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christ0pher-evans · 3 years

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Healed Heart

Final Part of the Shattered Heart Mini-Series

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+ Minor Smut / Angst / Cheating / Arguing / Mentions of Divorce / Swearing Word Count: 2.9k A/N: So here is the final part of my mini-series. I honestly cannot thank you so much for the support on this, it means a lot to me and I love you guys for it!!! Please let me know what you think. I hope you’re happy with the ending because it took me a really long time to decide how I could finish off this story with justice. Thank you again, truly😘 Please reblog and like🖤

Part One: Shattered Heart Part Two: Troubled Heart Part Three: Bewildered Heart

♡

Three tortuous days had passed since you had last seen or spoke to Chris, three days since you kicked him out your home. You’d had nightmares about being in a loveless and hateful marriage, steamy dreams about your recent rendezvous and nights where you just felt so alone that you had cried yourself to sleep. It was safe to say that the past three days had been exhausting.

Although fucking Chris in the kitchen during a harrowing argument probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done, it led to some realisations about how you wanted to proceed with your marriage. You definitely didn’t regret anything you said, or did with Chris that day and that was what you found important amongst the disaster. Not regretting your decisions meant that you knew you wanted to move forward in your marriage, and not look backwards; something you would consider a big first step in repairing your marriage. You knew you couldn’t forget what happened and would have to address it before moving forward but you knew you had the desire to push through the hard times.

You’d called Chris that morning and told him that you wanted him to come home, not that he could or should but that you wanted him at home with you. Emotionally, it felt like the right decision, because at the end of the day he was your husband and you missed him. Practically, it is his home as well and it was the only place you could both be to sort out your marriage with privacy. You didn’t want to be surrounded by the media or by prying eyes. Hell, you didn’t even want the opinion of family or friends, this was between you and Chris only.

As you tidied up the house a bit and thought about the moment Chris would walk through the door, it was clear to you that no matter how angry or hurt you were, Chris was your endgame. You had played all the variables over and over in your head loads of times, societal rights and wrongs about cheating when you realised, fuck society. You would never leave your husband over this, and that was okay. This was your story and who cared what anyone else thought, because you didn’t want to give up. You owe it to yourself, to your marriage, to try and fix everything before throwing it away.

For the first few days, Chris slept in the spare room and you danced around each other, trying to find your new normal whilst you navigated the mess that was your marriage.��

Once the first week passed, Chris continued to sleep in the spare room and you finally plucked up the courage to address the problem that had been plaguing your marriage for weeks, months if you consider back to when the problem initially started.

The day you decided to bring it up, you had finished work early and Chris was already at home when you arrived back around 3pm.

Walking through the house, you finally found Chris in the home office.

“I thought you were filming today?” Chris looked up at the sound of your voice.

“Oh hi sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in? Um, yeah I was but, uh.. she turned up to re-film some scenes so I came home.”

You winced at the thought of her and Chris together but was quickly calmed by the effort Chris had made to avoid her.

Clearing your throat, you found the courage to reply.

“Oh, er, did you not have to keep filming?” Leaning against the door frame, you settled in for a longer conversation.

“It wasn’t anything that I can’t just do another day when she isn’t there. I’ve got some scripts to read over anyway so it’s fine.”

You sighed. This seemed like an appropriate time to bring up the unspoken topic so you could start moving forward but your anxiety felt crippling in that very moment, you didn’t know if you could face it.

“Sweetheart..” Chris whispered, “Y/N, sit down, please..”

You moved to sit down on the small sofa by the window, tucking your feet up and under yourself. Chris moved to join you, sitting fairly close but not touching you as you hadn’t crossed that boundary since he came home.

“Look baby, I’ve been home a week now and we’ve just walked around this house like we are two strangers. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking because you’re the one that told me you wanted me to come home?”

You looked up from your lap and straight into Chris’s eyes, “You do feel like a stranger to me.”

You heard his voice hitch in his throat, clearly caught off guard by your blunt answer.

“I’m still me, sweetheart. I’m the same person you met seven years ago and I’m the same person you married four years ago. Please don’t think I’ve changed.”

A lone tear falls straight from your eye, as you whimper, “I miss him.”

It takes Chris no longer than a second to pull you into his lap, all boundaries obliterated, as he hugs you like his life depends on it. As you cry all you can hear is Chris repeatedly whispering, ‘I’m here. I’m still me. I love you.’

You shudder at the softened and sweet contact, something you hadn’t felt for weeks but you embraced it, leaning further into Chris’s chest for comfort.

Once you had basked in the feeling for a bit longer, shutting the world and your problems out, you knew you had to move away. It would have been unfair to give Chris mixed signals as your marriage was still clearly on the rocks.

Sitting back up on the sofa, you composed yourself.

“I know you are still you Chris, but you’ve changed to me now. This you..”, you sigh before continuing, “..you’re tainted and untrustworthy, you’re the man that cheated on me, you’re not my husband. I need to get to know you again, and I need to learn to love our marriage again, and learn to trust you again. It’s going to take time.”

“B-but you want to try?”

“Of course I want to try. Endgame right? That hasn’t changed for me but other things have to change, we cannot continue like this otherwise if something else were to happen, I don’t think we would survive it.”

“I am infinitely yours sweetheart. Forever.” You watch Chris smile sweetly.

Feeling slightly more confident and feeling like Chris has really been listening to you, you knew it was time to talk about her.

“Okay, well whilst we are here, I think we should talk about her. It’s the biggest hurdle for me, and I can’t move past it. I just can’t deal with you seeing her right now, not whilst I’m learning to trust you again. I’ll never trust her so I need to 100% be able to trust you again.”

Grabbing hold of your hand, Chris nods in understanding.

“That is completely fine sweetheart. For now, how about I just work my schedule around when she isn’t there and wait until you are comfortable before I finish filming my scenes with her? I don’t care if it postpones the film, or they replace me, you are more important to me than any film and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you!”

You nod feebly, shocked and relieved with the instant commitment Chris was happy to make to save your marriage and earn your trust back.

An awkward silence falls over the room at the monumental conversation you just had. Needing a moment to yourself, you decide to make a quick exit.

‘Um, I think I’ll go and grab a shower before dinner.” Quickly leaving, you rush to your ensuite.

The shower provided a solace to digest what just happened, a few tears falling as you feel overwhelmed. But you left the bathroom with a renewed sense of hope.

It was another week of tough conversations and private marriage counselling before you felt you had reached another milestone in fixing your marriage.

You were in the ensuite of your bedroom when Chris came in to say goodnight. He was merely wearing a pair of pyjamas bottoms that amusingly you were wearing the matching top of.

He chuckled as he leant against the wall, “I was looking for that top.”

You giggled lightly and blushed, using all your self control to not drool over seeing Chris topless. Unfortunately, you had never been good at hiding any of your emotions from Chris and you saw him smirk slightly at your flustered state.

“Okay, well, I just came to say goodnight, so uh- night I guess..”

You mumbled a goodnight back as Chris turned to walk out the room. A rush of affection from the interaction washed over you causing you to shout back towards Chris to catch his attention.

“Um, stay..”

You saw the startled look on his face as the words left your lips.

“Stay with me tonight..”, you repeated as if you were confirming your own words.

“Yeah, course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want?”, he shuffled back towards you.

“It is what I want.”

You smiled at him sweetly before you brushed past him and moved towards the bed, leaving him a bit stunned in the bathroom.

Weeks passed with no problems. You and Chris had gone back to sleeping in the same bed and you often woke up snuggled together. At first, you’d wake and quickly move away from him however, slowly, you became comfortable with it and you were finally starting to feel at peace in his arms.

You had woken up early this specific Monday morning as it was Chris’s first day back filming with her. You felt sick to the stomach at the thought of him seeing her again and had slept terribly. You knew this day would come and thought you would be, at least slightly prepared, but as the day dawned, you were scared. Nerves caged around your heart as your mind could only replay the moment Chris told you that he had kissed another woman.

Chris had to go back to work, you understood that. He had already put it off for a while and sacrificed enough of his job to try and reconcile your marriage. You almost felt obliged to let him go back to work, who were you to hold your husband back from his job?

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly nursing a very strong coffee when Chris came down, ready for his day. You glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging his words to you.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay? You’re up really early?”

Glancing at the clock reading 7:30am, you shrugged and mumbled, “Woke up at 5:30am.”

You stared in the abyss, thoughts whirring through your mind. Thinking about being frightened to death about the thought that your marriage wasn’t even halfway back to where it should be. Knowing that Chris would see her today, spend all his time with her whilst you were waiting back at home for him. It felt like some sick and twisted de ja vu.

It had been almost two months since you’d last been with Chris in any form of intimacy, almost four months since you were truly a happily married couple and now he was going to see her again, were you really debating that history would repeat itself?

“Baby, will you talk to me? I can see something is on your mind”, Chris gently rests his hand over yours, bringing you out your nightmarish daydream.

Looking up at Chris, taking in all his handsome features, you thought, how could anyone ever resist him. The thought panicked you even more.

Learning from previous mistakes, you knew it was best to communicate to him how you were feeling.

“I’m scared you’re going to see her again today and history could just repeat itself. Nothing is fixed yet Chris, and it feels like we are already going backwards.”

Just when you thought that being honest and communicating with Chris was the best option, it backfired in your face. Chris scoffed, a look of disgust on his face.

“Huh, you’re not kidding?” Watching him run his hand through his hair, he turns away and slams his coffee mug down on the side. You jump at the aggressive action.

“You really think I’d do that again? You really think that little of me? Have you not seen all the work I’ve put into this fucking marriage the past couple of months?”, he shrugs and turns back to you, “What else do you want from me Y/N?”

You wince at his spiteful words.

“I know you’ve put a lot into this marriage Chris, so have I! We’ve been doing really well, but can you really blame me for having doubts on your first day back with her? I thought you’d understand!”

“No, I don’t blame you, but I thought you’d trust me more that this by now.”

You chew on your lip nervously as you both stare at one another, terrified of the silence.

“I’ve got to go to work Y/N, see you later.” You hear Chris huff before he walks straight out the house, leaving you sitting dumbfounded and anxious at your kitchen table.

Trying to do any work from home was useless as you just felt panicked and couldn’t stop thinking about how Chris’s day was going. You hadn’t heard from him since this morning at it was now 6pm.

After developing a painful stress headache, you decide to lay down in bed. Believing you can block the world out and briefly pretend that nothing is wrong in your marriage, you shut your eyes momentarily.

FLASHBACK.

Waking up so softly, you barely blink your eyes open as you feel tender kisses dancing their way up your back, following the line of your spine. You flutter your eyes open carefully, aware of the vibrant sunlight gracing your face as you try to focus your eyes, gradually making out the floor length curtains gently blowing through the breeze from your open balcony doors. You can hear the soft crashes of the waves and can see the soft, baby blue sky from your place on the bed as you stretch out all your limbs from an energetic night. You let yourself surrender to the feeling of Chris’s lips grazing against your bare body.

As he gradually makes his way up to your neck and cheek, you hum in utter happiness and contentment as he places one final kiss on your cheek as he leans over your body. You can feel every line and shape of his naked form as it presses up against you. You think about how you’ve never felt so happy and loved in this moment, knowing that this is exactly how you’ll get to feel for the rest of your life.

“Good morning Mrs. Evans”, Chris roughly whispers, his voice hoarse from minimal sleep. He nibbles on your ear teasingly before grinding his core over your ass. You whimper at the feeling his movements evoke from you.

“Mhm, I like how that sounds”, you mumble before smiling happily. The use of that name giving you butterflies. The one that now belongs to you, the name that now proves you belong to each other forever.

END OF FLASHBACK.

You wake with a start as you hear the front door slam slightly. You sit up too quickly, as you feel light-headed and your vision blurs slightly. You breath deeply, gaining your bearings before looking at the bedside clock. 7:30pm; you had slept right through dinner.

Not that it mattered because you would have been eating alone anyway, you thought.

Your body adjusts to being awake, your stomach fluttering slightly at the memories and feelings that the dream provoked. Momentarily caught in a fever dream.

Back in reality, you brain registers that there was a slam at the door. Quickly, you get up and rush downstairs to see what is happening.

As you halt at the bottom of the stairs and look out into the open plan room, you see Chris standing by the breakfast bar. The very same breakfast bar that holds so many recent heartbreaking conversations. But this time, it doesn’t bring you sadness.

There Chris stands, holding takeout food in one hand and in the other, your favourite donuts. Behind him, on the wall, hangs the framed photo from your wedding day. Your matching smiles beaming on both your faces, almost as if they are lighting up the room.

You look back at him, standing here in your house. Bringing home dinner to you. Coming home to you.

Your breath catches in your throat, “It’s you Chris, it’s always going to be you.”

You watch him place down the food on the side, before he begins striding towards you. Stuck in your spot, you can’t do anything but smile at your husband as he reaches you.

“Forever yours”, you whisper before Chris’s lips crash onto yours for the first time in months. Your lips work together as your hands grip as his waist and his grasp your neck and face so you can’t move away. So you can only feel Chris, so you can truly remember the raw intimacy and passion between you.

As your lips melt together, it feels as monumental as the moment he kissed you as you became his wife. It feels as if your story is beginning again; with a fresh start and a new-found hope for your marriage.

♡

Forever Tags: @itsscottiesstark @patzammit @partypoison00 @cynic-spirit @n3ssm0nique @sohoseb @madbaddic7ed @moonlacebeam @ilovetheeagles @beautifulrose0809 @lovelyladymayyy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mysticapples17 @whxre4cevans @firoozehmoon @spookyparadisesheep @mytbel0st @thatonelatina @snowy992 [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

#shattered heart mini series #healed heart #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #chris evans mini series #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #rpf

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baku-bowl · 3 years

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broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

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Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart.

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?"

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

#fic rec #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #seriously though if you have a rec for me please always assume i will be unbearably grateful for it #and hit me up with it in the comments or through messaging #thanks for the follows y'all!

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hes-writer · 4 years

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Halo

Summary: y/n feels guilty for missing harry

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut

Word Count: 7648 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : don’t cheat and don’t do drugs, kids.

inspired by one of my anons. some parts are real and some parts aren’t :)

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) .

Reign Taglist

___

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

____

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

___

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

___

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!”

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant.

Did she really move on that quickly?

___

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

___

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

___

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

___

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

___

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her', his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

___

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

___

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

___

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a text back

Harry: "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/N hummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

___

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

___

As usual, let us know what you thought!

Reign aka pt3 is already up on Patreon (link in bio!)

Reign will be uploaded on Tumblr on Monday, August 31. ___

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#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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linkspooky · 3 years

Note

How do you feel about Kotaro Shimura?

Sad, mostly?

I think Kotaro should be called out for everything he did and held accountable as an abuser, but he’s also definitely a victim of abuse. This is just a personal opinion, but a lot of people will see Nana Shimura as a victim of circumstances but then not see Kotaro as a victim because physical abuse is seen as more of a problem then abandonment and neglect. That’s just an impression I get from watching fandom reactions in general. Even though, Nana is the one that created the circumstances that Kotaro is struggling through.

Kotaro is still a bad dad, but he also shows signs of carrying his scars of abandonment all the way until adulthood. If anything I would compare him to thirteen year old Toya, not because I think Toya is also an abuser, but they both show such extreme signs of neglect and abandonment.

In all three cases, physical abuse, emotional abuse, neglect / abandonment, a child will not develop into an emotionally healthy adult, because a parent is responsible for a child’s physical and emotional development. Children cannot take care of themselves, raise themselves, or be expected to be reasonable, understanding, or act like miniature adults.

“Mommy has a good reason for abandoning you...” just doesn’t really cut it for them.

So like, to vastly oversimplify. Why does Toya act the way he does? It’s because he feels like he has no parents.

Toya’s unable to regulate his behavior (his emotions / his fire), because his parents never taught him to. His parents, did not do much actual parenting as a child. Kids have good or bad behaviors, but it’s the parents job to actually help them sort through it, and regulate their behaviors.

Toya’s problem is that he had a dad and suddenly he didn’t. Enji went from focusing everything on Toya, to cutting off spending any time with him at all. It was such a dramatic change that Toya feels abandoned, but he doesn’t know why, and the idea that he internalizes is that he wans’t good enough. He wasn’t a good enough child, he keeps internalizing that idea and blaming himself for it. If he was a good enough child, his father’s love would have never gone away. However, Toya sees “being good enough” as “being a good enough hero” because that’s the idea Enji taught him.

Toya has internalized this idea that he’s a bad child, that he’s a failure, and his way of fighting against this is continually trying to prove that he’s not by training to increase the strength of his quirk.

However, the thing is. Neither Enji nor Rei ever tried to correct the idea that Toya was a failure. Because, Toya was the scapegoat of the house.

