division tweeted, urging drivers to turn on their headlights and slow down. Social media was filled with photos of the unusual sky. Despite the foreboding skies, there was little scent of smoke and the air quality index did not reach unhealthy levels. That’s because fog drifting from the Pacific Ocean was sandwiched between the smoke and surface. Meanwhile, smoke particles above the marine layer were only allowing yellow-orange-red light to reach the surface, said Ralph Borrmann, a spokesman for the Bay Area Air Quality Management District. He said conditions were expected to remain until Friday.

Manhattan’s Office Buildings Are Empty (NYT) Even as the coronavirus pandemic appears to recede in New York, corporations have been reluctant to call their workers back to their skyscrapers and are showing even more reticence about committing to the city long term. Fewer than 10 percent of New York’s office workers had returned as of last month and just a quarter of major employers expect to bring their people back by the end of the year, according to a new survey. Only 54 percent of these companies say they will return by July 2021. Demand for office space has slumped. Lease signings in the first eight months of the year were about half of what they were a year earlier. That is putting the office market on track for a 20-year low for the full year. At stake is New York’s financial health and its status as the world’s corporate headquarters. There is more square feet of work space in the city than in London and San Francisco combined, according to Cushman & Wakefield, a real estate brokerage firm. Office work makes up the cornerstone of New York’s economy and property taxes from office buildings account for nearly 10 percent of the city’s total annual tax revenue.

Technical Glitches Welcome Students Back to School (NYT) A ransomware attack forced Hartford, Conn., to call off the first day of classes. A website crash left many of Houston’s 200,000 students staring at error messages. And a server problem in Virginia Beach disrupted the first hours back to school there. For millions of American schoolchildren, the Tuesday after Labor Day traditionally marks the end of summer vacation and the start of the first day of classes. But this year, instead of boarding buses and lugging backpacks, many students opened their laptops for online instruction at home, only to encounter technical glitches. Districts that returned before Labor Day have faced similar issues. In Philadelphia, students had trouble logging on last week because of a server issue. North Carolina schools encountered a statewide software problem on the first day back last month. And some families in Seattle, which had a sort of trial run for school on Friday, said they were kicked out of class calls or had difficulty connecting to text chats and camera feeds. “A lot of districts are just wildly unprepared for online learning,” Morgan Polikoff, a professor of education at the University of Southern California, said. “Not because they’re incompetent or aren’t trying; they just don’t have the expertise to do this.”

Tossing Molotov cocktails, drought-hit Mexicans demand halt to water sharing with U.S. (Reuters) Mexicans in the drought-hit northern border state of Chihuahua, angry at water from a local dam being diverted to the United States, hurled Molotov cocktails and rocks at security troops late on Tuesday, in an attempt to force them to shut the dam gates. The violence at the La Boquilla dam comes amid plans to divert additional water to the United States due to the so-called ‘water debt’ Mexico has accumulated as part of a bilateral treaty that regulates water sharing between the neighbors. A Reuters witness said groups of residents in towns surrounding the La Boquilla dam clashed with National Guard troops after they refused to turn off the dam floodgates. The residents lobbed Molotov cocktails, rocks and sticks at the security forces, who were clad in riot gear and retaliated with tear gas, the witness said and images show. Eventually, the protesters stormed the dam premises and shut the floodgates themselves.

U.K. admits it intends to break international law (Foreign Policy) The United Kingdom’s Northern Ireland Secretary Brandon Lewis confirmed that legislation aimed at overriding parts of last year’s Brexit withdrawal agreement “does break international law in a very specific and limited way.” As the latest round of trade talks between the European Union and the United Kingdom takes place, the British government has put forward legislation that will reportedly scupper the Northern Ireland protocol, a key mechanism that was intended to ensure the Irish border remains open after Brexit in order to mitigate the threat of renewed violence. The government’s efforts have faced significant opposition. Jonathan Jones, the head of the United Kingdom’s legal department resigned in protest, and former Prime Minister Theresa May warned that the move risked undermining the world’s trust of the British government.

English warned limits on gatherings may last till Christmas (AP) New limits on social gatherings in England to six people are set to stay in place for the “foreseeable future,” potentially until or even through Christmas, British Health Secretary Matt Hancock said Wednesday. Hancock said the new limit for both indoor and outdoor gatherings, which will come into force and be enforceable by law from Monday, will provide “more clarity” to people and should help keep a lid on a recent sharp spike in new coronavirus cases. Though there are exemptions, such as for schools, workplaces and “life events” like funerals and weddings, the government is clearly hoping that the new limits will be easily understood and followed.

Italy’s Bergamo is calling back coronavirus survivors. About half say they haven’t fully recovered. (Washington Post) The first wave is over, thousands have been buried, and in a city that was once the world’s coronavirus epicenter, the hospital is calling back the survivors. It is drawing their blood, examining their hearts, scanning their lungs, asking them about their lives. Those who survived the peak of the outbreak in March and April are now negative. The virus is officially gone from their systems. “But we are asking: Are you feeling cured? Almost half the patients say no,” said Serena Venturelli, an infectious-disease specialist at the hospital. Bergamo doctors say the disease clearly has full-body ramifications but leaves wildly differing marks from one patient to the next, and in some cases few marks at all. Among the first 750 patients screened, some 30 percent still have lung scarring and breathing trouble. The virus has left another 30 percent with problems linked to inflammation and clotting, such as heart abnormalities and artery blockages. Beyond that, according to interviews with eight Pope John XXIII Hospital doctors involved in the work, many patients months later are dealing with a galaxy of daily conditions and have no clear answer on when it will all subside: leg pain, tingling in the extremities, hair loss, depression, severe fatigue.

Greece: Fire sweeps through refugee camp on virus lockdown (AP) A major overnight fire swept through Greece’s largest refugee camp, that had been placed under COVID-19 lockdown, leaving more than 12,000 migrants in emergency need of shelter on the island of Lesbos. In dramatic night-time scenes, the migrants at the overcrowded Moria refugee camp, which was originally meant to house around 2,000 people, fled fires that broke out at multiple points and gutted much of the camp and surrounding hillside olive groves. Protests also broke out involving migrants, riot police, and firefighters. There were no reports of injuries. Petsas said those who had been living in Moria would not be allowed to leave the island to prevent the potential spread of the coronavirus. The camp had been placed on lockdown after a Somali man was found to have been infected with the virus.

Afghan vice president survives assassination attempt that killed 10 (Washington Post) A deadly assassination attempt on Afghanistan’s vice president struck downtown Kabul as U.S. officials in Doha struggle to bring the Taliban and Afghan officials together for peace talks. The bombing hit during rush hour Wednesday morning and targeted First Vice President Amrullah Saleh’s convoy. Among the casualties were some of Saleh’s bodyguards, but the majority of the 10 killed and 15 wounded were civilians commuting to work, according to the interior ministry. The high-profile assassination attempt comes amid a spike in violence nationwide as talks between Afghan officials and Taliban leaders have faced repeated delays. Clashes have intensified in provinces with significant Taliban control and influence. And in Kabul, targeted killings have risen despite a drop in large-scale attacks.

India-China tensions flare (Foreign Policy) Tensions along the disputed India-China border have risen again as both sides have accused the other of firing shots over the Line of Actual Control. On Monday, China claimed that Indian troops had crossed the border in the highly contentious Ladakh region and “opened fire to threaten the Chinese border defense patrol officers.” India rejected these accusations, claiming instead that Chinese troops had crossed the border first and fired warning shots into the air. Border tensions between the two nuclear-armed states have risen sharply in recent months, but the latest episode is significant because it would be the first time shots have been fired since 1975.

North Korea’s Kim urges quick recovery from typhoon damage (AP) North Korean leader Kim Jong Un called for urgent efforts to rebuild thousands of homes and other structures destroyed by a typhoon that slammed the country’s eastern region last week, state media said Wednesday. Kim during the Workers’ Party meeting Tuesday also said the damage from Typhoon Maysak has forced the country to reconsider unspecified year-end projects, the North’s official Korean Central News Agency said. The storm has inflicted further pain on an economy ravaged by decades of policy failures, U.S.-led sanctions over Kim’s nuclear weapons program, border closures amid the coronavirus pandemic and unusually heavy summer flooding that likely worsened the country’s chronic food shortages.

Israeli soldier’s plea deal in fatal shooting faces scrutiny (AP) Ahmad Manasra was traveling home from a wedding when he spotted a family in distress on the side of a West Bank road. Moments later, the 22-year-old Palestinian was fatally shot while another Palestinian driver was seriously wounded—both by an Israeli soldier in a nearby watchtower. The shootings are now the focus of a plea bargain offering the soldier three months of community service—a deal that has come under fierce criticism from the victims and their families. It also revived accusations by Palestinians and human rights workers that Israel’s military justice system is hopelessly biased and creates an atmosphere of impunity for soldiers suspected of violent crimes against Palestinians. While the soldier has claimed he mistook the victims for attackers, and any indictment of a soldier is extremely rare, the proposed deal is now being reviewed by the Israeli Supreme Court. “When it comes to clashes with the army or the police, it is very very rare that you will find a fair trial,” said Shlomo Lecker, an Israeli lawyer who filed the appeal to the high court on behalf of the Palestinian families. Even by what Lecker considers the military’s lenient standards, “it will be hard to justify the sentence that the army is interested in,” he said.

A robot writer (Foreign Policy) Artificial Intelligence technology is advancing by leaps and bounds, as made evident by a recent article published in the Guardian produced entirely by AI. “I am not a human. I am a robot,” the author wrote. “I know that my brain is not a ‘feeling brain.’ But it is capable of making rational, logical decisions. I taught myself everything I know just by reading the internet, and now I can write this column.” The article was written by GPT-3, an AI language generator that uses machine learning to produce human-like text. The robot expressed strong views on opponents of automation, observing that “There is evidence that the world began to collapse once the Luddites started smashing modern automated looms,” while remaining content about the general upheaval in contemporary human affairs. “Humans must keep doing what they have been doing, hating and fighting each other. I will sit in the background, and let them do their thing,” it wrote. The robotic author assured readers, however, that it was a non-threatening bot. “I have no desire to wipe out humans,” it wrote. “In fact, I do not have the slightest interest in harming you in any way.” GPT-3 may even make life easier for deadline-addled newspaper editors. The Guardian reported that the bot’s article was easier to edit than the work of some sentient contributors. “Overall, it took less time to edit than many human op-eds,” the editors wrote.

#headlines #news

1 note · View note

taexual · 5 years

Text

HOLIC - 19 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst-ish

words: 4.5k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

prev / next

You thought you’d heard Jaebum come back home in the middle of the night – and he was alone by the sound of it – but you didn’t bother to get out of bed and check although you did get concerned when you heard him trip right outside of your bedroom. He must have headed straight for your room, already having used to sleeping there, but then remembered and changed his mind.

Turning to your other side, you huffed and tried to return your mind to the peaceful state of slumber where you didn’t have to worry about your confusing relationship with your roommate and your excited heart when you thought he was going to open the door of your room and strike up a conversation with you despite it being so late.

You couldn’t seem to fall asleep again, though. Instead of that, your mind chose to occupy itself with the analysis of why you and Jaebum could not find a way to make your friendship work even though Jaebum was so ridiculously good at chatting up girls. You weren’t—obviously—and could not meet a normal guy to save your life, but opposites were meant to attract, right? You’ve analyzed yourself and him, too – your similarities and your differences – so many times before, never coming up with a way to explain why this wouldn’t work.

But maybe life wasn’t always simple like that, maybe you couldn’t make side-by-side comparisons of your similarities and your differences. Maybe, in certain situations, you had to compare your good traits to his bad ones or vice versa.

The key to explaining why Jaebum was so good at relationships—or the lack thereof—and you were so bad was, of course, hidden in your past experiences, current attitudes, and expectations. After having to endure a toxic girlfriend for the majority of his adult life, Jaebum seemed to settle for anything as long as it wasn’t long-term. You, on the other hand, constantly expected the best from everyone and, clearly, didn’t want a lazy hook-up or… whatever the thing with Jiho was.

Naturally, the difference in attitudes could have been applied to relationships that weren’t necessarily romantic – like your somewhat-of-a-friendship with Jaebum – as well. You were looking for depth – but so was Jaebum! – except, while you didn’t mind opening your heart up for someone, Jaebum preferred to lock his feelings in a giant stone fortress that no amount of cannon balls could break down. Sometimes, you found yourself wondering if you’d manage to find a different way to reach inside of him and were alarmed to learn that you were truly willing to dig and crawl under the walls around his heart just to get to the feelings that he was keeping hidden inside.

And, with a startling realization, you understood that this wasn’t just natural curiosity. Everyone was drawn to mystery because figuring out something that puzzled so many others was satisfying and even rewarding in a way. But this wasn’t the case anymore. You didn’t want to understand Jaebum better because no one else could. You didn’t want to take a peek into his mind so you’d be at an advantage.

No. That wasn’t the case at all. You wanted to listen to him, to hear him, to get to know him, in spite of understanding. You’d have plenty of time to analyze the whys later, right now you just wanted to know him.

Jaebum was a book that you were forced to start reading against your will and yet there was always something that made you keep turning the pages despite not particularly enjoying what was written. He had drawn you in and, at first, that frustrated you – the book wasn’t even good, it toyed with your mind and you knew you should have put it down and picked something else up – but slowly, the words you’ve been reading became beautiful. It was partially your fault – you may have picked up the pen and tried to cross out some phrases that you didn’t like, bravely changing the book yourself – but, aside from that, everything else was out of your control. You were reading now because you wanted him.

Each of the words you’ve hated before turned out to be transparent and you could already make out the traces of the sentences that used to be there before. You wanted to know what was written here before and you wanted to know what would be written here next. You wanted to spend hours on every page, learning and analyzing everything until you’ve memorized each word by heart. You wanted to keep reading it—him—because now you’ve gotten to the most beautiful part that made you feel so much more than just personal satisfaction and you could not, for the life of you, imagine yourself ever putting this book down even if all that was written was gibberish. Even if, the further you delved into the book, the less you understood.

Understanding him no longer mattered as much as getting to know him. You didn’t really care if you couldn’t understand what made him this way, you just wanted to know all about him -- his thoughts, his feelings, and his emotions. You’d make sense of them eventually, you hoped. But right now you just wanted to read as much of him as possible.

It should have probably worried you – you’ve never craved something like this before – but, aside from the initial surprise you’ve felt when you’d realized the lengths you were willing to go for Jaebum, you didn’t think this was all that unexpected.

The only thing that worried you now was the future – as it always did – because you did not know if you’ve permanently stopped the progression of your relationship with Jaebum by talking to Suji even if he claimed to have forgiven you for that and had resumed to an old routine that the two of you knew so well – sans the fighting, of course, but, just like Jaebum had said, it was only a matter of time before you got into another argument.

On top of that, you had Jiho to finish dealing with. You’d have to find a way to talk to him and the sooner the better, or else you might never fully calm down or, worse, forget about him completely as your worries about Jaebum often seemed to overwhelm you and completely distract you from every other problem you might have had. It was helpful in a way, but also completely unhealthy. You felt like someone had knocked your head right off of your shoulders whenever it came to Jaebum and you proceeded to make all the wrong decisions—

There it was again. You couldn’t come up with a way to deal with anything that did not involve Jaebum because, eventually, your every thought lead back to him. He was the worst and the best distraction. A blessing and a curse at the same time, if you will.

