#he constantly insists to arthur how important it is that they trust no one and rely only on themselves throughout s1-2 and again in s4
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very fond of John "distrusts everyone always" Doe and Arthur "defaults to trusting people" Lester's headbutting every time they encounter another person
#tbh I wouldn't even say arthur's *overly* trusting or anything#he just maintains a remarkably normal attitude towards seeking assistance from others even after all the horrors#like. he's very practical about it all#he understands that other people can be helpful and is willing to give it a shot more often than not#unless he's been given specific reason to doubt their trustworthiness#(sure he's private about his past but I think that's less a matter of distrusting others with it#and more a matter of not wanting to think about it himself)#meanwhile we have john over here barely even trusting arthur well into the everything#he constantly insists to arthur how important it is that they trust no one and rely only on themselves throughout s1-2 and again in s4#he gets mad at arthur every time he shares even the smallest bit of information with anyone#or allows any outside help that isn't strictly necessary#he's so far the other direction that it almost makes arthur look over-trusting by comparison#but tbh. I think he's just normal#just me rambling#rambling about blorbos#arthur malevolent#john malevolent
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Do you ship them? (Dutch van der Linde x Arthur Morgan)

TYPE: Pseudo Incest, Father/Son
MEDIA: Red Dead Redemption 2
PAIRINGS: M/M
Propaganda:
dutch took arthur under his wing when arthur was 14, and began to teach him how to be an outlaw. the games themselves make it explicit that this was an act of grooming and manipulation, even with good intentions. they have a very strong mentor/student relationship, and arthur constantly sacrifices everything to maintain his loyalty and trust with dutch. only once he gets sick and start dying, does he finally stop caring as much about the man who basically raised him. they have a single line hinting at even thinking of each other as family besides the cultish insistence that they are a family. dutch tells arthur, "you know, i was starting to think... that youre like a son to me, but i see it now, youre more than that." on dutchs half of the dynamic, he involves arthur in his flirting with other women, seems closer to arthur than any other character in the game, and regularly, arthur is the only voice he will bend to and be convinced by. arthur is always treated as dutchs favorite, hes always the one dutch entrusts with the most important roles and jobs. if you get arrested as arthur, dutch is frequently the one to break you out ^-^
#proshipper#proshippers#pro shippers#proship please interact#proshippers please interact#incest polls#isthis-incest#m/m#proship#op is a proshipper#pseudo incest#father/son#red dead redemption 2#rdr2
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Hewooo i really love your Ethan Hawke characters writing 🥺💖 I wonder if you could write fluffy (or smutty ? 😳) headcanons list of Arthur, Albert, as well Ernest Toller with a reader who is significantly shorter having blurry vision despite she already wore a glasses? I imagine her like a clumsy opposum in a human body hitting everything accidentally thanks to her poor eyesight JANDJAJDKAJA
Sure! I tried my best, I hope it’s somewhat along the lines of what you were looking for.
Arthur:
He secretly likes the size/height difference. He’ll never admit it to anyone but Khonshu (who may or may not have even heard him when he said it), but he enjoyed the power and control aspect of being Moon Knight, and definitely has a kink for being bigger than you/able to overpower.
If he likes/trusts you enough, he might even let you use his cane as an assist for walking, so as to better avoid you running into things.
It would actually be really funny if you were trying to help stop him with Steven/Marc, and you keep accidentally fucking things up for him. Like, he’s a very calculated man and thinks everything through, analyzing stuff to death and predicting outcomes.
Then you come along all clumsy and breaking important shit, tripping and missing being shot in the head by a gun, stumbling into one of his followers while they’re trying to attack Moon Knight and knocking them over.
Albert:
Same as Arthur with the size kink, except he’s not shy about it. Just constantly looming over you, referring to you as “little/small” and resting his chin on your head or shoulder. Pinning you down and standing above you while you’re on the mattress beneath him. He’s a big power/control junkie and doesn’t try to hide it.
Honestly, he’s kind of a dick. He’d find it funny, watching you clumsily slam into walls and crash into things. It’s a bit endearing to him but also just amusing. He might even take your glasses for the sake of making things even worse.
He’d take advantage of your poor eyesight as an excuse to “help” you do things—including sexually. Sometimes just fucking with you, like taking your hand and settling it over his crotch, seeing how long it takes you to figure out what you’re touching.
The poor sight also gives him ideas he might not have had otherwise, like sensory deprivation, blindfolding you and such.
Ernst:
Just a big worry-wart, very overly concerned anytime you hurt yourself. Stressing over your well-being while simultaneously drinking himself to death.
Would probably walk with you on his arm, insisting you always hang onto him for support despite you
Size isn’t much of a big deal to him, really, but he does think it’s cute when you have to ask him to reach for things on the upper shelves for you.
