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gay-otlc · 4 years ago

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Perfect (Keefitz)

Summary: And yet... he can't shake the feeling that, if he wasn't a Vacker, if he wasn't stuck in the cage of perfection... he would love to be with Keefe.

That didn't matter. Whether he likes it or not, Fitz is in his cage of perfection, so he can't want Keefe.

He can't. Because he's perfect.

(Alternatively: 4.5K words of Keefitz angst and about 100 of Keefitz fl*ff)

Trigger warnings: Internalized homophobia, cursing

Words: 4352

(Read on AO3)

Fitz Vacker is perfect.

His friends call him Wonderboy, and that's for a reason. He knows they're making fun of him when they say it, but he can't help but feel the smallest glimmer of pride when he hears the nickname. Maybe a bit more than that. Yes, people are making fun of him for being perfect. That still means they see him as being perfect.

And that's good. That's exactly how he wants it to be.

No, he corrects himself- not how he wants it to be. How it is. People don't just see him as perfect- he is perfect. (Or so he tells himself. But is he, is he really perfect? Or is he just lying, trying to convince himself. Convince everyone else.) Wonderboy is at the top of his class. He's passable at Base Quest and actually quite good at Bramble. Even though his father doesn't approve of the hobby, his talent at baking is undeniable. Every girl at Foxfire is in agreement that he's handsome, with bronze skin, teal eyes, and a smile that makes all of them swoon.

(He doesn't care how many girls like him. He's never liked any of them.)

And Sophie. He's a key member of the Black Swan, and he's Sophie's cognate. They're cognates. And everyone expects them to be a couple.

He's supposed to love her. He can't.

They would be a perfect couple, if only he could feel what he was supposed to.

He can't.

The point is, Fitz is perfect. He's sunshine, blue skies. Flawless. Golden.

Fitz Vacker is perfect. And he can't shake the feeling that perfection is a cage.

---

Keefe Sencen is anything but perfect.

It's obvious from the very moment they meet. Keefe is too loud, too energetic, too obnoxious. He barely pays any attention in his classes and lands in detention every other day. Taking anything seriously seems to be impossible for him. Even his appearance, with messed up hair and the way he "forgets" his cape, reflect on his personality.

Alden disapproves immediately. Keefe would never be a good influence for Fitz, could get him in trouble, damage his reputation. Blah, blah, blah. He does make sense, too; Fitz is a Vacker, and he's the golden boy, so he can only be surrounded by the best. Which likely doesn't include Keefe. But after one conversation with that boy, he finds himself inviting him over to Everglen after school.

After that, they're inseparable, no matter what Alden says.

And Keefe is still far from perfect. He hides everything in jokes and spends too much time obviously crushing on Sophie. (A fact that gives Fitz a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He isn't sure why; maybe it would be weird if two of his best friends started dating?) Keefe's mom is part of the Neverseen and the council banished him to Exillium and he makes reckless decisions.

Odds are, Keefe is a ticking time bomb, and Fitz needs to get away. That's what his brain tells him to do. Then, Keefe tells him Lord Cassius's theory on head and heart emotions, and something clicks. In his head, he wants Keefe gone. In his heart, he needs Keefe to stay.

Shit, he thinks.

Keefe is anything but perfect. He's a hurricane, a natural disaster. Flawed. Broken glass.

Keefe Sencen is anything but perfect. And Fitz cares about Keefe way to much to ever let it come between them. Shit.

---

Fitz nearly dies once, a time most people have forgotten about. He remembers it perfectly.

It's soon after he, Sophie, Dex, Biana, and... Keefe, though Fitz doesn't yet know why he has the ellipses, run away to join the Black Swan in Allavuterre. When they break into Exile to visit Prentice, and the Council comes to stop them. It's the most stupid way to nearly die, but a giant bug stabs Fitz. An arthopleura, eight feet tall and full of poison, stabs him.

And he nearly dies.

Even though he doesn't have a photographic memory, the time plays out perfectly in his mind- everything suddenly aches, he can barely breathe and the world swims before his eyes. His brain feels foggy, clouded by the poison. Through the fog, he can only think of one thing. A name, that he clings to like a lifeline.

And it should be Sophie's name. It should be Sophie's name. He's usually perfect enough to keep control of his thoughts, make sure he wants the right thing and doesn't spend too much time ever longing for the wrong thing.

In his poisoned state, that sort of control is gone, and all he can think of is what he actually wants.

Keefe.

The name echoes in his mind, over and over. When he feels himself only at his last point of consciousness, Keefe's name is still repeating, but he doesn't remember what it means.

Who's Keefe? he thinks.

A memory tickles at the back of his mind. Keefe... he... I... I think I'm in love with him.

He gives into the poison, consciousness gone.

---

When he wakes up, his head still feels foggy and slow. Keefe's name is still there, and it doesn't take long for the rest of Fitz's memories to come slotting into place. I think I'm in love with him.

Where the fuck had that thought come from?

Fitz isn't in love with Keefe. He can't be. He isn't. Fitz is the perfect Vacker, the golden boy. He's going to marry someone on his match list that his father approves of, and then he's going to further the Vacker family name and not dishonor generations of Vackers before him. He'll continue being perfect, something that can't happen if he loves Keefe. Because Keefe is so far from perfect, nothing like anyone those generations of Vackers want him to marry. He's chaotic and disobedient and, well, a boy.

If Fitz is to be perfect, he can't like Keefe.

And he will be perfect.

No, he is.

---

His friends come in, full of concerns and well wishes. Keefe comes in carrying Mr. Snuggles, and thought he's laughing at Fitz, all Fitz can think about is how cute his laugh is, how Keefe hasn't smiled in so long and he's so happy that Keefe is happy. Keefe lights up Fitz's world, and after a bug-induced realization, Fitz notices that Keefe is... well, really hot.

Don't think about that.

Eventually, the rest of his friends leave, and Livvy gives him various elixirs. Della and Biana stay behind, but eventually, Livvy and Della have to talk about something, and he's left alone with Biana.

Biana smirks. "Does Fitzy have a crush?"

His face burns. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please," she scoffs. "You've been making heart eyes ever since our friends came in. Spill."

"I don't- I'm not-"

"Fitz, you're a terrible liar. Come on, just admit you like Sophie."

Sophie. Yes, he likes Sophie. Sophie is the Moonlark, the most powerful elf; just who the perfect Vacker boy should like. She's pretty, and she's a girl, and she's just as perfect as he is. They're meant to be together.

---

"Yes," he lies. "Fine. I like Sophie. I realized it after almost dying. Happy now?"

"Very."

"But don't... don't tell her." Fitz knows that Sophie has a crush on him; no matter how hard she tries to keep it a secret, it's fairly obvious. He doesn't want her thinking that he likes her, though, because then they'd have to date, and he wouldn't like her. Well, he likes her a lot, but not like that. He likes her enough to not lead her on like that.