If you were to parallel it to the Tenko household. The real reason the household was distressed was Kotaro, however, rather than anyone directly standing up to Kotaro who is creating the problem, who is the abuser in this situation, it’s easier to blame the victim. It’s Tenko’s behavior, that’s causing the abuse. If only Tenko did not provoke Kotaro that way, so everyone tries to silence Tenko, and he’s scapegoated as the cause of distress in the house because he’s... upset his father is constantly abusing him.

The real problem in the house was Enji. Enji was the cause of the houise’s disruption. Toya’s behavior actually doesn’t matter.

If Toya wasn’t reacting to the abuse then someone else would. It’s not because Toya had such a negative reaction to being neglected, it’s because Enji’s reasons for having kids wasn’t to take care of them and raise them to be fully developed people, but to have a tool to live vicariously through and carry on his legacy.

Toya’s not wrong for reacting the way he did. However, rather than directly confront the real cause of the family’s distress it’s much easier to just blame Toya for his behavior. Both parents insist it’s Toya’s fault, that Toya is too stubborn, that Toya’s the one who won’t give up on his dream therefore it’s his fault.

Do I expect Rei to heroically stand up to Endeavor in this situation? No, not at all. Endeavor had the power here, and she was a victim too. However, at the same time it alseo means that Toya just didn’t have any parents. Self-harming behavior that would have been corrected by actual parenting, just, wasn’t. It is actually lowkey horrifying that Toya was neglected to this point, idk to me it’s like letting a kid starve to death when they keep crying how hungry they are. Then going, well, why didn’t he feed himself?

Anyway, I went so long on this tangent because I wanted to show how deep the scars of abandonment can run. Toya interanlized that it was his fault that he was abandoned, that he was to blame, and his parents words said otherwise, but their actions showed it. By refusing to deal with him, and labeling him as the problem child in the household, they basically just made Toya feel that he was somehow, doing something wrong, that he was the one making their love go away. That’s how a child would understand it, because a child can’t reason through things like an adult would. All Toya sees are his own feelings, his need for attention, his feelings of abandonment.

So, going back to Kotaro.

He had a mom, and then suddenly he didn’t. He had the unconditional love and support a child needs, and then it was just taken away.

There is no way that Kotaro can understand his mother’s feelings or reasons for abandoning him, nor should he be expected to. Just like when Toya was thirteen all he understood was the abadnonment he felt. If Toya can carry these feelings well into adulthood, then so logicaly, can Kotaro. These scars don’t go away easily. Yes, Kotaro had the option of seeking out professional help, but the fact that he didn’t seek treatment doesn’t mean he was never abused in the first place, and it certainly doesn’t mean he was more responsible for his abuse than his mother was.

Kotaro, just like Toya internalized the feelings that he was the fault he was being abandoned. He just wasn’t good enough of a child, for his mother to stick around and fight for him. His mother was a good hero to everyone else, but a bad mother to him. I don’t think any reasoning justifies that or explains that away, because the decision to bring a child into the world is something the adults are wholly responsible for. Kotaro didn’t ask to be born, that’s something his mother chose, she chose to became a mother, and then she equally chose not to raise him. Kotaro acts that way, because he, like Toya, just did not have parents.

There’s a reason Shigaraki and Dabi’s stories are so closely linked, like, being a good hero doesn’t change what Nana did to Kotaro, and what Enji did to Toya. The problem was Enji chose his job, he chose being a hero, he chose wanting to have a son to fulfill his heroic legacy over and over again rather than simply showing up and fulfilling his responsibility towards his family. Enji is obviously, much worse than Nana, but they both failed to parent a child in a very basic way. I don’t think there is a good excuse for abandoning a child to that extent, and there’s no reason to justify it, so both Toya and Kotaro were right for feeling completely abandoned by their parents. They were never their parents top priority.

Of course Kotaro goes on to repeat that abuse which is what makes him a more complicated character. Kotaro wasn’t raised as a healthy child, so as an adult he can’t regulate his own feelings over the past. His wounds are still there and he’s poorly coping.

Effectively, he does the same thing his mother did. He blamed Tenko. He made Tenko feel like he was the problem. Kotaro feels like he’s the reason his mother abandoned him, he simply was not good enough. Kotaro made it so Tenko felt like he was the reason his household was destroyed, it was because he was not a good enough child. Kotaro’s actions are probably because he’s internalzied the idea that he was worthless, and someone who deserved to be abandoned but his worst impact on the world was repeating that same action and making Tenko feel that way as well.

That he was someone who didn’t deserve to be saved. Because he was such a bad kid, always making his family suffer like that. And that’s wat I find so sad.

#Anonymous #mha meta #metasks #shimura tenko #shimura kotaro

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grace13star · 3 years

Text

There’s been a recent uptick in posts claiming that “c!Wilbur is a worse villain than c!Dream” or that he’s “more manipulative” and it’s made me think a lot about just....how villainized Wilbur is? Because while he has done bad things, I’ve seen people just making things up or projecting onto him and making him just. so much worse than he is in canon.

Again, this is all about the characters in the Dream SMP roleplay and are not the actual people.

Let’s go over the bad things Wilbur is accused of doing. These are arguments I have actually seen people use and defend with their whole chest.

1. Created a nation. 2. Sell drugs. 3. Talk about rigging an election. 4. Was a dick. 5. Blew up a nation. 6. Died. 7. Manipulation. 8. Neglectful dad. 9. Child soldiers. 10. Dictator. 11. “Threw a fit” over losing.

Let’s talk about these and break them down a little. Another disclaimer, this isn’t trying to excuse any hurt that Wilbur has caused, because his actions did cause harm, but this is trying to explain and add context to things that are often taken out of context or just wholly misinterpreted.

1. A common argument for why this makes Wilbur evil is that he “stole Dream’s land.” But like...no. L’Manberg was created on untouched land where no one was living, and had a combined area smaller than Purpled’s garden. Dream, until he declared war, didn’t even care about them making their nation.

I’m also including in here the claim that he “turned Dream into a villain.” ....What are you talking about. Before Wilbur was even on the server, Dream was part of the disc war, where he stole Tommy’s discs, and then kept perusing them even after the initial conflict ended, including griefing Tommy’s lawn. Before war was declared, Dream and his friends kidnapped and killed Tubbo and Tommy. Dream then also declared war on a peaceful nation (Wilbur said “if they try to declare war we will just say ‘no’”). None of that was in any way forced by Wilbur. Dream made his decisions on his own. Just because someone comes in and says “hey you suck,” doesn’t mean you have to actually suck. Dream made his own decisions, and his decision was to become a villain.

2. Potions (drugs) are an infinite resource in Minecraft and everyone uses them. This is a stupid argument.

3. Some people act like he actually did rig the election but...he didn’t. He definitely could have! Quackity wasn’t a citizen of L’Manberg, Wilbur could have banned him from the election easily, especially since his running mate was a previous enemy of L’Manberg. But he let him run, and then he let Fundy and Schlatt run as well. The worst he did here was talk about doing something bad. Also the reason he was trying to consolidate power wasn’t just for the sake of having power. There was, at the time, a civil war going on, and Wilbur tried to stop it but no one listened to him. He wanted the power to be able to protect his citizens and stop a war.

4. Being a dick is not evil.

5. This is by far the worst thing Wilbur did, and though it hurt a lot of people emotionally, it really wasn’t as bad as everyone says it was. Though the explosion caused property damage, it only destroyed the podium and some of the walkway. People’s actual houses- Manifoldland, Niki’s bakery- were totallu untouched. No one even died in the explosion- the worst thing that happened was Quackity being blown back, but he landed in water. (This isn’t to say that characters shouldn’t be hurt by this! Wilbur betrayed them and definitely hurt them, but people acting like the 16th was worse than Doomsday and also blaming Wilbur for Doomsday even though he was dead is weird.)

There’s also the claim that Wilbur blew it up for the sole purpose of hurting people, which is easily disproved by just...watching a Wilbur stream. Like seriously, stop trying to do analysis on Wilbur if you haven’t even watched his streams. Wilbur had multiple chances to blow everything up, but when he had the choice between blowing it up and hurting people or not hurting people and not blowing it up, he chose the latter every time. At the festival, while Tubbo was trapped on the stage, he stopped going for the button. When Tommy and Quackity were in the button room which would have exploded if he pressed it, he refused. Also I’m gonna use the Reddit post that’s confirmed canon again- Wilbur blew up L’Manberg because he saw how much power it had, and he saw how it hurt people. He tried to destroy it to save everyone from the pain and conflict caused by the nation. He didn’t think they would rebuild.

6. This one is the one that actually makes me angry. Because guys....Wilbur’s death was a suicide. If Phil wasn’t there, Wilbur would have done it himself- he had been planning to do it himself for months, as there was originally TNT in the button room that would have killed him with the explosion. The reason it makes me angry is because suicide is an extremely serious topic. Characters and the fandom framing it as “Wilbur left or abandoned them” is an ableist take that enforces the stereotype that suicide is a “weak” option or that it’s “running away.”

There’s also people that will villainizing him for “forcing Phil to kill him” but while I empathize with Phil and realize it was a stressful situation, Phil very much made his own decisions here too. Wilbur didn’t force Phil to kill him, he asked him a few times and then Phil did it.

7. Again, this is not an attempt to excuse, but an attempt to explain. So first of all, people try to claim that Wilbur was manipulative from the beginning. This is false. Persuasion and making sure someone is “loyal to a cause” is not manipulation. And then Pogtopia- he’s never manipulative in Pogtopia, again, he is only persuasive. I have a longer post that goes into more detail, so definitely check that out. After he is revived, he is definitely guilt tripping Tommy in his most recent stream, but (again, not an excuse) it’s clearly from his desperation to not be alone anymore after 13 years of near constant isolation.

I’ve also seen claims that Wilbur manipulated Techno and that Techno didn’t know they were planning on starting another government, but this is easily disproven by the fact that Wilbur said multiple times that they’re “taking back L’Manberg” and that he wants to be it’s “rightful ruler” again while Techno was in vc. What about that implies they’re not going back to the government.

Also since this is relevant- he never manipulated Niki. He was always kind and caring with Niki, even through his mental breakdown. He wasn’t able to bring her into Pogtopia at first, but he talked to her and made sure she’d be okay there (and she said yes!), he offered his life for hers at the festival before hitting people around them and yelling at her to run, she was the first person he gave Blue to, he gave her an inspirational speech and showed her the fox that had been left for her, she was one of the few things Ghostbur remembered. He betrayed and hurt her, but it was not manipulation.

Gonna combine this with this point also but Wilbur was not in any way abusive. A lot of people in this fandom for some reason equate “unhealthy relationship” with “abuse”, especially after the exile arc. Wilbur and Tommy’s relationship, while unhealthy, was not abusive. Please learn the difference.

Also, if you’ve ever said that “Wilbur gaslit anyone” or that Wilbur is “insane” I want you to define those terms for me right now. No looking anything up. Tell me what they mean. Do it.

8. What about any of Wilbur and Fundy’s dynamic implies any kind of neglect. No, seriously, where did this take come from. Wilbur was canonically overbearing and he babied Fundy. While it definitely wasn’t the best relationship, it definitely wasn’t neglectful. The only times in canon we’ve seen Wilbur be separated from Fundy was when he was exiled and Fundy cheered while he was shot and killed, when Fundy disowned him in front of their enemy, and when he committed suicide. Even before his death, when they were still on rocky terms, Wilbur stepped forward to defend Fundy from Schlatt in the van.

9. This take is irrelevant. Child soldiers don’t matter. For one, this is Minecraft. Every single person has equal opportunities. Anyone can become powerful no matter what age they are as long as they grind enough. For another thing, at the beginning part of the roleplay no one was trying to make a long serious story about war and trauma, it was just some friends fucking around and fighting each other. Wilbur also revealed that while writing the Revolution arc that he headcanoned Tommy and Tubbo to be about 20- we know these ages aren’t correct because they’ve been reffered to by their irl ages in lore- but it shows that the “these are children” plot point was added way later- no one mentions it at all in season 1. It doesn’t matter.

10. This is directed at one person. You know who you are.

A dictator is defined as “one holding complete autocratic control : a person with unlimited governmental power.” Wilbur didn’t have control. That’s the whole reason for the election. It literally takes one google search to prove you wrong.

11. There’s a difference between “losing” and “being unfairly exiled by your political opponent who is now declaring himself emperor.” Wilbur was totally fine with losing. He said during the election that he was fine with Quackity winning, and when they actually did lose, though he wasn’t happy about it, he encouraged Tommy to calm down and told him “We’re citizens tonight.” He only “threw a fit” after he was thrown out of the nation he built by someone who immediately declared himself emperor.

So in conclusion, Wilbur Soot is an antagonist, but he is villified way beyond canon and I’m getting tired of some of these takes that I see over and over again that are easily disproved by just using critical thinking skills.

This is most of the takes I’ve seen- some I haven’t even dignified with a response because of how clear it is that someone is just lying to try and excuse someone else’s actions- but if anyone has anymore they’ve seen that they want me to talk about, my ask box is open.

#wilbur soot #c!wilbur soot #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot character analysis #some character neg i guess?#nothing direct #but c!dream sucks and i make that clear #c!fundy #tommyinnit #c!tommyinnit #tw suicide #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting mention #learn what words mean /threat #c!dream neg #but is it really neg if its canon