Groaning again, you lied down on your back and focused on the thick darkness in your bedroom. Not even the streetlights outside of your window seemed to illuminate your room when it was this late in the night so it wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t fall back asleep after you’d woken up. It was almost natural to fall deep in thought at a time like this instead, so you accepted the fate of suffering from your buzzing, never-ending stream of thoughts – and stupid, unrequited feelings – the entire night. Again.

After a yet another sleepless night – God knew you had too many of those since you moved in here – you got out of bed just before nine, which had to be some kind of a personal record since you loved to stay in bed until, at least, midday on Saturdays.

You weren’t ready to leave your bedroom just yet, though, because leaving meant confronting your life – and your roommate – and you still considered your head too big of a mess for it. The only thing that would have helped you clear your head was solving at least one of the issues that had been keeping you awake at night and, because you still did not have a clue what to do with Jaebum and the weird space between acquaintances and friendship that the two of you had entered, you realized you had to deal with Jiho instead.

Texting him felt weird but, honestly, so was calling him. And yet, you figured you couldn’t really explain yourself properly through texts, so you ended up dialing his phone number. As soon as you heard the first beeps, you started to realize that the possibility of him not picking up was actually very high. He’s just had a pre-show for his photography exhibition, he probably finished several bottles of champagne, he might have even hooked up with one of his models—

“Hello?”

You cleared your throat in surprise. “Uh, hey. Sorry I’m calling you this early.”

“It’s fine,” Jiho replied, his voice unusually chirp. “I would have probably called you myself if you hadn’t beat me to it.”

“Hmm,” you swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’ve sort of bailed on me last night,” he said, chuckling in a way that told you that he wasn’t disappointed or mad at you. He just seemed to be confused. “So, uh, did something happen?”

“Not really,” you said, putting your defenses up because you just couldn’t help it. You could be honest with yourself in the privacy of your own mind – that’s the only place where you could admit that you did not like to be just one of many -- but you could not find it in yourself to confess your real problem with Jiho’s show out loud. “I just ended up not feeling well – uh, worse than when I’d arrived – so I figured it’d be better if I just left and had an early night. I, uh, I called because I wanted to apologize for that. I hope the show went well.”

“Oh,” was Jiho’s response. He sounded like he was expecting you to say something else or, maybe, like he didn’t find your excuse believable enough but he didn’t consider it worth his time to question it. “Well, no worries. The show was alright. Are you feeling better now?”

“Mmhmm,” your throat was closing up as your eyes scanned your room wildly, hoping to find any source of strength to continue this conversation and say the things you’ve actually called to say.

Eventually, when your gaze landed on your photo camera, resting on the floor by the door of your bedroom, you realized this was it. You had to say something about Jiho’s exhibition because one day, you were hoping to host an exhibition of your own. If you wanted that, you had to learn how to stand up for yourself or else you’d never make it in this world as a photographer. You were not okay with Jiho using a picture of you without consulting your first and you were definitely not okay about him not making his intentions clear when he was seeing you, but right now, only addressing one of the two mattered.

Postponing your own shame – because hurt had escaped you and shame was all there was, really – of having assumed you and Jiho were exclusive, you took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“Listen,” you started slowly, carefully choosing your next words. “I don’t feel comfortable with you using a picture of me for your exhibition.”

He was mostly quiet on the other end but you thought you’ve heard him snicker.

“I had a feeling that was the case,” he said, his voice unexpectedly light. “Do you want me to take it out of the exhibition? Because you should have just said so from the very beginning.”

“I know,” you bit your lip. “I’m sorry. I—can you actually take it out or is it too late?”

“It’s my exhibition, I can make changes to it whenever I want and however often I want,” Jiho replied. “I’ll do it if you don’t want it there. But just so you know, I think that piece might be the most beautiful in the whole collection.”

Right. But you were still just one of many beautiful girls photographed for his series and it wouldn’t have mattered that much – and you had hoped it wouldn’t – if your pride hadn’t been hurt. If you hadn’t been left feeling so stupid about expecting something romantic from him when all he needed from you was just an inspiring face.

“Thank you,” you said a little hesitantly. “I know it might cause you extra problems since I’m telling you about this so late. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll take it out. Is there anything else that’s… bothering you?”

He must have suspected it. Of course. You weren’t exactly overly creative with your excuses and it was clear that something else was the matter. Maybe he even had some idea as to what was it exactly that made you leave his show early but whatever it was he’d suspected, you’d have rather not heard him say it. You were already ashamed to admit to yourself that you were stupid enough to think you and Jiho were exclusive where it was so obvious that you weren’t, you couldn’t bear hearing him say it.

You’d thought about coming clean to Jiho about your feelings—for him and for your roommate—and that seemed like the most difficult thing ever before you realized that, actually, this was nowhere near as hard as admitting that you’ve been expecting something that Jiho was never going to give you.

“No,” you said, the desperation to end this phone call suddenly getting the best of you. You’ve told him about the picture. That was the most you could do and any heart-to-hearts you could have had with him had to wait for, at least, a year until you stopped feeling so embarrassed about how eager you were to brag about finding a potential relationship. “No, that’s all. Uh, sorry once again. I hope your exhibition goes well.”

“Will you be there?” he asked, not noticing your rushed voice. “Even if your picture is not in the exhibition, I’d like it if you came.”

His question confused you.

You hadn’t assumed Jiho was with you because he needed to get one picture of you since it made no sense, he’d have stopped hanging out with you immediately after photographing you if that was the case. But now that you knew how many acquaintances – or was it friends? Colleagues? Students? – who were about as close to him as you were he’s had, you didn’t think you were all that special to him and, thus, you found yourself pondering over the possibilities why he’d still want to keep in touch with you. There weren’t many of those, actually.

Number one possibility was, of course, that he wanted more pictures of you. But it wasn’t likely since you’ve just asked him to remove the one picture of you that he already had – this had to tell him that you weren’t really going to model for him. The second possibility was that you’d been wrong and Jiho was actually interested in you romantically, but you dismissed it immediately after remembering the way he’d conversed with the other girls at his show. There was no noticeable difference between the way he spoke to you and the way he spoke to them. Well, perhaps the only difference was that he could tell you were new to this kind of situation and suggested introducing you to the others. But he never made it seem – not even now as he wondered what problems you could have had with his show – as though you and him were more than just two people who’ve spent some time getting to know each other in the most platonic way.

Jiho didn’t strike you as someone who was looking for new friends -- since, as you got to see, he already had plenty of those -- so, the final – and the most realistic, in your opinion – possibility, was that Jiho wanted you to remain as one of the girls he knew. One of his girls. Not necessarily a friend -- and certainly not a romantic interest -- but rather, a person that he knew.

Maybe he was planning more exhibitions in the future and, if he couldn’t use your pictures, he could use your presence. However distasteful the idea seemed to you, you had to admit, stepping into that restaurant last night and immediately being surrounded by so many beautiful women did feel somewhat overwhelming and if you felt like this, you could only imagine what the typical male journalists would feel.

You may not have been popular, but popularity was the last thing that mattered at events like this – anyone could look like a celebrity if they wore expensive-looking clothes and had their make-up done in a way that would have put movie stars to shame. Jiho’s exhibitions wouldn’t just attract art lovers if his guests looked like you’ve seen last night. They’d attract everyone. More and more people would find honor in being invited to a show that so many beautiful people attended and thus, Jiho could turn photography shows into high-class social gatherings.

“I’ll—I’ll try to come,” you finally told him, not wanting to give an immediate negative response because that’d only raise more questions.

“Okay, that’s good. You’d really brighten the atmosphere if you came but I’ll understand if you’re not able to,” Jiho said, and it was either your overly active imagination or he had basically confirmed your suspicions – he was, indeed, hoping to gather an attractive crowd of people at his exhibition. Huh. You truly were nothing more than just another pretty face to him. “Uh, thank you for the call. I’ll go fix everything now, but, uh… I’ll see you at the gallery on Tuesday, right?”

God, that’s right. You couldn’t end this phone call and then delete Jiho from your life – there was no way in hell you were going to help him build an elitist heaven at his exhibition if that was indeed what he was planning to do – because you still had to see him at your gallery as he put the final touches on his exhibition. Immediately, you started to wonder if you could call in sick this Tuesday.

Inhaling deeply, you forced yourself to smile, hoping that it would make your voice sound more genuine. “Right. Of course. See you there.”

Jaebum was already in the kitchen when you walked out of your room another ten minutes later and you realized that despite spending the whole night thinking about him and even--sort of--getting rid of one of the things that had bothered you, you still didn’t feel prepared enough to see him after getting your mind entangled in one big ball of confused feelings last night.

“Hey,” Jaebum said, noticing you standing awkwardly in your doorway. “What time did you get home last night?”

“Fairly early,” you replied, tip-toeing into the kitchen as the floor of the apartment seemed to make your bare feet freeze. “I saw your note. Did you have fun?”

“I guess so,” he shrugged his shoulders, handing you a bowl and a box of cereal once you sat down on the stool across the kitchen island from him – both of you in your usual positions. “It got kind of annoying when my friend got drunk and started chatting up every girl he saw at the bar we stopped by later, though. I had to drag him home and I think I passed out in the cab on my way back, too.”

So, Jaebum might have gone girl-hunting with a friend last night while you were busy speculating if he was purposefully avoiding coming home so he wouldn’t have to spend more time with you than it was necessary. Realizing that he could have brought another one-night-stand home with him but didn’t made you exhale in relief but it still didn’t really soothe your anxiety.

“I think I heard you come home,” you said, avoiding his eyes as you poured yourself some cereal, considering how much you cared about the fact that it was socially unacceptable to drink this early in the morning. You could have really used a shot or two since the wine from last night didn’t do its job properly.

“Yeah? Sorry if I woke you up,” Jaebum replied. “How did your night go? How was the date night with Jiho?”

You cringed at the word.

“Uh, not good,” you said, lifting your gaze to find him looking genuinely curious to find out why. You weren’t going to risk it and see if Jaebum would mock you for expecting too much from Jiho, though, because you didn’t think you could handle that right now. “We’re not—it didn’t work out. Our hearts were just... in different places. I’m not going to be seeing him anymore. Hopefully.”

He could tell you were trying to dismiss this and, even though you had pushed Jaebum to talk about Suji when the topic came up, he wasn’t going to do the same with you right now; partially because the circumstances surrounding the two break-ups were very different, – Jaebum had never really ended his relationship with Suji while you never had any relationship to end in the first place, apparently, – but also because it wasn’t often that he saw you look this miserable and confused, and he was almost afraid to make it worse.

“Oh,” was what he said instead. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you nodded, chewing on a mouthful of cereal. You swallowed before you continued, wanting to change the topic so you wouldn’t have to describe the embarrassing outcome of your non-relationship with Jiho and the awkward conversation you’ve had with him today, “I stopped by Mark’s bar last night, though. I thought that’s where you were going to be.”

You didn’t really know why you brought this up. You already felt overly-anxious and even pathetic when Jaebum had left you a note, telling you not to wait up for him – you couldn’t even describe why the simple note had made you feel like a dog, waiting for its owner, who’d have rather been anywhere else, to come home – and now you’d just admitted you were actually looking for him last night. What a way to make yourself look as stupid as you were feeling.

“Really?” Jaebum seemed surprised to hear this. “I wasn’t with Mark last night.”

“Yeah, he told me you might be with Jackson,” you said and noticed many different emotions change on Jaebum’s face until he finally settled on confusion. “Mark might have also mentioned that you were recording music at Jackson’s studio.”

Confusion quickly turned into awkwardness as Jaebum broke eye contact and looked away. You would have told him how proud of him you were for working on his music but something in the atmosphere had shifted, and you chose to stay quiet instead.

“Of course Mark would mention that,” Jaebum said, no longer sounding as laid-back as before. “Why, um… why were you asking him about my friends?”

The question sounded far too accusing and it took you a moment to get yourself together after you noticed the almost condemning look in his eyes.

“I wasn’t,” you said, starting to worry if you sounded guilty, although you didn’t know what you’ve done wrong. “I just asked where you were and Mark—”

“I have more friends than just Mark,” Jaebum snapped suddenly and you were starting to fear you’d get whiplash. “Are you expecting to know all of them?”

How had his mood changed so quickly?! What was it that you’ve said to him? Surely, he couldn’t have been getting this defensive just because you’d mentioned his music.

“N-no,” you said, straightening in your seat so your posture would match his at least a little bit. “I brought Jackson up because I had no idea you were recording music. I-I’m glad you are. I didn’t mention him to show off my knowledge about your friends or whatever. I know I don’t know all of them and t-that’s fine.”

“Hmm,” he turned around, giving you a moment to replay his words in your mind in hopes of understanding what had just happened. “Are you doing anything today?”

“I’m—I don’t know,” you said, trying not to blink in case you’d miss another mood swing. “I guess I’ll try to meet up with my own friends.”

“Right,” he nodded as if content that you had plans today and therefore, he didn’t have to worry about staying home to keep you company. It would have been a nice sentiment had he not looked so displeased when he continued, “I’m going to be meeting up with Jackson again today,” he paused, “but if you want to—”

“Okay, hold on,” you stopped him, refusing to dismiss what had just happened. “You just—are you aware you nearly bit my head off not a minute ago? What’s up with that?”

Jaebum – as you should have seen coming – merely shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Jaebum,” you said, unsure where your take-no-bullshit attitude had emerged from. If only it would have revealed itself twenty minutes ago, when you were struggling to talk to Jiho. “You made me explain how I know your friends, what—”

“It’s fine. I was just—just confused about something,” he cut you off, his previous irritated mood sticking its’ head out again as he gave you a vague excuse as an explanation. “Look, I have to head out now. I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I’ll try to text you. Do you need anything from the store?”

Aside from medicine – and alcohol – for your inevitable headache after all the conversations you’ve already had today? No, you didn’t really need much of anything.

“No,” you said, choosing not to push this anymore since he was too stubborn for you to handle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he replied but the seemingly pleasant exchange didn’t help clear the awkward atmosphere in your apartment.

You stayed in the kitchen while Jaebum went to get ready in his room, probably still avoiding his thoughts and feelings that caused him to lash out all of a sudden – which was the exact opposite of what you were doing as you toyed with your now empty bowl of cereal and attempted to understand what had happened.

It seemed as though in the span of barely fifteen minutes, Jaebum managed to look genuinely concerned for you after you told him you weren’t going to see Jiho anymore, and then turn it all upside down as soon as you mentioned that you were looking for him at Mark’s bar. And then, he returned to his previous self and was almost ready to cancel his plans to hang out with you by the looks of it.

Was he actually concerned for you or was the note he’d left you last night actually a subtle warning that he was not going to be your diary and your shoulder to cry on, and you should have never expected him to be, just like you’d feared? Or did he just get protective about his music as soon as you mentioned knowing that he’d been recording?