Biana gives him a strange look. "You know she likes you, right?"

Shit. Now he has to think of a lie, and as Biana pointed out, he's not good at lying. "I'm... I don't really want a relationship right now. While we're dealing with the Neverseen and all that. I kind of just want to wait, and I'm worried Sophie will take that as I don't like her."

He feels Biana's eyes on him for a long time, but she finally nods. "Makes sense. I'm gonna go... get some sleep, Fitz."

When she leaves, he feels like he can finally exhale. He was nearly caught with a crush on Keefe Sencen, of all people. He managed to lie and divert the attention to Sophie... but that was fucking hard.

It shouldn't be hard. He should forget all about Keefe right now, before he falls in deeper, and like Sophie instead. That's what he has to do, to be perfect again.

And yet... he can't shake the feeling that, if he wasn't a Vacker, if he wasn't stuck in the cage of perfection... he would love to be with Keefe.

That didn't matter. Whether he likes it or not, Fitz is in his cage of perfection, so he can't want Keefe.

He can't. Because he's perfect.

---

As the world continues on, with a mess of Neverseen attacks and near death experiences and drama with their friends, Keefe Sencen never fucking leaves Fitz's head. His stupid smirk and stupid Hair and stupid, stupidly imperfect beauty. He's so stupidly funny and caring and brilliant, and oh, Fitz is so stupidly in love.

It's infuriating.

And yes, he's well aware it's kind of an asshole move, but ever since he recovered from the bug stabbing incident and the feelings for Keefe didn't go away, he's been avoiding him. Every second he spends with Keefe makes him fall even deeper in love. And as he falls deeper in love, he comes closer and closer to falling off his throne.

He can't risk that.

Even strained conversations are difficult. Fitz feels something he can't name, a combination of fury and frustration and love bubbling up in his chest, and he sometimes thinks he'll explode if he doesn't scream it. I'm in love with Keefe. I'm in love with Keefe.

But he can't scream it. So he'll just have to stay away.

Keefe thinks he's jealous, that he and Sophie have something going on, because he thinks Fitz likes Sophie. Fitz is jealous whenever Keefe and Sophie are together, it's true. He wishes he were jealous of Keefe. It's safer to have him believe that. Safer to stay away.

It kills him.

But he can't have both Keefe and perfection, and he's chosen perfection.

---

The perfection he wants (this isn't what he wants, he wants Keefe, he's never wanted this) comes in the form of Sophie Elizabeth Foster and a walk through Everglen. They're discussing matchmaking, dangerous territory- and then the danger becomes real, tipping Fitz into the deep end of a conversation he'd rather avoid.

Sophie starts crying. He's not an idiot; he knows why.

Because she thinks he'll never like her.

(And she's right. He can't like her. He can't like girls.)

Before he can think it through, the words are out of his mouth: "I want it to be you," he blurts. "I want it to be you. On my match list." It's not a lie. He wants her on his match list, and him to be on hers, so they can be matched, and together... and, well, married, as horrifying as that thought is. Married to Sophie. Together for eternity.

(That sounds like a nightmare. He loves her, but not like that. The mere thought of spending eternity together feels like he's already trapped. Caged within perfection.)

He wants to want Sophie like that. And that means he wants her, right?

(He wants Keefe.)

This is what he wants, he reminds himself, as he leans towards her, ready to kiss. He'd never admit it to anyone, but when they're interrupted by Silveny, he's overwhelmingly relieved.

No he isn't.

This is what he wants.

---

He's relieved again when he and Sophie break up. And terrified. She was his safety net, and now, when he falls for Keefe, nothing is going to catch him. Then, he regrets feeling any bit of relief- what kind of boyfriend does that make him?

A gay one.

That's what he is, isn't he? He's not perfect. He's gay. And he thought it would go away. It hasn't. It isn't going to. He's gay, he's gay for Keefe Sencen, and he'll never be perfect. Never be fucking perfect. Unless he pushes the feelings down until he forgets about them. Unless he never tells anyone. Unless he bites his tongue and marries a woman and does everything exactly right. Never slips up. Convinces himself, and everyone else, that he's... normal.

Not just normal.

Perfect.

Fucking perfect.

His plans to repress all Keefe-related emotions fails horribly within a few days. Keefe, the fucking idiot, manages to get himself in a coma, and now Fitz doesn't know whether he'll wake up, and dammit, even ignoring Keefe was better than this.

He just wants Keefe back, even if it'll be harder to be perfect.

---

The universe rewards him, the time he spends by Keefe's bedside whispering I'll stay away from him, I won't fall in love, I'll forget all about him, if he can stay alive works, or maybe it was just luck. Either way, Keefe is awake.

At first, he has no idea what to feel. Overwhelmingly happy, for one. It's hard to push that down.

He's your best friend. It's normal to feel happy about your best friend not dying. It's fine. This is fine. You're fine.

You're still perfect.

Then, everything spirals very quickly, and it turns out Keefe's mother- shit, Fitz hates her- has managed to ruin everything once again. Fantastic. Now Keefe is scared of himself, and if Fitz is being honest, he's a little scared... but then again, he was always scared of Keefe, wasn't he? Scared of how his laugh made Fitz feel like he'd won a million lusters and how he could be so imperfect yet so wonderful and how sometimes, Fitz thought maybe, it'd be worth it to not be perfect, as long as they could be together.

And scared of how he can't stop thinking about Keefe, so he buys flowers- fucking flowers- and goes to visit him at Elwin's house.

Elwin opens the door. He glances at Fitz, then the flowers, then Fitz again, and smiles knowingly. Fitz wants to shrink into a hole, knowing that Elwin knows- or even suspects- his secret, that he's so far from perfect. Elwin doesn't think of it as a bad thing, though. It's still terrifying. "Keefe is in his room," he says. Fitz nods, not trusting his voice, and walks up the stairs.

---

Keefe opens the door. "Elwin, I said I'd- you're not Elwin."

"Not unless something very confusing just happened, no," Fitz agrees.

"What are you doing here?"

Fitz swallows. "I came to check on you," he says. Then he holds out the flowers. "And to give you these." Keefe stares at the flowers for a long time, long enough to make Fitz extremely uneasy. Oh why did I do this, this was so stupid, Keefe thinks it's stupid, it obviously is, and now Elwin knows, or at least suspects, and maybe Keefe suspects too, and why am I such a fucking idiot? But Keefe takes the flowers eventually.

"Thanks."

The word is clipped, not particularly grateful, but Fitz lets his eyes meet Keefe's and he seems sincere. "No problem." Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm alright, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay." When Fitz nods, Keefe gives a small smile. "How about you? I heard you and Foster broke up."