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Hold Me Together

Chapter 1 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's self-esteem issues, minor injuries.

~~~~~~~

Take My Hand

Eliot wouldn't even classify himself as badly hurt per se. He was mostly just bruised up with a dislocated shoulder, a slight stab wound and the only thing that made him this unstable was the damaged ankle and the fact that he’d been fighting out in the rain and was completely soaked to the bone.

He knew better than to lie to himself about it, but he would be just fine on his own to take of it, before crashing into his hotel bed and sleeping the horrible day off and ride back home the next day in Lucille. Now only if Hardison and Parker believed that too.

The two of them had been keeping an eye on them ever since he had let out a slightly pained grunt over the coms, after his ankle had been kicked.

They were hovering over him as he came limping back after a con well done. The asshole had been charged with tax fraud and they could be on their way, but neither Hardison nor Parker had relaxed, both wearing a pinched face when they saw the bruises on his. For gods sake, Hardison had tried to give him a hand into the van.

However, during the ride to the hotel the adrenaline had worn off and his ankle throbbed and the hand he was pressing against his stab wound was getting soaked, he would need stitches. His shoulder also ached, but he wasn’t about to pop it back under the watchful gazes of the others.

When Lucille stopped in front of the hotel, the last thing he wanted to do, was get up.

He was shivering and he ached. He knew the gazes of everyone were on him, but he didn’t care, all he wanted was a warm bed and dry clothes.

He laser-focused on getting up from his seat, not caring about the slight hiss, before he set the first step to the door. The moment he put any weight on his ankle, he buckled and the only reason he didn’t end up on his face was Hardison, who had been hovering, jumping in to save him, making him hiss again as he caught him on the stab wound.

Hardison steadied him before pulling his hand away for a second and paling at the blood, before squeaking: “What the hell, man! Why didn’t you tell us you were bleeding?”

Eliot tried to remember why, while his brain focused on how nice it was to have Hardison’s large hand splayed over his side and wrapped around his waist. He leaned into the other to stay upright, faintly remembering that he shouldn’t. He straightened up and blinked as he mumbled: “Have stuff for stitches in my room.”

“It needs stitches?” Hardison exclaimed. “And you didn’t tell us? We could have at least bandaged it for you until we got here.”

“‘sfine, Hardison,” he frowned, suddenly remembering why he hadn’t told them. “I can manage fine, jus’ need to get to my room.”

“You- you- The man just needs to get to his room,” Hardison guffawed. “What are you going to do there, Eliot? Bleed to death? Or would you rather freeze? You’re still drenched and cold as fuck, man.”

“I’ve had worse,” Eliot protested, ignoring that he was shivering slightly.

“That makes it worse, I hope you realize that,” Hardison told him, which he had not. Having the other there as a crutch was already more comfort than he was used to and it was messing with his brain in a way an adrenaline-crash wouldn't. The warmth from Hardison made his head fuzzy and he hated how it made him feel vulnerable when there was still so much he needed to do.

Ashe busied himself withthinking about how he needed to get away from Hardison, while also not wanting to let go, he missed how Hardison and Parker shared a look, making a decision.

Parker turned to Sophie and Nate, who had been waiting under an umbrella until the others could join them in going inside. “We’ll take care of him, you two go ahead.”

The words unlocked something in his chest and the fuzziness cleared up. He shouldn’t be cared for, he was the caretaker. He was the one, who made sure everyone else was okay and the job was not done, not until they were all safely piled into Lucille on the highway far from here. Only then he could rest.

Not now.

He needed to be away from here, letting people close was dangerous and he could already feel his control slipping. He leaned more weight back on his own feet, clenching his teeth at the pain, before he mentally made a plan.

No matter how hurt he was, he needed to be alone and deal with it before it would go back to normal. However, he wouldn't get to his room on his own and maybe if he gave Hardison the idea that he’d done something, he would let Eliot go.

“Are we standing here all night?” he asked. “I wanna get to my room. Come on.”

Both grinned happily at his allowance to help him and he tried to ignore the contraction his heart made when he realized he put that grin on their faces.

Parker took his hand on his non-dislocated side to support him when he stepped out of Lucille, while Hardison supported him around his waist, also avoiding his dislocated shoulder. It was a slow going with his ankle and one support place down, but they managed.

Crossing the parking lot was equally slow with Hardison steadyinghim as Parker held up an umbrella against the unending rain.

When they finally entered the elevator, Eliot had never been more glad to just stand. Even if his companions were glancing at him in concern. He just closed his eyes and tried to block them out, which was easier said then done with Hardison’s hand still on his waist, while Parker stood close enough that he could feel her breath.

He would have run, if he could, but instead he was stuck in the elevator with them as human crutches. He focused on all the pain and the cold in order to block out the warmth of them and how nice it was.

It shouldn’t be nice.

Eliot was used to worse than this and had toughed that out on his own. He was fine by himself and having others there was only a weakness. What if they thought him as incapable of taking care of himself and therefore of them? What if on the next job they wouldn't trust him in watching their backs? He couldn't risk that.

Still, the elevator had stopped and unless he wanted to be in unnecessary pain, he would need them to get to his room where the distances were more manageable for his mangled leg.

So he grudgingly allowed them to help him to his room, thinking he could shake them off there and crash in peace.

Alas no such luck was on his side and the universe turned against him as Hardison and Parker followed him into his room. He made a protesting noise, but before he could tell them to fuck off, Hardison said: “No, man, you look terrible right now, no offense. But I’m not leaving you here to pass out on the floor, okay.”

He turned to Parker for support, but she made a seriousface, before smiling: “I’ve been working on my first aid.”

“I can also manage my own stitches,” he still attempted. He couldn't risk them seeing him as weak, even if Hardison’s hand was still warm and Parker’s smile eased a bit of the ache in his bones. He just couldn't.

“Your hands are shaking from the cold and your eyes keep glazing over,” Parker observed quite bluntly.

And he hadn’t even realized he was fazing out to avoid the pain, also avoiding any potential threats around him. He cursed and blinked, hissing when all the aches came back. He now remembered that Parker had said something and he should probably react. “I’m fine, alright. I’ll take a warm shower.”

With the pain buzzing in his head, it was harder to argue and he was tired. He wanted to get them out of his room, but neither looked willing to go, so he would need to be more stubborn than them to get them to leave.

Hardison was the first to realize Eliot was going to be stubborn about this, so he let him go, making Eliot sway as he nearly toppled over before catching himself with a groan. Hardison crossed his arms and said: “Alright, if you can walk to your bathroom, we’ll leave, otherwise you let us help you.”

Eliot looked at the bathroom, which was on the other side of his bed. A double bed, because Hardison craved luxury and projected that on everyone else. It was relatively far, but he could grit his teeth and get there.

The first step was hell. His ankle screamed at him and leaning any weight on it was a very bad idea, he would need to bandage it and cool it and rest for a few days. He definitely shouldn’t be walking on it. Still, he gritted his teeth like he promised himself and walked. He didn’t react, he had trained himself not to react and now that he was consciously thinking of not reacting, he could. Even if he wanted to scream in pain.

“Eliot, stop!” Parker exclaimed after three steps of agony. “You’re hurting yourself. If you keep going you’ll only injure yourself further. Who will protect us if you hurt yourself? Just let us help you.”

It spoke testaments to how far she’d gotten that she could figure out her feelings and verbalize them and Eliot would appreciate it more were he not still reeling from the pain.

When he had gotten reality back into focus, he thought about her words. He could allow himself a helping hand when it meant he would heal faster, because that was their reason. They didn’t want the guy having their back to be injured, especially with how fast Nate went from job to job, it would be bad.

His brain could allow that logic. It was business, no emotions and just ensuring their cons. It wasn’t twisty and complicated.

So, he nodded and smiled tiredly when Hardison exclaimed: “Oh thank god.”

They were at his side in moments, Hardison again wrapping his arm around his waist again while Parker fluttered around him to catch him should he collapse.

In the bathroom, they set him down on the toilet. Parker was at his side, asking him about how to treat his wounds. He replied: “It’s best if I do stitches before I shower and wrap it afterwards. I’ll do my shoulder myself now and my ankle just needs to be wrapped and cooled, maybe elevated while I sleep. It’s not that bad, Parker, promise.”

She studied his face for a moment, before nodding and asking: “You sure you don’t need help with your shoulder? And I can do the stitches.”

“Nah, I’d rather do the shoulder myself. But fineon the stitches,” he told her, he shouldn’t be doing stitches with his recently dislocated shoulder making him unsteady anyway. It had nothing to do with her hopeful face, not at all.

He braced himself, before he brought his hand down, letting out a long muffled groan as the shoulder popped loudly back into place.

“Oh man, that’s just wrong,” Hardison said at the noise. He had been following their movements from his place at the sink, still not all that well with injuries. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine, Hardison. Dislocated shoulder is hardly the worst that happened to me,” he said, realizing he had already told them that and it hadn’t been received well. “Now if I can get stitched up you both can leave me in peace to shower.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” Hardison protested.

“What?”

“No, man, you’ll pass out or slip or something. I’m not leaving you here to accidentally hit your head and bleed out in the shower,” Hardison explained. “That’s undignified.”

“And you standing here isn’t undignified?” he shot back, hoping Hardison would leave, before the twisty feeling in his chest could take over.

“It isn’t,” Parker said, stuff for the stitches in hand. “Now, shirt off,” she ordered.

He hadn’t thought of that and braced himself as he took off his shirt. It was slightly awkward with his still sore shoulder, but he managed, even if he got slightly stuck at one point and someone tugged it the rest of the way. It was Hardison, he saw after, since he still had his wet shirt in his hands.

Without the shirt, the cool air reminded him how cold he was. He was even shivering, which was good, but also bad. He would need to hold still for the stitches, but he wasn’t hypothermic.

They didn’t have a local anesthetic, so he would have to tough it out anyway. Parker cleaned his wound as best she could with rubbing alcohol and water, before disinfecting the needles and setting to work.

Eliot focused on Hardison, forcing himself not to react to the needle sliding in and out of his flesh as he held still.

Hardison was also not looking at his wound, instead choosing to lay a hand on Eliot’s shoulder as if he was comforting him instead of the other way around. Still, it was a grounding touch to focus on and Eliot tried to ignore the weird flutters in his chest as he relaxed, sagging slightly against Hardison, who took that as an invitation to lay Eliot’s head against his stomach.

The gash at his side was more long than deep and it took a while before it was stitched up completely.

In that time, Eliot had allowed his mind to drift as his body became plaint against the warmth. It was only when Parker patted his leg lightly and told him she was all done that he blinked back into reality, immediately blushing as he realized how he had cozied up to Hardison in that time.

He quickly retreated and tried to play it off by examining his wound. It was neat stitch work and he smiled at Parker and said: “Looks good,” feeling warm when she returned the gesture. It would be a small addition to his scar collection and he was glad neither had said a word about it.

Meanwhile Hardison had walked to the shower and turned it on, playing with the heat until he was satisfied. Then he turned back and said: “You can’t sit in the shower, well you could on the floor, but that’s nasty. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Yeah, of course,” Eliot lied, hoping it would be true.

Now he just had to get his jeans off and get into the shower with Hardison’s help, which should be mortifying, but he was mostly scared of him and Parker leaving, despite how much he had wanted them to go moments before. Parker wasn’t much of the heavy lifting, but she hadn’t strayed from his side and he found he would be sad to see them go and have to tend to his wounds alone, even if that was the best course of action.

His silence had dragged on too long, because Parker asked him: “Do you need help with the pants?”

“What? No, I’m alright,” he said, unbuckling his belt, before realizing getting up on his own was a challenge. “Maybe a hand with getting up?” he admitted, hating that he had to ask for help and hoping he wouldn't find judgment in their eyes.

He didn’t find any, both were glad to lever him up, which was a two men job now that his body’s control had left him in place of tiredness.

Once standing, he found that getting his jeans off was harder than he assumed with how they wetly clung to his legs. He couldn't put any weight on his ankle, so he was standing lopsided, which pulled on his stitches.

After a moment or two, they took pity on him, with Hardison giving Parker a look, who then asked him if he needed any help. He wanted to deny it for a second, but he didn’t see himself getting out of his jeans alone and he reminded himself that it was just bad for business if he went down and then wondered why it made him flush when Parker shimmied him out of his jeans while Hardison held him up. He pushed the thought down.

The track to the shower was hell and Eliot couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this woozy, which was strange because he’d definitely gotten injured worse and it hadn’t had this effect on him. Of course beforehe hadn’t hadHardison and Parker to takecare of him.

It should worry him more how much he was giving in and how badly it messed with his head, but it was hard to think when there were hands guiding him, keeping him steady, making sure he wouldn't fall.

When the spray first hit him, it hurt and he hissed, nearly falling again, only just caught by the others. His skin tingled until it itched as he warmed up.

He hadn’t even realized he was still leaning against Hardison until he asked: “You good to shower on you own, man? Because I don’t mind holding you up, but I’m ditching my jeans and shirt then.”

“Wha?” he blinked, before he processed. “No, ‘m fine.”

“You know what, I don’t believe you,” Hardison said, then he turned to Parker and said: “Hold him for a moment.”

His large soft hands were replaced by Parker’s calloused and small ones. Her long sleeves got wet under the spray, but Eliot couldn't bring himself to apologize for it, just too exhausted to even think of moving as he wondered why he had ever thought it’d be a good idea to handle this on his own.

Soon Hardison joined him in the shower, wrapping his arms around him from behind and letting Eliot lean against him under the spray.

It was warm and comfortable and for a moment he could forget that he was injured and cold and barely warming up. He could forget that he was technically not safe yet and that the people in his shower, holding him up were his coworkers and nothing more. He could just let go and exist for a moment.

“Parker, can you sponge him down?” Hardison’s voice broke the spell. “Gently,” the hacker added in a warning voice.

He tried to protest that he could clean himself, thank you very much, but he tripped over his own tongue, which never happened, and before the words could be formed, Parker had already appeared in the shower sans shirt, armed with a sponge.

Contrary to his expectation, she was gentle and it somehow bothered him more than if she’d been rough for reasons he couldn't explain.

She worked him down methodically, but the sponge soothed his bruises and he got lost in the sensations of her scrubbing him down. He was in just his boxers and Hardison was too, while Parker was only wearing leggings and a sports bra. It should be weird, it should bother him that he wasn’t even fighting his closing eyes, nor fighting the fact that he was practically burrowing into Hardison, but it didn’t. He just felt content.

Still, even all that contentness couldn't make the pain go away completely. He was exhausted as were his muscles and they let him know along with his ankle and minor stab wound. It took him a moment to register the hurting as bad, then he said: “I need to sit,” and it was strange how easy admitting that came to him.

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Hardison said. “You still wanna wash the blood out of your hair? Because it’s fine where it is, but I can also imagine you wanna take care of your luscious locks.”

“There’s blood in my hair?” He must have been really out of it that he hadn’t noticed that, but he didn’t like the idea of that being there. He would probably be too exhausted to wash it out later, hell, he was too exhausted now, but blood in someone’s hair was a reason for suspicion and they weren’t home yet. So, he groaned, realizing he still had to do that with his hurt shoulder and tired arm, not to mention the stitches.

“Hey, you good?” Hardison asked at the groan.

He tiredly tried to explain, hoping it would come across. “‘S jus’ that blood in ur hair is susp’cious and my arms’re tired, but my hair nee’s to be clean and jus’,” he groaned again as he attempted to lift his hands to show them.

What he didn’t see was their concerned gazes at how out of it he was. Parker checked his eyes and he frowned at her. “Do you have a concussion?” she asked.

And that would make a lot of sense, if he had been hit in the head hard enough and he knewhe hadn’t been, so it couldn't be. So, maybe it was the blood loss? Or just the exhaustion. He had been awake for quite some time and taken a bunch of hits, but that was standard. Poison? No, not poison. Just- just tiredness, he supposed.

“No, ‘m fine, Parker,” he finally replied. “Jus’ ad’enaline crashin’,” yeah, that sounded about right, he could believe that.

“Does this always happen after a con?” Hardison asked, “I’m moving us to the floor, by the way, don’t mind me,” he added, indeed lowering Eliot until he was sitting on the shower floor between Hardison’s legs, despite the fact that it had been nasty earlier.

“Nah,” he assured them. “Mus’ve been more ti’ed than I thought.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay, we’ll get you sorted,” Hardison said, before turning his attention to Parker and asking: “Can you hand me that shower head.” a small pause, “Ah, thanks, baby.”

Eliot was confused about the interaction for a moment, then felt the spray in his hair, startling him slightly. Hardison shushed him, saying: “Can’t have a security risk,” and if Eliot was a bit clearer he would have caught the joking tone, but instead his brain went: ‘yeah, makes sense,’ and let it happen.

He heard Parker’s excited voice ask if she could do the soap and Hardison chuckle out a ‘course, mama,’ but nothing really registered.

At some level he knew it was slight dissociation, a trick he used more often than he’d like to admit to deal with going through the pain when something needed to be done, such as tending to the wounds, like now.

But, the pain wasn’t even that bad, and the care was much better than he was used to. He shouldn’t be distancing himself from the whole experience so much, still his mind was pushing him away from his body, while it relaxed in the hands of his coworkers.

His teammates.

His people.

He should really be getting back to his body, Hardison was shielding his eyes and the warm spray was running over his head. He focused on that, on the water running down his bare back, on Hardison still murmuring nonsense to him, on Parker poking his leg, not quite his ankle, but close enough to feel it. He kept his focus on the ankle.