#penny for your thots#asks#anon#the black phone#the grabber#Arthur harrow#moon knight#Ernst toller#first reformed
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hi hi! :) I’m back again hehe~ if it’s not too much trouble, could I request the companions (+ mason if that’s alright!) reaction to sole pulling them aside and forcing them to take a rest day full of cuddling, sole playing with their hair, and spoiling them? with how harsh the wasteland is, I bet they could all use some time to let their guard down and unwind. (also, on an unrelated note: how are you doing? with all these stressful things happening, I hope you’re hangin in there! make sure to dress warm for the weather and stay hydrated!)
(Youre so sweet! Thank you, same to you, friend 🥺💖.)
Cait:
•Had you been anyone else, she would’ve likely laughed in your face and made it her top priority to leave.
•Letting her guard down isn’t something Cait has ever been able to do unless she was drunk out of her mind...but even then she still was alert. Spoiling was an entirely different, even more foreign playing field.
•However you’ve earned her trust. Congratulations.
•Taking a shaky breath, she’ll let you do as you please. Sipping a beer as the two of you talk about current events, maybe even cuddle and simply bask in each other’s presence.
•She could get used to this.
Curie:
•Curie didn’t really see the need to “wind down”.
•She appreciates your concern, but she doesn’t need the rest. Or..at least she thought she didn’t.
•The more you tempt her with lounging around, the tireder her synthetic body became. It comes to a point to where she just sighs and strips herself of her safety gear, sauntering over to you and rolling her eyes.
• “Well, your offer has seem to become irresistible.”
• as soon as she indulges, Curie becomes hooked. Please. Play with her hair, Talk about her latest experiments with her- she couldn’t have been happier.
Danse:
•He’d actually be surprisingly willing to go along. Don’t get me wrong, soldier boy HAS to have permission from Maxson and Kells, and know that he has fulfilled his duties for the day- but once he is sure, Danse will happily take some time off.
•If you actually do proceed to go beyond cleaning weapons and power armour and decide to start spoiling him, Danse will give that signature “o.o” face. However he’ll go along, his face glowing red as you mess with his hair and cuddle up close- but he enjoys it, enjoys it very much.
•Expect Danse to expect this treatment every time the two of you have unofficial- non brotherhood related- visiting time.
•It’s really good for him.
Deacon:
• He’s down. Say less.
•Next thing that you know, the two of you are playing distasteful jokes on poor carington.
Gage:
•Will be extremely reluctant to take a day off, probably will be really judgy about you wanting to too.
•”Boss, don’t you go around starting to act like that lazy sack of shit before ya.”
•With enough coaxing and maybe light threatening, he’ll loosen up a little and begrudgingly agree to chilling out in fizztop.
•It would actually be quite the lovely experience- just picture it. Gage lounging out on one of those squeaky plastic lawn chairs, the two of you watching the sunset while you knock back a slew of nuka colas of every flavor possible- just telling some terrible jokes and discussing what future steps you can take to improve the parks.
•it would almost be romantic..if you squint hard enough.
Hancock:
• Again, SAY LESS.
•Hancock is all about relaxing and properly taking care of his friends- so if you don’t watch it, he may be the one doing all the spoiling to you instead of vice versa.
•regardless, he is beyond pleased with your willingness to relax. The wastes are a rough place, why not take advantage of every peaceful moment you have? That’s his philosophy.
Macready:
• He much prefer to be out in wastes making some decent caps, but he wouldn’t dare shoo you away.
•Having someone care about you so much was definitely a rarity- one he has learned to cherish after his wife’s passing.
•He’ll do his best to return your affections in the least awkward way he can manage, don’t you worry.
Maxson:
• To actually see a “relaxed” Arthur Maxson, you’d either have to be his significant other or a very dear friend of his.
• Taming a deathclaw would be easier than convincing him to abandon his duties, even if it meant him practically falling over into the window of the flight deck from exhaustion.
• Eventually there will come a time when he decides to metaphorically throw in the towel and call it a day early- personally seeking you out so he wouldn’t have to face the quiet alone.
• Seeing you care so much about him makes his heart skip a beat- making him feel like the young boy he truly was. He wouldn’t trade it for anything- even if he didn’t really like you constantly worrying about him.
Nick:
• He won’t give you any trouble.
•You think the two of you need to chill out? Very well. Just let him wrap up some case paper work and he’ll be the first one to go put some coffee on- excitingly awaiting the quality time he gets to spend with you.
•Any gesture of affection is greatly appreciated by Nick, usually returned with an equally as kind gesture in return.
• The two of you usually talk about the “pre-war days”, reminiscing on that shared world the two fuck off you once knew.
Old Longfellow:
•He completely understands the need for a “day off” and is more than happy whenever you tell him it’s time for one.
•Go on, spoil him. He’s going to eat it up- teasing you the entire time about how it was so kind of you to “take care of gramps”.