Truth be told, Fitz had nearly forgotten about that, which didn't bode well for his whole Yes, I definitely like girls act he was trying to do. "I'm... I think it was the right decision for us. Can I tell you a secret?" he blurts, the last sentence not planned. He hopes Keefe will say no, but of course he says yes, so Fitz swallows. "I don't think I ever liked her, really. I mean, I like her a lot. But not like that. Never like that. I've never liked a girl like that."

Instantly, Fitz regrets specifying a girl, but that was the only way to keep it truthful. Despite that, he regrets not lying as he watches Keefe connect the dots. "You like me, don't you?" Before Fitz can say anything, really even register the question, Keefe continues "It's not bad if you do. In fact, it's good, because I... I like you. A lot. Like that. So it's okay to tell me if you like me. And I promise I won't tell anyone unless you're alright with it."

Fitz nods. Almost in a whisper, he answers "I like you. I... I really like you, so much, so much it physically aches, but Keefe, I can't. You know I can't."

A look Fitz can't quite decipher comes over Keefe, a mixture of pain and anger and joy and... determination. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispers, before cupping Fitz's face. Even before their lips touch, Fitz knows it's so unlike the times he and Sophie almost kissed. This time, it feels exactly right.

It feels perfect.

That word, that fucking word, draws Fitz back abruptly away. "I can't," he repeats, taking a step back towards the door. Twists the doorknob. "I can't. I'm sorry, Keefe, but I can't."

Keefe nods. "I know. You have to be perfect." He doesn't sound angry; just resigned.

"I have to be perfect," Fitz agrees, and he leaves.

---

Once again, the world continues on. Keefe slowly begins trusting himself around other people again. Fitz still doesn't trust himself around Keefe. If they're too close for too long, he thinks he might just disregard everything and kiss him again. He thought it was hard before, but after he knows who fucking wonderful it is to kiss Keefe, it's nearly impossible. Keefe is like a drug, and Fitz has to do everything he can not to relapse.

So he stays away.

They fight the Neverseen a few more times. Nearly die once or twice. Elwin basically adopts Keefe. He and Sophie work to rebuild their trust as cognates, but it's hard, because now he's keeping such a big secret.

I never liked you.

I don't like girls.

I'm gay.

I like Keefe.

I kissed Keefe once.

He can't tell her any of that. Can't tell anyone. Keefe is the only person who knows, and even that is far too many people. He has to trust that Keefe won't tell anyone- though Keefe doesn't have as much to lose from it, it can't be good for him either. And Sophie... she's a really good friend, but he still... he can't. He just can't.

Even as their friendship repairs itself, they never date again. He's glad.

And disappointed.

Because he really needs a safety net, now more than ever.

---

Alden convinces him to get a match list, one without Sophie on it. One with a hundred girls, each one of them someone he can never love. Maybe he'll find one he likes well enough. And he can pretend to love her until he's convinced everyone, including himself. A new safety net.

A new mask of perfection.

He throws a Winnowing Gala then, mostly for the food. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to just eat the whole time. He has to dance with people, talk to them, hope to find some sort of spark. It never comes, of course. When he first met Keefe first, he knew that boy would be bad for him, but he couldn't stay away. Every moment talking to him felt like electricity. This is just... dull.

It's nearly torture.

Also, it's what the rest of his life is going to be like.

Fitz already knew perfection was a cage. He chose the cage instead of Keefe. Now he's living with the consequences. This was his choice, and he made his choice, but it's still... so hard. It feels like he's suffocating.

---

"I need some fresh air," he chokes out to the girl he's dancing with now. He can't even remember her name. She's nice, but nothing like Keefe. All of these girls blend together, because none of them are Keefe, and he's too focused on surviving the next few hours to concentrate on any of them.

Without waiting to here her response, he stumbles outside.

"Fitz?" a voice asks. He groans. Keefe. Why did it have to be Keefe?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too. I came to pine as you chose a girl to marry, of course. Didn't expect you to come outside."

Fitz groans, burying his head in his hands. "Sorry to snap at you. I just..."

"You hate this. You hate this so much."

"How do you know?"

"Empath. Also, I know you," Keefe says. Fitz sighs. They fall silent for a long time, but finally, Keefe speaks again. "I still... I can't stop thinking about the kiss. It feels like forever ago, and I still sometimes feel your lips on mine like some sort of phantom. All I can do is think about kissing you again. I really want to kiss you again. I... I really want you." He takes a breath, then resumes, cutting off whatever Fitz was about to say. "But I know. You can't. I understand."

"I... it doesn't feel like I can. At all. But..." Fitz took a deep breath, gesturing at Everglen. "I can't do this either. I can't keep doing this, pretending to be perfect."

Keefe tilted his head to the side. "Fitz?"

"I'm done pretending," Fitz said, and he kissed Keefe once again.

Perfect.

---

When they finally separate, Keefe's ice blue eyes are wide, pupils dilated. "That was... incredible." He touches his fingers to his lips, never taking his eyes off Fitz. Fitz can't see himself, but he's sure he looks just as lovestruck. He's wanted this for years, and finally, finally...

"I want to tell people," Fitz says, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. He didn't plan to say that, but repeats it. "I want to tell people about... about us."

"You know there's no going back after that," Keefe says, the beautiful smile on his face widening anyway.

Fitz nods. "I know. I don't want to go back. I told you, I'm done pretending."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to?"

After a quick kiss that makes little fireworks go off in Fitz's head, he smiles again and says "No, I want to. Do you know what you're going to say?" Fitz shakes his head. "Just making it up as you go along. That works. Honestly, the best way to do things. Can I come in with you?" In response, Fitz takes Keefe's hand in his and squeezes it. "Great. Let's go."

With every step Fitz takes, he knows his time being perfect is running out. He's never been happier.

---

"I want to thank you all for coming tonight," Fitz says, waiting for the room to fall silent from the talking and laughing and music. While he waits, his eyes meet Keefe's. His boyfriend's. Keefe smiles, and he gives a tentative smile in return. His stomach flips with anxiety, and doubts of Do I really want to do this? start to creep back in. He briefly closes his eyes and lets the memory of the kiss wash over him, and it's the only thing to get them to go away.

Distantly, he hears a girl whisper-scream "Is he about to propose to someone?"

He clears his throat and continues. "I've really enjoyed getting to speak of all of you and get to know you. Unfortunately..." he swallows. "None of you... my perfect match. There's nothing wrong with any of you, and if I could be attracted to any of you, I would have some good options to choose from. But... I'm not attracted to girls. Any girls. At all."

Behind him, he hears his father hissing "Fitz, what are you doing?"

"Let him finish," his mom murmurs, voice low.

After letting his eyes drift back to Keefe, he takes a deep breath and blurts it out to the entire room. It's been bubbling up in him for so long, with no one knowing, and by tomorrow, everyone in the Lost Cities will know. That's terrifying. But strangely liberating. No more pretending. "I'm gay."