In his mind he defended it by telling himself that he was just assessing the damage and that was why he was focusing on the ankle, because it would be bad for business if the team’s muscle couldn't walk. He didn’t tell himself the pain was more familiar and easier to cope with than the gentle touch.

Getting out of the shower was a different challenge and while Eliot was finally warm again, he still wasn’t much help and his muscled frame was heavy.

He got jostled around quite a bit and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making any noise when he accidentally caught himself on his hurt ankle, but in the end he was standing and his stitches were still in tact. A victory in his books.

Parker was still mostly dry, so when Hardison was done maneuvering Eliot onto the toilet, he grabbed a towel for himself as well, throwing the other to Parker as he said: “I’m grabbing us some clothes and a bit of ice, alright, mama?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of him,” Parker assured him as he left. Then her focus was completely on Eliot, who still sat dazed on the toilet, slightly upset at the cooling water and cold air, but not enough to do something about it in his exhausted state.

Parker filled up his field of vision again, first patting down his face, then producing a tiny towel to wrap his hair in. She moved over his neck, down his back, doing his arms as she went. She took extra care around the stitches and Eliot felt overwhelmed.

The twisty feelings he’d been trying to push away came back. Parker was being gentle with him when there was no reason for it, Hardison was getting him ice and had sat on the nasty floor with him instead of leaving his hair uncomfortable and bloody.

They didn’t need to do any of that. They could just leave him to his own and he would have been fine. They hadn’t needed to jump in when they saw he could tough through it. So why were they still here? Why were they still being nice to him? And why did it hurt so much that they cared? He shouldn’t care so mu-

Oh.

Oh no.

He liked them, no, he loved them. They were so nice to him and part of his brain enjoyed the comfort so much that the survival part of his brain had jumped in to make his consciousness disappear, because it didn’t know how to cope with that.

Parker was still drying him and he should really push her off right about now, because this was way too intimate and she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend he also had feelings for, but he didn’t think that made the situation any better.

It didn’t seem Parker noticed his internal breakdown as she went down his legs, thankfully ignoring other areas luckily still covered by the boxers, even if he knew that wet as they were, they didn’t hide much.

Okay, back it up, Eliot, he told himself. What do we know?

He went over it in his head. He had wanted to push them away, he remembered that now and the twisty feelings he had also pushed away in order to see it as a business transaction, but Parker and Hardison had gone much further than a business transaction. And he’d liked that. That could be number two, he liked that they cared for him.

Was that just a touch starvation thing, he wondered. He examined it further, then came to the conclusion that it wasn’t, not entirely at least. Having the contact for contact’s sake was nice, but it was nothing compared to the women(and sometimes men) he had spend a night with. It felt like much more, just more. Intense.

So, it wasn’t just the touch, it was the fact that Hardison and Parker were the ones touching him. Fuck. They were dating each other, he shouldn’t be weird about it. They were good together and his feelings should not interfere with what they had.

How he hadn’t figured out he liked them before now, he didn’t know, because it washed over him in waves suddenly and he had a hard time getting it under control.

Of course, his mind had disassociated so badly during the time they showered him (which was another thing he had just let them do) just to avoid feeling things over them, so maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. God, this was a fucking mess.

Semi-luckily for him, his life had been a series of messes and he knew how to deal with them: repress all feelings about it and move on without ever telling a soul.

He had only just decided on that course of action when Hardison returned to make it hard for him again. He’d only just gotten used to Parker’s gentle patting.

But Hardison had clothes and maybe getting covered a bit would be better. Of course, he still couldn't lift his arm properly and standing was out of the question, so this reverse-strip was about to become up close and personal. He would say he hated it, but that was a lie and he hated himself a bit for it.

Not that he had much time to think about it, since Hardison immediately began talking the moment he entered the bathroom. “I know your shoulder still hurts and I went through your stuff, but you only have shirts with you, so I got you one of my zip-up hoodies, because I’m amazing. I also have boxers here and I know that’s kinda weird that I went through your stuff and got you boxers, but mine wet were very uncomfortable and I didn’t want to subject you to that. Also I have sweatpants.”

“You went through my stuff?” he asked, finding the thing that was the most normal to comment on, hoping it would keep the whole thing normal.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry, but we need to get you dressed and into a bed,” Hardison answered. “You looked like you were about to fall asleep standing earlier.”

And that was hard to deny and he felt a bit fuzzy when he imaged Hardison taking care to select one of his hoodies, just so that Eliot wouldn't have to lift his arm. He made a tired gesture, any fight he would have leaving his body, then he smiled: “It’s okay. ‘m pretty tired anyway.”

“Good, you need the rest,” Hardison nodded, before laying the clothes down and picking up the hoodie, holding it up with a question mark in his eyes.

Eliot nodded and the towel he’d had in his hair fell. He made a small noise, before admitting: “I’d forgotten that was there.”

“It looked funny,” Parker told him, before adding, “I’m glad you’re not slurring your words anymore. I was worried.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Eliot blushed, remembering his antics in the shower. He still felt near that person, but now that there was less pain and contact to distance himself from and he had more control over his emotions, he could once again regulate his speech.

“Wanna talk about what happened?” Hardison asked, easing his right and hurt shoulder into the hoodie while Eliot let out a measured breath at the stab of pain.

He remembered being in a daze, cuddling up to Hardison and letting Parker wash him gently with a sponge, despite the fact that they were together and he should stay far away from that. He remembered tripping over his words and needing to sit, while they washed his hair, because he couldn't. He remembered it being nice and he quickly put a lid on all of that.

“Did anything happen?” he finally shot back, deflecting, as he put his left arm into the other sleeve of Hardison’s hoodie. It hugged his arms tightly, since he was slightly more built than Hardison, but the sleeves were longer and fell over his hands.

“That’s a no, then okay,” Hardison nodded, “You need pants. Now, we tried letting you take of your own pants off and that didn’t work. So-”

“You’re not changing my fucking underwear, Hardison.” Eliot had to put a stop to that line of thinking ASAP. It was too close to things he wanted and he couldn't risk that.

“Why not?” Parker asked.

She was completely genuine and he could never not answer her. So, he started to stumble through a reply: “I’d be naked, Parker and you- you’re-I- it’s fucking embarrassing. I’m a grown man, I can change my own fucking clothes.”

It looked like Parker wanted to say something to that, but a look from Hardison cut her off. The man turned to Eliot and put his hands together as he did the point thing to Eliot, while he talked: “Okay, man, look I get it. This sucks for you right now and all that, but me and Parker care about you, right, and we are worried about you. So, neither of us want to really leave you here to hurt yourself. You get that?”

His brain had mostly stopped when Hardison told him they cared about him, static filling his head as alarms blared while other parts flashed with hidden meanings he shouldn’t seek. Faintly he was aware he should answer, so he mumbled: “Wha- yeah.”

Hardison rubbed his forehead and said: “See, this is what we’re talking about. Where did your mind run of to? Did you even hear what I said?”

“Partly. Man, get off my case, I’m trying, okay,” Eliot snapped, a bit harsher than he’d intended, but all the emotions were twisting up inside his chest and making it difficult for him to focus without spilling anything.

“Hey, don’t get grumpy at us for trying to help,” Hardison snapped back.

Something shriveled inside Eliot. He’d never wanted to make Hardison upset with him. He was just exhausted and slightly upset at the whole situation. He looked back to see why he had even agreed to them helping him. Their worried faces came to mind again and he felt a pang of guilt go through his chest.

“Come on, Eliot, say something, before you start shivering again,” Parker pleaded and when he looked down, his legs were covered with goosebumps.

“…Fine,” he gave in, “please be quick.”

“Alright, man!” And there was relief and pep in Hardison’s voice and the fact that he wasn’t angry anymore did more good to Eliot than any painkiller could have. “We’re gonna be quick and discreet. Parker’ll hold you up and I’ll change. Won’t peek, promise.”

“Just get it over with,” Eliot sighed as he was heaved to his feet, still unsteady, but now more due to the tiredness pulling at his limbs rather than the pain that still pulsed in the background.

As promised it was quick, didn’t mean it was any less awkward.

Parker kept him steady with her arms around his forearms, but he still couldn't put his weight on his left ankle. So when Hardison pulled his underwear down, he could step out of one of his leg-holes by himself and Parker had to shift to under his shoulder, before Hardison could exchange the wet underwear for a new one.

Still it could have been much worse and the clean, dryunderwear felt indeed much better. He was now sitting on a towel on the toilet, while Hardison knelt in front of him, bunching up the sweats so he could put his feet into it.

When it came to his injured ankle. He clenched his teeth, not managing to keep a groan in his throat. Under his breath, Hardison apologized softly.

Then Parker knelt down with bandages and set to work on his ankle, wrapping it. She had not been lying when she’d said she had worked on her first aid. The bandaging was secure, but not too tight and tied off neatly.

“Now I still need to do your side,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you were warmed up a bit. How are you feeling, still cold?”

“No, ‘m much better, Park,” he smiled at her and let her undo the zipper, before she bandaged his side as well.

He was then once again pulled to his feet and Hardison tugged his sweats the rest of the way, before he could think of bending down and doing it himself.

The track to the bed was slow, but less painful than last time. With his mind back in order a bit, it took effort to not sink into Hardison’s side or think too much about the hand on his waist and how careful he was with his shoulder. It was all so tender and Eliot needed it to stop before his brain could write all sorts of meanings about the gesture.

Parker had already pulled back the sheets on the bed and had put down a pillow for his foot. He smiled at her, but it turned into a wince once he sat down. He had enough strength left in him to lay down on his own, but the moment his head had hit the pillow the exhaustion slammed into him and he knew he would make a longer night than 90 minutes.

Small calloused hands lifted his ankle onto the pillow, before a towel-wrapped ice bag was dropped on it and a finger poked the ankle one last time. He didn’t have the energy to react to the poke and he felt lightly touched at the gesture, something he pushed down immediately.

He still felt as if there were a thousand things he had to do before he could rest. He hadn’t been able to check the parameter, or if his door had been locked, if Nate and Sophie were alright, where Parker and Hardison would be when he was asleep. Hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

Eliot contemplated getting back up for his teeth. He could check the other stuff while he was at it and dental hygiene was important.

Hardison would probably scoff at that and laugh with the way he only drank orange soda and other sugary stuff, but Eliot knew what dental infections could do at the wrong moment and most of his teeth were fake and had cost him a lot of money. He was very careful with his teeth.

Still, he found himself drifting off despite all that, faintly feeling his mattress dip under familiar weights.

A/N:

How oblivious can this man get? And other questions about Eliot’s emotional state. Repression is one hell of a drug. But he figures it out, shout out to Eliot for sifting through his feelings like a somewhat functional person, what a lad. Even though his answer was in the end suppression, he tried.

I am also excited to announce that I’m making it both better and worse for him >:3

(don’t worry, he’s getting compensated with hugs, so he should be fine, mostly)

#RR writing #tw: minor injury #tw: self esteem issues #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage parker #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot x hardison x parker #thiefsome #hitter hacker thief #leverage tv #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #Hold Me Together #Hold Me Together Part 1

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jonsa101 · 3 years

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Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson: The Well-Meaning, Incredibly Self-Centered Leading Men We’ve Grown to Love.

Hey fam! Like I said, I’ve been writing a ton of meta lately and this is another one that’s just been sitting in my drafts. It’s basically a This Is Us and a New Amsterdam meta which is something I haven’t done before but something I want do more of. In my Game of Thrones days I used to write a lot of meta about shows and characters that had similarities so this is fun for me. I hope y’all enjoy this. ALSO THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH SHOWS!!!!!!!

Without a doubt the two most popular shows on NBC is This is Us and New Amsterdam. And what’s not to love? They’re both emotionally driven, heartfelt, shows that focus on incredibly deep and complex topics. Though one show focuses on family dynamics and the other focuses on the healthcare system, these shows are very similar in more ways than one. Case in point, Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson. The more I watch these two shows, the more I realize how these two characters are so alike!!! These two men are kind-hearted, well intentioned, individuals who genuinely want to make some sort of positive difference. They are incredibly ambitious and always have “bright ideas” and “goals” they want to accomplish and somehow they’re able to meet those goals without ever having to sacrifice their wants and needs. By every definition these men are the “main characters” or the ultimate “protagonists.” These are the folks that we are supposed to root for. At the same time, though these men have many traits to be admired, when you truly look at it both of them can be incredibly self centered and selfish especially when it pertains to their romantic partners and love interests. No matter how appealing you make these characters out to be these men clearly fall under the Behind Every Great Man trope.

The Behind Every Great Man trope has been used countless of times throughout Cinema and TV History that I’m sure that I don’t even have to explain it to you but for the sake of this meta this is how it’s defined.

“Behind Every Great Man...stands an even greater woman! Or in about a hundred variations is a Stock Phrase referring to how people rarely achieve greatness without support structures that go generally unappreciated, and said support structure is a traditionally female role via being the wife, mother, or sometimes another relation. This trope is specifically about a man who is credited with something important, but owes much of his success to the woman in his life.”

This trope usually has a negative connotation (and rightfully so) because the man who often benefits from this is an asshole and unworthy of this type of support!

For example:

Oliva and Fitz

Cristina Yang and Burke

Cookie and Lucious

Ghost and Tasha

There are countless others but these are a few of the couples that come to mind for me. Randall and Max aren’t comparable to any of these men that are listed above but they are still operating under the same trope. It just looks nicer because Max and Randall are inherently good and inspirational. They are the heroes of the story. I would even argue and say that both men fall under the Chronic Hero Syndrome trope which is defined as

“Chronic Hero Syndrome is an "affliction" of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero themself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone or become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they're unable to save the day. Spending so much time and effort saving everyone else can also put a strain on the hero's personal or dating life.”

Just because Max and Randall have these incredibly inspiring aspirations, is it fair that their wives and love interests are always expected to rise to the occasion and support them. Is it ok for their partners to continuously sacrifice their wants and needs because they love these men?

Let’s dive into it.

Truth be told, Beth Pearson, Helen Sharpe and Georgia Goodwin had to endure a GREAT DEAL to emotionally support the dreams and aspirations of these men while sacrificing so much of themselves in the process. In media we often see women sacrificing so much of their wants and needs out of love for these male leads and rarely do men do the same thing for their romantic partners and love interests. All three of these women clearly fall under the Act of True Love trope defined as

“The Act of True Love proves beyond doubt that you are ready to put your loved one's interests before your own, that you are truly loyal and devoted to them. Usually this involves a sacrifice on your part, at the very least a considerable effort and/or a great risk. The action must be motivated, not by morals or principle or expectation of future reward, but by sheer personal affection.When your beloved is in dire need of your help, or in great danger, and you do something, at great expense to yourself, for the sake of their safety, their welfare, or their happiness, thus proving beyond any doubt that you put their interest ahead of yours.”

Over the past few seasons we have seen all three of these women truly live up to this trope without any true consequences or accountability from the men they’re making all these sacrifices for. For example, in Beth and Randall’s marriage, how many times did Randall spring an idea on Beth without truly talking to her or considering her wants first? Everyone thinks these two are an ideal couple but she has endured A LOT for Randall.

Randall has spontaneously quit his job, moved his dying biological dad into their home, bought his biological dad’s old apartment building, fostered and adopted a child and also ran for city councilman outside of his district. In all of these decisions, Randall “consulted” Beth about it but at the same time didn’t really consult her. In a way there has always been this expectation of Beth to just go along for the ride with what Randall wants. Is anyone else exhausted from reading that list?! That’s a lot for partner to endure and lovingly support. But Beth has endured and has been Randall’s rock through it all!!! What worries me is that the one time Beth spoke out about her wants and needs of pursuing dance again, he couldn’t match the same energy she was giving him and eventually it led to world war three between them. Though things are looking up in their relationship and he’s starting to support her more, has Randall nearly given to Beth as much as she’s given to him? Absolutely not!

Similar to Randall, Max also had a wife who was a dancer. in fact, she was a prima ballerina. Unlike Randall and Beth, Max relationship with Georgia was rocky from the start. When we were first introduced to them Max and Georgia were separated and rightfully so. Georgia was never Max’s first priority. The hospital always came first in their relationship. He couldn’t even dedicate a full night to her for their proposal. In order to “save” their marriage they decide to have a baby and they both committed to taking a step back in their careers in order to do so. The problem was Max didn’t keep his side of their commitment and took a job to become the medical director at the biggest public hospital in the U.S. She gave up her career to start a family and he totally and completely betrayed her trust. So throughout season one we see them trying to rebuild their marriage but even in the midst of trying to rebuild a marriage based on trust and mutual respect Max still keeps things from Georgia. For several episodes he didn’t tell her that he had advance stages of throat cancer. He only told her when Georgia asked him to move back home. That’s fucked up! Then throughout their pregnancy he was never fully there for Georgia because he was either to preoccupied with the hospital or himself. At the end of it all, Georgia died tragically at the beginning of season two and really had nothing to show for it in her relationship with Max other than her daughter Luna.