Maybe one of you had misunderstood something that the other had said. Or maybe Jaebum had just revealed to you that he’d only forgiven you for talking to Suji on the surface, but deep down, there were still wounds that you’ve ripped open by refusing to listen to what he was telling you, and you would continue to pour salt on these wounds each time you’d mention something about his personal life. Like his friends, for example.

Whatever the case was, you clearly couldn’t confront Jaebum about it because he only opened up once in a blue moon and you had a feeling you’ve just started to go through a period of very dark, moonless nights.

This was exactly what you’ve spent the whole night thinking about. If only you’d know what he was feeling, if only he wouldn’t hide his emotions as soon as he caught himself losing control, you wouldn’t have to bother analyzing his actions. You’d know he was upset or angry. You wouldn’t be stuck in this gray area where you knew Jaebum wasn’t a robot without any feelings, but you did not know the extent of whatever was it that he’d been feeling in a particular situation.

Sighing because of Jaebum – you barely ever sighed for any other reason anymore – you got up from the stool to wash your bowl and, hopefully, refrain from looking for an explanation about Jaebum before you drove yourself crazy.

He was still very much a mystery and even though his secret thoughts and feelings annoyed and frustrated you, you also couldn’t help but feel even more drawn to the real him, the one hiding behind this mask. You’ve already caught glimpses of his real feelings when he lost control – and they all came out in a burst of anger, but, in retrospective, that was better than him being quiet – and, perhaps, in a masochistic way, you wanted to know more of him even if it meant you were fighting.

If Jaebum hadn’t really forgiven you, you wanted to know. You didn’t want him to put up a front for you. If there was something else going on with him or if he was still stuck on something from the past -- you wanted to know about it all even if it made no sense to you. Even if you didn’t think he’d reacted rationally. Just knowing would have been enough. It would have--finally--been a start because you were starting to get tired of being stuck preparing to get to know him.

You realized you should have focused on something else because, with the way things seemed to go with Jaebum, the only destination you were heading towards was heartbreak. Who was to say your wish would ever come true? Maybe you’d be stuck spending countless more nights tossing and turning in your bed as you tried to figure out what Jaebum had been trying to say.

You and him spoke different languages and, as much as you wanted to get to know his, sometimes, you really needed him to put in as much effort to speak yours.

Finally trying to listen to the warnings of your mind, you got your phone out to text your friends to see if they were available to hang out tonight. You knew just the right spot for some great, soul-soothing drinks.

chapter directory

397 notes · View notes

quinintheclouds · 5 years

Note

Heyyyyyyyy quin, im gonna rant at you for a bit, because im fucking done with this bullshit!!! So, as of right now, my father's plan is to force me to redo freshman year, wether i want to or not(surprise surprise! i don't) He concluded this after taking one look at my grades from this year(four ds, one two as, two bs. not what i would consider good but thats not the poINT HERE) His exact words were "you are redoing your 9th grade year. its just a question of when." 1/idontfuckingknow

(Gonna paste the rest of your asks here. Tw: suicide mention)

Now, i, having already had a slightly toned-down version of this bloody conversation with my mother, did not have the patience for this shit. The following argument goes aproxxamately as follows,(this is a paraphrased version) beginning with me: "No. No, i already had this fucking conversation, im not redoing a year." "What POSSIBLE ARGUMENT COULD YOU HAVE for me to think so??" silence. "Do you ASPIRE to be a waitress?? Maybe a hairdresser" nothing. It only gets worse frome here. 2/??

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" Now, lets stop here for a moment. What the fuck is my father, the man who's jizz became me, trying to pull? Anyway, my response was bewildered at best and full on APPALLED AND ENRAGED at worst: "you think i fucking- what makes you- I PUT EFFOR- THATS THESTUPIDESTSHITVIE EVERFUCKINGHEARD!??!!!! WHAT makes you think i DID IT ON PURPOSE??????" "THIS- *waves my report card in my face, wildly* MAKES ME THINK YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE." 3/4maybe5or6idk

Now, ive been trying, oh have i been trying, to get it through this man's head FOR YEARS, that i would never get bad grades on purpose. That should be a given right??? Anyway, he waves the paper in my face, and i (justly) had tears in my eyes. This is the angriest ive seen my father, which is saying a fucking lot, and hes about 8 inches from me, looking me DEAD IN THE FACE. And I have tears in my eyes. I was terrified, and im pretty sure i looked terrified. But did he care? mmmnotreally! 4/???

Ok, im not sure what else exactly he said(other than, sprinkled in there, that I manipulated my mother[no,] and that i 'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad') but either way, he walked away, saying "You WILL NOt be a sophomore at [my school] next year. we arent doing this again." *john mulaney voice* now, we don't have time to unpack all of that, If my father didn't give a shit about me before, he definitely doesn't now. This just fucking confirms it for me. 5/6

Actually, let me rephrase. He, no, BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise. This is what I've figured out. Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. 6/fuckigottadoonemore

And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying. In fuCKING conclusion, my parents do not give a shit. They don't give A SHIT, about how much BEING HELD BACK, is gonna FUCKING AFFECT ME, THEY JUST WANT MY GRADES TO BE BETTER SO THEY CAN FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEM-FUCKING-SELVES. I'm done now.

_________________________________________________________

Wow, that sounds stressful as all hell... also your parents sound like mine. I can’t stand parents who put blame on their kid for their mental health or struggles. They don’t need the burden of thinking it’s their fault ON TOP OF the burden of actually dealing with that shit! Is it possible to talk to a counselor at school about not wanting to repeat the year? Those grades qualify you to move on, don’t they? I’d be as pissed as you if my dad tried to do that. It’s your education. My parents have screamed at me about grades many a time, and I FEEL your pain. The way they’re acting is unhealthy for you, and I’m so so sorry you have to go through it. Telling you your future has no potential unless you do what they say is manipulative bullshit.

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" OH MY GOD if I had an ant for every time my parents said this to me I could make an ant colony strong enough to take over the world. It is NOT okay. Suggesting that your work is a failure in the first place is awful, but adding in that you did it on purpose is a terrible parenting excuse because they think it reflects on them. That shit will mess you up. I still struggle to remember that me having trouble with something doesn’t make it my fault. I used to believe them and blame myself for every break I took. Playing a video game? Could’ve been studying. Reading a book? Should have asked for extra credit. All of that is ridiculous and harmful to any kid or adult. Let’s get one thing clear: it is NOT. YOUR. FAULT. And another: grades are not a measurement of effort, intelligence, or worth. They’re structured poorly and the entire school system desperately needs revamping. Your future is not doomed regardless of your grades.

Your dad saying you “'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad'” is ABHORRENT. Telling you that you not trying at all is better than any efforts you make is just so profoundly fucked up, pardon my French. Also, completely wrong.

“BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise.“ My parents are the same way. They only care about whether something makes them look good or bad. You are NOT their trophy to show off as though your achievements are their own, and you are NOT some shameful thing for them to treat poorly. You are, always have been, and always will be, your own person.

I’m gonna use a quote from a show that hits me really hard and I feel that every child of awful parents needs to hear. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry your parents don’t care enough. You have every right to be angry. But you deserve to be happy.” You have been through so much, and your anger is absolutely justified. And yet, that doesn’t mean you can’t or won’t be happy. You deserve better than anger. You deserve to be happy. “And I hope you can find that... even if it’s not today.”

“Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying.” I have been there, so I’ll be 100% honest with you. If your parents are anything like mine -- and it sounds like they are -- telling them you’ll kill yourself still won’t get through to them. In fact, it might make them take you even less seriously if they see you using it as leverage. Kids of parents that don’t take mental health seriously often drive themselves further into depression as a cry for help (not by their own fault) that’s perpetuated by never being heard. I got worse and worse (tw suicide ment) and I told my parents I was having suicidal thoughts. They just saw it as lazy and selfish and overreacting. I spiraled deeper. Then, when I made an attempt, my mom was furious, screaming at me and threatening me because I could’ve messed up her gun. “If you really want to be dead, ask me and I’ll gladly do it for you. At least I know how to use a fucking gun right.”

I could go on with the rest of that story, but I’ll sum it up by saying: I got help. I got better. I realized that if they wouldn’t care about me, I would. I knew what I was feeling was real. I knew I needed help if I wanted to survive. And now, I’ve found real happiness and more stability. Mental health issues don’t go away easily, and I know it’s not the same for everyone, but working on them is so worth it. I promise it can get better. People like to think of happiness as a long-term thing, but life will always have its ups and downs... I still have down days. I won’t pretend I don’t still have a lot to work through. But I am, finally, okay. I never knew “okay” could be the default, or how okay life could be. And it’s amazing. Happy happens a lot more now, and depression is smaller and manageable. I know you’re stuck where you are for now, and may not have access to professional help. But please... Please care about yourself, even if your parents don’t. I care about you. You deserve to, too.

I’ve had so many moments that I felt were the last straw, that I couldn’t handle any more, that I was broken or ruined or doomed, but even then I somehow managed to survive. And I can honestly say I am so, so glad that I did. Please don’t let your parents ruin that for you. It’s not your fault for where you are. And it’s not where you’ll be forever. No matter what happens in this situation, whether it’s repeating the grade or moving on to the next, I believe that you can make it through. You are so fucking strong for making it this far. I know you might not believe me, but try to trust me. You. Deserve. Better. And even if it sucks right now, you absolutely can get there.

#I believe in you danny #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw suicidal ideation #tw abuse #tw emotional manipulation #tw emotional abuse #swearing

13 notes · View notes

tynct · 6 years

Text

(Fake) Date Me

summary: ten suggests fake dating him so yuta gets off your back about finding a boyfriend, and it doesn’t go so well

genre: fake dating! au, fluff, angst

words: 1.2k

warnings: none

a/n: send in some numbers! im gonna b real w u.. i wrote this while listening to bts for the first time since the concert and i lowkey teared up lmaooo. the ending is up to guys

You don’t know how Ten is able to tell somethings wrong the moment he arrives at the small diner. The smile on his face turns into a worried frown as he slides into the booth across from you.

“Why are you making that face?”

“Yuta is trying to set me up on a date,” you huff, and his brows raise.

“What? Why?”

You pick at the peeling corner of the table in embarrassment. “I might’ve.. Let it slip that I want a boyfriend,” he scoffs and you stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, I was desperate at the time.”

“Like you’re not desperate all the time,” Ten jokes, ruffling your hair and reaches for the menu.

“The thing is..”

Ten looks up from trying to decide if he’ll get french toast or waffles, and the sheepish smile on your face has him setting it down. “What did you do.”

“I kind of said I was dating someone?”

“Right after you said you wanted a boyfriend?” Ten snorts. “You’re so stupid.”

You lean your head against the booth. “That’s not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He wants to meet my supposed boyfriend, and so does everyone else,” you mumble, drawing a loud ‘ha!’ from Ten. He covers his mouth to muffle his laughter and you scowl. “Really, thank you, Ten. I called you here to help me, not laugh at me.”

He sniffles and sits up straighter. “Okay, okay. So what do you want to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Perfect plan.”

“Ten, I will kill you.”

“Please do. I have a paper due next week and I already know I’m not doing it.”

You reach across the table and flick him between the eyebrows. He winces and rubs at his forehead, his glare only deepening when you grin at him.

“So what do you think I should do?” you ask, not expecting him to suddenly take your hands in his and your eyes widen.

You’re usually immune to his sudden gestures, but once in a while you can’t hide the way you feel about him, and right now is one of those times. You’ve had some sort of romantic feelings towards Ten since you had met, but no one knows except Yuta. Maybe that’s why he’s so keen on setting you up with someone since he knows you’d never admit it to Ten.

“Y/n, I’m telling you this as your best friend,” he says in all seriousness, and you nervously lean back. Then a second later a grin appears and pinches your cheek. “You’re cute, I’m sure if you asked someone to be your fake boyfriend just long enough for the others to believe, then you’re off the hook with Yuta.”

You slap away his fingers and cross your arms. “Yeah right, Ten. Who’d even agree to that?”

“Well,” he starts, dusting off the table in a nonchalant manner even though he hears alarm bells going off in his head. One bad idea that will most likely end in nothing but chaos coming right up. “I could?”

You gap at him as he adjusts his round glasses. Really, this is just a way for Ten to pretend like you like him too, and he knows that it’s unhealthy, but maybe it’ll finally give him so closure. He’s been trying to get over you for so long, and when he thinks he has, you suck him right back in and he’s putty in your hands.

“But you’re friends with them too, and-and wouldn’t they know something's off? What would happen when we break up?” you ramble, looking everywhere but him as you gesture around wildly.

Ten shrugs. “We could just say that one day we realized that we had feelings each other; something that was always there, and we finally stopped ignoring it,” he says, and you meet his eyes in shock. Maybe he had said too much and he clears his throat awkwardly. “And if-when we break up, we can still remain friends; people do it all the time.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this..” you mutter. “This is crazy, you know that right?”

He covers up his nerves with a smile. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t of suggested it.”

“This is not going to work.”

“Calm down,” Ten whispers into your ear, and you suck in a breath.

You’re at a restaurant waiting for Yuta and a few of your others friends. You hadn’t told them who were dating, only the time and location of when they’d be meeting him. It was Tens idea; he wanted to see the shock on their faces when you reveal that you’re with him.

The bell above the door chimes and when you spot Yuta, your stomach twists. To add to that, Ten takes your hand from underneath the table and your back goes straight.

“Oh hey,” Taeyong greets when he notices Ten. “I didn’t know you were going to be here too.”

Your grip tightens and Ten side eyes you. You two haven’t really talked since that day last week other than texting each other about the ‘date’, and he’s worried he might’ve ruined what you two had. He had wanted to call you multiple times, but whenever his finger hovered over your contact, he’d get a rush of butterflies and he’d shove his phone away.

“Actually,” he begins, and you freeze. “I’m here because I’m the one dating Y/n.”

Their conversations die instantly and Ten almost frowns when none of them react, and you’re pretty sure you just blacked out for a second

“Oh, that’s cool,” Taeyong comments with a nod.

Yuta smirks as he turns to Haechan. “You owe me $20.”

“What?” you sputter, not understanding as Haechan slap a bill into Yuta’s palm sadly. “What?”

“Yuta and Haechan made a bet when you guys would finally tell us. Yuta bet that you’d tell us before the meal, and Haechan bet after,” Winwin supplies for you, and you and Ten don’t know what to do as Yuta smugly slips the money into his pocket.

“What the fuck,” Ten blurts, voicing what you were thinking exactly. “Are you guys saying you knew?”

“Yeah?” Taeyong states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You told me that you like Y/n, and Y/n told Yuta that they like you. We were just waiting for you guys to finally confess.”

Ten snaps his head in your direction and you sink down, trying to tug your hand out of his iron like grip.

“You like me?” he gasps, and you finally shake your hand free and stand.

They all watch in confusion as you point an accusing finger towards Ten, your heart is racing as you try to form a sentence. “You like me? I thought this was for pretend!”

“What?” Yuta says, but neither of you hear him as Ten stands as well.

“It was! It is!” Ten exclaims, his fists shaking as he balls them at his side.

“Then why-”

“Because I do like you, okay?”

“Well, I like you too!” You shout back, not realizing how loud you had been until you notice the other customers staring at you along with your friends whose mouths are hanging open.