"Fitzroy," his father snaps, instantly. "Stop talking at once."

"No."

"Fitzroy Avery Vacker-"

"No," Fitz repeats, meeting Alden's eyes and ignoring every voice of wisdom telling him to look away. "No. I'm done pretending. And I'm done being perfect. I'm gay, and I'm in love with Keefe, and you're just going to have to fucking deal with that."

---

Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks over to Keefe, collapsing into a hug. "I'm proud of you," he hears in a whisper.

"That was terrifying," he breathes.

"I know. But it's going to be okay."

Fitz tangles his hands in Keefe's stupidly beautiful hair and meets their lips in another earth shattering kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too, Wonderboy."

Things won't ever be perfect again. Alden and Della divorce, and though neither of them says it, Fitz knows it's his fault. Keefe's father is furious, which he knows upsets Keefe even though he lives with Elwin now. Some elves are supportive, and some even come out after Fitz- including Sophie and Biana, who have apparently been dating for months- but other elves whisper about the gay Vacker boy, and how unfortunate it is for the family. The Council has been arguing for months about whether or not Fitz should be allowed to be matched with Keefe. Fighting the Neverseen is still a necessity, and they keep getting hurt.

Things won't ever be perfect again. Fitz won't be "perfect" again.

But it doesn't matter whether he's perfect. He's happy.

#simone types things #keefitz #kotlc #fitz vacker #divorce alden vacker 2021 #cursing tw #internalized homophobia tw #shai's writing

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emospritelet · 6 years ago

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Kiss of Life - chapter 9

So for reasons that can't be explained beyond the fact that we're all perverts, @rumple-belle, @thatravenclawbitch and I ended up agreeing to write Rumbelle Accidental Full-Frontal nudity scenes today...

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

AO3 link

The snow was thick on the ground, the sky ominously grey with the promise of more to come, and Belle shivered as she stomped along through the drifts, wishing she could have stayed at Gold’s house and curled up beside him with another cup of tea. And while you’re at it you may as well fantasise about getting in bed with him and kissing everything better, she thought wryly, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her coat. Her crush was getting out of control.

By the time she got to the hospital, her feet were numb, but she had walked quickly and her cheeks were flushed, her heart thumping and her legs tired. She tried to catch her breath as she shoved her coat, hat and scarf in her locker, tying back her hair and going to wash her hands. The wards were as busy as ever, the flu indiscriminate in its choice of victims. Belle noticed several missing faces amongst the staff, and the nurses that were on shift were having to run from bed to bed to keep up with the work. Zelena appeared to be no worse for having fallen in the snow, although a faint odour of soup hung about her as she swept past Belle with a disparaging sniff in place of a greeting.

“Thank God you’re okay, at least,” said Dorothy, wearily brushing a loose curl of hair out of her eyes. “If I don’t get some sleep soon I’ll collapse.”

“You should go,” said Belle, putting a hand on her arm. “If you push yourself too hard you’ll only come down with the flu too.”

“Like Dr Gold, you mean?” said Dorothy, with a grin. “I hear you’ve been taking care of him.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d see how he was doing,” said Belle, and wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t so good, as it turned out. Pretty much hallucinating, his fever was so bad.”

Dorothy winced.

“You think he’ll be out for awhile?” she asked. “This place really can’t afford to lose anyone else if we’re to keep things going. Whale’s dead on his feet.”

“I’d say at least a few days,” said Belle. “He could barely stand. I made him some soup, and gave him something to take his fever down, but this flu’s nasty.”

“Yeah, it’s kicking everyone in the balls,” said Dorothy, with a sigh.

“I’ll head over there again after my shift,” added Belle. “See how long he’s likely to be out of action.”

“Tell him to keep his skinny ass in bed,” said Dorothy bluntly. “I don’t want him killing himself trying to come back to work too soon.”

“Well, I can try…”

Belle’s tone was dry, and Dorothy huffed in agreement. They both knew it would be almost impossible to keep him from the hospital if he chose to return. Dorothy glanced across at her, suddenly hesitant.

“Look, it’s not really any of my business,” she said. “I know I haven’t been here that long, but I hate it when some women try to drag others down, you know? We should be supporting each other. World’s crappy enough as it is without us making it worse.”

“Oh.” Belle took a step back. “Did I - did I do something wrong?”

“I seriously doubt that,” said Dorothy, in a dry tone. “From what I’ve seen you do a great job, more than would usually be asked of a candy striper.”

Belle felt her brow crinkle in confusion, and Dorothy sighed.

“Zelena’s kind of talking about you,” she said. “In a not-so-nice way. I’ve been the target of gossip enough times in my life to know how much that can suck.”

“Yeah.” Belle frowned, glancing around to see if Zelena was present. “She seems to have taken an instant dislike to me, and I’ve no idea why.”

“Well, up to this morning I doubt she knew either,” agreed Dorothy, folding her arms. “Seems like she doesn’t like anyone much, if you ask me. No one female, anyhow. She gets on well enough with the men. Or thinks she does.”

“So - what is she saying?”

“That you spent the night with Dr Gold.”

“Well, I did,” said Belle, puzzled. “She came to the door this morning and just started yelling at me over nothing.”

“No, I mean she’s saying you spent the night with him,” said Dorothy patiently. “As in slept with him.”

“Well I - oh!” Belle blushed. “No, it was nothing like that! He has the flu, for God’s sake!”

“Yeah, figured,” said Dorothy. “Anyway, I told her to get on with her work and stop gossiping, but you may find you get some questions from people with nothing better to do. If that happens just let me know and I’ll stick ‘em on bedpan-cleaning duty.”

“Thanks,” said Belle, still blushing. “So that’s why she was mad at me.”

“Thinks you’re moving in on her territory,” agreed Dorothy. “It’s pretty obvious she has a severe case of the hots for him, and the fact that the man can’t stand her only seems to be a turn-on for her. I told him the other day that he’s too polite. Zelena doesn’t seem to take hints. She thinks ‘no’ means ‘try harder’.”

“Ugh,” said Belle, with feeling, and Dorothy grinned.

“Well, I’d better go,” she said. “If you could check everyone in the senior ward has water, and maybe bring some fresh linens?”

“On it,” said Belle, and squeezed her shoulder before walking briskly away.

She filled the water jugs first, lingering for a moment by old Mr Prentice’s bed. His eyes were closed, his breath rattling in his lungs, white beard twitching a little as his lips moved, and she chewed her lip in worry. Mary Margaret appeared by her side, her eyes tired.

“He’s just sleeping,” she said. “The flu’s taken it out of him, but at that age it’s not surprising.”

“I hope he pulls through,” said Belle. “He’s a sweet old man.”

“He likes to tell the kids stories,” she agreed. “I heard he used to teach, when he was younger. Probably before I ever came to Storybrooke.”