Now let’s bring Helen Sharpe into the fold. While all of this stuff was going on with Max and his wife in season one, Max was developing a deep friendship, borderline emotional affair with Helen. Their relationship started out with Helen being his oncologist. As the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam, he swore Helen to secrecy about his diagnosis so that he could still run the hospital. Through that secrecy they eventually formed a deep bond but as his cancer got worse his secret was let out of the bag. He realistically needed someone to step up and run the hospital when he was going through chemo and though Helen already had commitments she stepped up and became his deputy medical director. Somewhere along the lines Max and Helen started developing feelings for each other. As Helen becomes aware of those feelings, she made a choice and decides to remove herself as Max’s doctor. He BITCHES about it but eventually accepts the boundary she’s clearly trying to set. Mind you, as this is unfolding, like Max, Helen is also in a new relationship with her boyfriend Panthaki. As Max’s cancer seems to be getting worse with his new doctor, she goes back on her boundary and decides to be his doctor again. This pisses her boyfriend off because he could already peep the vibe between them and he breaks up with her. When we get into season two, Max’s wife died and Helen set him up in a clinical trail (with a doctor she previously fired) that’s helping his cancer. Unbeknownst to Max, this doctor ends up holding his life saving treatment plan over Helen’s head and in order for his treatment to continue she gives this doctor half of her department!

Helen has sacrificed a lot for Max and now in season three she’s finally prioritizing her current wants and needs first! Like Randall, Max is starting to turn a page and is starting to support Helen and truly listen to the wants and needs that she has. All of this is good but my question is did any of these women have to sacrifice so much for the men in their lives to get a clue?

Why is it that this is a trope we see in media time and time and time again? Even if these men are good, why don’t we still keep these male characters accountable when they put their significant others in these situations that are clearly not fair? I’ve watched countless tv shows and I’ve seen a lot of tv couples but I think I have only come across one couple where the male counterpart has selflessly loved his significant other and has always put her needs above his own.

That character my friend is none other than PACEY WITTER

I might be mistaken but I think Joey and Pacey are the most popular ship in tv history and honestly, rightfully so! This is only example I can think of where the male in the relationship so willingly puts the wants and needs of his partner first. It is a completely selfless and sacrificial love. He never wants to hold her back and he never asks her to compromise her wants or needs for him. That’s why I think so many women love Pacey because in a sea of TV relationships, Pacey Witter is a fucking unicorn.

So to wrap this up does this mean that I hate Randall Pearson or Max Goodwin? No! I adore them. I love both of their characters so much. I just think that when we see the media continuously play out the sacrificial wife/love interest for the sake of their male counterparts, it should be called out. I’m all about sacrificial and selfless love but it should come from both sides.❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this! As always my DMs are opening here or on Twitter @oyindaodewale

#new amsterdam #sharpwin #This Is US #max goodwin #helen sharpe #randall pearson #beth pearson #georgia goodwin #pacey witter #joey x pacey #new amsterdam meta

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textsfromthefifthbasement · 3 years

Text

I finally finished MAZM: Phantom of the Opera! I’m leaving the review under the cut because it’s long and also spoilers for some elements of the game that aren’t in other Phantom adaptations.

General

First off, I loved the art style of the game. The character designs were quite adorable, and it definitely seemed like they made an effort to follow the original Leroux character designs. They had a blonde Christine and an olive-skinned, dark-haired Meg. I also thought they did a great job with Erik’s character design (though there was too much hair). The sets were beautiful. The majority of the main plot of the game does follow the Leroux book, which I really appreciated. There were some favorite moments in the book that I wish had been incorporated, such as Raoul waking up to find Erik watching him sleep (don’t judge I just find it freaking hilarious), but they incorporated so many other small scenes from the book, such as the managers trying to prevent Erik from taking his salary by using the safety pin. As a history nerd, I also really appreciated the collectible notes giving historical context to some of the discussions, including about three notes on the Paris Commune/Bloody Week. I wished the characters would have had different outfits rather than wear the same outfit the entire story. At the very least, I wished they had made a Red Death outfit for Erik during the masquerade.

I also want to point out and give a warning to anyone who has suicide ideation before they try this game. Pretty early on in the story, you play an episode in which you control Joseph Buquet after he’s dropped into Erik’s torture chamber, and eventually, you have to walk to the noose and pick it. The scene cuts right before he hangs himself. About partway through the story, when you control Christine, there’s a scene in which she has to talk Erik out of killing himself with a shard from a broken vase. At the end, when Christine and Raoul go down to Erik’s house to bury him, they found that he had committed suicide.

In all, I spent about 23 hours on the game from start to finish. I still need to go back and replay a few episodes to complete the achievements. I missed quite a few of the historical notes, and there are parts where you can make different decisions to influence what happens.

In this game, the studio added a lot of subplots that didn’t exist in the book and expanded on some canonical subplots as well. I did enjoy quite a few of these.

The Dancers

Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli are all major characters in the game, and I loved seeing them have more characterization and actual character arcs. Jammes, as a character, doesn’t change as much as the others, but she is only a child. As in the book, she is pretty frightened of ghost stories, strangers, and the Phantom, but in the game, she also loves and takes care of the stray cats living around the opera house and does turn into a bit of a spitfire when her friends are threatened by the various happenings at the opera. Sorelli has a knife and is not afraid to use it, and she comes to realize that her fear of being alone led her to stay with Philippe de Chagny in spite of the fact that he would never officially acknowledge her. Meg, in the beginning, seems afraid of her own shadow, but throughout the game, definitely comes into her own and also develops a much healthier relationship with her mother.

Union

This had to be hands-down my favorite subplot of the game. In the beginning, when Moncharmin and Richard first become the managers of the Palais Garnier, they mistreat Christine and mass fire anyone who mentions the Phantom of the Opera. When Christine goes missing for several weeks, Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes finally decide they have had enough and basically unionize the ballet dancers. There’s an entire protest, a performance in which the ballerinas refuse to perform, and they end up getting a promise from the managers to stop indiscriminately firing and mistreating people.

Christine’s Ending

GUYS. When I joked about Christine just traveling the world and performing instead I had no idea that was an actual choice you can make for her. It’s such a bittersweet ending, but I personally hope that one day she would have emotionally healed enough from her ordeal to come back to Paris and reunite with her old friends.

That being said, there were also a lot of additions/changes that I…really wasn’t a fan of.

Melek

So, for context. During Christine’s first stay at Erik’s house, she decides to do some exploring while he’s gone. While in his room, she hears a woman’s voice behind a wall and goes to investigate. She discovers a hidden door, and behind that hidden door is Melek. We find that Melek is a blind Turkish woman who had been one of Erik’s servants during his time in Constantinople. She had refused to marry him, and so he had kidnapped her and had kept her locked in that room for ten years.

Yes, I have a lot of problems with this.

I think the first thing is that when Melek was introduced is when I really realized that the game was never going to go in the direction of presenting Erik as a character who was sympathetic at times and not so much at others. The game had already painted him as a very unsympathetic character up until then through showing how he had gaslit Christine as the Angel of Music. Introducing Melek really drove that point home, which was kind of disappointing seeing as how the literal point of Leroux’s Le Fantome de l’Opera was that we should pity Erik for how he was treated because of his face.

Additionally, Melek’s character just…didn’t do anything. The more she was around, the more I wondered what the point of her character was. She does offer Christine support half of the time, and then the other half of the time is her being upset because Christine wants to change Erik rather than murder him. Ultimately, it’s my point of view that her character was not a great addition to the game and would have preferred a closer adherence to the book in that regard.

Hatim and PTSD

*sigh* This part seriously pissed me off. While Raoul and Hatim (the Daroga) are in the torture chamber, Hatim tells Raoul the story between him and Erik. We end up playing through a flashback of when Hatim discovers Erik living at the opera house ten years ago. As they discuss their past, we and Hatim quickly realize that Erik has PTSD, and mentioning the Shah of Persia is a serious trigger for him. Which, alright. That does make some sense story-wise.

And then through other flashbacks, Hatim proceeds to use this against Erik. Like he literally would trigger him purposefully as a punishment. And say that he was doing it for his own good.

Like, excuse me, but. What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck. No. Don’t ever do that, that’s shitty.

Anyways by the end I was legitimately rooting for Erik to punt him.

Erik’s Ending

In the original Leroux novel, Erik presents Christine with a choice: turn the scorpion, and she will marry him, or turn the grasshopper, and the entire opera house will blow up. Christine chooses the scorpion, kisses him on the forehead, and he is so overwhelmed by the action that he saves Raoul’s life and lets them go together. The only promise he extracts from Christine is that she will come back and bury him when he dies, which he believes will be soon. Two weeks later, an ad runs in the newspaper that reads simply, “Erik is dead.”

Yeah. The game really went off the rails here in respect to following the Leroux book. After Christine turns the scorpion, Erik pulls Raoul into the lake and leaves him there, thinking he’ll drown or freeze to death, and then returns to force the marriage. He does eventually let Christine and Melek go, as Christine tells him that she will never love him and that she believes he is a monster, all while he is on his knees begging her just to love him a little. There is no forehead kiss. To the end, Erik writes and tells Hatim that Christine is the devil, and that she abandoned him in hell and wants her to suffer for the rest of her life knowing what she did to him. Yeah, I wish I was making that up.

There is one point where Christine tells Erik it’s not her job to save him. Which I agree with. I feel like whoever wrote the story had a misunderstanding of the ending of the book, or else thought the idea wasn’t explicitly stated enough. The forehead kiss does, in some respect, save Erik. It makes him realize how badly he’s treated everyone and yet Christine is still willing to extend kindness towards him. But it’s not Christine saving him, it’s him coming to that realization on his own. Ultimately, the game traded that idea for a way more heavy-handed “I am not here to save you, I am going to make my own decisions from here on.”

And then, in the face of all that, we’re also missing Erik changing and redeeming himself despite the fact that he’s close to death. Instead, he dies while leaving basically a suicide note to Hatim saying that Christine is the devil and he made her promise to return to bury him to hurt her. Which is so out of character if we look at the book characterization.

Like I knew I was signing up to get my heart ripped out, I just figured it was going to maybe be the brand of Christine having to choose whether or not to stay while Erik dies. And damnit, I just wanted a single forehead kiss.

Anyways, I really enjoyed the game up until the ending. I just seriously disliked the ending for the most part. If you’re more of a fan of the idea of Christine being on her own and finding her own path, that is an enjoyable option to go with. I still need to play through that episode with the marry Raoul choice and see what happens with that option though.

#mazm phantom of the opera #mention of suicide #the phantom of the opera #poto #review

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bluestarscribbler · 3 years

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Writing Characters With Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Hi everyone! :) How are you doing? 🥰💕 Today I'll be outlining the main do's and don't's of writing characters with SAD, as well the definition and the main symptoms of SAD.

DISCLAIMER: I am not diagnosed with SAD myself; however, all of the following information had been obtained from different posts and sites of people that have first-hand experience with SAD. I will be linking those at the end of today's post, please feel free to check them out.

What I learned from the intense research I did is that nobody has social anxiety the same. Some people feel like they can't breath. Others tend to laugh in awkward moments. Nobody is the same. No character is exactly alike. You can't get it "right," because it's not an exact science. So don't feel too pressured while writing a character with SAD, there's no "one" way to write them. A helpful approach is to think what about how the SAD fits into the story you want to tell because the topic is really as complicated as any other and you can view it from many different angles and go as deep as you want - depending on what this story you're trying to tell calls for. So rather than trying to get an objective view of this complicated topic, focus on the aspects that are relevant to the story.

What is Social Anxiety Disorder?

AKA Social Phobia, SAD describes an intense fear and avoidance of negative public scrutiny, public embarrassment, humiliation or social interaction. This fear can be specified to particular social situations; such as public speaking, or more typically, is experienced in most/all social interactions. Those suffering from SAD will often attempt to avoid the source of their anxiety; this is particularly problematic and in severe cases can lead to complete social isolation.

Symptoms of SAD:

person paces a lot

very fidgety

stops talking mid sentence...a lot

wrings hands

angered by slightest infractions of others

finds fault in others a lot

hard to breathe when focus/attention is shifted to them

sweating profusely

mumbling

shrinking to hide

lack of eye contact/wandering eyes

painfully shy and withdrawn

picking the nails, picking the skin

always the person in the back of the room or in a corner

gravitating toward the first person they recognise and following them everywhere

headaches

finding ways to avoid certain situations

crying before or after social events

feel dizzy and the entire world becomes very far away

feeling like chest was caving in

assuming that everyone is focusing on them

assuming that people are laughing about them

grind their teeth a lot

bite their knuckles

tap out drum patterns with their feet or fingers

nausea and vomiting

muscle weakness

migraines

heart arrhythmia

increasing nervous tics

Keep in mind that social anxiety exists on a spectrum. Not everyone is paralysed at the smallest conversation, but some are. Others feel mild discomfort at certain types of socialising. It’s all relative.

DO'S:

DO write in a lot of internal dialogue. People with SAD say that most of their anxiety is created by their own internal rumination. So, add a lot of overly self-critical internal dialogue and have them think about trivial things that they may or may not have gotten wrong for hours after the fact. People with SAD also tend to avoid initiating with anyone, instead preferring for them (the other person) to initiate — because then they know they're not inconveniencing them (the other person). If a person with SAD does have to interact with people then they tend to plan and rehearse what they're going to say to them. However, once the social interaction has begun, there will be very little internal monologue. In those situations, the character is very much relying on instinct. After the interaction, if the character feels that they messed up (which is likely; be sure to pick up on even the slightest fumbles or awkward pauses), they should keep thinking about how they're an idiot and they want to never have to talk to another person again, because they know it'll end the same way. If they feel like they did a good job, they should express surprise at how well it went, congratulate themselves, and say that they should maybe do this more often — although they probably won't.

DO let them have observational skills. Part of the anxiety stems from not always knowing how to/being good at socialising. Thus an anxious person will watch others closely for clues to their performance and acceptance. While it doesn’t always tell the person how they are doing, it does teach them a lot about the people around them and how they feel about each other. The person in a group with SAD may actually have a better idea of who in the group are friends, enemies, annoyed with the others, think they are better, have crushes, and so on. Having SAD doesn’t mean that a person doesn’t know social cues, it means that they underestimate their ability to use them. Don’t confuse SAD with autism.

DO make it influence all decisions. This is one you can do as the writer and not include every bit of internal dialogue. Just keep in mind that Every decision an anxious person makes is put through the anxiety filter first. Even if they are doing things by themselves, they have to evaluate the chances of meeting people, meeting people they know, having to talk to people when they are done. Keep that in mind when writing these characters in order to keep their personality consistent. That said, in general you can think of someone with SAD feeling physically, mentally and emotionally uncomfortable and "out of place" in ordinary social situations - they want out of it, looking for the door, excuse to leave, cut the interaction short. There could be a sense of shame, guilt and self-loathing about not being "good enough", or that there is something broken and wrong with them (or society).

DO give them other traits. Make sure you give them other traits that influence their decisions and drive their motivations. Someone can have anxiety and also love adventure, want to save all the stray dogs, want to help orphans, want to be a basketball hero, etc. One of the big problems with SAD is that it interferes with a person’s desires to do and be other things. It doesn’t always win though. And sometimes a person may decide that an awkward encounter or two is worth taking part in some other activity they love. Just remember to keep your characters balanced.

DO let them find each other. SAD is probably more common than you’d think. Not everyone has a crippling case. You can have characters share their anxiety with each other and comfort each other and help each other through tough times. SAD can make a person feel isolated but they don’t have to be, and often aren’t as isolated as they think. That observational skill can also help them find the right people to share their feelings with. Not all socialising is terrifying, it can often be cathartic.

DON'T'S:

DON'T make them hate people. Social anxiety does not mean that the person afflicted doesn’t like people or always craves solitude. One of the harshest aspects of SAD is that a person may want companionship and friends but still have uncontrollable discomfort when faced with making friends or spending time with the friends they already have. This constant tug-of-war between wanting friends and feeling the anxiety around people can cause a lot of internal pain and lead to other emotions and conditions such as depression. Someone with SAD can have friends. Even a lot of friends. But certain factors may influence how a person with SAD chooses friends more than they influence others. The level of contact is different for everyone and there will be some friends who can take up more time while not taking up more energy on the part of the anxious person. However, SAD can get so bad that the person with it is unable to leave the house for days at a time, ghosting on all social engagements, not answering their phone and ignoring all texts; but that still doesn't mean they hate people.