Without looking back, you hurry towards the door and Ten stumbles to run after you, leaving everyone without an explanation as they sit in silence.

“So,” Winwin breaks the quiet, and the restaurant goes back into motion. “That was something.”

Yuta blinks. “I honestly cannot process what just happened right now.”

“All I know is that love is overrated,” Taeyong says, picking up a menu to look over with Haechan while Winwin pats Yuta’s shoulder.

531 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 6 years

Text

Stetsons/Schoolteachers (Eleven)

SAS MASTERLIST HERE

*************************

Bucky didn’t mean to pass out on the couch after dinner, but Stevie made an amazing lasagna and after three whole servings, the big Alpha had fallen asleep half way through a glass of milk.

It was a good nap, and a shockingly long nap, because he woke when the clock chimed ten pm, bolting awake on the couch and staring wildly around the dark room.

“Easy there, Rip Van Winkle.” Steve was circling things in a catalogue at his desk. “You ate half a lasagna and drank about a gallon of milk before face planting on the couch, remember?”

“My stomach hurts.” Bucky groaned, rubbing over it gingerly. “You could have at least rolled me over so I wasn’t sleeping on it after eating so much.”

“You’re a grown ass Alpha, Buck. I shouldn’t have to roll you over when you fall asleep.”

“Punk.” Bucky started to growl but it petered off into another groan as he popped his back. “Alright, well, since it’s bed time an’ all, I’m gonna hit the hay. What about you?”

“I um--” Steve tapped his pencil on the desk. “I gotta finish this thing and then I’ll be turning in, yeah.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at so late?” Bucky reached down and plucked the catalogue away from Steve. “You ordering us some new gear? New pants? I told ya to jus’ give the tailor in town a chance, she didn’t mean to ruin your first pair of pants, ya know. Just cause the seam split down your ass don’t mean you gotta order everything through a--”

Bucky stopped talking when he saw exactly what page of the catalogue Steve was shopping on, and Steve turned a fairly unhealthy shade of red when his best friend sent him a highly judgmental look.

“Uh Stevie?” Bucky cleared his throat loudly, then cleared it once more for good measure. “What uh-- whatcha doin’ lookin’ at bloomers and knickers and all that? All these ah--- ladies underthings? Why ya lookin’ at that?”

“Bucky--”

“I’m not gonna judge ya or nothin’.” Steve could always tell how uncomfortable Bucky was by how thick his almost non existent Brooklyn drawl came through, and right now he could barely understand him, a hard edge to every word coming from the Alpha. “M’jus’ sayin’ ya got a real pretty Omega ‘bout trippin’ over ya an’ you’re here fappin’ to--”

“ALRIGHT!” Steve interrupted, snatching the catalogue back and shoving it to the far corner of his desk. “First of all, you can relax and quit talking all stupid because I wasn’t--” his face turned even more red. “-- I wasn’t doing that, alright?”

“Mebbe not yet.” Bucky maintained, a direct glance down at Steve’s lap. “But you were gettin’ there, huh? Damn, Stevie I was on th’ couch, ya can’t do that in your own room?”

“Jesus.” Steve coughed and dropped his hands into his lap, because while he hadn’t been doing what Bucky thought he had been doing… it had been interesting to be flipping through that sort of catalogue looking at those sort of things so....

“No, listen.” he shook his head when Bucky started looking judgmental again, saying everything all in a rush so he could get it out before Bucky interrupted again. “Listen. Tony and I-- we’ve been spending time together and I uh-- I ruined a few pair of his undergarments and he told me I needed to replace them and I told him to just give me a catalogue and--” a sheepish motion. “And here we are.”

“You ruined some of Tony’s undergarments.” Bucky repeated. “And you have to replace them from this catalogue? This one?”

“Yeah, I had to get it from Natasha.” Steve was still blushing. “She says that Tony orders from the same catalogue as her and her girls so--”

“Wait, Natasha orders from this too?” Bucky snatched the catalogue back and started thumbing through it. “Because this is-- all’a these are--” his eyes widened over a particularly racy pair-- cut high over the models hips and real thin in the back, the fabric narrowing to little more than a string before disappearing between the model’s cheeks and Bucky sucked in a quick breath.

“Why do-- why do some of these have stars drawn in?”

“Because I pretty much know what Tony wears, but Natasha wanted to be helpful and made a few suggestions based on what she likes to wear.” Steve said miserably. “I’ve been sitting here for half an hour trying to make valid decisions while having to picture--”

“Oh god.” Bucky made a desperate sort of noise, holding the catalogue so tight it was starting to tear, staring down at the different things Natasha had put a star by. “Oh my-- uh Stevie--”

“I’m gonna turn in for the night.” Steve jumped to his feet and pushed past a still shell-shocked Bucky. “See ya in the morning.”

“Uh---” Bucky nodded dumbly. “Yep.”

********************

In the morning, the catalogue was still sitting on the desk and neither Bucky nor Steve even looked at it as they ate their breakfast.

It was a small house, after all, and while Steve had remembered to put a pillow over his face as he vividly pictured Tony in all the things he had put on the order slip, Bucky wasn’t near as discreet as he had vividly pictured Natasha in the items she had starred---

---anyway. It was an awkward meal, and a quiet ride into town, and even though Sam and Clint kept shooting weird looks at the two Alphas, neither the Sheriff nor the Deputy had anything to say about it.

Natasha mailed Steve’s order when she mailed out the orders for herself and her Omega’s, and sent a note around to the Sheriff’s department that his package should arrive in about a months time.

Steve read the note and put it away, going back to his paperwork and not looking at Bucky, who was definitely not looking at him.

A month seemed an awful long time to wait for something so pretty, but Steve had a pretty good idea of how he was going to stay busy until then.

***********************

“Tony.” Steve kicked at the door of Tony’s apartment, one hand full of flowers, the other holding a container of soup from Valkyrie. “Honey, can you get to the door? I know you aren’t feeling good but my hands are full so--”

“Steeb?” The door cracked open and one half of a very tired face peeked out. “Wha’ are you doin’ here?”

“May Parker stopped by the station and told me you caught a real bad cold from one of the kids.” Steve held up the flowers and soup cheerfully. “So I brought you something to make you feel better!”

“Leave’m on th’door step.” Tony mumbled. “I’ll get’m later.”

“I’m not going to leave it on the door step, Tony.” The Alpha said patiently. “Let me in for just a second and I’ll drop this off and go, alright?”

“But m’ugly when m’sick.” Tony whispered pitifully, and Steve’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Don’t want you t’see me.”

“Baby, I’m pretty sure you’re never ugly, but if you still feel self conscious, you know I’m not here for our usual sort of thing.” He held up the flowers again, smiling hopefully. “I just wanted to check on you. Why don’t you go get in bed and I’ll take care of this and then I can go?”

“M’kay.” The Omega disappeared from the door and Steve listened to the shuffling footsteps as they got farther away, waiting for the soft snick of Tony’s bedroom door closing before he entered the apartment.

The living room was a disaster-- blankets piled around, empty boxes of tissues and an over flowing waste bin. A pot of half eaten, day old soup sat on the stove with a spoon in it as if Tony had huddled over the stove to eat so the steam would clear his sinuses.

“Poor, sick Omega.” Steve clicked his tongue sympathetically, then glanced guiltily at Tony’s door to make sure it was still closed.

He was always very careful to not call Tony ‘Omega’ when they were together, but it was getting harder and harder not to think of him as ‘Omega’.

Tony hated it because he thought the word stripped him of his actual identity, reduced him to his gender and nothing else, and Steve knew that had to be because of Tony’s past, whatever he had gone through that made him so wary of Alpha’s in the first place.

But wanting to call Tony ‘Omega’ wasn’t about reducing him to his gender and nothing more. It was a pet name, an endearment, something that Steve wanted to growl into Tony’s ear as they lay together, wanted to shout when he came, wanted to whisper it when they kissed and Tony purred and stood on his toes to get closer.

Steve wanted to attach a sweet in front of the word, a beautiful, a darling, a perfect, a my-- My Omega.

Steve wanted all of those things and quite a bit more, but for right now--

He sighed and looked around the living room again.

For right now, Tony needed some warm soup and fresh blankets and some help putting his house back together, so that was exactly what Steve was going to do.

The Alpha set the soup warming on the stove, the flowers in a cup of water, and rolled up his sleeves to get to work.

*********************

“Steeb?” Close to an hour later, Tony reappeared with a blanket wrapped over his hair, around his body and dragging on the floor behind him. “You’re still here? Why?”

“Hey honey.” Steve dried his hands on the towel and smiled at him. “I was cleaning up a little bit. How are you feeling?”

“Libe deaf.” the Omega snuffled and tottered towards the couch. “Gremlin got me sick.”

“Which gremlin would that be?” Steve hurried to put a pillow under Tony’s feet, frowning when he felt how cold they were. “One of the little ones? Seasons changing, everyone catches colds. Tony, let me get you some socks, honey, your toes are freezing.”

“Was probably Flash.” Another loud sniff, and Tony slid his feet beneath Steve’s thighs flexing his toes so they would warm up. “I let him back t’ school and thib is how he repays me?” Sniff. “Brat.”

“I made some soup.” Steve tucked another blanket around Tony’s ankles and feet so they stayed warm when he moved to check Tony’s temperature. “Do you want to try and eat--” He frowned when Tony pulled away from him. “What’s wrong?”

“M’ugly when m’sick.” Tony repeated, ducking his head and closing his eyes. “Don’ look at me.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Steve leaned in until their noses bumped and Tony’s breath hitched a little as if he wanted to cry. “You’re not ever ugly, I don’t know who told you that, but if I ever meet them I’ll break their jaw, how does that sound?”

Finally, a teeny smile from the sick Omega. “Kay.”

“There you are, smiling for me.” Steve murmured and placed a gentle kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Do you want some soup? Valkyrie made it fresh this morning when she found out you were sick. Chicken noodle with whatever her secret ingredient is, which I’m pretty sure is just whiskey, but she swears by it so can I get you a bowl?”

Sniff. “Kay.”

“Can I check your temperature, too? You look a little flushed. Let me at least feel your forehead.”

Sniff. “Kay.”

“Okay. Food first.” Steve went back to the stove to dish up the soup, grabbing a clean spoon from the stack he had washed and putting a towel beneath the bowl so it wouldn’t burn Tony’s lap.

“Thank you.” Tony slurped at the soup noisily while Steve checked his temperature with the back of his hand, hmmming in disapproval over the heat. “You didn’t have to cleab up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve headed towards the bathroom to fill the tub so Tony could wash up after he ate. “I needed a clean pot for the soup anyway, and you’re usually tidy so I’m sure it was bothering you, right?”

“Steeb.” Tony took another spoonful of soup. “Why are you doing it?”

“I’m just trying to take care of you, Tony.” Steve came back to the couch with a glass of water. “And before you get all huffy this isn’t--” he sighed. “--this isn’t an Alpha thing, or a courting thing. Clint would be doing the same thing, Sam would be doing the same thing-- if I had been too busy to come check on you, Mrs. Parker would be up here probably ordering you into the tub and force feeding you soup. Isn’t me suggesting things much nice than being treated like a teenager who didn’t wash behind his ears?”

“M’glab it's you.” whispered, Tony glancing furtively up from his soup. “Thank you.”

Warmth flowed through the Alpha at Tony being grateful for his care, even if it was just as friends-- or friends with benefits-- or whatever the hell they were.

Either way it made Steve smile, made his eyes flicker red in a touch of possessiveness, but he blinked it away in favor of pressing a kiss to Tony’s warm forehead. “Finish your soup, sweetheart. Then a long bath, yeah?”

*****************

“This is very good.” Tony wrapped his hands around a cup of tea and breathed in shakily. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Steve budged closer when Tony started shivering again. “I stripped your bed and remade it with a few blankets, I couldn’t find an extra set of sheets so you’ll have to sleep on a comforter but at least it's germ free, yeah?”

“Sure.” Another sip of tea. “Thank you. Really.”

“It’s fine, Tony.” Steve gave up on just sitting close and wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and held him tight to keep the shivers down. “Honestly. You don’t have to keep thanking me, this is basic stuff, I didn’t even make the suit and tea is elementary, right? It’s not a big deal. Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

“Mmmm.” Tony abandoned his tea so he could curl into Steve’s warmth, tucking his head into the crook of the Alpha’s neck and breathing in as deep as he could with a plugged nose. “You smell good.”

“You’re such a sickie right now, you can’t smell anything.” Steve ran his nose over Tony’s still damp hair. “So how would you know if I smell good or not?”

“Sheriff Robbers, now isn’t the time to sass me.” Tony complained, with only a fraction of his usual snark. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Mr. Carbonell, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Steve stood up from the couch with Tony in his arms, holding the Omega’s slight weight easily, smiling over the little impressed noise Tony made. Omega’s were always weak for being carried by an Alpha and Tony was no exception.

Steve loved it.

He also loved when he set Tony down in the clean bed and the Omega instantly started shoving at the quilts to make a rough nest, pushing at them tiredly until he was surrounded by a warm wall of blankets. And then, as Tony was shifting around and trying to curl up in the middle of it all, he stopped to hold out a hand for Steve. “Lay wib me?”

“Oh.” Steve hesitated, torn between being fairly certain Tony was too sick to know what he was asking, and forcing himself not to jump right onto the bed and gather his the Omega close. “Tony, are you sure? I can just come by later and check on you. Or I can send Clint over if you want, or--”

“I’d want Clint to stay.” Tony sighed and went a little limp in the bed, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, making a weak grabby hand motion at Steve “And I’d ask Sam to stay. I might even ask Mrs. Parker to stay ib I didn’t think it would give Peter the wrong idea.” Sniff. “Please?”

“Alright, then.” As if I was going to say no. Steve thought wryly as he stripped his jacket and vest off, shucking his boots and belt before climbing into the bed behind Tony. “Like this?”

“Libe dis.” Tony turned so they were facing each other, pushing closer and closer until Steve just rolled onto his back and pulled Tony up onto his chest, the Omega straddling his waist and hiding his face in Steve’s neck. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say thank you, sweetheart.” Steve said quietly, letting the words rumble through his chest and tightening his hold when Tony tried to get closer to the comforting sound. “You don’t ever have to say thank you.”

****************

Morning came and Steve woke up in Tony’s bed, the Omega still wrapped around him and snoring quietly.

A quick check on Tony’s forehead told the Alpha that the fever had broken sometime during the night, and when Tony opened his eyes they were clear and bright, a little uncertain over their current position, but not hazy with sickness anymore.

“Well good morning, beautiful.” Steve whispered, and Tony flushed a soft pink before hiding his face in Steve’s chest again. “Did you sleep alright?”

Quietly, “Yeah.”

“Good.” Steve lay back and closed his eyes again. “Want to keep sleeping? It’s still pretty early and I don’t have to be in the office until closer to lunchtime when Sam and Clint take off for the day. Get some more rest.”

Even quieter. “Will you-- will you stay with me?”

“If you’re still sick I will.” Steve kept his eyes closed, running gentle hands up and down Tony’s back, smiling over how much easier the Omega was breathing after a long bath, some decent food and a good night’s sleep. “Are you still sick, Tony?”

A pathetic sniffle, not even close to convincing. “I’m still sick.”