Piper:
• Between constantly running the irradiated ‘wealth and hounding out stories...boy is she happy that you want her to take it easy.
•She’ll set it all up- power noodles, some low music, quite a few blankets..it’s perfect.
Preston:
•Often times feels as though he cannot rest- but then he remembers that he can’t actually save everyone and that sometimes just taking a moment to appreciate what you had in the present was best.
•He’d gladly indulge your insistent demands, flashing a smile as he raises his hands in mock defeat when you tell him to get comfortable and stop pacing around.
•He truly appreciates all that you do- so going out of your way just to ensure that he was happy and well taken care of practically made him head over heels.
X6-88:
•Let’s just start off by saying that he is in complete shock.
•X6 can quite frankly never recall a time that anyone had ever regarded his own feelings as important- neither had he, in all honesty. He had a job to do. It was what he was made for- literally.
•So it’s an understatement to say that he was confused.
•He’d probably look at you with uncertain, strangely innocent silver eyes- watching you carefully as you urge him to take the time to relax. He trusts you, he just doesn’t trust what he feels when he is forced to truly calm down.
•For a man that seems so stone cold and stoic, he soon figures out that he could use this “relaxing” time more often.
#fallout 4#fallout#fo4 companions#paladin danse#fallout companions#danse#elder maxson#porter gage#curie#deacon#arthur maxson#cait#hancock#x6 88#brotherhood of steel#macready#piper wright#fo4#nick valentine#preston#preston garvey
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The Miys, Ch. 138
It’s timmmmme y’alllll.... Food Festival, whaaaat!?
Okay, I know.... I love to cook, and there is a lot of food in this story. But I really do believe in Sophia’s philosophy - It’s the universal unifier. There would seriously be so much more world peace if world leaders regularly ate dinner together.
I solemnly promise to try to keep food out of the next 4 chapters after the Food Festival. Promise. (Unless y’all tell me via PM, Ask, Comment, or Reblog to do otherwise. And I would need a slightly more than 50% ratio of requests compared to likes. Just to be fair).
The morning of the opening ceremonies for the Food Festival, my nerves were cranked even higher than the days leading up. Since I was insisting on attending all three days - which were expected to be crowded - I had bribed Antoine with his favorite breakfast to disable my proximity alerts. As much as I hated doing it, I knew it would be too distracting to be in a crowd and have it constantly going off.
What this meant was, an hour into the Festival, I had already strained something in my neck by snapping my head around trying to keep my eye on all several-thousand people at the same time. Conor grabbed my shoulders and tried to steer me toward a vendor while using his broad shoulders and height to block anyone behind me. My anxiety level instantly dropped noticeably, and I was actually able to enjoy the miniature kebabs from the vendor. Conor had to take his hands of my shoulders to take his, but I noticed that he made a point to keep himself between me and any passerby who seemed to not be paying attention. We made it to one of the seating areas, and he managed to hold the curtain back, making me giggle embarrassingly.
“I just realized that we did everything backwards,” Conor said nonchalantly, stripping his skewer in one bite but at least covering his mouth while he chewed.
My immediate thought was that he meant the Festival somehow, but I had known and lived with Conor for far too long to assume. Even after this long, he was still capable of shocking me with how his mind worked. “What did we do backwards?”
He gestured between us. “This. Us.”
I thought about it. “I don’t think so? We were friends first.”
“Yeah, we were arse backward,” he laughed. “The only thing we did right was being friends first. But then we went through a crisis where you met our future boyfriend - before we were together, mind - and I almost lost you. Then I moved in, then Mav moved in. We all got sick, someone else wanted to kill you, then we went on our first date….”
My head dropped back as I erupted in laughter. “Okay, okay! You win! We did everything ass backward!” I finally took a bite of my food while he winked at me and snuck a sip of my drink.
“I forgot the part about meeting your family before we were even together. That was still a thing, right? Meeting the family?”
Still laughing, I shrugged. “I made a point after I turned seventeen not to date anyone who didn’t get along with Tyche.” I could see math in his head and preempted the next question. “Yes, that means I trusted my twelve year old sister’s judgement, even when we weren’t talking.”
“Clearly, I am her favorite,” he grinned.
“She couldn’t decide between you and Maverick, so I had to go with both.”
Grabbing my hand, he pulled me from my seat as I bit the last piece of kebab off the skewer. “I concede in the face of her superior taste.”
“So should we all,” I grinned as he pulled me out into the crowd.
This time, with a somewhat established way of navigating the crowd, I was able to pretend I was a normal person in a crowd, dragging her boyfriend from place to place. Randomly, we would see people we know, stop, chat for a second, and keep going. A part of me kept wanting to look for Maverick, but I reminded myself each time that he was at home, asleep so that he could work the later shift today. We did manage to find Charly and Coffey, the former of which tossed me a wink as she brushed her fingers casually over the collar she wore - she made a point to wear it each year as a reminder of the first time we met.