DON'T always make them succeed. If you are writing about a person with SAD and they are forced again and again to go outside their comfort zone, make them fail. Have them go to a meeting and then duck down a side corridor at the last minute and disappear. Have them talk to a person and then freeze up in the middle of a conversation, at a loss for words. The longer they go without knowing what to say the stronger the anxiety gets and the harder it is to think. Or have them execute the socialising brilliantly but then go into the bathroom and cry from the overwhelming sense of effort it took to look normal. And just because they have had a few successes doesn’t mean that they will start succeeding every time. Sometimes, the energy it takes, even when the interaction was a success, means that next time they are reluctant or too exhausted to do it again.

DON'T always give them "tells". Anxious people can be very good at hiding it. In the example above of the person who socialises brilliantly and then cries in the bathroom, no one knows how hard it was. They only saw the brilliant “performance.” Keep that in mind. Not all people uncomfortable with socialising are bumbling awkward goofballs. Sometimes they actually appear very cool and collected.

DON'T suddenly make their anxiety disappear when they're at the end of their character arc. This pisses me off, anxiety is a life-long condition. It cannot be "overcome" easily. However, the person with it can learn to live with it. They can visit a psychiatrist, get pills prescribed or change their lifestyle completely to fit around their SAD. A person with anxiety always thinks about their anxiety. Even when they are happily at home reading a book, sometimes they will think about an upcoming engagement, or wish they made friends like the characters in their book. Every time a person with SAD makes plans they have to run through a list of criteria before nailing anything down. Will they have time before and after to prep for and cool down from the experience? Is it something they have done before and feel comfortable doing? Can they back out at the last minute if they feel too overwhelmed that day? These are just a fraction of the things that go through an anxious person’s mind before committing to plans. Again, this isn’t an absolute, but for many people with SAD it is a defining characteristic of who they are. They don’t talk to a single person, even a spouse sometimes, or make a doctor’s appointment without the anxiety affecting how they feel, think, and behave. It is always there. Always.

That's it for today folks! I hope everyone has an absolutely fantastic day! 😊❤

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#social anxiety #mental health #social anxiety disorder #writing tips #writing advice #writing #writblr #my writing #anxiety awareness #anxiety disorder #mental illness

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vidalinav · 3 years

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Firstly, no one wants a therapy book. These are books about Faeries. So no one is sitting wanting to read about withdrawals, puking, crying and screaming. Maybe a very SMALL contingent of readers. Not the majority. Nesta falling down the stairs, Nesta refusing to train, Nesta giving attitude to Cassian, that's it. That's the withdrawals. Since she is not a full blown alcoholic or a sex addict, there wouldn't be massive withdrawals. She is not Amy Winehouse.

Secondly, the intervention is done exactly for that reason--so she doesn't turn into Amy Winehouse. It's not 'implied' that she is having potentially dangerous sex with people who could hurt her. It's a fact. She says it herself. It's not 'implied' that she drinks too much. She says it herself. It's observed. The concern isn't that she is doing those things--no one is looking for her to become a sweet, celibate virgin. The concern is that she is doing these things TOO much. That's how you become an addict.

People in power, on whom she depends decided to step in and put an end to it. That's how interventions work. Especially since she decided to be completely dependent on them financially. If she had a job, then yes, no one can tell her what to do. You make your own bed and decisions, and that's what she did.

The whole 'sisterly' involvement--she was the person who cut everyone out. She cut out Feyre, then Elain, Cassian, Amren. It was her decision. What are they going to do? Did Elain not try to get involved in her life? Did she not invite her to Solstice? Elain was the only person who gave her a gift. Was it Elain or Nesta who decided that they didn't the other? As I recall, Nesta didn't acknowledge Elain on the street. She refused to participate. So should the sisters just take it? Accept the bullshit and keep the checks coming? Should Feyre and Elain just sit back and watch Nesta spiral out of control until she does become an addict and/or gets raped? or hurt? Yes, there comes a time when you are just fed up and Elain, or Feyre, are not obligated to coddle Nesta and let get do whatever it is that she wants to do, and watch her hurt herself.

I am aware of your opinions and you will never agree and I know you'll still insist that the IC is horrible and the sisters don't care. But honestly, they saved Nesta so there is that.

I sometimes don't know whether I should just delete these, because someone always write a whole ass aggressive post in the anons when you know you could just post it yourself. But sometimes I get a lot of joy out of these-- I wish you put this much energy in analyzing the actual text but alas.

Anyway, let me read.

Point 1: this is not a therapy book. I agree S/JM should stop writing about trauma.

Point 2: The intervention is done for exactly that reason--I argue that you don't know the reason and neither do I, and nor do I feel that S/JM does. You can definitely argue about addiction and where it leads, but I can argue that the text doesn't support that she has one or one that warrants an intervention beyond offering a support system, which then I ask why the intervention is there at all, since I know very well that characters do not have autonomy and this was an author's choice. I question S/JM's narrative decisions and how they are framed in the novel which is why I cannot support specific claims about characters.

Point 3: I already talked about this in a reblog. So I'm going to dismiss this one.

Point 4: If the intention on behalf of the writer is to show that they care, then... I got to see scenes where they care. It can't be speculation. It has to be concrete. If the goal is to show realism, then you have to show realistic consequences of trauma, the dirt of it all, and then also the push and pull of healing which arguably is not in here. You can show people being annoyed by her trauma, that's realistic but it's not realistic for someone to jump into an intervention. You know realistically, as in of this world, you cannot force anyone to be in a program without their consent, and they can leave at any time. Of course there are certain instances where this is not true, but it takes years to get people the healing or help for addiction/trauma that they need and if people don't want to heal well you can't do nothing about it. That's realistic.

If you are arguing that Nesta is rolling down a steep hill to nowheresville as it seems then... by all means it probably should take more than giving a gift at solstice, which doesn't make Elain nor Feyre look good that this is the height of trying. To go straight to intervention without convincing evidence that it's needed nor that they tried literally anything else is my point. So if the goal was to make the foundation for a sisterly relationship, I am not convinced. If the goal was to show they care, I am certainly not convinced.

The objective of any book is to convince the reader of something. If you did not convince a bulk of the readership, whether that be anti-Nesta's who are not quelled or pro-Nesta's who are not satisfied, then the writer did not convince well enough. Which is what I am saying specifically about the benevolence of the IC. That claim lacks contextual evidence. It is not about whether I like them or not. Who cares about that? I like interesting characters, I am arguing that if the author herself wanted me to believe they were "good" or morally righteous, she did not provide that basis. Actually she gave me a lot of evidence that they aren't. Which is fine, if it amounts to something. If doesn't then, S/JM wrote an unconvincing book.

Point 5: The book says that Nesta saved the IC, literally. The IC did not save Nesta, neither literally nor emotionally. That would mean they were directly involved or... empathetic and supportive, which I already said I'm not convinced and why that is. What saved Nesta and what made the majority of the book was the House, her friends, a goal, the Mother, and a romantic relationship. A support system. I can argue that. Anyone can argue that. For one, because the IC is notably absent for most of the book and when they're there they don't look great. Then you have to think why did S/JM make a relationship that is supportive and have that parallel the presence/absence of the IC who is blatantly not? Doesn't make them look great again. Interesting yes they are, but not benevolent.

Look, I'm assuming the point of sending me an anon is because you don't agree and you don't know what to do with that, but you also don't want to reblog and you want to make sure I see this post, because I probably wouldn't. It is totally within your right to argue. I love discussions even with people who do not agree with me. But I want to discuss things. So, give me contextual evidence. Give me lines, give me connections. Connect them dots. Once you have done this then hit me up and we'll discuss. Right now your argument is based on opinion alone. You think this. You think that. Purely speculative. It's not based on anything and therefore can't be argued well. For lack of a better way to say this, I don't care about your opinion. Opinions are not fact. They don't mean anything, they're as good as the people behind them. I want to discuss the text and how it works, and what it does, and how it's supported. The consequences of certain narrative decisions.

So, if you think the IC is supportive and justified and want to tell me specifically, show me how they are--by the book, how scenes are framed, what actions characters take along the path to the end. Not by what you know interventions are or because the idea of mental health/substance abuse issues is generally hard to deal with--that's not good enough. You cannot argue the text without using the text either in quote or paraphrasing or giving examples especially on a post where I am talking about the evidence and the lack of it. You said I wouldn't change my mind, you don't know that. I can certainly see something from your pov, but you have to do more than this.

You chose to leave an anon, so you either do the homework or you don't leave an anon with me.

#anti sjm #I do like when people leave me these interestingly enough #I just want more substance #give me something to comment on #I don't want to just reiterate what I have already said #if you don't agree I don't care #that literally does not bother me #but then you don't have to tell me about it either #that's a little childish

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jbbuckybarnes · 3 years

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Scared & Sacred - Ch. 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: pregnancy, angst, lots of emotions, canon typical violence, fighting

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 2 - The Letter

Every night you prepared some more food in little portions to keep you alive on the journey you would start soon. You had three pairs of every clothing in a compartment that you would put into a bag, bought another bag on the last planet to put the food, water and a blanket in. Even got a cheap med pack on the last planet. On the next planet you‘d leave. You‘d find someone to bring you back to that harmonic place where the nurse droid told you that you were expecting.

„Cyare?“ You closed the compartment as you heard him come closer. „Hm?“ You looked up at him in front of you, holding a fuzzing Grogu. „Something‘s upsetting him.“ Arms reached up and grabbed Grogu out of Din‘s gentle grasp. „Hey, sweetpea, you‘re safe here. We won‘t let anything happen to you, yeah?“ You tried to calm him a bit. It worked a tiny bit, but he wiggled free again to sit on your lap and nuzzle into your belly. „Better?“ You chuckled and got a coo of agreement, making you chuckle. Eyes wandered up to the Mandalorian again, „It‘s okay, he can sleep here.“ It would be a nice last night having Grogu sleeping right on top of you, showing love to his sibling. You started to notice that region of your body growing harder to the touch. „Do you mind if we share?“ Din‘s modulated voice reached your ears. „I‘d prefer sleeping alone, if I‘m being honest.“ You answered softly, shutting him out of your heart and bed. „Did I do anything to upset you? You‘ve been very distant since we left Arcaro.“ That was the harmonic planet, you saved the name internally. „I miss your touch.“ „Oh, no no. Just having a lot on my mind at the moment. Going through memories of my childhood and all.“ That was only half a lie, so you didn‘t feel very bad. „If you need to talk, you know I‘m there.“ You nodded softly, starting to hear Grogu snore. „Get some sleep, Din. You have people to hunt tomorrow.“ You smiled and saw him nod before heading off to his cot.

You couldn‘t sleep with the journey ahead on your mind, so you grabbed a piece of flimsy and started writing a letter to Din that you would leave behind, attaching your soup recipe that the kid liked the most. You put it in an envelope and put it between your pillow and the mattress. Shortly after the exhaustion of the day got you to fall asleep for a few hours.

Din and Grogu were hunting for a Corellian woman while you got the last important pieces for your journey and the ship. You filled up the food supply, bought another melee weapon and you found a very used vest that would hold off blaster shots that you put on under your gown. Once all of that was done you checked through your backpack and side bag and put them on your body. A deep breath went through you as you looked around one last time. This was a great home and protection for a while, but it was time for another chapter in your life. You‘d miss Grogu a lot, as well as the beskar armored man with the patience of a Jedi.

You headed down the main street of the city to find a ship you could fly with all the way back towards the planet of Arcaro. You ended up meeting a woman that used to be a fighter for the Republic. Hated the Empire and thought bounty hunters are annoying. Seemed safe enough. As you took off she asked, „What‘s your business here?“ „Leaving behind the people that helped me run from the people that hunted my family because I‘m with child and they weren‘t ready to accept that kinda life.“ You kept it short but clear. „Damn, that sounds like a lifestory if I ever heard one. Who knocked you up?“ She was direct. Reminded you of Cara. „The man that protected me for the last months. Very kind, kind of emotionally incompetent, definitely wouldn‘t take the news well.“ „I see.“ She nodded before jumping into hyperspace. She knew you had the credits to pay her, everything else was just listening to your interesting story and getting a good tip for a market.

— POV CHANGE —

Din stepped into his ship with Grogu. It was dead silent, not completely unusual. What was unusual was the fact you didn‘t react when he called out „Cyare?“ The child in his arms cooed in confusion and looked up at him with a frown. „She might still be caught up on the market. We‘ll wait.“ But even that plan fell away once he had fully arrived home and opened the compartment that you had fully stocked before leaving. „Oh, I‘m having a bad feeling about this,“ he whispered to himself as he closed the compartment and put the scanner on his helmet on. Only your footsteps, no others in sight. That didn‘t make sense. She never really went on walks, when she did she always was back in time to welcome him. He followed the steps and arrived in another hangar. „Hey, you there!“ He pointed at the slightly intimidated man near the hangar. „Y-Yes?“ „Have you seen a human woman in white and blue gowns, a green bag and braided hair? This big, cloak is blue too, with white details on it.“ „She went through here, yes.“ „Did she seem afraid?“ „No, she was acting normal. Talked to a woman that frequently takes travellers with her to other places. Seemed to be ready for a trip.“ „Dank ferrik! Thank you.“ NOW he was a different type of concerned. Why did you leave? Willingly! He scanned over the holopad the man held, taking in the information on it that he hoped was about the ship you were in.

When he got back he noticed one of his weapons missing in his arsenal, your blue blindfold on the co-pilot seat and everything neatly cleaned and organized in the kitchen. This was starting to kill him from the inside out. What had happened? What would make you get up and leave on purpose? From the man you loved and the child you cared for so much? He checked your bed. It wasn‘t made. The only thing in here that wasn‘t neat and tidy. And there he saw it, something sticking out from under your pillow. His mind went back to the time he found a little booklet there. A booklet about human children, medical stuff. He took off his gloves and grabbed the flimsy, opening the envelope he held in his hands shortly after and noticed it was a letter addressed at him.

*Dear Din, I know this might be confusing. That I‘m gone now, that I went without telling you. I know it‘s dangerous out there and that you are a big reason I‘m still breathing, but I couldn‘t bear the idea of making a decision benefiting you and leaving me lost. When you told me you weren‘t ready for a child, I knew I had to leave. I won‘t decide against it and I didn‘t wanna hear from your voice that I shouldn‘t keep it. I‘ll miss you. I‘ll miss Grogu. He‘ll miss his unborn sibling too. I know how excited he was for it. I‘m content with knowing that the child was created out of love. Two months and about a week ago. I hope that gives you rest about the situation. I‘ll go back to Arcaro. The place with the beautiful market and one of the best nurse droids I‘ve ever met. I‘ll figure out where to go and how to be on my own from there. I hope you don‘t mind that I took one of the weapons you barely used in the last months. Have this recipe for Grogu in return, he loves it the most and sleeps the best after eating it. Love, Y/N*

Din was drowning in an ocean of feelings. He wanted to cry, scream, beg, jump in happiness and yearned to have you in his arms. Oh, how much he wanted to have you in his arms right now. How much he wished you would‘ve told him that day. He would‘ve pushed away all your doubts. He would‘ve worshipped you, your body, the wonders happening inside of you. Instead you were running from him like he was some disgusting monster.

He sat down in the pilots seat with Grogu on his arm and the letter in the other hand, setting it down gently and punching in the coordinates to the planet you mentioned. You‘d arrive there after him if he did this trick right.

— POV CHANGE —

You gave the Republic lady a big tip and a hug. „It‘s rare to meet someone to talk to like this. Thank you for the ride and the long talk.“ You smiled at her and she grabbed both of your arms gently. „I land here every now and then, so if you ever see this piece of metal land, say hello.“ She grinned and let you go.

You stepped down the ramp of her vessel to see the market you loved so much fairly empty. It was really early in the morning on this planet. You got closer to the market and saw how some vendors currently refilled their little shops. „Where do you think you‘re going?“ A dark voice was audible behind you. It was familiar. „Kuuvi?“ You turned around to the man that has been hunting you for a year now. He used to be a good friend. „Yes, it‘s me.“ You turned around to him with a smile. „How have you been?“ You asked as if he didn‘t have the capacity to kill you right there. „Eating good, having a nice ship, good people around. How about you?“ He shrugged. „Except for the nice ship I can only say the same.“ „Where is your tin can?“ „Oh, he‘s just getting some supplies. Looking for a better ship at the moment. Razor Crest is great and all, but it gets crammed in there.“ You chuckled. Being royalty made you a master of lies sometimes „Twi‘ku still wants you on his doorstep.“ He gave a dirty grin. „You still work for that half-rotten idiot with bad rates? Moff Gideon would pay you so much more, I mean he‘s the source.“ „Either would pay me enough to retire if I deliver you.“ „Well, would be against the code of any guild.“ „Huh?“ „Pregnant women aren‘t allowed to be hunted.“ With a sweet grin you watched him realize the information you had just dropped and frown, enough distracted time to run one of your knives through his throat. He grabbed after you, getting out his vibroblade, but you had a gun trained on him in return, stepping on his lung and taking out the knife. „Traitor!“ You pulled the trigger and burned a hole through his heart. Two more men were running at you, one got a blastershot to the throat and the other got your new staff punched over the head.