“Yeah.” Belle sighed, hoping that the flu wouldn’t make Mr Prentice pay the ultimate price. “Well, I guess I’d better get on with things. I didn’t realise you were working today.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” admitted Mary Margaret. “Looks like they need all hands on deck. You want a hand with anything?”

“You could help me strip and remake the beds in ward four,” suggested Belle, and Mary Margaret agreed readily.

They hurried off, stopping to collect an armful of linens each, and for ten minutes or so there was silence except for the constant beeping of machinery and cool, dispassionate announcements from the speaker system calling doctors and nurses to various wards. Mary Margaret bundled dirty sheets in her arms, eyeing Belle as she stripped another of the empty beds, ready for the next intake of flu patients.

“You know Zelena’s gossiping about you, right?” she said, and Belle sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Dorothy told me,” she said. “Apparently I’m having a passionate affair with a flu patient.”

She clutched her hands to her heart, fluttering her eyelashes, and Mary Margaret giggled.

“Well, I’d warn you about the dangers of infection from kissing, but I suspect you already know,” she teased.

Belle bundled up the sheets crossly.

“I really don’t care what she thinks,” she said. “It was perfectly innocent, and if her mind goes in that direction it’s not my problem. I just don’t want Stirling to think I had anything to do with any of her stupid rumours, that’s all.”

“Stirling?” Mary Margaret looked puzzled, and Belle blushed a little.

“Oh - Dr Gold,” she said hastily, and Mary Margaret’s eyes gleamed.

“First name terms, hmm?”

“Shut up,” said Belle flatly, throwing the balled-up sheets at her to cut off her giggle. “I don’t think he even meant to tell me, the man was pretty much hallucinating.”

Mary Margaret caught the sheets out of the air, grinning broadly.

“I’m teasing,” she said gently. “And - and I shouldn’t, you’re right.”

She dropped the linens into the wheeled hamper, shaking out a clean sheet, and Belle took the other end, helping to spread it over the mattress and tuck it underneath.

“You like him though, right?” said Mary Margaret carefully. “I mean I know Zelena has a mean streak a mile wide, but she’s not wrong about that, is she?”

Belle sighed, tucking a corner under and smoothing the sheet.

“I like him,” she admitted. “I like him a lot, actually.”

“So tell him,” said Mary Margaret, and Belle snorted.

“Right. When he shows zero interest in me or - or anyone, for that matter? I don’t think so.”

“You never know until you ask.”

“Until I ask,” agreed Belle. “And then he turns me down, and it gets horribly awkward, and eventually I have to be transferred to a different department because the two of us being in the same room as one another just creates an atmosphere no one can stand, and eventually I have to leave town because seeing him everyday is too much for my poor broken heart to take—”

“I was thinking maybe you could just see if he wanted to get a drink after work one day, or something.”

Mary Margaret looked amused by her prophecy of doom, and Belle straightened up with a groan.

“Maybe,” she conceded. “I’ll wait until he’s better, though.”

“Good,” said Mary Margaret lightly. “And in two years’ time when you’re stuck between who to choose for your maid of honour, remember that I encouraged you to do this, and Ruby was the one who suggested that terrible blind date your first week here.”

Belle giggled, even as she winced at the memory.

“Agreed.”

The day seemed to drag, lunchtime taking forever to arrive. Belle sank into one of the chairs in the canteen with a sigh, wriggling her toes in her boots to ease the ache in her feet. A cup of tea steamed at her side, and a plate of what was rumoured to be beef stew sat in front of her, lumps of meat and vegetables in a thin gravy dumped unceremoniously on top of a pile of mashed potato. She knew she had to eat, but her appetite appeared to have deserted her, and she wrinkled her nose. Deciding to leave the food for a moment, she fished out her phone to call her father, figuring that he would at least be up and about by now.

“I thought you were coming over this morning,” he grumbled. “There’s no bacon in the house.”

“So get some,” she said patiently. “You’re much nearer to the store than I am. It took me ages to trek through the snow to work this morning, I wouldn’t have had time to get over to you.”

He grunted.

“Yeah, the snow’s piling up here too,” he said. “I might close up early. Marco said something about a poker night at Granny’s. Thought I might go.”

“Oh,” she said. “Will you eat there?”

“Bite to eat and a few beers,” he confirmed. “It’s Friday night, after all.”

“In that case, I might go and check up on a friend,” she said. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He rang off, and Belle rolled her eyes. She still wasn’t sure whether she had made the right decision, choosing to move back in with him after she had failed to find work after college. He certainly didn’t seem to want to spend any more time with her than he had previously, and the house was a mess unless she tidied it up. She reminded herself that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter; librarian posts were few and far between, it seemed. Although that was unlikely to change now that she had moved to Storybrooke. The town did have a library, or at least it had in the past. The building was still there, but it was locked shut, and a peek through the windows had shown empty racks of shelving covered in dust. Another casualty of straitened town funds and cuts in local services, she suspected. Perhaps the Mayor could be persuaded to reopen, but she doubted that was a fight she could win in the middle of a flu epidemic.

She picked up her fork, poking unenthusiastically at the stew. It was food, and she needed to eat, but she had little appetite, and the first mouthful seemed to taste of very little but salt and grease. She wrinkled her nose, but forced it down. There was an afternoon of work ahead, and the long trek back through thick snow. She needed the energy.

By the time she left the hospital, it was getting dark. Zelena had largely ignored her all day, which suited Belle just fine, and she hadn’t heard anything further about the rumours of her supposed affair with Dr Gold, so she was hoping it would all blow over by the time he returned to work. There had been no more snow that day, but the wind had picked up, dark clouds massing, a heavy feeling in the air which suggested another storm was blowing in. She should really have headed home, but her father would be out with his friends, and she was anxious to see how Gold was doing.

The store was almost empty of essentials, and there were no eggs left, but she managed to buy a package of bread rolls and a quart of milk, which should be enough to last Dr Gold a day or two. She stomped through the fallen snow on the way to his house, her legs feeling heavier than usual, the wind trying to cut through her coat. She had left his key beneath the pot on the porch when she left that morning, and she unlocked the door, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth of the house washed over her.

“It’s only me!” she called. “Just here to see how you are!”

She locked the door behind her, making her way up the stairs. He had not returned her greeting, and she was met with an odd sort of silence. The bedroom was empty, the bed covers pulled straight, and she could hear no sound from the shower. Swivelling on her toes, she glanced around herself, chewing her lip. Although she wouldn’t have put it past him to want to check on his patients instead of resting, he wouldn’t have been well enough to get out of bed for any length of time. Or so she had thought. Glancing around, she saw that his cane was gone, and she cursed under her breath about the stubbornness of men.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made her spin around, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she heard the tap of his cane, turning as the bedroom door swung open.