This time, however, I was resisting the urge to squirm away, but knew that with Coffey and Conor bracketing us, Charly had a captive audience.
“So… kink night is next month at the Undine! You’re going to be there, right?”
“Charly, I’m not… I’m not an exhibitionist, and the guys will be at work…”
A large hand flew up to cover Coffey’s laugh before he could turn his head to hide it. Charly scrunched her face at him before turning back to me and rolling her eyes in his direction. “I never expected you to participate, silly. You’re there as kind of an official approval from the Council.”
That launched my eyebrows into my hairline. “Do you need official approval?”
“Not really,” Coffey intoned. “It’s more preventive - if we start with approval from the local government, in a non-participatory way, there can’t be any backlash later.”
I heard a snort over my shoulder before Conor spoke up. “So, she’s just…. Going to sit there?”
“There is a zero percent chance that she’ll get bored, and I’m positive that Sebastian will need some help.”
I raised my voice to be heard over the muffled laughter over our heads. “I love you, but I’m a terrible waitress - “
“And a phenomenal cook! We’ll need lots of snacks.”
I shook my head and blinked hard. “Won’t you be…. Busy?”
“Not the whole time, no,” she answered, thankfully one-hundred percent serious. “And we’ll be burning a lot of energy. Water, electrolytes, sugar, and just… calories are super important. In finger food form.”
Now we were on profoundly familiar ground. “Oh I can do some finger foods.”
“Yeah… finger foods and non-alcoholic beverages are not Sebastian’s strong suit. Lots of food and sanitizing space are where he is incredibly talented.”
“If you can get Arthur to show up, I’ll be there,” I surrendered.
To my alarm, she started squealing and bouncing. “Oh, awesome! I’ll send you the event reminder, and then make sure to have Sebastian send you his schedule for set up and planning… and he needs to include you in the menu planning, I need to make sure to tell him that - “
“Poppy. One event at time, remember?” Coffey reminded her gently, a thousand-watt smile dominating his face.
She looked around and seemed to just remember that she was standing in the middle of the Food Festival and, theoretically, working. “Oh. Right. ‘Kay, so, Sophia, I’m sorry, but apparently I’m busy. I’ll talk to you tomor - ” Coffey folded himself to whisper in her ear “ - Ursday? Thursday?”
My chest hurt with the amount of laughter I was trying to push down, but I allowed a snort and a grin. “Thursday sounds great. Our place, potato soup?”
“HELL yes!” was the enthusiastic reply before she waggled her fingers and dragged Coffey on to their next station.
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#the miys#found family#humans are weird#science fiction#aliens#apocalypse#humans are space orcs#humans are space fae#earth is space australia#post apocalypse#post post apocalypse#original science fiction#original sci fi#original writing#tw: food#tw: kink mention
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I SEE YOU – chapter III
pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader
wc – 2.6k
warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst
English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.
Y/N – your name
Y/L/N – your last name
🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.
The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.
Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.
Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.
Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.
Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:
"This actress is so graceful."
"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.
When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.
"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.
"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."
"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."
The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.
...
Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.
Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.
The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.
"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.
With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:
"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.
Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:
"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"
"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."
"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.
It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.
A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.
"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."
"How d-did you know?"
"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"
"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.
"What are you saying?"
"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."
"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.
Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.
"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.
"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."
Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.
"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"
"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.
"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"
The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.
"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.
Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.
Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.
"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.
"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."
"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."
"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"
"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"
The man shook his head in agreement.
"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.
"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."
"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."
"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"
"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"
"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."
Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.
When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...
"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."
Unhappy.
Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.
Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.
"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.
The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:
"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."
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a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡
#arthur fleck#arthur fleck x female reader#arthur fleck x you#arthur fleck x y/n#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck headcanon#arthur fleck imagine#arthur fleck fanfic#joker arthur fleck#joker#joker 2019#joker imagine#joker headcanons#joker x female reader#joker x reader#joker x y/n#joker x you#joker movie#phoenix!joker#joaquin phoenix
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John's Backstory
@wayward-roleplays
@candy-addicted-angel
@cheryl1967
@chloejanedecker1
@ofmultiplevoices
@waywardlightbearer
@nptperfect-indadseyes
@hunterxcarlie
@tohavelost
@archangelhuntress
John Winchester was born to Millie and Henry Claymoore. John changed the name to Winchester after Mary died. He didn't want the authorities on his tail.
He didn't trust police.
He had it rough as a kid, after his father left his mother took him and went home to Maine.
They stayed with his maternal grandparents and she became a typist.
As he grew up though he became more and more rebellious.
One night he'd been drinking with friends in an abandoned barn. Cops had come to the property tipped off for a disturbance.
His friends had scattered leaving him alone.
Lucky for them it had been only one cop who had showed up. He tried to help John up, but John was high and drunk. He remembered everything that lead up to that night.