You looked up to see people around the market hiding behind stuff, before hearing a saber lighting up behind you. „It‘s nice to see you alone for once.“ Moff Gideon. You were dead. You were so damn dead. „What do you want from me?“ you growled and heard him chuckle. „Not much, you just took something from me that you can‘t give back.“ „My brother killing your daughter isn‘t something that involves me!“ „No, but I overheard you are with child, so we might as well call it even.“ He charged at you with his dark saber, but just before it could hit you there was something big landing between you both.

„Nobody hurts my child.“ You heard his possessive and protective voice. „Oh, how sweet.“ He attacked Din ruthlessly, making you both step back further and further. Troopers came at you from left and right and you took out the second weapon you stole from Din, shooting left and right while leaned against his back. Behind you the saber strained against Din‘s arm guards. „Give up. You won‘t win this.“ Gideon hissed at him. You heard more jetpacks land behind you. Three blue Mandalorians landed in Din‘s sight behind Moff Gideon. „You have something that‘s mine and you better give it to me.“ You heard a familiar female voice. „Bo-Katan Kryze.“ His voice was somewhere between a chuckle and an unsure shakiness. There were no living stormtroopers anymore in just seconds and the four Mandalorians closed in on Moff. His saber not working on their armor. „Any last words?“ Bo-Katan asked with a serious voice. „They‘ll never stop coming for you. For your children, your family, your friends, your religion. They will always watch.“ Din put a blaster shot through his head from a low angle, „Psycho.“

He turned around to envelope you into the safety of his arms, „Cyar‘ika!“ You were shaking and gripping onto his cape, „I‘m okay. We‘re okay.“ „You can‘t just run off like that.“ He sounded wound up, probably thinking about what would‘ve happened if he hadn‘t arrived in time. „I thought-“ „Your thoughts aren‘t the reality. You really thought I‘d tell you to get rid of your unborn child. I told you children are seen as sacred in Mandalorian culture.“ You looked behind him and got a nod from a helmetless Bo-Katan, „We‘ll get this done, go talk.“ Din tightly put his arms around you and you shot up into the sky before landing on top of a building. His hands, freed from gloves, wandered over your cheeks. „I wish you would‘ve told me. I wish so much that I could‘ve been able to tell you to stop worrying and I wish you would‘ve been able to see me jump in joy at the news. I know we don‘t talk a lot, but this was the time you should‘ve talked. If I had said something negative you still could‘ve left.“ Your lip started trembling, he was right. You were so dumb for doing this. „Hey, no no, I understand why you did it, cyare.“ His helmet touched your forehead. His hands wandered down your sides, „Can I?“ You nodded and felt his hand wander over the hardened skin on your lower belly. He went on his knees before you, hands on your hips before they wandered to his helmet. „Din, no.“ You whispered and heard the hiss. „I thought about this for a long time. There is not one way, there are multiple ways that all have the same core. Look at Bo-Katan, Boba, all these people we met. I grew up in a version of this religion that doesn’t work for me anymore, I don‘t want that to be our child's life too. I want to live it our way.“ And with that the helmet came off. „They are gone, no one can hurt you two and Grogu anymore.“ „But the Empire.“ „We‘ll deal with it.“ The helmet went down and you could finally see his face. Soft face, with harsh features, smiling, „Besides. You looked pretty hot fighting off those idiots.“ „Wait till I break your hand while delivering the child.“ You chuckled with tears streaming down your face. He was so beautiful, so gentle. His nose pressed against your belly, his grip on your hips tightening just enough for you to feel even safer. „Where‘s Grogu?“ „On the ship, probably eating all the supplies.“ You both chuckled and enjoyed the moment for a while longer. „I can‘t wait to meet you, ad‘ika,“ he whispered to your unborn baby. There was so much love in his eyes that you started crying again. „Oh, cyare.“ He took your face in his hands with a caring frown on his face. „Don‘t mind me, just hormones.“ You chuckled to lighten up the situation. „My riduur.“ His bare forehead met yours. „Huh?“ „It- It means partner.“ He said it with such an innocent unsureness that you had to whisper a small, „Oh, baby.“ „I‘ll open up to you more, yeah? We‘ll find a good planet to stay.“ „I like this one so much.“ „I know, cyar‘ika. But maybe we should go to Sorgan for a while before coming back here. Grogu will have children to play with and you will be able to relax.“ His thumbs still caressed your cheeks. „Okay, my knight in shining armor.“ You smiled and kissed his nose, before taking his helmet and putting it back on his head.

You flew back to where you had fought, finding Bo-Katan with the dark saber. „I can rule over Mandalore again and you both are more than welcome there once it‘s done.“ She sent you both a smile. „We might take you up on that.“ You smiled back at her. „We‘ll clean this up and make sure nobody else is hunting for your children. We owe you for finally having this in our hands.“ She held up the saber. „Thank you,“ Din said sincerely and nodded before you said your goodbyes and went back to the ship.

You found Grogu arms deep in a jar of nectar. „Oh Grogu.“ You giggled and he turned around with his signature coo, ears falling at being caught. „It‘s alright, but don‘t do it again. You wanna see your dada‘s face?“ You asked picking him up, cleaning him with something from one of your bags. His eyes got wider and his ears perked. You let down both your bags and the cloak before turning around to Din. „Ready?“ You smiled and he nodded before taking off his helmet. The child gasped and reached for his face, so you held him up to it. He babbled while touching all over his face, Din chuckling and intently listening. Had he always looked like that beneath the helmet when talking to Grogu? „Dada.“ His and your eyes widened at that. You turned Grogu around to look at you and praised him, „Good boy, you love your dada so much, don‘t you?“ A tiny giggle came from his body before he wiggled again. „You wanna say hello to your sibling?“ Another squeak. You sat down on the floor, so did Din while also losing some parts of his armor. He watched as the child put his hands on your belly and closed his eyes, you felt the gentle tingle again. His tiny green nose nuzzled into your skin right where he felt his sibling through the force. „You‘ll see it in a couple months.“ You smiled down at Grogu and gently touched his ears. He could sense that good things happened. That you both weren‘t as worried as you usually were. „Let‘s go to Sorgan and meet the children you like playing with, yeah?“ Another happy squeak came from the green child. „Ner aliit.“ Din murmured softly. You understood without asking. You were his family now and he was yours.

___

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gffa · 4 years

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OKAY, IF I’M GONNA DO THIS, I’M GONNA DO IT PROPERLY. WHICH MEANS YEAH IT’S GONNA GET REALLY LONG. A couple of things to say ahead of time: Lucasfilm’s Story Group has always said CANON > WORD OF GOD when it comes to these matters, so when I quote canon examples from supplementary materials that contradict what he says, that’s LF’s official position, but that doesn’t mean that an influential person like Dave’s views couldn’t affect how things will be shaped in the future, like Deborah Chow listening to this may be influenced by it on the Obi-Wan show, despite that Master & Apprentice contradicts him. It’s an incredibly murky area! Mileages are going to vary. Another thing to keep in mind is that Dave Filoni never worked on The Phantom Menace, that was long, long before his time at Lucasfilm (which I think he joined sometime around 2007? and TPM was released in 1999), that he has worked with George more than probably anyone else, but we cannot and should not treat him as infallible or the True Authority on things, because even Dave himself has said things like: “I mean, I know why I did that and what it means, but I don't like to explain too much. I love for the viewers to watch stuff and come up with their own theories -- and they frankly come up with better things that I intended.” --Dave Filoni, Entertainment Tonight 2020 interview Or, in the same episode as the above Qui-Gon interpretation:

So, when I dig into this, I’m not doing this out of a sense of malice or even that I suddenly hate Dave or don’t appreciate all the incredible things he’s brought to SW, but in that I disagree with his take, Dave understands that he doesn’t always get it right, that he enjoys that fans come up with different things than he does and sometimes he likes those even more. There’s room for both of us and, for all that Dave mentions George a lot (and, hey, fair enough, the guy worked with George and I’m just quoting what George Lucas has said) doesn’t mean that this is straight from George, especially because I have never seen George Lucas utter so much as a peep about how the Jedi were responsible for Anakin’s fall. He has explicitly and frequently talked about how Anakin’s fall was his own choice, as well as I’ve never seen him say anything Jedi-critical beyond “they were kind of arrogant about themselves”. I have read and watched every George Lucas interview I could get my hands on and maybe I’m still missing something, but that’s literally the extent of him criticizing the Jedi I have EVER seen. (It’s from the commentary on AOTC where he put in the scene with Jocasta to show they were full of themselves, but I also think it’s fair to point out that Obi-Wan immediately contradicts this by going to Dex for help, showing that it’s not necessarily a Jedi-wide thing.) Before I go further, I want to say: this is not a post meant to tear down Qui-Gon, he is a character I actually really do love, but the focus is on showing why the above interpretation of him is wrong, which means focusing on Qui-Gon’s flaws. He has many wonderful qualities, he is someone who cared deeply and was a good person, I think things would have been better had he lived! But Anakin’s choices did not hinge on him, because Anakin’s choices were Anakin’s, that has always been the consistent theme of how George talks about him, the way he talks about the story is always in terms of “Anakin did this” or “Anakin chose that”, and the Jedi are very consistently shown as caring, they believed very much in love and Dave’s own show (well, I say “his own show”, but honestly TCW was George’s baby primarily and he had a lot of direct, hands-on say in crafting it, through at least the first five seasons) is plenty of evidence of that. I’m not going to quote the full thing because this is already a monster post, I’m just going to focus on the Jedi stuff, because I like the other points a lot, but if you want the full text, it’s here. The relevant part is: “In Phantom Menace, you’re watching these two Jedi in their prime fight this evil villain. Maul couldn’t be more obviously the villain. He’s designed to look evil, and he is evil, and he just expresses that from his face all the way out to the type of lightsaber he fights with. What’s at stake is really how Anakin is going to turn out. Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. But Qui-Gon is ahead of them all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” “So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family. So that moment in that movie which a lot of people I think diminish, “oh there’s a cool lightsaber fight”, but it’s everything that the entire three films of the prequels hangs on, is that one particular fight. And Maul serves his purpose and at that point died before George made me bring him back, but he died.“ --Dave Filoni I’m going to take this a piece at a time to show why I really disagree with the content of both the movies and The Clone Wars supporting what Dave says and, instead, contradicts it a lot. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. He doesn’t explain what this means, but I’m pretty sure that he’s referring to this conversation: OBI-WAN: “I am concerned for my Padawan. He is not ready to be given this assignment on his own yet.” YODA: “The Council is confident in its decision, Obi-Wan.” MACE WINDU: “The boy has exceptional skills.” OBI-WAN: “But he still has much to learn, Master. His abilities have made him... well.... arrogant.” YODA: “Yes, yes. A flaw more and more common among Jedi. Hmm... too sure of themselves they are. Even the older, more experienced ones.” MACE WINDU: “Remember, Obi-Wan, if the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force back into balance.” OBI-WAN: "If he follows the right path.” None of that has anything to do with being “detached” and, further, I think this is something that’s come up with Dave’s view of Luminara a lot, because he’s described her (re: the Geonosis arc): “We were trying to illustrate the difference between the way Anakin is raising his Padawan, and how much he cares about her, and the way Luminara raises her Padawan. Not that Luminara is indifferent, but that Luminara is detached. It’s not that she doesn’t care, but she’s not attached to her emotionally.” Here, he says that the Jedi care, in the above, he says that the Jedi don’t care, which makes me think there’s a lot of characterization drift as time goes on, especially when fandom bombards everyone with the idea that the Jedi were cold, emotionless, and didn’t care. However, look at Luminara’s face in that arc, when she’s talking with Anakin:

That is not the face of someone who doesn’t care. She even smiles brightly in relief when Barriss is shown to be okay, that this really doesn’t convey “detached” in an unloving or uncaring way. (We’ll get to attachment later, that’s definitely coming.) (I’m also mostly skipping the political thing, because I think that’s just a fundamental disagreement of whether Jedi should or should not lean into politics. My view basically boils down to that I think ALL OF US should be leaning more into politics because we are citizens who live in the world and are responsible for it, and the Jedi are no different. This is evidenced by: - M&A’s storyline has Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan saving the day specifically because they play politics, that’s how they manage to free the slaves, through playing politics and being part of the Republic/having Senate backing. - The Clone Wars has shown that the Jedi believe “lasting change can only come from within” and “it’s every citizen’s duty to hold their leaders accountable” when Ahsoka teaches the cadets on Mandalore, as well as that politics are not inherently bad, given that Padme and Bail are working to make the system better or “create lasting change from within [the system]” - "Trying to serve the greater good does not always make you popular” says Padme Amidala in a very caring speech - Star Wars Propaganda makes the case that the Jedi might have won the war had they leaned more into politics. - Sometimes the Jedi get unfairly accused of playing politics when there’s just no good choice and they still have to choose one or the other.) But Qui-Gon is ahead of them [re: caring and loving] all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. This is flat-out wrong in regards to canon. Mileages are going to vary, of course, on how much one takes a novel into consideration, but Dave Filoni is not a fan with the luxury of deciding what is or isn’t canon, he works on Star Wars where canon is canon. Now, does that mean canon will never contradict itself, especially if Dave gets to write something for Qui-Gon? Of course not, SW isn’t immune to continuity errors and they themselves have never said otherwise, even when fans want to hold them to that standard. However, this is still pretty much a big “that’s not what happened” instance. In Master & Apprentice, the Jedi Council offer a seat to Qui-Gon on the Council, specifically BECAUSE he has different opinions from them and they welcome that. (Excerpt here.) “We hope it will also be our gain,” Mace replied. “Qui-Gon Jinn, we hereby offer you a seat on the Jedi Council.” Had he misheard? No, he hadn’t. Qui-Gon slowly gazed around the circle, taking in the expressions of each Council member in turn. Some of them looked amused, others pleased. A few of them, Yoda included, appeared more rueful than not. But they were serious. “I admit—you’ve surprised me,” Qui-Gon finally said.“I imagine so,” Mace said drily. “A few years ago, we would’ve been astonished to learn we would ever consider this. But in the time since, we’ve all changed. We’ve grown. Which means the possibilities have changed as well.” Qui-Gon took a moment to collect himself. Without any warning, one of the turning points of his life had arrived. Everything he said and did in the next days would be of great consequence. “You’ve argued with my methods often as not, or perhaps you’d say I’ve argued with yours.” “Truth, this is,” Yoda said. Depa Billaba gave Yoda a look Qui-Gon couldn’t interpret. “It’s also true that the Jedi Council needs more perspectives.” Ultimately, Qui-Gon is the who turns them down and gives up a chance to shape the Jedi Council because he doesn’t like the shape they’re taking. That he does become less political, but this is after he’s argued that the Jedi should be working to push the Senate harder, so when he has a chance to help with that, he turns it down. It has nothing to do with caring and loving, it’s about Qui-Gon’s desire to not have to deal with the work himself, when he wants to be more of a hippie Jedi. (I’ve written a lot about Qui-Gon in M&A, why I actually think it’s really spot-on to someone who can be both really kind and really kind of a dick, but it’s not the most flattering portrayal, even if narrative intention likely didn’t mean what came across to me. I think this post and this post are probably the most salient ones, but if you want something of an index of the web that’s being woven with all the various media, this one is good, too.) So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. I have only ever seen George Lucas talk about Anakin’s fate in one instance and it’s this: “It’s fear of losing somebody he loves, which is the flipside of greed. Greed, in terms of the Emperor, it’s the greed for power, absolute power, over everything. With Anakin, really it’s the power to save the one he loves, but it’s basically going against the Fates and what is natural.“ –George Lucas, Revenge of the Sith commentary I’ve made my case about why I think Anakin’s fate is about that moment in Palpatine’s office, and so I’m not fundamentally opposed that “Duel of the Fates” is about Anakin’s fate, but here’s what George has provably said about the “Duel of the Fates” part of the story: - In the commentary for The Phantom Menace during “Duel of the Fates” and none of Dave’s speculation is even hinted at, there’s more focus on the technical side of things and the most George talks about is that it’s Obi-Wan who parallels Luke in going over the edge during the fight, except that instead of a Sith cutting off a Jedi’s hand, it’s a Jedi cutting a Sith in half, drawing the parallels between them. - He does say of the funeral scene that this is where Obi-Wan commits to training Anakin and how everything is going to go (though, in canon we see that Obi-Wan still struggles with this a bit, but Yoda is there to support him and nudge him into committing even more to Anakin, because the Jedi are a supportive community to each other). This is some solid evidence for that Obi-Wan is already caring about Anakin beyond just Qui-Gon. - Then here’s what he says about the “Duel of the Fates” fights and themes of them in "All Films Are Personal": George Lucas: “I wanted to come up with an apprentice for the Emperor who was striking and tough. We hadn’t seen a Sith Lord before, except for Vader, of course. I wanted to convey the idea that Jedi are all very powerful, but they’re also vulnerable — which is why I wanted to kill Qui-Gon. That is to say, “Hey, these guys aren’t Superman.” These guys are people who are vulnerable, just like every other person. “We needed to establish that, but at the same time, we wanted the ultimate sword fight, because they were all very good. It sort of predisposes the sword fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan later on. There’s real purpose to it. You have to establish the rules and then stick with them. The scene illustrates just how Jedi and Sith fight and use lightsabers.” “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. We’ll get to the “attachment to his mother” thing in a bit--but, for now, let’s just say, George Lucas’ words on this are not that attachment to her was a good thing. Fair enough that “not because he cares about him” is up to personal interpretation, but canon has also addressed the topic of Obi-Wan’s treatment of Anakin and Obi-Wan stepped up to the plate on this. In addition to how we see Obi-Wan REPEATEDLY being there for Anakin and being concerned and caring about him, they specifically talk about Qui-Gon and overcome this hurdle.