“I was about to be very stern with you—”

Her words cut off as Gold stepped into the room, cane in one hand and completely, beautifully naked. His eyes flew wide in horror, his mouth a perfect O, and Belle heard the whistle of her breath as she sucked in air like it was her last chance at life. Her brain was screaming at her to turn away, but her eyes seemed to want to open as wide as they could go. His body was lean, his muscles small and wiry, his chest smooth. Dark hair spread down from his lower belly, surrounding the soft sac of his balls and the base of his cock. The two of them were frozen in place, both seemingly too horrified to move, but at last Gold gave a start, the motion having the unfortunate effect of making his cock bounce, and Belle regained enough control over herself to finally cover her eyes with both hands, a squeak of alarm bursting from her throat.

“Miss French!” he gasped. “I’m - oh God, I’m so sorry! I - I had no idea you were in the house!”

“No no no, I’m sorry!” she babbled. “I did call out, but I guess you didn’t hear me? I - I figured you were still in bed, and when I came upstairs and you weren’t here, I thought maybe you’d gone to check on things at the hospital, and I was about to be really cross with you for making yourself ill again, and I never dreamt you’d be walking around naked...”

She could hear a soft rustle of clothing, and hoped to God he was grabbing something to cover himself with.

“No no, it’s my fault,” he insisted. “I - well, I took a bath, and I usually don’t bother with a robe if I’m just going to and from the bathroom. I - I wasn’t expecting you to come back today.”

She could still hear the rustling noise, and parted two fingers so that one eye could peer through. He had managed to get one arm into his silk robe, but was struggling as he tried to keep himself upright with the help of the cane, and most of him was still naked, visible in tantalising flashes as the robe gaped open. Belle let her hands drop with a sigh.

“Here - let me help,” she said firmly.

“No really, I’m fine!”

His tone was short, and she rolled her eyes before keeping them firmly fixed on his face. She stepped forward, grasping the robe and tugging it around him, giving him enough support so that he could briefly switch hands to put his other arm through the sleeve. He looped the belt, tugging it around his waist and tying it off with more force than was necessary, and Belle stepped back. He wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, his jaw tight, and she crossed to the bed where his empty water jug sat.

"I must apologise, Miss French," he said, his tone formal once more, making her sigh. "I had no intention of you ever having to witness me in such a - state of undress."

"You were stark naked," she said patiently. "And this isn't the eighteenth century. I don't need the smelling salts and I'm pretty sure my reputation will survive."

He almost smiled at that, and she sighed again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Next time I’ll make sure I get an answer before I come upstairs.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he said stiffly.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and she decided to change the subject completely.

“I brought you some bread and milk,” she said. “There were no eggs, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you.”

“You should get back in bed,” she added.

“Yes.”

He stalked past her, drawing back the blankets and getting in, and she reached over to feel his forehead, frowning.

“You still have a fever,” she said. “Would you like me to make you something to eat?”

“Just some tea, if you would,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “How are things at the hospital?”

“We’re coping just fine without you, so don’t even think about going back before you’re well,” she said severely, and he sent her a brief smile.

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded briskly, as though she believed his submissiveness.

“I’ll get you some tea,” she promised, shrugging out of her coat.

“Make yourself one, too,” he said. “I - uh - I could use the company. If you don’t mind, of course. In the - uh - circumstances.”

“Well, I figure we’re kind of even now,” she said. “You saw me take my shirt off, and I saw you in the nude. Imagine how tongues would wag if they knew.”

Gold closed his eyes with a sigh.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept that little incident between the two of us,” he said.

“Consider it done.”

She grinned at him, and draped her coat over the back of a chair, heading downstairs. Wind howled outside, and the lights flickered as she made her way to the kitchen. Belle filled the kettle and switched it on, getting out the teapot, cups and milk jug to set on a tray, and trying to keep the image of his naked body from her mind, without much success. She told herself firmly that he had been embarrassed by the incident, and she shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way, but she was well aware that her imagination would be having a field day with the images later that evening.

Belle hummed as she worked, looking in his fridge to see if there was anything she could make him for a snack, if he should get his appetite back. There was still some soup leftover from the previous evening, so she could always heat that through. The kettle shut off, clouds of steam billowing from the spout, and she closed the fridge door, crossing to pour hot water into the teapot.

Gold rolled stiff shoulders, easing back against the pillows with a sigh. All mortifying embarrassment aside, he had to admit to being pleased that Belle had returned. It was kind of her to look out for him, and while he was certain that he could have nursed himself through the flu, it was easier and more pleasant to have her do it. When he wasn’t inadvertently exposing himself in front of her, anyway. It must have been difficult for her to trek all the way over to his place from the hospital, considering the weather, and he admired her dedication. Who was he to her, after all, but a fellow employee of the hospital? She had a good heart.

Driving snow lashed against the windows, the wind moaning around the eaves of the house, and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Almost immediately, there was a crash from down in the kitchen, and a cry of pain, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his heart thumping. Belle.

#fic: kiss of life #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle #dr gold x candy striper belle

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Vigil Ending: Russian Spies, Navy Conspiracies and Murders at Sea

https://ift.tt/3CMoALA

Warning: contains Vigil finale spoilers.

Nobody could accuse BBC thriller Vigil of lacking plot. That series was a Matryoshka doll, in which each mystery broke in half to reveal another, then another, and another. What began with a sunk trawler, a heroin overdose and a whistle blower ended with a Russian plot, a multi-layered Naval conspiracy, a drowned activist, three dead crew members, and a saboteur in a cage, shitting in a bucket. Along the way there were family revelations, broken hearts, an extra-marital affair, and the deadliest tin of sliced grapefruit ever to feature on television. Join us as we straighten out anything you may still be pondering after this packed thriller’s post-finale.

Why did the Russians want HMS Vigil to surface?

It was all for the PR, apparently. The Russians wanted to engineer a situation where a British Trident submarine was shown to fail, then forced to surface and conduct an emergency evacuation onto a waiting Russian boat, which would tow it home, laughing all the way. Think of it as an exercise in national humiliation aimed at undermining Trident and attempting to influence the forthcoming parliamentary vote on whether to renew the UK’s continuous at-sea nuclear deterrent.

How did Doward sabotage Vigil?

He undermined it to DCI Silva from the start, telling her on their helicopter ride in that his usual boat – Virtue (the irony!) – was much less trouble than Vigil. Then at the end of episode one, he jimmied the lock on the RCMS panel to manually force the nuclear reactor to shut down. In episode two, he deliberately failed to notice the tanker with which Vigil almost collided until it was almost too late, generally putting the shits up everybody. Then in episode four, he left a note in Jackie’s apron threatening her to hurry up and release the nerve agent she’d been tasked with doing, which prompted her to fatally poison herself. Then he deliberately snagged the communications wire, taking the ship offline. That’s when he knocked out Silva, tried to drown her, attempted to suffocate Glover, and broke open the bilge tank valve to flood the boat, before stabbing Prentice to death and taking Silva at knifepoint to the control room. Busy boy.