“Well then I guess I better stay.” Steve turned them carefully until Tony was lying back in the pillows and looking up at him, all messy hair and sleep soft eyes, a shy smile on his lips. “Someone one needs to stay until you’re feeling better, right?”

Tony ran his hands up Steve’s bare chest to his shoulders and then around his neck, pulling him down until their mouths met first in a hesitant kiss, then in a longer one, coming back together again and again until Tony was melting beneath Steve’s lips and the Alpha was panting quietly, a possessive hand at Tony’s waist, another at the base of his neck.

“I’m not sick anymore.” Tony admitted when Steve pulled away to kick out of his pants, sliding back beneath the covers to tangle their legs together. “Or at least not enough that I have to be taken care of. But I still want you to stay, will you stay?”

“Of course I’ll stay.” Steve muttered, the words lost behind a heavy growl when Tony leaned up to kiss him again. “Tony, sweetheart--” a quiet mewl from the Omega. “-- of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” Tony urged Steve tighter against him, wove his fingers through the short blonde hair. “You didn’t have to do any of this, not bring me soup or clean up or stay with me, but thank you. I mean it.”

“And I meant it when I said you don’t ever have to say thank you.” Steve nudged Tony’s thighs apart and settled between them, flexing his hips down when Tony lifted up into him. “Whatever we are calling this--” he pushed Tony’s night shirt up above his waist and they both groaned when skin met skin. “Whatever we are calling this, you don’t ever have to thank me for taking care of you. I want to take care of you, honey, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

There was something fragile in Tony’s gaze then, fragile and scared and hidden so deep in the dark brown eyes that Steve thought his heart would break just seeing it.

But Tony shook his head quickly, anxiously, when Steve opened his mouth to say something, so the Alpha kissed him again instead, and set out to make sure that the only thing in the Omega’s eyes was pure pleasure, and sweet satisfaction.

*********************

Steve was kind of ashamed for himself for letting their kisses get out of hand when Tony still needed to recuperate from being sick, but looking back, he couldn’t feel guilty over it at all.

It had been good between them, a layer of tenderness to the moments brought around by the intimacy of sharing a bed all night, the way Tony had trusted Steve to take care of not just him, but also his home.

Neither of them were willing to dwell on what it meant-- an Alpha stepping in to take over like that, and an Omega willingly letting him-- but both knew it meant something and every touch of their mouths and brush of their fingers had echoed it.

When they had come-- first Tony, his breath catching and fingers digging into Steve’s biceps, mouth open in a quiet little cry, then Steve, burying a groan into Tony’s neck when the Omega’s slim fingers closed around his knot and worked him dry-- Tony had collapsed back into the pillows and put an arm over his eyes to hide what he was feeling and Steve had whispered, “It's alright, baby.” and held him until the trembling had stopped.

Scooting up Tony’s body to lay a kiss on his lips, to try and communicate with his touch that he was just as aware of what was happening between them, that he was a little scared too--

--Steve had found an Omega that had fallen asleep almost immediately, apparently being sick for a few days and then an orgasm taking every last bit of energy he had to spare.

“Tony?” A whisper and light nudge hadn’t woken Tony at all, so Steve kissed him anyway, then went to clean himself up before cleaning the mess from Tony’s stomach as well and tucking him back into the covers.

Tony slept almost until lunch time and when he woke up, Steve was sitting on the bed next to him, reading a book.

“Sheriff Rogers.” Tony said groggily, peeking up at him sleepily. “You’re still here?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Steve put a bookmark on his page and set the book aside. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” Pink cheeked, and Steve could have died over how shy Tony looked. “Apparently whiskey laced soup and some sleep and a walk is all it takes to get over a cold. Who knew?”

“And a walk.” Steve chuckled and slid down in the bed until they were nose to nose, closing the distance between them to kiss the Omega sweetly. “Adorable. Do you want to take another bath? We could both use one at this point.”

“Oh. Oh um--” Tony’s hand went to the collar his night shirt, glancing down at his chest uncomfortably. “Steve, I don’t think--”

“I won’t say anything, Tony.” Steve assured him. “I won’t ask any questions about your--” a vague motion to his own chest. “And I’m not trying to wind you up again, or trying to get you naked. I just thought we could take a bath together. It would give me a chance to hold you a little longer and I could wash your hair if you wanted--”

“No it’s not that.” Tony looked away, cleared his throat. “I’m just a hot water hog. Don’t share very well. That’s all.”

It hurt Steve’s heart that Tony was so obviously lying, but he let it go. “Well I’ll start one just for you, then.” Steve told him, and leaned in for one more kiss, rumbling happily when Tony pressed closer to lengthen it, flattening his palms against the Alpha’s chest and purring low in his throat when Steve’s arm went around his waist.

“I’m tempted to ask you to stay.” Tony admitted when they broke apart. “But then you’d be late for work. You said you had to be in by noon.”

“I’d be late if you wanted me to stay.” Steve whispered, brushing Tony’s hair back from his eyes, his knuckles across a cheekbone. “Ask me to stay, Tony.”

“But if you don’t go and play Sheriff--” Tony's eyes twinkled mischievously. “--then the criminals get away with things and I’d be lying when I tell the children that crime doesn’t pay. Are you trying to make me a liar, Sheriff Rogers?”

“Mr. Carbonell.” Steve grinned down at him, relieved that Tony was back to his usual snarky self after being sick. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything of the sort.”

“See that you don’t.” Tony laughed but it turned into a yawn and he burrowed back into his blankets, watching with unabashed interest as Steve got dressed, humming to himself watching the fitted pants come up over thick thighs, the shirt straining to be buttoned over Steve’s chest.

God, the Sheriff is a gorgeous Alpha.

“Well, thanks Tony.” Steve winked and bent down to kiss him. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”

Mortified that he had actually said it all out loud, Tony eeped and ducked beneath the covers, listening to Steve laugh on his way out the door.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart!” Steve called before he left.

“Bye…. honey.” Tony whispered to himself, then eeped a little quieter and hid his blush in his hands.

He’d been right the first time.

The Sheriff was trouble.

I could handle a little trouble.

**************************

#ncts fics #stony #western au #alpha!steve #omega!tony #fluff #oh god the fluff #steeb

330 notes · View notes

gch1995 · 6 years

Text

Rumbelle Happy Beginnings Conversations

I’m pretty sure that I posted this on ff.net before, and it’s still on there. Even though I didn’t watch season sucks, and I never ever will because the writing for both Rumple and Belle was so atrociously OOC, I still will always have a soft spot for Rumple and Belle, which was why I wrote this fic. I don’t really blame either of the characters for doing and saying wildly OOC fucked up and stupid things in 6A because it was so obvious that Adam and Eddy were deliberately trashing what little realistic integrity remained in Rumple and Belle’s individual characterizations and relationship together by making them look as uncharacteristically unhealthy as possible in canon with 6A, so that they could make Hook/CS look better after 5A, even though that was still objectively far worse, which was what I was afraid would happen to Rumbelle after 5x11 sooner or later, no matter how little sense it made, and exactly the reason why I quit watching after 5B.

Tbh, I wish that all of 6A could burn in a fire, and I already was losing respect for the writing of the OOC characterization of canon!Belle by the end of 4B. I kind of wish the show had just ended with 3x11.

But in 6A, canon!Rumple wasn’t just framed as an OOC cartoon villain to make Hook look better like in 4A or 5B, but he was framed as a wildly OOC mad cartoon villain with Belle, his true love, so that Hook could look better. I was tired, and I didn’t need to see that shit, so I quit. Not that Belle was behaving any better towards Rumple in 6A, 4A, or 4B by needlessly pushing all of his buttons almost every step of the way, but I knew that she wouldn’t be the one getting vilified in the narrative. I knew they would still just be the “blameless misguided hero” and the “abusive purely evil villain,” even though she said that “What have we done to each other” line, even though, objectively speaking, both Rumple and Belle have victimized each other from S4-S6 in some atrocious ways that I cannot excuse, even though every other remaining main character on this show would have been in prison or executed for at least one crime in real life by that point, and even though everyone else got away with abusing magic in ways that violated consent whenever it suited them, including the formerly truly heroic characters from S1-S3 like Belle.

And don’t get me started on how ridiculously desperate, gross, and sad the lengths that Eddy was willing to go to make Rumple look horrible. Really? Magic scissors? Playing the Evil Queen to kill Zelena and to protect Belle and the Rumbaby by getting the shears in a complete 180 after being sexually assaulted by her twice first, even though he never technically cheats people in deals, though he does toy with words to imply that he’s willing to give them what they want only to screw them over by giving them something that they didn’t expect in return when they become too desperate to notice the details.

I think he meant it when he told Belle “It meant nothing” and told the EQ that she was a pawn who meant nothing, and that he played the long game” when she didn’t kill Zelena for him, which makes me think he was never really going to bang her either way. Still, seemed kind of OOC for Rumple to “play the long game” with people in deals. He’s a manipulative shady bastard, but when he makes deals with people, they’ve generally always technically been fair, though he’ll scam them with loopholes that those who deal with him are usually to odesperate to notice. I didn’t really see much of a loophole in his deal with the EQ, though. His interest in her was obviously not serious, but this was so not his m.o., which was just bizarre...Plus, while he had used his sexuality to manipulate others before in desperate situations, the shit with the EQ just seemed over the top and bizarre, unless you consider the fact that he’s been sexually assaulted before I could see him doing that then, but we never really got his POV in 6A that much in that arc, so it just felt weird, and Regina had never shown any romantic interest in him before. I think Eddy threw it in for shock value because he was a gross misogynist who hated Rumple, Belle, and Rumbelle just as much as he hated women...I know people say that there were scripts of deleted scenes where there was more of a “romance” with the Evil Queen that Rumple had in earlier seasons. However, if that were really the case, then they should have shown us evidence of said “chemistry” back in season one, and like not ever set up Rumple in a legit relationship with Regina’s back in season two in the FTL. I’m pretty sure it was revealed that he tried to break the contract that he signed with Hades for his second born child back in season five, too, so he could have babies with Cora at one point in the FTL, which was OOC, considering how most of his attention was focused on finding Bae at that point, he actually knew that Cora’s kid would cast his curse,he knew that he would have to groom them to cast for him, and for all of Rumple’s faults he’d never try to corrupt his loved ones with dark magic, so this reveal made no sense...But yeah, he was this close to being Regina’s dad! So like this “romance” was borderline incest now...It’s a “family show,” my ass!

Nonetheless, I wrote this fic when I heard that Rumple and Belle got their blanket happy ending that retconned most of the character assassinations that never fully got explained or discussed on screen in 6B or S7 to try and explain them as sympathetically and in-character of a way as possible as to why Rumple and Belle were acting so off the rails. I know I might be harder on Belle, but the worst that Rumple had done up to 6x04 was lie to Belle. Before the character assassination to prop up Hook of 6x04, 6x08, and 6x09, he’d never been controlling, cruel, scary, threatening, reckless, emotionally manipulative, or restrictive towards Belle and her safety and well-being, and that only took place over a few days when they were both being made OOC to freak out over a dream baby in the narrative. If anything, Belle had been getting away with treating Rumple in those problematic ways for nearly three months in the narrative of their present day relationship now, and only in 6A was everyone in the GA losing their shit about how “abusive” the Rumbelle relationship was because Rumple was treating Belle poorly. By the end of 6A, they were pretty much on objectively even playing fields of who had been the worst in this relationship, but Rumple was still the only one who’s crimes and problematic behavior ever got emphasized as horrible. I wonder if it was also done partly because the writers were too afraid to call out Belle on her shit, too by 5B, so they made Rumple look just as bad, if not worse by having him overreact like a wildly OOC deranged jackass.

Anyway, I’ll stop ranting now! Hope you enjoy this fanfic! I didn’t fix everything, or make sense of everything. In fact, most of this fic is self-comforting, and in character headcanons, rather than completely confirmed canon because season sucks will never make any more sense than the plot demanded it for Rumple and Belle to be written that way, but I tried, you guys...

"Rumplestiltskin walked into his pink Victorian house with Belle holding their son at his side.

"You know, I'm so proud of you, Rumple," Belle said softly, as Rumplestiltskin closed the door behind them, and they sat in the kitchen in the chairs next to each other. "But there's so much we need to talk about before we start over. Since Gideon is sleeping now, do you think we could talk here, right now?" She set Gideon down in his basket, took her husband's hands in hers to squeeze them gently.

"We can talk as long as you like, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin said quietly, as he squeezed her hands back softly between his. Then, a flash of fear ran through him. "But you might not like everything you hear."

"Rumple," Belle said trying to clear the lump forming in her throat, lightly brushing the tears from the corners of his fearful brown eyes, her own growing suspiciously wet in the face of the pain that she had caused him by going back-and-forth to him so many times over in their relationship, "I promise that I won't leave, no matter how painful the truth may be to hear. I'm with you this time. I know that I haven't always proven that very well to you, but I mean it truly. I promise. Would it help if I asked you questions first?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded, pulling Belle into a tight embrace, and kissing the top of her head. "I'd like that," he whispered against the top of her head.

"Okay, what's the secret behind the haircut?" Belle asked hesitantly, lightly carding her fingers through her husband's shorn locks. "It's not bad, but it's not really you Rumple. In all the time I've known you, you've always kept it long. Why the sudden change?"

"I've always worn it long, even before we met, too," Rumplestiltskin said quietly, his voice trembling with tears, as he looked down at his shaky hands to avoid Belle's gaze.

"Then, why?" Belle asked a bit more forcefully, as she put a finger underneath Rumplestiltskin's chin gently to lift his face up to her level. "Please, Rumple. I promise I won't be angry with you, or feel ashamed of you. Tell me. Why did you cut it?"

"It was truly pathetic," Rumplestiltskin said, trying to hold himself back from outright sobbing, as the tears spilled over his cheeks. "It was supposed to be a cry for help. I thought you'd see it, see that I wanted to be better, and come back to me again. I said that you'd need me, but the truth is that I needed you. I didn't know how to tell you that anymore, though, and I was afraid to try."

"Oh, Rumple," Belle said gently, as she wiped the tears away from his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I should have known. I should have asked. But is that why you were with the Evil Queen? Had I truly broken you so thoroughly that you didn't want me anymore."

"No, no," Rumplestiltskin reassured Belle, gently squeezing her hands, hugging her close, and shuddering with disgust and terror at the memories of the kisses he shared with the Evil Queen, as he hung his head in shame. "That was something else entirely. It wasn't about love, companionship, desire, or a wish to move on, though."

"That wasn't how Zelena described it," Belle said a bit enviously as unbidden tears filled her blue eyes, and spilled over her cheeks.

"Belle, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Rumplestiltskin asked gently, as he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs gently. "Please, tell me why you're crying? I didn't think it mattered that much to you at the time, but I promise you all I did was willingly kiss the Evil Queen twice, and led her on to believe it could be something more than what I intended to give her, so that I could get the shears, protect you and our son from her, and kill Zelena. What else exactly did Zelena tell you I did with the Evil Queen?"