How his mother and he constantly fought, how he hated how overprotective she was.
How his grandparents looked at his mother as if it was her fault that her husband had left them.
How he kept having odd thoughts about the boys in his groups. Thoughts that weren't pure, that would have been beaten out of him had his grandfather known.
But that night in the barn, the cop had been so nice. He had had the most beautiful blue eyes.
He remember staring into them as the cop questioned him. He remembers the way the cop had stiffened when his hands had gone to his belt.
How John had tugged him closer. How the cop had gave him a hard look before he leaned down to wipe the spit from his lips.
John had been taken that night to the jails to sober up before he was allowed home.
He met up with the cop a few times after that, his name had been Arthur Wells, he had been 15 years older than him and had tried to set him on a straight and narrow path. In a twisted kind of way he'd been the father figure that a young John had craved.
However, John hadn't really cared to listen, he was just excited to explore whatever he was feeling for this man. When Arthur died in the line of duty some 2 months later -John left, he didn't go for funeral and he certainly didn't tell his mother.
He did odd jobs before he finally made it to Kansas. He liked being a mechanic, using his hands kept his mind occupied.
He had always been attracted to both genders, so when Mary Campbell walked into his shop asking for someone to look at her dad's car, he didn't hesitate.
They fell in love and soon married. Mary insisted that he send a letter to his family up in main to tell them the news at the very least.
He grudgingly obliged. They were happy, almost comically so. They didn't fight, they didn't feel stifled by each other, everything was perfect.
They had twins on their first try. Maary insisted they be named for someone important in each of their lives. John decided to name his son Henry hoping he'd turn out better than his namesake.
Mary decided to name their daughter Lucille after an aunt she lost when she was a teenager.
John settled into life as a family man. Henry, Lucille, and Dean became his whole world. He loved coming home to ask about their days.
He was fascinated with what Henry and Lucille were learning in school. He loved to see Dean slowly understand the world around him.
Though raising children by herself was not something Mary liked. She wished she had gotten a degree or was out experiencing life. She loved her children of course but sometimes she felt stifled by them.
A sentiment that John hated. They were blessed to have such healthy children, if they were such a burden she could just leave.
He would be fine raising them. They both knew John would do a terrible job raising them without her. And with Mary's parents dying within weeks of each other in freak animal attacks, John was all she had.
When Dean was 4 they decided to try once more for a child. Maybe having another child would spark their marriage again and remember their love for each other.
Nine months late Sam Claymoore was born, he was healthy and beautiful. His parents were smitten with him.
They were right, Sam made them remember what they were striving for - a happy family, stability in times when there wasn't any.
Their family finally felt complete now. As the months ticked down to Christmas and New Years John and Mary grew more and more excited to have their first Christmas with little Sammy.
Christmas came and it was a joyous, Henry and Lucille now 7 got new toys and stickers for being such big helpers with Sam and Dean.
Dean got some race cars and a plastic guitar to play with. John finally felt the balance in his marriage and life was back. He could be normal, he could be content with this.
A few days after Christmas on New Year's Eve Lucille stepped outside to get the mail for her parents.
John had turned away to tend to a crying Dean when he heard Henry scream. He turned around to see a car swerving on the street and hit a tree.
His baby girl lay on the ground near the driveway motionless.
John rushed toward his daughter but he knew it was too late.
Later when the cops showed up they would remark that the driver was dead though he appeared to be under no undo influence.
It never made sense to John till later why a sober man would run over a child.
Still they called the ambulance and went to the hospital. John didn't think he ever felt himself break apart like when the doctors told him his baby girl couldn't be saved.
John's and Mary's relationship after that was strained, he blamed himself for Lucille's death as did she.
John didn't hate her for it, he agreed but he was too much of a coward to pull a trigger on himself, or leave his family.
No matter what he wouldn't abandoned them like his father had did him.
So he stayed out later and later, finding strange men to take out his energy on and with.
He wondered as he stumbled home if Mary knew or cared what he was doing. She wasn't much better, falling asleep using pills most nights.
Henry was quiet, he didn't talk much and had long since stopped asking if Lucille was an angel now.
Even Sam and Dean were quiet and kept to themselves.
As the years went by Mary took some small time work - designing jewelry and sewing, something that was just hers.
True to his word John never left his family. He had bought his own auto shop and was able to make double what he was doing before.
Still, there was no joy in the house anymore. Till one day when John's maternal uncle, Adam showed up on their door.
John had always loved the man, he had indulged John's rebelliousness nature and penchant for alcohol, drugs, and the more racier magazines.
John insisted Adam stay the week. While John could tell Mary hated him for bringing a stranger into her house she obliged Adam.
Adam was personable and brought a much needed playfulness back to the home. He enjoyed spending time with 10 year old Dean and 6 year old Sam. Both were bright inquisitive boys. He even managed to get Henry to smile once or twice during dinner.