Why had Doward become a Russian spy?

Unlike Jackie, who did her work for the Russians in order to save her son, we don’t know what motivated Doward, and perhaps it doesn’t really matter. “No comment” was his answer under interrogation (he’s obviously been watching too much of World Production’s other big BBC thriller Line of Duty). Silva surmised that Doward didn’t have any particular political allegiance to Russia, but undertook the sabotage because he was a narcissist and it made him feel special and powerful, and that’s as good as we’ll get.

Did Ben Oakley kill Jade Antoniak?

No, but he was hardly a friend to her. Jade trusted Ben, who was the leader of the Dunloch anti-nuclear peace camp where she lived. When Jade got suspicious about the presence of Peter Ingles at a protest, Jade took his photo, wrongly thinking that he was a plant for MI5. After her boyfriend Craig Burke died on board HMS Vigil, Jade showed the photo to Ben, wanting to expose the suspected MI5 plant. Ben had an existing relationship with Peter Ingles (a Russian agent whose real name was Piotr Vasilyev) and so recognised him. Ben then told Ingles about the existence of the photo and warned him to be more careful in future. Ingles, knowing that the photo would compromise the identity of Doward, the Russian asset he’d just planted on board HMS Vigil, asked Ben to arrange a meeting between him and Jade, where he would shine a light on what really happened to her boyfriend. Jade and Ben met with Ingles, who drowned Jade and stole her phone. Ben did nothing to help, knowing that he would look like Ingles’ accomplice if he involved the police.

Two hours after Jade died, Ben downloaded the photo from her laptop to his phone, deleted her copy and hid her computer. He later took the photo to Patrick Cruden MP (an old pal from their CND days and co-incidentally Jade’s secret father), pretended that he had taken it and planned to leak it to expose the fact that the Russians had a plant in the British Navy, thereby making Trident submarines look vulnerable to enemies and negatively influencing the upcoming parliamentary vote about Trident renewal.

What’s going to happen to Doward, Ingles and Ben Oakley now?

MI5 aren’t going to tell the Russians that they’ve uncovered and arrested Doward, they’re just going to hold a closed trial for him, convict him with the evidence gathered by DCI Silva, and let him rot in isolation in prison. Good riddance. Ben Oakley is going to prison for a long time for his part in the lead-up to Jade’s death, and for withholding evidence and trying to evade arrest, promises DS Longacre. And Ingles has diplomatic immunity which means he can’t be prosecuted in the UK and was flown back to Russia soon after his cover was rumbled. The GRU will probably give him a warm welcome.

Vigil Episode 5 Review: You’ve Got Some Nerve, Agent!

By Louisa Mellor

Vigil Episode 6 Review: a Thrilling Pay-Off

By Louisa Mellor

Why was Craig Burke killed?

The Russians needed to kill one of Vigil’s Sonar Operatives so that their plant CPO Doward could be brought in from another boat as a replacement, to work his sabotage. Peter Ingles (see above) had already approached Craig Burke (after an introduction by Ben Oakley) about becoming a Russian asset, but Burke refused. That left Ingles vulnerable to being identified by Burke, who had started a dossier on his fellow Vigil crew members, presumably in an effort to sniff out any who had also been approached by, and were working for, Ingles. Burke knew that the British Navy had covered up the serious incident in Port Havers, Florida and so knew that he couldn’t trust officials or his crewmates with what he knew. That’s why he amassed the evidence he’d collected on a hidden thumb drive intended for Jade. The Russians had Craig Burke murdered to kill two birds with one stone – getting rid of the threat to Ingles, and creating a premise for Doward coming aboard.

Who killed Craig Burke?

The boat’s cook Jackie Hamilton poisoned him with a nerve agent in exchange for the early release of her son from an Indonesian prison on a drugs charge. She had evidently also been approached by Peter Ingles, and coerced into acting for the Russians to help her son, and the pair had been communicating through coded messages on a fishing website. The guilt though, was too much for Jackie and so instead of enacting the second part of the Russian plan and releasing the nerve agent more widely to force Vigil to a surface evacuation, she deliberately opened the device when she was alone, then attempted to contain it, but died almost immediately as a result.

Why did the Rear Admiral lie about the Russians being responsible for the trawler accident?

Two reasons: 1) if it were known that the trawler nets had been dragged under by a US submarine, questions would be asked as to why one of our allies was secretly surveilling a British naval submarine. Those questions would inevitably lead back to the Port Havers cover-up, in which Vigil’s drunk, high and negligent crew combined with the boat’s ageing equipment almost caused a nuclear explosion to rival Fukushima (only averted by the fast thinking of engineer Gary Walsh), and killed two US marine workers, whose deaths were reported as accidental drowning. And 2) the Navy wants parliament to vote to renew Trident, so any way to put the fear of God into people about the Russians and a new Cold War would play into that.

Why didn’t Patrick Cruden MP release Jade’s photograph of the Russian agent and Doward?

Because the Navy can prove that the photograph was in his possession hours before the police saw it, in which time a naval officer was stabbed to death by the man who could have been identified in it. Never mind that Vigil didn’t have any communications at that precise time, so it wouldn’t have made much difference.

What made the Russian ships disperse in the finale?

When the USS Delaware made it look as though it was preparing to fire torpedoes at them. As the Rear Admiral told the US Defence Secretary, the Russians believed they were unopposed and it was the UK and US’ job “to change that perception”. There was some talk of making them shit their uniforms too, but let’s not sink that low.

Why did Captain Newsome ask Silva what would be in her report at the end?

Having just watched Lieutenant Commander Prentice zipped into a body bag, he wanted to know whether she was going to report his XO for taking heroin from Gary Walsh and planting it on Craig Burke’s corpse, and for punching Burke on the day he died. Silva’s reply indicated that she was going to give her findings on Jackie, Burke and Doward, but nothing else. That means she’s keeping Walsh, Prentice, Glover and Docherty’s wrongdoings out of it, and preserving their careers.

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atestamenttotheoldtestament-blog · 7 years ago

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First Cultural Scripturing: Kendrick Lamar FEAR - Deuteronomy

Kendrick Lamar’s Song ‘FEAR’ which includes references to Job and Deuteronomy ideas of Suffering for the Sake of Sins (Click to Listen)

Lyrics

What's up family, yeah it's yo cousin Carl man, just given' you a call man

I know you been havin' a lot on yo mind lately

And I know you feel like ya know people ain't been prayin' for you

But you have to understand this man, that we are a cursed people

Deuteronomy 28:28 says

"The Lord shall smite thee with madness, and blindness

And astonishment of heart."

See family that's why you feel like

You feel like you got a chip on your shoulder

Until you finally get the memo, you will always feel that way

Why God, why God do I gotta suffer?