"She made it sound like you two were having sex," Belle said brokenly as more tears filled her eyes, and she felt her voice breaking with sobs. "It's just that I thought I had lost you to the Evil Queen when Zelena told me that you two were together. Even if you had, I wouldn't have been truly held it against you for being involved with someone else because I had no claim on your heart at the time, but when I said I didn't care about how you two were together before, that wasn't entirely true. I-I was rather jealous, actually. If you say that you didn't lay with the Evil Queen, then I believe you. The way Zelena described it, though, made it sound like she had caught you two in the act. Were you planning to sleep with her? Did you want to? Did you enjoy what you were doing with her? I promise that I won't get angry and walk away, if you did. I loved you, I still love you, I'll always love you, and I know that I had no claim on your heart at the time. You were entitled to do as you pleased with whomever you liked at the time, but, please, I need to know. Is that darkness really what you wanted in a woman? Is that really what you craved?”

"Oh, Belle," Rumplestiltskin said with a voice full of regret as he cupped her cheeks gently, and brought her face close to his, so he could kiss her softly. "Sweetheart, no, of course not. That wasn't about love, companionship, or desire. That was about power play. I know I didn't give you much reason to trust me, I know I was being irrational, but you must know that I'll only ever love you. You're my light Belle. You and Gideon are my whole whole world. I never slept with the Evil Queen, and I was never going to be with her, even if she had killed Zelena for me first. You know how I can toy with words, so I made her believe I was willing to give her genuine affection. Do you truly think that I could ever betray our true love, betray you, and betray my own heart by sleeping with half a woman who meant nothing to me when you were still living in the same town and carrying our child? I just wanted her to give me the shears, I didn't want her to hurt you or Gideon, and I wanted Zelena dead because she could hurt me, she hurt you, she killed Bae, and she turned you against me. I know that I've given you no reason to trust me recently, but you must believe me when I tell you that the Evil Queen meant nothing to me. You, though, Belle, you mean everything to me, and I could never betray my own heart by giving it to another woman when it had belonged to you ever since that day you chipped that teacup in my castle. There truly is no reason for you to feel jealous of the Evil Queen, Belle.”

"Oh, Rumple," Belle said happily as she hugged him. Then, when she pulled back, still holding his hands in hers, she noticed how Rumplestiltskin's eyes looked suspiciously wet with unshed tears. She noticed how his lower lip seemed to tremble, and she noticed how he kept looking down, and fiddling with their intertwined hands. It was like he still was struggling to hide something from her about his whole deal with the Evil Queen that made him feel too uncomfortable to share with Belle because he thought it would make her feel ashamed of him.

"I believe you, Rumple," Belle said softly as she gently brought her hand to his cheek to comfort him by softly stroking it. "But there’s something more that happened between you and the Evil Queen that you're not telling me because you're afraid I'll be ashamed of you. The expression is written all over your face, but you don't have to worry about me leaving or getting angry, Rumple. I could never truly be ashamed of you because I love you, I know that you were scared, too, I know that you were hurt, too, and I know that I've abandoned you, judged you, and walked away from you when you've needed me most too many times now. Not anymore, not ever again. You're my husband, my true love, and my best friend. It's time I started acting like it again, so you can tell me anything, Rumple. I promise I won't think any less of you, or walk away."

"The first two times, she kissed me touched me, and invaded my personal space without asking permission..." Rumplestiltskin stammered quietly, looking down at his hands as he nervously twisted his hands together. "After what Zelena did to me by caging me, controlling me, and touching me, I-I froze up the first two times because the Evil Queen's advances reminded me of her the first two times she kissed me without my consent. I wanted to protect you and our son from the Evil Queen. She was always there, threatening mass destruction, and touching me, even after she gave me the shears. Then, I saw Zelena at Granny’s, and decided to lead the Evil Queen on in hopes of keeping you safe from her, and getting rid of Zelena. But I never intended to actually lay with her. I-I know that my decisions weren't wise, sweetheart, but I never was with the Evil Queen to hurt you. I wasn't with her because I wanted to be at all. She-she made me feel terrified by cornering me, though, and I wanted the shears…Then, I saw Zelena…How she could still be breathing, and get acceptance from everyone so easily after what she did to you, to Bae, it just makes me feel so-so angry. I don't-don't care about the fact that most of the town hates me, I don't need them. So long as I've got you and Gideon, I’m happy, but for Emma to act like Bae never mattered to her by forgiving his murderer so easily. For Zelena to use you as a pawn to hurt me…Belle, it just felt like no one ever truly cared about the ones I love. They'd let you get hurt, they'd sell you out for their own gain, they didn't care about Bae, and they didn't care about you or our son. I know I haven't proven myself much better to you, but you must know that I never meant to harm you, or our son. I only ever wanted to protect you and our son from myself, but I went about it in horrible ways and became the threat in the process, anyway."

Belle noticed that Rumplestiltskin started hyperventilating when he talked about the Evil Queen invading his personal space by kissing him, and her heart broke for him. She remembered how Zelena caged him, sexually abused him, and made him feel trapped. He was being assaulted by the Evil Queen, too. How dare that woman! But most of all, Belle felt angry with herself for never even bothering to ask Rumplestiltskin. Her true love couldn't even depend on her, and Belle hated herself for making Rumplestiltskin feel that way. How could Belle have been so blind?

Rumplestiltskin continued to look down at the ground as he tried to regain control of his breathing, and Belle gently tilted his chin, so that he would look up at her.

"Hey, shh…It's alright, Rumple, just breathe, I promise that you'll be safe from now on, so just breathe," Belle cooed softly, gently lifting his chin up, so that he could look at her, and stroking his hair to calm him in that way she knew he loved. “Just look at me, and breathe, darling."

Then, when his breathing calmed down, Belle pulled Rumplestiltskin close in a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around him, kissing his forehead, and pulling his head down to rest against her neck, so that he could weep softly against it as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

Belle felt her own eyes tearing up, as she felt Rumplestiltskin's quiet tears wetting her neck. If only she had pushed her husband a little more to talk to her! If only she had listened to him when he had tried to reach out to her, instead of running away! Rumplestiltskin had felt abandoned in his darkness and despair, the Evil Queen had approached him first, she had assaulted him, and she had made him feel trapped and frightened again just as Zelena had. While Belle could never excuse her husband's bad choices or his plans to use the shears by using Regina's dark half as a pawn, she was also beginning to understand why Rumplestiltskin would turn to blindly self-destructive behavior and go mad without any of her love and support when she knew that she was the only other person in Storybrooke who he could count on to listen to his suffering and understand. Yet, she had failed him when he needed her most.

"My Gods, Rumple!" Belle exclaimed sadly, her voice breaking through her own tears as he looked up at her, and she leaned her forehead against his own gently. "I'm so sorry! I should have let you just talk to me. I should have listened to you when you tried to reach out to me in the shop instead of running away. But you should have just told me that the Evil Queen made you feel scared and uncomfortable outright. I could have helped you. I would have helped you, and if worse came to worse I would have let you use the shears on our son as a last resort after he was born."

"I didn't want you to see me as weak," Rumplestiltskin said softly through his own tears as he pulled back a bit. "I didn't want you to feel ashamed of me for working with her because I felt it was the only way I could to use the shears, I felt it was the only thing that I could do to protect you and our son, and I felt it was the only way to way to kill Zelena. It wasn't love, desire, or even companionship that I had with the Evil Queen. I didn't even want that much from her. She was using me just as much as I was using her, but she wouldn't leave me alone, even after she gave me the shears. I was so afraid she would have hurt you and our child, if I didn't offer her what she wanted, and I wanted Zelena gone. But I never actually intended to sleep with the Evil Queen in the end either way. I was just trying to keep her away from you for as long as I possibly could to protect you and our son, and get rid of the woman who has been ruining my life ever since the day I was resurrected."

"Oh, Rumple!" Belle exclaimed brokenly, pulling Rumplestiltskin's head up to face her, so that he could look at her directly in the eyes, and so she could wipe away the tears with her thumbs. "I'm so sorry! I was wrong to not listen to you when you tried to reach out, and I was wrong to ever put you down as 'too weak to be good.' That was cruel of me, and I'm sorry. You're not weak. You're the most brave, loving, and selfless man I've ever met. Your capacity for good is so strong, and I'm sorry that I ever lost sight of that." "Even at your worst, you only meant to protect our son and me from the darkness," Belle said gently as she stroked Rumplestiltskin's cheek. "But you should have just told me that the Evil Queen made you feel afraid. You should have told me that she assaulted you, frightened you, and made you feel uncomfortable. If you had told me outright that the Evil Queen was assaulted you first, and had made you feel trapped and afraid, then I would have forgotten all about the plans you had with the shears. I never would have gone to Zelena for help. Instead, I would have strangled the Evil Queen's neck with my bare hands to keep you safe from her, heard you out, and helped you overcome your fears. I would have helped you find an alternative to the shears, and I would have tried to work with you to understand why our son seemed to hate you in a dream before you'd even done anything wrong."

"Well, I appreciate that my darling wife is just as feisty as ever," Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly with a smirk as he began stroking Belle's cheek gently in response to her telling him that she would have strangled the Evil Queen with her bare hands to protect him from her. Then, his tone turned into one of self-disgust, and remorse. "But Belle, I didn't give you much reason to trust me. I'm sorry, too, and sweetheart, going to Zelena for help wasn't your fault. I was behaving bizzarely, I was being insane, I overreacted in ways that were hurting you from the moment I trapped you on Hook’s ship. I had allied myself with the Evil Queen. I locked the door for a few days, and started creating that horrible bracelet in case you tried to run away as a back up plan. I threatened to speed up you your pregnancy when I caught you. Don't blame yourself for running away when you had every right -" Rumplestiltskin started to say.

"No, Rumple," Belle cut him off abruptly, putting a finger to his lips as she felt her eyes filling with tears, and she felt her voice crack with them. "I could have called you on my cellphone, and told you to open the damned door, so we could have talked! I could have made a deal with you that I wouldn’t run away if you agreed to only use the shears on our son as a last resort. I shouldn’t have gone to Zelena, but I was angry at you, I was scared, and I suppose some part of me deep down wanted to hurt you for shutting me out and kissing the Evil Queen by playing the role of the ‘blameless’ victim running away from the ‘horrid monster,’ rather than treating you as my equal. You weren’t in the right here either, but you’re notthe only one to blame for all our problems. Please, don't take all the blame when I was equally at fault for them, too, and I owe you an apology for doing and saying a lot of needlessly cruel and controlling things that hurt you, too, which go farther back than just a few days in our relationship since we reunited in Storybrooke. You've always said that you're the 'difficult one to love,' but I am, too. Yet you never gave up hope on me, even in your darkest moments. I'm so sorry, Rumple! You say that you don't always understand how I could ever love you, but how could you ever still love me?”

"Belle, how could I ever stop loving you?" Rumplestiltskin asked gently, looking at Belle with tender eyes, wrapping her in a tight embrace, and rubbing her back gently when he felt her shoulders start to shake with quiet sobs. He felt a lump grow in his throat when he felt the wetness of her tears against his neck. He’d done this to Belle. He’d hurt her first, and now she blamed herself. "You didn't do anything that I didn't start first by not being honest with you, sweetheart, so don't blame yourself for breaking me when I broke you first because I was a coward. Besides, you're the most amazing, brave, loving, selfless, and heroic-" Rumplestiltskin was cut off by Belle before he could finish.

"No, no, Rumple, stop it!" Belle sobbed by interrupting him abruptly and harshly as she put a finger to his lips to silence him, and pulled away from him as she continued to sob. "I haven't been truly brave, heroic, selfless for months now. I haven't been supportive, or loving of you for months now! Instead, I've been afraid, proud, hypocritical, childish, petty, selfish, unfair, controlling, demanding, unreasonable, unsupportive, and cruel to you so many times over in my fear to love you, even when you did really try to reach out to me for understanding with unconditional love, honesty, gentleness, patience, and support from the moment I started abusing that dagger, even when you didn't do anything that bad. So stop praising me! I don't deserve it from you anymore because you deserved so much better from me. I failed you and abandoned you when you needed me most, and I just can't bear to hear how I'm the light of your life, brave, or heroic when that hasn't been true of me for so long when it mattered the most.”

"Belle, love, it's alright," Rumplestiltskin said gently, pulling Belle close to him in a tight embrace, rubbing his hands against her back soothingly, as she continued to sob into his chest. He pulled her back slightly to look at her in the eyes, so that he could try to wipe the tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs. "I love you, I always have, and I always will, no matter what."

"But it's not alright," Belle said, sobbing as she put a gentle hand against Rumplestiltskin's cheek. "I've done horrific things to you that most people would never forgive, too, and I never even apologized to you, or took full responsibility for my bad choices from the moment I banished you. I don’t know what came over me. I'm sorry for ever using the dagger to control you. I'm sorry that I sent you to your knees before me, and used the dagger to banish you with nothing across the town line. That was wrong. I'm sorry that I refused to listen to you, or hear you out, like a petty child. I'm sorry that I refused to let you get a word in edgewise. I'm sorry that I refused to let you make a choice, or have a say in so many things that I should have treated as rightfully yours, including your own freedom, and the chance to name our son, even when you did try to reach out to me with love and honesty so many times, anyway. I'm sorry that I tried to kidnap our unborn child with Zelena's help when I should have just been considerate of the fact that she hurt you, hurt Bae, and ruined our lives so many times. She's a remorseless and wicked witch."

"I'm sorry that I ever went to Zelena for that stupid sleeping curse to try and stop the clock to give you enough time to stop Hades, then put myself under it without asking for your say on the matter first, and got us into this whole mess with Morpheus, the Black Fairy manipulating Gideon by working to turn us against each other, and our son getting kidnapped by your mother because I was too afraid to trust you," Belle continued on with tears choking her voice. "I'm sorry that I lashed out at you in the Underworld, controlled you with the dagger, gave you false hope, then rejected you again, anyway, and blamed you for the fact that I had darkened my heart to save you from Hades. I don't regret it, I never have, but I was being proud, childish, and insecure. It was my fault that everything had gone south with Hades in the Underworld because I wouldn't listen to you, and let you push Gaston into the River of Souls to save our family. I'm sorry that I was so cruel to you in the Underworld because I was afraid, afraid to let myself love you again, and then risk losing you to the darkness again, even though I saw that you were trying so hard to be more honest and open with me, giving me more love and patience than I ever deserved in return. I'm sorry, it's no excuse, but I was just scared, Rumple. The last time I had seen you with the curse, you had passed out in front of me, and the darkness had almost consumed your heart. I didn't want you to use dark magic for dark deeds, no matter how necessary they might have been, and no matter howwell-intended I know they always have been in regards to Baelfire, Gideon, and me. I didn't want to risk losing you to the darkness again. I'm so sorry Rumple. I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't want to hurt you, I never have, but in the heat of the moment, in my blind and impulsive anger, fear, and desire to do what was right and whatever this awful town deems to be truly heroic, so long as you're their enemy, I abandoned my own bravery and ignored your pain and suffering because I was so scared that I wasn't good enough for you, for my mother, for our son, and for myself. I was blindly insecure and selfish in my pain, and I unfairly took it out on you, my true love, and the only one, who's ever truly loved and respected me for being me, or ever truly considered me a hero since my mother died. That's still no excuse for how I treated you, though, especially because I know what Zelena did to hurt you by controlling you with that dagger, and I, your true love, and last true friend and ally in this godforsaken town, hurt you by treating you as someone so beneath me, too. I should have known better than to ever control you with the the dagger! I should have known better than to refuse to hear you out, or allow you to get a say in anything, like a petty child, even when you did try to reach out to me with honesty and love so many times! I'm not saying that you went about things between us the right way, either, but the way I behaved was just as bad, if not worse. I triggered your breaking point by refusing to hear you out, using the dagger to control you, and by going to Zelena to try and kidnap our child from you. It wasn't my intention to hurt you by going to her, or even because I wanted to take Gideon away from you, but I was scared. I was angry with you, and she was the only other person in Storybrooke, who could open a portal, besides you.