No, Obi-Wan is not Anakin’s father figure, on that we definitely agree. Anakin never really even treats Obi-Wan like a father--he says “you’re the closest thing I have to a father” in Attack of the Clones, as well as he says Obi-Wan practically raised him in The Clone Wars “Crystal Crisis” story reels, but Anakin has never actually acted like Obi-Wan is his father--”then why don’t you listen to me?” Obi-Wan points out in AOTC--as well as Obi-Wan glides past those remarks, which I’ve always taken that he doesn’t want to reject Anakin’s feelings, knowing that Anakin can be sensitive about them, but neither does he want to confirm them. This does not mean Obi-Wan was not supportive, caring, and loving. He says, “I loved you!” to Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, he asks after him and if he’s sleeping well in Attack of the Clones, and even George Lucas himself said that the elevator scene was set up TO SHOW OBI-WAN AND ANAKIN CARE FOR EACH OTHER:

PUTTING THE REST UNDER A READ MORE FOR A BETTER LENGTH REBLOGGABLE VERSION, IF YOU WANT.

This is further evidenced by how the Jedi do see themselves as family, they just don’t need to put it into strict nuclear family dynamics: - “You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!” [–Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revenge of the Sith] - “We are brothers, Master Dibs.” [–Mace Windu, Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu] - “Did your parents bicker?” she asked. “The adoptive ones, I mean.” A slow smile broke across Ashla’s face, curling first one side of her mouth and then the other. Whatever she was remembering, Kaeden could tell it was good. "All the time,“ Ashla said, almost as if she were talking to herself. [–Kaeden Larte, Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka] - Vos, brought to the Temple even younger than most, felt that he had hundreds of brothers and sisters, and it seemed that whenever he went into the dining hall he ran into at least half of them. [Dark Disciple] - “It was not his birthplace, exactly, but the Jedi Temple was where Quinlan Vos had grown up. He’d raced through its corridors, hidden behind its massive pillars, found peace in its meditation hall, ended-and started-fights in rooms intended for striking blows and some that weren’t, and sneaked naps in its library. All Jedi came here, at some point in their lives; for Quinlan, it always felt like coming home when he ran lightly up the stairs and entered the massive building as he did now.” [Dark Disciple] Brothers, sisters, and other more non-traditional kinds of family are not lesser and Obi-Wan and Anakin absolutely were family, just as the Jedi are all family to each other, so, no, there was no “failing” Anakin, except in Anakin’s mind, perhaps. (In that, I can agree. But not on a narratively approved level, canon too thoroughly refutes that for me.) Rebels as well pretty thoroughly shows that non-traditional families are meaningful and just as important--we may joke that Hera is “space mom”, but she’s not actually Ezra or Sabine’s mother, Kanan is not actually their father, and even if they sometimes stray into aspects of those roles (as the Jedi do as well in the movies and TCW), that they don’t need that traditional nuclear family structure. Mentor figures--and Kanan is Ezra’s mentor--are just as meaningful and needful as a “dad”. And I’m kind of :/ at the implication that anyone without a dad/father figure or mom/mother figure is being “failed”. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” Whether or not Obi-Wan is being genuinely dismissive in this movie (I think you could make a case either way), the idea that Qui-Gon is better than Obi-Wan about this, as shown through Jar Jar isn’t exactly very supported given how Qui-Gon and Jar Jar first exchange words:

QUI-GON: “You almost got us killed. Are you brainless?” JAR JAR: “I spake.” QUI-GON: “The ability to speak does not make you intelligent.” Qui-Gon is just as bad as everyone else to Jar Jar, he’s not somehow elevated above them. It’s also baffling because, Dave, I have watched your show. The Jedi are specifically shown to be kind to people and creatures, not considering them “useless”. Henry Gilroy (who was the co-writer for The Clone Wars and frequently appeared in featurettes on the same level as Dave Filoni) explicitly draws this to The Jedi Way, that “life is everything to the Jedi“, when he said this about the Ryloth episodes:

(Caps cribbed from Pan’s blog, because I cannot make another gif, save me, please.) Henry Gilroy in an Aggressive Negotiations Interview: "Obi-Wan truly is a Jedi in that he’s like, ‘Okay, I’m not going to murder these creatures [in the Ryloth arc of The Clone Wars]. They’re starving to death. They’ve basically been unleashed against these people as a weapon, but it’s not their fault. They’re just doing what they do. They’re just animals who wanna eat.’ "So the idea was–and I think there was an early talk about how, 'Oh, yeah, he’ll go running through them and slicing and dicing them and chop them all up or whatever, and save his guys. And I’m like, 'Yeah, but that’s not really the Jedi way. He’s not just gonna murder these creatures.’ "And I know the threat is [there], to save one life you have to take one, but the idea of him [is]: why can’t Obi-Wan just be more clever? He basically draws them in and then traps them. "It says something about who the Jedi are, they don’t just waste life arbitrarily. And someone could have gone, 'Oh, yeah, but it would have been badass if he’d just ran in there with his lightsaber spinning and stabbed them all in the head!’ And 'Yeah, you’re right, I guess he could be that, but he’s trying to teach his clones a lesson right then, about the sanctity of life.’ "That is the underlying theme of that entire episode. Which is: A tactical droid is using the people as living shields. Life means nothing to the Separatists. The droids. But life is everything to the Jedi. And even though he doesn’t have to say that, it’s all through the episode thematically.“ It’s also Obi-Wan who teaches Anakin about kindness to mindless creatures in the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic:

"These beasts are nearly mindless, Anakin. I can feel it. They are merely following their nature, they should not die simply because they crossed our path. Use the Force to send them on their way.” Now, fair enough if you want to say Obi-Wan was taught by Qui-Gon, but also Qui-Gon is dead by that point and Obi-Wan growing into being more mature is his own accomplishment, not Qui-Gon’s, especially given that we see Qui-Gon himself being pretty dismissive to Jar Jar in TPM. This isn’t unique thing either, Padme is incredibly condescending to Jar Jar in “Bombad Jedi” and expresses clear annoyance with him to C-3PO when sighing over him. Jar Jar is a character you kind of have to warm up to, pretty much the only one we’ve seen consistently being favorable to him is Yoda (and maybe Anakin, though, Anakin doesn’t really interact with him a ton) and Mace Windu warms up to him considerably in “The Disappeared” and even specifically is shown to be teaching him and helping him, which is a huge theme of the Jedi and how much they care.

So, ultimately, the point I’m winding my way towards is--the other Jedi do show kindness and consideration to Jar Jar Binks, including characters like Mace Windu, so if you’re judging the Jedi based on that, the conclusion of Qui-Gon somehow being more compassionate and loving is really pretty thoroughly disproved by The Phantom Menace and The Clone Wars themselves. So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family. You could be charitable and say this is just from Anakin’s point of view that it’s a “failing”, but within the context of what Dave’s saying, it’s clearly meant as a more narratively approved take, not just Anakin’s point of view, and I really, really dislike the idea that Anakin--or anyone, really--needs a traditional nuclear family, ie a “mom” and/or a “dad”, or else it’s a “failing” for them. Setting aside that the idea that Qui-Gon would need to be Anakin’s dad to be kind to hi (which is ?????) is contradicted by The Clone Wars as well. Yes, Qui-Gon is warm with Anakin in several scenes, which is what Dave is presumably drawing on to show that Qui-Gon believed the Jedi should be caring and loving, but you know who else is warm to younglings? OTHER JEDI COUNCIL MEMBERS.

Those two scenes have the exact same kind of warmth to them. Ie, THE JEDI ALL BELIEVED IN BEING LOVING AND KIND, NOT JUST QUI-GON. The things evidenced to show Qui-Gon was loving and kind are evidenced just as much in other Council members, in Dave’s own show. As a bonus--have Mace Windu, known Jedi Council member, being super kind and loving towards a young Twi’lek girl he just met in a canon comic:

But I know that this is about the way the Council treated Anakin in The Phantom Menace testing scene, but here’s the thing--when I go back and I watch that scene and the Jedi aren’t ever mean to him, they’re neutral in an official testing situation, where they are trying to determine if he’s able to adapt to the Jedi ways. They never once say he’s bad for holding onto his fear, only that he does--which Anakin digs his heels in and gets angry about, he can’t really even admit that he’s afraid and that’s a huge deal for the Jedi. I’ve made a longer post about it here (and here), but the basic gist is: - That scene has Yoda giving the famous “Fear leads to the dark side” speech which is almost word for word how George Lucas describes how the Force works, showing the Jedi are narratively correct - “Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi” may be from the sequels, but it is thoroughly supported by the movies and TCW and Rebels and even supplementary canon material, including that the Jedi literally design their tests around both Masters and Padawans for it (Ilum, the Jedi Temple on Lothal, etc. - Anakin cannot admit to his fears in that TPM scene - We have examples of Jedi younglings do admit to their fears and the point isn’t not to have them, but to face them--the younglings in “The Gathering” are the most blatant example of this, but it’s also pretty much the entire theme of Jedi: Fallen Order, especially when Cal goes to Ilum to face his fears and get another kyber crystal. The point isn’t that Anakin--who has very good reasons to be afraid! nothing in the story or the Jedi have said he didn’t!--is wrong or bad, but that he’s not a great fit for the Jedi life because he is “unwilling to accept [Jedi philosophy] emotionally”. And they’re right about this, because this is how George Lucas describes Anakin in commentary: “The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he can’t hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn’t willing to accept emotionally and the reason that is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi. If he’d have been taken in his first year and started to study to be a Jedi, he wouldn’t have this particular connection as strong as it is and he’d have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them.” --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary And so this brings us to A T T A C H M E N T, which, yeah, we’ve been having this discussion forever, but I’m going to state it again: Within Star Wars, ATTACHMENT IS NARRATIVELY A BAD THING. It is consistently tied to possessive, obsessive relationships, to greed and an unwillingness to let things go when it’s time (letting go is a huge theme in Star Wars) and equating love with attachment is fundamentally wrong according to George Lucas’ Star Wars worldbuilding: “The Jedi are trained to let go. They’re trained from birth,” he continues, “They’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people-- in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can’t form attachments. So what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death.” --George Lucas, The Making of Revenge of the Sith If attachment and love were the same thing, then he would be saying, “They should love their enemies, they should love the Sith. But they can’t love.” The way George makes the distinction shows that, no, attachment and love aren’t the same thing at all, attachment is not caring. Further, there’s another instance of him showing there’s an important distinction between relationships and attachment and the association of attachmets with possession: "Jedi Knights aren’t celibate - the thing that is forbidden is attachments - and possessive relationships.” --George Lucas, BBC News interview So, yes, when Anakin is attached to people, it is directly tied to obsession, possession, and greed, all things of the dark side: “He turns into Darth Vader because he gets attached to things. He can’t let go of his mother; he can’t let go of his girlfriend. He can’t let go of things. It makes you greedy. And when you’re greedy, you are on the path to the dark side, because you fear you’re going to lose things, that you’re not going to have the power you need.” --George Lucas, Time Magazine “But he has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village. The scene with the Tusken Raiders is the first scene that ultimately takes him on the road to the dark side. I mean he’s been prepping for this, but that’s the one where he’s sort of doing something that is completely inappropriate.“ --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary ATTACHMENT IS BAD IN STAR WARS AS THEY DEFINE IT. Finally, I’m going to circle back to: Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. Here’s the thing about this: You know who else, by this logic, Qui-Gon should have been a father to? OBI-WAN KENOBI. This isn’t said as “Anakin specifically needs a father” (which I think would be an interesting idea to bandy about and I’m not disagreeing, though, it’s complicated because of what Anakin refuses to accept emotionally), it’s said in a bigger context, that Qui-Gon is better than the other Jedi because he understands the need for fathers (and thus this ties into Return of the Jedi) and he’s ahead of the other Jedi, who apparently think loving and caring about people are bad things, but Qui-Gon does not treat Obi-Wan like his son. Or, if he does, he’s not exactly a stellar dad about it. Within Master & Apprentice, there’s an incredibly consistent theme of how Qui-Gon thinks supportive things about Obi-Wan, but never says them aloud. He thinks he should talk to Obi-Wan about the upcoming decision to be on the Council and then never does. He could have explained why he kept Obi-Wan training the basics but he never does. There are multiple instances showing that Qui-Gon is actually really, really bad at actually handling a young apprentice who needs him to talk to them about important things. Qui-Gon continues this in From a Certain Point of View where he still never talked to Obi-Wan about everything that happened, even after he became a Force Ghost. Damn, damn, damn. Qui-Gon closed his eyes for one moment. It blocked nothing; the wave of shock that went through Obi-Wan was so great it could be felt through the Force. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought Kirames Kaj would mention the Jedi Council invitation. It seemed possible the soon-retiring chancellor of the Republic might not even have taken much note of information about a new Council member. --Master & Apprentice That comment finally pierced Qui-Gon’s damnable calm. There was an edge to his voice as he said, “I suspected you would be too upset to discuss this rationally. Apparently I was correct.” “I thought you said my reaction was understandable,” Obi-Wan shot back. “So why does it disqualify me from hearing the truth?” Qui-Gon put his hands on his broad belt, the way he did when he was beginning to withdraw into himself. “…we should discuss this at another time. Neither of us is his best self at the present.” --Master & Apprentice Obi-Wan walked toward the door, obviously outdone. “At the beginning of my apprenticeship, I couldn’t understand you,” he said. “Unfortunately, that’s just as true here at the end.” Only yesterday they had worked together as never before. How did Qui-Gon manage to get closer to Obi-Wan at the same time he was moving further away? Just before Obi-Wan would leave the room, Qui-Gon said, “Once, you asked me about the basic lightsaber cadences. Why I’d kept you there, instead of training you in more advanced forms of combat.” Obi-Wan turned reluctantly to face him again. “I suppose you thought I wasn’t ready for more. The same way I’m not ready to believe in all this mystical—” “That’s not why.” After a long pause, Obi-Wan calmed to the point where he would listen. “Then why, Qui-Gon?” “Because many Padawans—and full Jedi Knights, for that matter—forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come,” Qui-Gon said. “Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most Masters let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But I wanted you to be grounded in your technique. I wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost untouchable. Above all, I wanted to give you the training you needed to accomplish anything you set your mind to later on.” Obi-Wan remained quiet for so long that Qui-Gon wondered if he were too angry to really hear any of what he’d said. But finally, his Padawan nodded. “Thank you, Qui-Gon. I appreciate that. But—” “But what?” “You could’ve said so,” Obi-Wan replied, and then he left. --Master & Apprentice "I owe you that. After all, I’m the one who failed you.“ "Failed me?” They have never spoken of this, not once in all Qui-Gon’s journeys into the mortal realm to commune with him. This is primarily because Qui-Gon thought his mistakes so wretched, so obvious, that Obi-Wan had wanted to spare him any discussion of it. Yet here, too, he has failed to do his Padawan justice. --From a Certain Point of View, “Master and Apprentice” (Further, in Master & Apprentice, Qui-Gon thinks that the Jedi give Rael Averross--who is HUGELY paralleled to Anakin--too many exceptions, were too soft on him because he came to the Jedi later than most and has trouble thinking of them as his family, and he thinks they should have been stricter with him.) It’s also readily apparent within The Phantom Menace itself:

You can take some charitable views of this scene, that Qui-Gon was pushed into a corner where he had few other options (and this is the view I generally take even!), but this is after the entire movie where he’s never once indicated that Obi-Wan was ready, has instead indicated that he still has much to learn (not just of the Living Force, but in general), as well as made it clear that he’s still teaching Obi-Wan, like on the Trade Federation ship. And I do think Obi-Wan got over this because he understood, because Obi-Wan actually is a very selfless person, he clearly cares (which is furthered by how we see him warm up to Anakin very quickly), but look at their faces. This was not a good moment, and they do somewhat make up, where Qui-Gon says that Obi-Wan has been a good apprentice, that he’s wiser than Qui-Gon and he’ll be a great Jedi--but if we’re counting that as Qui-Gon being this great Jedi, then you can’t say Obi-Wan failed Anakin, given that we show him doing the exact same thing, except better. He tells Anakin, “You are strong and wise and will become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be.”, echoing Qui-Gon’s words, but also he never threw Anakin aside for someone else. This is kind of a major undercurrent throughout The Clone Wars, where Obi-Wan never takes another apprentice, where he continues to teach Anakin, to support him, even to the point of occasionally co-Mastering Ahsoka with him. “This has been quite a journey for our Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s treatment of Obi-Wan in this scene isn’t the worst, he’s kind about it later (though, he never actually specifically apologizes for this), but we can see that this is a moment where Qui-Gon hurts Obi-Wan and knows it. And you know what George Lucas has to say about Qui-Gon? This: “So here we’re having Qui-Gon wanting to skip the early training and jump right to taking him on as his Padawan learner, which is controversial, and ultimately, the source of much of the problems that develop later on.” –George Lucas, The Phantom Menace commentary There’s nothing about Qui-Gon being right or better than the other Jedi, but instead that Qui-Gon’s actions here are a source of much of the problems that develop later on. So, ultimately, I liked some points Dave made in that speech, it’s a beautiful and eloquent one, but I thoroughly disagree with his interpretation of George’s intentions for Qui-Gon and I thoroughly disagree that that’s what the movies, The Clone Wars (DAVE’S OWN SHOW), and the supplementary canon show about Qui-Gon and the other Jedi. I still stand by my appreciation of Dave’s contributions to SW as a whole, I think he does a really good job at making Star Wars, but he doesn’t always get everything right and this is one thing where I think the canon and George’s commentary show otherwise, as much as I love his desire to defend the prequels’ importance in the story. Because, my friend, I have felt that every single day of my SW life.

#anakin skywalker #qui gon jinn #jedi order #george lucas #dave filoni #meta #long post #really long post

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