Pain in my heart carry burdens full of struggle

Why God, why God do I gotta bleed?

Every stone thrown at you restin' at my feet

Why God, why God do I gotta suffer?

Earth is no more, why don't you burn this mufucka?

I beat yo' ass, keep talkin' back

I beat yo' ass, who bought you that?

You stole it, I beat yo' ass if you say that game is broken

I beat yo' ass if you jump on my couch

I beat yo' ass if you walk in this house with tears in your eyes

Runnin' from poopoo and 'prentice

Go back outside, I beat yo' ass, lil nigga

That homework better be finished, I beat yo' ass

Yo' teachers better not be bitchin' 'bout you in class

That pizza better not be wasted, you eat it all

That TV better not be loud if you got it on

Them Jordans better not get dirty when I just bought 'em

Better not hear 'bout you humpin' on Keisha's daughter

Better not hear you got caught up, I beat yo' ass

You better not run to your father, I beat yo' ass

You know my patience runnin' thin

I got beaucoup payments to make

County building's on my ass

Tryna take my food stamps away

I beat yo' ass if you tell them social workers he live here

I beat yo' ass if I beat yo' ass twice and you still here

Seven years old, think you run this house by yourself?

Nigga, you gon' fear me if you don't fear no one else

If I can smoke fear away, I roll that motherfucker up

And then I take two puffs

I'm high now, I'm high now

Life's a bitch, pull them panties to the side now

I'll prolly die anonymous

I'll prolly die with promises

I'll prolly die walkin' back home from the candy house

I'll prolly die 'cause these colors are standin' out

I'll prolly die because I ain't know Demarcus was snitchin'

I'll prolly die at these house parties, fuckin' with bitches

I'll prolly die from witnesses leavin' me false accused

I'll prolly die from thinkin' that me and your hood was cool

Or maybe die from pressin' the line, actin' too extra

Or maybe die because these smokers

Are more than desperate

I'll prolly die from one of these bats and blue badges

Body slammed on black and white paint, my bones snappin'

Or maybe die from panic or die from bein' too lax

Or die from waitin' on it, die 'cause I'm movin' too fast

I'll prolly die tryna buy weed at the apartments

I'll prolly die tryna diffuse two homies arguin'

I'll prolly die 'cause that's what you do when you're 17

All worries in a hurry, I wish I controlled things

If I could smoke fear away, I'd roll that mothafucka up

And then I'd take two puffs

I've been hungry all my life

I'm high now, I'm high now

Life's a bitch, pull them panties to the side now, now

When I was 27, I grew accustomed to more fear

Accumulated 10 times over throughout the years

My newfound life made all of me magnified

How many accolades do I need to block denial?

The shock value of my success put bolts in me

All this money, is God playin' a joke on me?

Is it for the moment and will he see me as Job?

Take it from me and leave me worse than I was before?

At 27, my biggest fear was losin' it all

Scared to spend money, had me sleepin' from hall to hall

Scared to go back to Section 8 with my mama stressin'

30 shows a month and I still won't buy me no Lexus

What is an advisor somebody that's holdin' my checks?

Just to fuck me over and put my finances in debt?

I read a case about Rihanna's accountant and wondered

How did the bad girl feel when she looked at them numbers?

The type of shit'll make me flip out

And just kill somethin', drill somethin'

Get ill and fill ratchets with a lil' somethin'

I practiced runnin' from fear, guess I had some good luck

At 27 years old, my biggest fear was bein' judged

How they look at me reflect on myself, my family, my city

What they say 'bout me reveal

If my reputation would miss me

What they see from me

Would trickle down generations in time

What they hear from me

Would make 'em highlight my simplest lines

I'm talkin' fear, fear of losin' creativity

I'm talkin' fear, fear of missin' out on you and me

I'm talkin' fear, fear of losin' loyalty from pride

'cause my DNA won't let me involve in the light of God

I'm talkin' fear, fear that my humbleness is gone

I'm talkin' fear, fear that love ain't livin' here no more

I'm talkin' fear, fear that it's wickedness or weakness

Fear, whatever it is, both is distinctive

Fear, what happens on Earth stays on Earth

And I can't take these feelings

With me so hopefully they disperse

Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax

Searchin' for resolutions until somebody get back

Fear, what happens on earth stays on earth

And I can't take these feelings with me

So hopefully they disperse

Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax

Wonderin' if I'm livin' through fear or livin' through rap

Damn

Goddamn you

Goddamn me

Goddamn us

Goddamn we

Goddamn us all

Therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities

So until we come back to these commandments

Until you come back to these commandments

We're gonna be in this place, we're gonna be under this curse

Because he said he's gonna punish us

The so-called Blacks, Hispanics, and Native American Indians

Are the true children of Israel

We are the Israelites according to the Bible

The children of Israel, he's gonna punish us for our iniquities

For our disobedience because we chose to follow other gods

That aren't his son, so the Lord thy God chasten you

So just like you'll chasten your own son

He's gonna chasten you because he loves you

So that's why we get chastised, that's why we're in the position we're in

Until we come back to these laws, statutes and commandments

And do what the Lord said, these curses are gonna be upon us

We're gonna be at a lower state in this life that we live here in today

In the United States of America

I love you, son, and I pray for you

God bless you, shalom

Cultural Scripturing 1)

The places that I have bolded are the places that link to Deuteronomy and the story of Job. Lamar’s song speaks to the suffering of African American people in American culture. In Deuteronomy chapters 27 and 28 the text talks to the Israelites and how they need to be obedient to the Deuteronomic laws or else they will be cursed. There were many treaties with other countries and peoples during this time in Deuteronomy and there was struggle over whether to follow the treaties or follow the Deuteronomic laws. Throughout the song, Lamar speaks to the curses that have ensued on his people much like the Israelites who did not obey the laws. Lamar speaks to the blessings that he has now and doesn’t understand how he has so much success, was it because of his obedience or is he like Job in the bible and will everything be taken away from him. Is it a test like with Job? Has God let the Devil run the show? The suffering of the African-American community is expressed as Lamar speaks to his childhood and then his success. He raps that he worries his success will make him forget his humbleness and obedience to God. The narratives that Lamar expresses in his song draw parallels to the systemic racism that is in America and the oppression that the Israelites faced during biblical times. He speaks to the minority communities that if they don’t follow the commandments and statutes things are not going to get better. Lamar’s rhetoric reflects the African-American relationship with Israelites post-slavery, post wilderness liberation theology. Lamar is speaking to minorities as if they are on the same path as the Israelites and they are now in the phase of having their own kingdom, and struggling to have it, but needing to stay true to their identities and faith post- Exodus. At the end we understand that he is speaking to his son specifically as a father trying to teach a lesson, much like Moses speaking to Joshua as he hands over the staff of leadership.

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