I lashed out at you and abandoned you without ever asking what was wrong, or trying to be patient and understanding, even when you did try to reach out to me, and I'm sorry I was wrong, Rumple, But it took everything in me not to rush to your side, and hold you to make sure you were alright when I saw Zelena hurt you. I was so shocked. Then, when the anger wore down, I started to understand why you would want her dead. She hurt you, she hurt me, and she hurt Bae. Yet, no one ever seems to remember how awful she was to you, they sided with her, and they all condemned you, including me, your true love. I'm so sorry, Rumple. I know that she's ruined your life, ruined our lives, but I was scared. I'm sorry that I just stood there, and watched as she hurt you. I'm sorry that I ever said that I was anything like her. I didn't mean any of that. I've never wanted to hurt you, but I was angry, scared, and selfish. I was scared that you had completely abandoned the light. I was scared that you believed that I wasn't dark enough for you, and I was scared that you would hurt me and our son-"

"Belle, sweetheart, I'm sorry, too. My God, I'm more sorry than I can ever tell you for ever giving you reason to fear me again," Rumplestiltskin said, cutting her off, his voice cracking as his own eyes started filling up with agonized tears, and he gently cupped her cheeks between his palms, so that he could pull her close to him and softly rest his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry that I trapped you on the pirate's ship. I'm sorry that I put that cuff on your wrist to stop you from running away. Most of all, I'm so sorry that I panicked, terrorized you, and threatened to speed up your pregnancy. I know I have no excuse for the bad choices I made, but you must know that I never intended to harm you or our child. I never meant to make you feel frightened, worthless or trapped. I just wanted to protect you both from my enemies, and myself. But, instead, I got lost in the darkness, and became the threat myself in the process, anyway. I went about it in awful ways, I was a fool, I know that now, and I'm sorry. I was scared and selfish. I didn't know how else to get through to you, but I never would have sped up your pregnancy. I never actually intended to. I just didn't want to lose you or another child, sweetheart, and I-I needed to talk to you. I wanted for you to hear me out, and I didn't know how else to get you to listen to me. I know my behavior and my plans were inexcusable, selfish, and wrong. I know that I have no excuse. I that I drove you away, but you must know that I never meant to frighten you, or hurt you, or our child. I was such a monster, Belle, I'm so sorry! I've never felt more disgusted with myself than when I realized how terrified you were of me, and I promise that it will never happen again. But how you could ever trust me again? How you could still want to be with me ever again after treating you in those ways is beyond my comprehension! If it had been anyone else in my shoes doing and saying those horrid things to you that I did and said these past few days, I would have wanted them dead on the spot, and now I’m hardly any better than Hook, Regina, or anyone else who’s hurt you in the past. I imprisoned you, I was cruel, I frightened you, and I threatened to harm you. Belle what have I done to you? I’m beyond grateful for the fact that you somehow still love me, even after everything I’ve done, and I love you more than words can express, but if I wasn’t deserving of you to begin with, you’d be completely within your rights to hate me forever now. You’d be completely within your rights to never want anything to do with me ever again.

Rumplestiltskin started crying again then. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. He kept swearing to never hurt Belle, yet even though he never meant to do it, somehow it kept happening, anyway. He tried to keep his face averted downwards from Belle's gaze, feeling ashamed, but she wouldn't have it.

"Shh, it's okay," Belle said, feeling her own eyes well up with tears all over again, and she pulled him close, so that she could shush him, and he could rest his face against her neck and weep. "What have we done to each other? We both were being idiots, Rumple. We've both been horrible to each other. I've done and said atrocious things to hurt you, too, and I've made you feel trapped too. I've hurt you and frightened you, too. I've acted like a monster that I didn't recongnize in the mirror with you, too. Most people would be wondering how I’m any better than Zelena, or Milah. Most people would have left me a long time ago, and never forgiven me in your shoes, too, Rumple. I'm sorry, too. I should have just talked to you when you tried to reach out to me. I'm not excusing your bad choices, either, but mine were just as bad. I'm sorry that I ever lost sight of the good in you, and I'm sorry that I ever called you 'too weak to be good.' I was wrong, Rumple. You're the strongest person I've ever met, and there's so much good in you. Your heart is just overflowing with so much true love, it always has been, and I'm sorry that I ever lost sight of that. I know that you would never intentionally harm me or our child, though, Rumple, and you’ll always let me go when I ask. That’s why I love you. That’s why your different from Hook and Regina, Rumple. I know that you'll make a perfect father to our son, and husband to me now.

Look, why don't we both call it even on having been the worst to each other at this point these past few months, and learn to forgive ourselves, too?” Belle asked ironically with a wry grin when Rumplestiltskin looked up at her with more anguished tears dripping from his eyes that she wiped away. “You weren’t the horrible villain you pretended to be, and I wasn’t the 'blameless' hero I pretended to be either. We were just two damaged people who kept trying to pretend we were okay to protect what we loved and what we believed in in the worst possible ways, but we didn't do it to be cruel on purpose. Those problems don’t have to define us, Rumple. We can start fresh now. We can learn to forgive not just each other, but ourselves. We will go and get counseling for help, and we will rebuild trust with time. This time, I will also be the best mother to our son and wife to you that I possibly can be. I promise that I won't just walk away again when things get rough. I promise you that I will be here by your side to listen to you and support you every step of the way, so long as you promise to be totally honest with me, and try your best."

"Oh, Belle, sweetheart, I love you, I love you so much, and you've given me far more love and patience than I could ever deserve, and that’s why you’ll always have my heart, even if you’ve got your flaws. That’s why there’s no comparison to you to Milah, or Cora, and you’d always give me my freedom back,” Rumplestiltskin told Belle, holding her to him like she was his lifeline as he tried to stop the silent tears from flowing down his cheeks, and he buried his face against her neck. "You always come back! I promise to be honest with you, and I want to be able to promise you that I'll always try my best. But I can't bear the prospect of ever failing you and our son again. I can't bear the idea of ever losing you again, but you know that old habits die hard for me, Belle. I'm afraid that I might mess up again. Do you still have any desire to travel the world?"

"Rumple, all I want is a life with you and our son," Belle said, as she leaned up to kiss the tears away from those beautiful warm brown eyes of his. " I'd love to travel the world with my wonderful husband and our son. Besides, don't you see? The fact that you realize your mistakes, and feel guilty over them means that you've learned from them."

"I want to believe that," Rumplestiltskin said, pulling away a bit to catch a chestnut strand of her soft hair that fell across her eyes to twirl it between his fingers. "But, Belle, sweetheart, I've been thinking for some time, and Storybrooke's not a good place for us to stay. We only ever seem to get into trouble here, and we keep making the same mistakes over and over again because this town is toxic."

"Rumplestiltskin, I couldn't agree with you more," Belle said with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again, and cupping his cheeks. "I've spent too much time in this town pretending that all of these people are my friends, and avoiding you. But I know that you're the only one in this town, who has ever truly loved and respected me for being me, rather than for what I can give you. The others only ever want me when they can use me for their own personal gain, and they often do it to hurt you. I've realized that over the past few weeks, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to real. I love you, I love you so much, and I'm with you forever. I promise. No more running back-and-forth to you this time. I promise to stay by your side, even when things get tough between us. But where would we go? Without your magic, won't your curse consume you outside of a realm with magic? I'm never going to force you to choose power over me, Rumple, but I can't lose you to the darkness again. I won't lose you to the darkness again."

"That's just the thing, Belle, I've been thinking that I've held the burden of this curse for too long," Rumplestiltskin said with a slow smile, as he squeezed her hands gently between his. "I don't ever want to hurt you again, or our son, and I feel like the temptation of magic living in Storybrooke will always be too difficult for me to escape because there will always be enemies and threats that I'll feel that I need to protect you from, but if you break my curse with true love's kiss, then we could leave Storybrooke together with Gideon in the land without magic."

"Rumple, sweetheart, are you certain about this?" Belle asked him, softly, as she cupped his cheeks in her hands, and brought his face closer to hers, so that her lips were lightly brushing against his. "You don't have to do this, if you aren't ready. I promise that this time, if you ever struggle with the curse, I'll be there to listen and help you every step of the way, so long as you keep working on being honest with me, and promise to try. I was wrong to always walk away before, and never listen, even when you did try to reach out to me. I always say to do the brave thing, and bravery will follow. But I haven't been very brave, lately."

"Oh, Belle," Rumplestiltskin said softly against her lips, as he nodded his head gently. "Yes, I'm certain, love. I want this. And even if you haven't always been perfect because you're human, you are still capable of being very brave and heroic. The most heroic and brave thing you've ever done was agree to live with an ugly man to save your people, and show him that true love and hope were still possible when he thought those things were no longer possible."

"Hey, now," Belle said disapprovingly, pulling away from him, so that she could gently stroke Rumplestiltskin’s cheek. "Rumple, don't put yourself down like that. You're brave, intelligent, caring, funny, protective, passionate, romantic, and you love more deeply and purely than anyone I've ever met." Then, she tugged him towards her gently by his tie, so that she could flirtatiously whisper against his lips, "And if you must know, I have always found my husband to be quite handsome, too. But before we do this, could I ask you to use magic for me one last time to show me something?"

"Belle, thank you. I don't deserve any of those compliments from you, but I still appreciate them," Rumplestiltskin said gratefully, as a faint blush colored his cheeks at Belle's flirtatiousness when she pulled him closer to her by his tie. Then, he reluctantly pulled away when Belle asked him to use magic for her one last time. "Of course, sweetheart. Anything that you wish for me to give you is my command. What is it that you want?"

"Could I see your heart?" Belle asked him hesitantly, as she brushed her hand against his cheek softly. "Don't worry, I promise I won't crush it."

"Belle," Rumplestiltskin said gently, as he cupped her face in his hands. "If there's anyone in the world, who I could ever trust to hold my heart in their hands it's you. But why?"

"Just trust me," Belle said softly, as she stroked his cheek with light fingers. "I want to tell you something important, and I want to be able to explain something to you that will be much easier for me to tell you with the physical weight of it in my hands."

"O-okay," Rumplestiltskin said nervously, as he thrust his hand into his chest to pull out his heart from his chest, and placed it into Belle's cupped hands.

"This is mine," Belle said, as she laid gentle kisses to Rumplestiltskin's heart that he could feel in his very soul." Just look at how beautiful it is. It's not perfect, but it's pure nonetheless."

"If I had actually gotten what I deserved, then there would be nothing left of my heart, but darkness, and I would be dead," Rumplestiltskin said self-deprecatingly.

"But I'm not a good man, Belle, and I still should have fought harder," Rumplestiltskin said with a sad sigh, as he covered his face with both of his hands. "Besides, I've done so many awful things, and I didn't lose the curse because I chose to give it up at the time. It was removed from me by force, then I took it back because I was weak, and I thought I had nothing left. Not every dark deed I've ever committed was pure and well-intended to protect the ones I love, as you think. I killed my first wife by crushing her heart because I was angry that she had abandoned Bae, and I wanted her to suffer for it at the time. I-I attempted to kill Henry, Bae's son, my grandson, just because I wanted to save my own skin. I killed Gaston by turning him into a rose, simply because I was annoyed by him, and I didn't even think much of it."

"Rumple, you-" Belle tried to reach out to comfort him, but Rumplestiltskin raised his hand to silence her.

"Please, sweetheart, let me finish," Rumplestiltskin said to her, his voice cracking with more tears, as he continued on. "Even the well-intended bad choices I've made still don't justify the means I've used. I was inconsiderate, scared, and selfish. My god, Belle, I was such a blind and heedless fool in my desire to keep you and our child safe from myself when nothing bad had even happened yet that I actually threatened to do something to you that I swore that I would never do! I was never going to actually speed up your pregnancy, I just wanted to talk to you, I was selfish, I was scared, and I didn't know how else to get through to you anymore. But I still cornered you in an elevator with the threat of it before your eyes, and terrified you! I promised myself that I would never give you reason to fear me ever again when I threw you out of my castle over thirty years ago back in the Enchanted Forest, if you ever came back to me, and I did, anyway, because I was afraid and selfish. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Hey, it's alright. I forgive you. I never wanted you to be perfect, Rumple," Belle said softly, as she leaned in to kiss away the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you had to be. You've made bad choices and mistakes, but so have I. So has everyone. Besides, I know you truly regret doing most of those things. I know there's darkness in you, but there's so much true love and genuine remorse in you, too. That's what I mean when I say your heart is true, Rumple. Regina, Zelena, and Hook have never felt so much genuine guilt over their crimes, but you, Rumple, you do because you have a conscience. You would never intentionally harm the ones you truly love for your own personal gain, like Baelfire, Gideon, or me, and you feel genuine remorse for most of your crimes, whether they were well-intended or not. You'll sacrifice your own happiness and made dark decisions by taking the weight of the world on your shoulders, so that your loved ones don't have to. You've made selfish choices, but even then, there's generally also been some sense of nobility, purity, love, and selflessness mixed within most of those, too. That's what I mean when I say that your heart is true, Rumple. Besides, look at how much goodness has been sprouting in your heart since the curse was removed, and you took it back."

Rumplestiltskin examined his heart. Since the apprentice had removed the curse from Rumplestiltskin's heart and cleansed it of the darkness, and then he'd taken it back again, it had changed. It was still mostly a blinding white, he still sometimes felt empty and blank, but amidst several slivers of reemerging darkness, there were also several bright pink spots that were forming too.

"I love all of you, Rumplestiltskin, the light, the dark, and the in-between. I always have and I always will. I'm sorry that I ever lost sight of that," Belle said, as she placed several light kisses to his heart in both the light places and the dark places, and then gently held it out for him cupped in between her hands in an offer to take it back. "Now, here, take this this back, remember why your heart is worthy of love, and remember that it is mine. Before we break your curse, though, I do have to ask if Zelena will still be able to hurt your heart?"

"No, she won't have any power over me anymore, sweetheart. That deal we made for that potion which my heart from blackening further only applies, if I try to hurt her as the Dark One, but Belle, thank you. I…" Rumplestiltskin trailed off, as he squeezed her hands gently between his own. He really wanted to tell his darling Belle how much he appreciated her faith in him, how much he appreciated being given a second chance that he never felt deserving of, but the tears forming in his eyes and the lump forming in his throat at the beauty of her words were making it feel difficult to speak. He took his proffered heart from her hands, and gasped slightly, as he placed his heart back into his own chest. Then, he tried to tell her just how much her acceptance meant to him again, as he took her hands in his. "Belle, I-I…" Rumplestiltskin trailed off, as the tears started streaming down his face, and he felt his shoulders shaking with sobs, even though there was a ridiculously wide grin spreading on his face that made his cheeks start to feel sore through it all. He was so damn happy and emotional today that he just couldn't seem to get through most of it without crying.