On his last night he sat Mary and John down and told them to try to be a family again. They would never replace Lucille but her siblings shouldn't have to suffer for her absence.
They took the words to heart and decided to give their marriage another shot. They took it slow, talking and understanding each other.
John finally confessed his shameful secret to which Mary. She tearfully expressed her love for him. She didn't quite understand the inclination or urge, but at the very least she loved him. That was enough.
Adam was born a year later, named for the uncle that had helped bring his family back together.
Mary and John were on a kind of high and welcomed another baby a year later, a girl - Millie-Mae. She was very different from her older sister as a baby. She was sensitive, anxious, and, curious. Lucille had been a whirlwind, screaming, throwing tantrums, causing general chaos.
Six months later Mary died.
John was shocked and horrified, he changed their name to Winchester and forced the children to leave almost immediately.
He soon fell into hunting realizing that it wasn't a simple gas fire that had killed his wife.
He was sad to see Henry go three years later, but he kept tabs on him. Occasionally moving through the towns or cities he knew Henry was in.
He was heartbroken when Henry cut him off after he had been told by his in laws they were retired hunters who knew John. Who had asked specifically what kind of man Henry was before they had allowed him to marry their daughter.
None of his relationships with his children had worked out. Dean was happy with his little family. He hadn't heard from Sam in 10 years. Hell, Adam and Millie-Mae probably thought of Bobby more as their father than him.
Still when Dean had gotten hurt, and Faye tore into him for walking way he had an idea.
He called the demonic spawn to make a deal. His soul for Dean's life. The thing gleefully agreed.
John remembered the torture, the pain of being cut open over and over again. Of all the other horrible, terrible things they did to his soul. All the ways they defiled and dirtied him.
When the gates opened and that demon spawn had died, he found himself in his body again.
He dissapeared, his family didn't need him. He decided to head north to Redwater a town in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains.
It was a notorious hotbed for supernatural activity so the hunter gossip went. John had vowed to himself if he avenged Mary's death he would tackle Redwater next.
So he did, he put up wards, demanded taxes from every witch that lived there - there were so many he gave them their own quarter - Alexandria.
He sets up strict boundaries around the town and forced the townspeople to come to terms with their plight. He promised they would be protected but they had to do whatever they wanted.
Those who wished to leave could, but he wouldn't come to save them.
He showed them witches, the exorcising of a demon, the killing of a feral werewolf....
No one left. They elected him a mayor and pledged to do whatever he wanted.
He took the name Negan to shed his old identity. He had found the name in one of his grandmother's old books. It meant strong. He liked that, he would be strong. Nothing would break him. He set up a points system. He didn't trust the outside world.
He ordered the town to figure out a way to generate their own food and water. He would go on patrols and keep the supernatural out.
He started with the Witches, burning their quarter down. Those who helped became known as Saviors. Those who didn't wish to fight were given tasks and a number of points associated with them.
Those prettier girls and boys of age who didn't wish to work or join his Saviors could wish to apply to be his husband or wife. It depended on his good they were in bed with him.
He told the people that he would raise an army, and then he would lead a crusade to rid their country of monsters.
But he remembered his new name, he didn't need anyone in this town, not really. All he needed was his bat Lucille and some beer and he could take on anything - including the apocalypse.
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A Series of Disconnected Thoughts, Cast into the Void in No Particular Order
1. I’ve been finding myself thinking more and more about Kill Six Billion Demons recently. Not just because it’s absolutely gorgeous artwork and Moebius-meets-prog-metal stylings are extremely my shit (KSBD is responsible for adding Gojira to my rotation of workout music, and that alone has me in its debt), but because I can really appreciate a main character who is a walking disaster coming to some kind of enlightenment through a combination of getting her ass handed to her repeatedly, making questionable decisions, and basically just deciding to struggle forwards because I don’t know, what the fuck else is there to do? It’s hardly original (see: basically any shounen about The Power of Friendship and Not Giving Up) but damn if the presentation of it in this particular case isn’t particularly delightful. Plus it gave us the image of a giant hulking demon wearing a jacket that says KILL BOSS and that’s rad.The creator of KSBD is also co-creator, as it happens, of the newly released Lancer TTRPG, which I backed on Kickstarter and will, one day, get a rad fucking hardcover copy of (but for now I’m reading through the pdf and swearing oaths that one day I will play it). Anyway, as someone who also got where he is through a series of questionable decisions and getting his ass handed to him by life in general (oh, and an enormous amount of luck), I can relate. Plus the phrase “Reach heaven through violence,” while kind of terrible on the surface, feels good to shout at yourself while you’re off for a run.
2. Part of this whole exercise thing - a side-effect of it, if you wanna call it that - is that generally I feel better about myself like in general. I’ve mentioned that before. What it doesn’t do, of course, is magically mean that I’m now 100% good and not still dogged by a persistent sense of self-loathing that I’ve just had to accept will never really go away. Like for example: I’ve lost 35 kg since starting this whole gym thing, except you might remember the goal was 40. I still haven’t hit that goal, and frankly I’ve spent the last like three months bouncing around the same like, 3 kg zone because I’ve been traveling a lot and that basically fucks up my workout and eating routine. It’s frustrating, and it sure does let the part of me that knows deep down that I’m a fat fucker and always will be no matter what I do run wild from time to time. Which is, I’m coming to understand, just gonna always be there. This stuff doesn’t go away! Ever!
Which doesn’t mean it’s right, even a little. You tune it out and throw yourself into battle with it over and over again. You get bloodied and broken and claw back and then you get bloodied and broken some more. Insert that gif from Princess Bride of Westly saying LIFE IS PAIN, HIGHNESS here. Thing is, there’s something about the struggle that’s nice. I am not sure how motivated I’d be to do anything if part of it wasn’t motivated by the desire to prove my dumb brain wrong about, uh, me. If I wasn’t fighting the various little demons that plague me every so often, I doubt I’d be so well-adjusted. I certainly wouldn’t be mentally healthy. None of this makes sense as I read it back, of course - it sounds like I’m saying “boy it’s nice to be miserable,” which isn’t true. Being miserable sucks shit! I don’t recommend it! But it is nice to see misery coming and punch it in the face (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes I think the thing that makes me go to the gym and work so hard (this sounds like I’m bragging, but I can assure you I’m not - “work so hard” means “not collapse and fall off the elliptical after five minutes because oh god I don’t want to be here”) is out of some desire for self-annihilation through pushing myself past my physical limits. Reach heaven through violence (see, I told you it sounded cool).
3. The world has gotten really fucking bad for a lot of people, and I don’t know that it will get better for them any time soon. In fact, given the latest talk from the ol’ UN Climate Change report, it’s gonna get even worse. I would very much prefer that were not the case! It’s motivation enough to get out and vote and shit, at least for me - and as someone who is, you know, ridiculously privileged, that’s the absolute least I can do. Which is why I try to do more, mostly involving donating money to causes that seem like they’re able to cause the sort of trouble that needs to be caused. Or just use expertise to protect the people I don’t know how to protect, because I’m a lot of things, and one of them happens to be smart enough to know that I don’t know shit. So I make sure people that do know shit have the money they need. Pretty straightforward, I think.
The other thing I try to do, because giving money isn’t really something I think about much at all (I’m stupidly fucking fortunate to have a job that pays well, remember), is occasionally go out and actually be present at protests and the like - there are a lot of climate protests and they’re all a good time. Occasionally it’s worth overcoming one’s intense social anxiety to do so. Lord knows it’s significantly less of a risk for me to be out shouting at cops than most.
4. She-Ra might be one of the best shows out there. There’s something nice about a show that both does and does not present a simple world. Yes, the Horde is bad. Like, objectively bad! They do a lot of looting and subjugating and are generally just deeply not chill people.On the other hand, the people who make up the Horde are still people, and I have a lot of time for a show that can manage to humanize its Big Bad Villain whilst still making it very clear they are still, you know, not good. It’s messy, and complicated, and sad, because sometimes you have to fight people you used to be friends with! Sometimes you have to make the call that hey, we can’t be friends anymore, because I can’t support the things you’re doing anymore. I’ve made that call before - I bet everyone has, at some point (if you haven’t, I’m sure you’ll have to eventually). Fortunately for me, it’s never been that difficult of a choice, if only because the people I had to go against weren’t people I’d known for very long.
Anyway, that’s part of it - you gotta just cut people out sometimes. There’s more to it though, because the other thing the show believes is that everyone - even the real shitty people - can change. It doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven, and it doesn’t erase all the bad shit, but they can still change. It’s worth changing, even if it isn’t a cure-all.
So yeah, I like She-Ra a lot. It’s also just well-written, and funny, and it’s a real good time to see a bunch of diverse characters running around having adventures and being fuckin’ rad. Plus, they’ve shown an incredible willingness to completely change the stakes from season to season - the end of season four in particular is the equivalent of detonating all the things you thought were important. It pulls a bait and switch so ruthless that I might have applauded if I wasn’t so self-conscious about making noise that my neighbors might hear. The combination of season 3 and 4 was a masterclass on raising the stakes and then explaining that actually, you were playing for stakes even higher than you could’ve thought possible. Oh, and the people you thought you could trust were just using you, and hey, what if we got rid of the thing that you’ve more or less defined yourself by for the entire show? Good luck in season five, motherfucker! I’m a fan, is what I’m saying.