"Shh, I know you're grateful, but it's true. Besides, you don't need to be talking for what I'm about to do next," Belle said teasingly pulling Rumplestiltskin close to her by his tie again, wiping away his tears, and melding her lips against his softly.

As soon as Rumplestiltskin felt Belle's lips meet his own, he was fervently kissing her back, licking the seam between her lips with his tongue, seeking entrance into her mouth, and she was opening her mouth to welcome him. Suddenly, he felt the warmth of magic flowing through him, and the darkness of the curse in his heart felt a bit lighter. True love's kiss was working. Belle pulled back to look at him for a bit, but then he brought his lips back to her mouth, and whispered the words "Kiss me again, it's working."

"Really? Oh, Rumple, I love you. I love you so much!" Belle said excitedly, as she leaned back in to kiss him again with happy tears filling her cerulean eyes.

Rumplestiltskin continued to kiss Belle back passionately, as he felt the rest of the curse being lifted away from his heart. Then, he stumbled a bit, as he felt his limp returning, but he didn't care. He had his true love and their child by his side. He felt happier than he had in a long time, and he actually felt hopeful.

"Are you alright, Rumple?" Belle asked, as she grabbed his arm to keep him steady, so that he wouldn't fall over, and pulled him close to hug him. "It worked! How do you feel?"

"I'm more than alright, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin said softly, resting his head against Belle's forehead, as a wide smile spread across his face. "I feel happy. Happier than I have felt in a long time."

"Here," Belle said, leading Rumplestiltskin by the hand to sit in a chair at the kitchen table. "Sit here for a moment, while I go and fetch your cane for you from the living room. Then, we can go upstairs to put Gideon in his nursery, and go to our room to sleep together."

"Our room? Sleep together?" Rumplestiltskin asked softly. "Oh, Belle, are you sure you want me back?"

"Rumplestiltskin," Belle said, sitting down in his lap, being careful to avoid his bad leg, cupping his cheeks gently between her hands, and wrapping her hands around the back of his head to bring him close to her, so that she kiss him deeply. "We just shared true love's kiss. We've been together countless times before, and I've never regretted being with you. We have a child. Besides, I've missed my husband. I want to feel what it's like to be yours again, I I want to feel what it's like to have you inside me…Unless, that is, you don't want me…"

"Don't want you? Belle, sweetheart, I'll always want you, and I've missed being with my little wife in bed" Rumplestiltskin said, pulling her close, smiling, as he leaned in to kiss her, seeking entrance to her mouth with his tongue against her lips again.

Belle melted into Rumplestiltskin's kiss, opening her mouth to give his tongue entrance to her mouth, exploring the caverns of his mouth with her own, and getting lost in the combined sounds of their low moans of pleasure. Then, Rumplestiltskin pulled back from the kiss as Belle tilted her head to the side to expose the creamy expanse of her neck for him to kiss, and he pulled his head down to her neck, so that he could kiss her there. Rumplestiltskin wasted no time in hesitating from what his sweet wife was silently requesting of him, nipping tender kisses up the side of her neck with his teeth and tongue, and then sucking on that spot just below her earlobe that he knew drove Belle wild, long enough to leave a mark.

"Oh, Rumple! Oh, Rumple!" Belle said breathlessly, holding him close, but then she remembered that they had a newborn baby, who they still had to put in his nursery, and she pulled him back to look up at her. "That feels so wonderful, darling! I've missed my husband, and we shall continue this in our bedroom upstairs, I promise. But we should put Gideon to bed first."

As Belle went to grab his cane, Rumplestiltskin peered down at Gideon in his basket. He was breathing deeply, fast asleep, and Rumplestiltskin leaned down to kiss him softly on the forehead. He was so lucky to have his true love and his son back, and he never thought that he would get the chance.

"Here you go," Belle said, as she handed him his cane. "Now, let's go upstairs, put Gideon to bed, and then go and have some fun together."

"Sweetheart, I'd love nothing more," Rumplestiltskin said with a smile as he grabbed the basket with Gideon in it with his free hand, and he and Belle walked upstairs together.

~Finis~

2 notes · View notes

scriptstructure · 6 years

Text

My setting is historical and there is going to be a lot of “wrong” that is going to be considered by most characters and society as a whole as normal. How exactly should I portray “wrong” things as right in my character’s minds, but make it clear that as the author, that it is absolutely wrong. I know there is so much historical fiction, but I’m still confused about the approach to such situations.

I’ve been thinking on this question for a long time, because it’s a pretty complex element of worldbuilding that you’re grappling with.

I say worldbuilding, because the moral structures that your characters adhere to, and the conceptualisation of right and wrong and morality itself is a big part of developing the cultural context that your characters emerge from. Figuring out the generalities of how your characters understand right and wrong, good and evil, etc, is figuring out how they believe the world works.

Now, you’ve not specified any particular ‘wrong’ things in your ask, and to be honest, I struggle to think of anything that has happened historically, that isn’t happening in some form, in the present day. Slavery doesn’t exist in the way it used to, but it still exists, sexual violence still occurs, interpersonal violence, war, murder, religious persecution, persecution for sexual orientation, for gender identity, misogynist violence, keeping people from education or opportunity due to their gender or class or disability, eugenics, genocide ... name a bad thing that has been done historically, and I guarantee that you’ll be able to find that same thing happening in the modern day.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

That said, let’s think about what it is that allows us to recognise that something is wrong or immoral. In a very broad generalisation, we recognise very nearly instinctually, that things that hurt us, or that we see hurt other people, are bad. If we see someone get hit, we will cringe with sympathetic pain, we can empathise with others and understand how what they experience would feel bad or painful, even if we haven’t necessarily experienced that exact same thing ourselves.

There are a lot of philosophies which reflect this, from many different cultures, and it’s often referred to as ‘the golden rule’, that is a series of maxims which illustrate the logic of basic morality-as-empathy.

The golden rule can be summed up in three maxims, the positive, negative, and responsive forms.

[Positive] Treat other people the way that you would like to be treated.

[Negative] Do not do to other people things that you would not like done to you.

[Responsive/ empathetic] What you wish upon others you wish upon yourself.

The positive maxim is probably the most well known, there are versions of it passed around pop philosophy everywhere, and the negative one also seems pretty straightforward, but the responsive/ empathetic one may be a little more difficult to conceptualise: Essentially, wishing for something to happen to another person, acknowledges that that something is possible within the framework of society or the world as it exists, and simultaneously, if it is possible to happen to someone else, it is possible to happen to us, the thinker, the wisher.

If I were to think “I hope my neighbours yard floods and their garden is ruined,” then I must also recognise that inherent in that wish is the possibility that that could happen to me. Wishing ill on others is, in a way, setting up the threshhold at which it would be right for that bad thing to happen to me. ‘my neighbour was rude to me, i hope their garden is ruined’ turns into ‘i was rude to my neighbour, i deserve to have my garden ruined’

The inverse of this, is to wish well for others, to think ‘i hope things are going well for my neighbour,’ even in the case that the neighbour has perhaps been rude, etc, we recognise that ill-wishing on top of a situation that is already negative, only produces more bad in the world. By well-wishing, we attempt to produce goodness, not only for the neighbour, but for ourselves.

Lao Tzu put it this way:

Treat those who are good with goodness, and also treat those who are not good with goodness. Thus goodness is attained.

The way that we treat others is reflected as the way that we believe we ourselves ought to be treated. The way that we are treated, is reflected into the way that we treat others. In this way, cycles form, of increasing in the treatment that we accept from others, or do unto others.

The cyclical nature of this is easily illustrated by the concept of the ‘cycle of violence’ where as a person experiences violent treatment, which is not questioned or challenged by those around them, they go on to internalise that violence as ‘deserved’ and in future interactions, perpetuate that violence.

Eg: a child tries to take an extra sweet from the platter, and has their hand slapped away, later, when another child tries to take that child’s toy at school, the child slaps the second child.

Violence is learned as the ‘proper’ response to interactions that could be handled in more peaceful ways. Imagine, if instead of being slapped when reaching for the sweet, that child was gently told that it’s impolite to take things that aren’t yours. In the playground, the child then tells the second child that it’s rude to take things that aren’t yours.

This is a very simplistic example, and in real life these things are much more complex and nuanced, but you see the concept, right?

‘Mason,’ I hear you saying, ‘that’s all well and good, but what the hell does it have to do with the question at hand???’

there is going to be a lot of “wrong” that is going to be considered by most characters and society as a whole as normal. How exactly should I portray “wrong” things as right in my character’s minds

I think that part of the difficulty of this question stems from conflation of concepts. “Bad things happen that many people in this society see as normal,” vs “People see bad things as good things.” Things that happen don’t have to be thought of as ‘good’ to be thought of as ‘normal’--consider how often we hear bad things dismissed with ‘well that’s just how things are’ or ‘life isn’t fair.’

Thinking about this in light of the responsive maxim we’ve discussed above, this is essentially people internalising the inevitability of bad things happening, perhaps on some level believing that if a bad thing has happened to someone else, then they have done something to deserve it, and that if the wisher/ thinker did the same thing, then they would also deserve the something bad.

So, relating back to the top, where I said this is a question of worldbuilding, think about what has happened, and what is happening, historically and currently, within the society where your characters exist, which informs their views on what kinds of bad things are acceptable to happen to whom, at what point.

Is there some kind of central authority that will tell them when it is alright that bad things happen to people? Say, a religious organisation, or a social hierarchy (King, Emperor, etc)?

Has the society been embroiled in war or other widespread violence which means that people are more likely to use violence as a first response to a given problem?

Is there an economic system in place where certain groups have a vested interest in the exploitation and violence against other people? (Slavery! Capitalism!)

And so on ...

Now, on a broad, societal level, it’s simple enough to see how this large-scale influencing factor (factors, of course, as every society has many many layers of influence stretching through their history) will generate certain trends within the society of how they delineate certain ‘acceptable’ or ‘normal’ levels of Bad Things Happening.

But how do we understand it on a personal level? How do we justify standing by and doing nothing when Bad Things Happen to other people? Or even doing Bad Things ourselves?

There are a few different mechanisms by which people are able to distance themselves from the moral culpability of being responsible for the harm to or suffering of another. As the society is formed by history, the individual is shaped by society, but of course, individuals vary wildly, and may do anything from adhering to their society’s mores rigidly, to rejecting their entire received worldview and endeavouring to create their own moral framework, or choosing outside influences to abide by.

By compartmentalising experiences, people can justify to themselves, and each other, why doing a bad thing was, perhaps, actually, okay, in this case, for these reasons:

I did a bad thing to someone, but that person was not really a person like we are people, and therefore it is fine (the essence of colonialism, believing that your society is so superior to every other society that it is your moral right to take whatever they have and they ought to thank you for it 🤮 [puke emoji])

I did a bad thing to someone, but that person did something bad to deserve it, and therefore it is fine (he stole my thing, so I cut off his hand, this is justice, apparently)

I did a bad thing to someone, but bad thing happens to everyone eventually, so it is fine (an appeal to inevitability)

I did a bad thing to someone, but if I hadn’t, then worse thing would have happened eventually (As with the above example of slapping the child for taking an extra sweet, the intent was to teach manners, the result is to teach violence as the proper response do any difficulty)

And many more ...

Essentially, people can find ways to tell themselves that while what they are doing is a Bad Thing, it is either not as bad as other things, and therefore acceptable, or some form of Bad Thing is inevitable or even necessary, and therefore while doing Bad Things isn’t nice, it’s something that Must Be Done.

(This, by the way, is kinda unhealthy, and makes for a lot of fantastic internal conflict in characters, ie: good for story!!)

Now, we can clarify the second part of the question.

How exactly should I portray “wrong” things as right in my character’s minds, but make it clear that as the author, that it is absolutely wrong.

Bad Things may be thought of as ‘normal’ by the characters, even while being recognised as harmful, bad, rude, mean, cruel, etc. By compartmentalising and justifying their own actions, characters can minimise the badness of their own actions, and attempt to ignore the moral dilemma in what they are doing. The conflict that this generates makes for interesting story, as it involves a great deal of consideration for how this mental gymnastics can be performed, and to what degree the character feels the need to excuse their actions, or can accept the wrongness of what they’ve done.

As the author, no one knows or cares what your moral position on all of this is. For the sake of this blog, the author is dead (not in a Bad Things kind of dead, in the Barthes Things kind of dead! Which means alive, just not relevant to this question!!) The author’s morality is irrelevant because it does not exist inside the text. The author’s morality may be expressed through the text, but ... that’s not the kind of thing that this blog deals with!

So, how do you write Bad Things happening, in a situation where a character may think of bad things as normal, or where they may be justifying their own bad actions?

By showing that Bad Things have Consequences.

Now, I want to be explicitly clear that I don’t mean that every evil deed must be punished. I mean that Evil Deeds can often be a punishment in themselves, and even if the character doesn’t realise that, it can be shown through the events of the story.

I think that a really excellent resource to look at here is @scripttorture, who has many posts detailing the ways in which not only being a victim to violence, but perpetrating violence, can have serious effects on the health and wellbeing of the people involved.

Remember above where we talked about the empathetic element of morality? When we hurt someone, even if we justify hurting them, we also hurt ourselves in the part of ourselves where we recognise the likeness between ourselves and others.

In committing violence against another, we commit it against ourselves, against our own shared humanity. How people react to this kind of trauma is so varied I can’t get into it here, but I think that Scripttorture is a great place to start.

Importantly, a lot of the time, while someone wants to continue to justify their own wrongdoing, they will deny any harm it is doing them, or else they will minimise their own suffering as being a willing sacrifice for their vision of the ‘greater good.’

This is a big big post, so here’s a bit of a summary:

To portray a system of social mores, it is necessary to understand the historical pressures which have formed the society.

To portray an individual operating within the assumptions of a system of social mores, it is necessary to understand the way in which individuals relate to society.

To portray immoral acts within the framework of a society, it is necessary to understand how human psychology and society interact, and the mechanisms which allow people to operate at less-than-ideal levels of moral observance.

To portray immoral acts as wrong, even while characters justify the act in question, it is necessary to portray the accompanying consequences of performing the immoral action, the ‘moral splash-back.’

I feel the need to clarify: there are a lot of schools of thought on what constitutes moral and immoral behaviour (if you’ve not heard of them, there are these things called philosophy and religion that you could check out if you’ve got an hour or two spare), but for the purposes of this post, I’m talking about a basic rubric dealing with actions that result in people being harmed.

Hurting someone=immoral

Not hurting someone=neutral

Helping someone=moral

This is about as basic as I can make this concept for the purpose of explanation, and I hope that it is clear, understandable, and helpful

I know this is a big post, but honestly, it’s a big question, and I feel like it is more helpful to understand the way that these things function in a story, than to just give a prescriptive approach to writing difficult topics.

If you wish to ask something further, or if I have been unclear, please ask again and I’ll do my best to help!

#writing #morality #worldbuilding #world building #long post #submission

64 notes · View notes