6. Work on Vanquisher 2103 continues apace. I mentioned this before, but we’re doing a once-a-month schedule while the holidays and work beat my ass into the ground, and as it turns out I really enjoy taking a full month to write a chapter. It’s a comically slow pace, but it’s working for me and hopefully the fact that the chapters have tended to be a little longer (and allowed me to expand on ideas a little more, and do a little more research here and there) makes it worth the longer wait. I’d like this thing to be good! There’s a part of my brain, again, that will always insist that nobody reads this and it’s bad and I’m fucking up, constantly - that point, at least, is probably accurate. I am writing characters who in theory have life experiences that are very much Not Mine, which involves a lot of reading things from people who would know better than I do. It’s nerve-wracking, and the only thing I am bone-deep certain of is that I’ll fuck up and hopefully y’all will forgive me for fucking up when that happens. I’ll keep reading and refining and eventually maybe it’ll be okay. Hopefully, anyway.
7. I went to Ireland and guys, Ireland is bullshit. I am offended by its gorgeous cliff-sides and open grasslands and heart-rending beauty. The immense friendliness of the people I met and the fact that you can’t sit in a pub without hearing some dude play a jaunty reel on a tin whistle or accordion or something is a personal insult. I was Arthur Dent angrily demanding to know why this bloody fish is so good the whole time.
I cultivated an immense drinking habit while there. I was also approached by a random German tourist who somehow clocked that I could speak German and we shouted about socialism for an hour auf Deutsch. I met some woman from Louisiana and we ended up having drinks a couple nights in a row to talk about traveling in general and Germany in particular, because her ex-husband is German. There were some Swedish retirees who were both very pleased by their country’s social safety net and also depressingly sour about the fact that refugees got cheap dental care - we might have had some harsh words exchanged before more drinks helped smooth over our frank discussion of differing viewpoints. I had to explain American health care to some people from the UK who were surprisingly gung-ho about the idea of privatized medicine until they talked to me (one of them talked about how the UK used to be an Empire and could be again in such a way that made me want to throw things. We did not talk for very long because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle it). These were strangers that I willingly engaged, because I was having an adventure, and I guarantee none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been going to the gym and committed to the idea of proving the voice in my head that tells me I’m an awkward mess that nobody would ever want to talk to in their life wrong (also, let’s be honest, if I hadn’t had several pints of cider at the time).
By the end of the trip if I heard one more pub singer’s version of Whisky in the Jar though, that I was gonna produce my pistol and fucking shoot myself in the head.
Go to Ireland if you can. If you live there, fuck you how dare you live somewhere that rad.
8. I didn’t have an eighth thing but I’m committed to this “each thing is numbered” bit which means that even the end of this thing has to follow the trope. This is the end of the post where I say “okay bye I’ll be back the next time I get the urge to throw a bunch of highly unpolished ideas out.”
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OG!Peter Vincent assorted headcanons, Part Two
He’s never had much of an appetite—he actually had to have one of his costumes padded because he had lost such a dramatic amount of weight. Most of it comes from being both a terrible cook and used to an erratic schedule where he doesn’t have much time to sit down and eat a full meal, and as a result his weight tends to fluctuate quite a bit. He does love hot chocolate, though, and insists on making it himself instead of making an instant mix.
Legally speaking, he’s not supposed to have most of his prop collection–he technically stole them from the studio. The only way he was allowed to sneak them off the set was to claim they were replicas commissioned by the Noble Collection or something similar. The only ones he didn’t have to sneak past the directors were the posters and the cigarette case from Orgy of the Damned since it was made to his specifications (he wanted it to look like the prop that Edward Van Sloan had in Dracula).
Part of the way the Peter Vincent image was marketed back in his hayday was that he was a strictly solo act who cared for little else except the quest against the forces of evil, which left very little room for any kind of romantic entanglements. And he’d always considered himself to be “married to his work” for a very long time, so he never really found it important to experiment and find out what he liked from a partner, and in his mind crushes don’t really count. He knows he could theoretically fall in love with anyone regardless of gender, but sexuality never really entered the picture for him—biromantic grey-asexuality, in short.
He’s still a bit old-fashioned when it comes to women–he’ll still call them “my dear” and other minor pet names and will kiss their hands when he’s introduced to them–which has led to some awkward situations. A lot of women take them as romantic overtures, which Peter absolutely did not intend. He’s just trying to be gallant.
Two of his acting heroes were Claude Rains and Basil Rathbone, and his favorite costar—even if she was only in two of his films—was Ingrid Pitt. If you twisted his arm, he’d admit that he did also have slight hero crushes on both of the latter, and he wore a black armband for a week after their respective deaths.
The only member of his family he keeps in touch with anymore these days is his brother James, who came to America a few years after Peter did and found a position in the CIA. Of course, he has less to say when he talks shop with his brother seeing as there’s a lot of confidential information that can’t be disclosed, but suffice to say that after the amount of domestic terrorist attacks that James has been dispatched to thwart, Peter at least knows the logistics of what goes into a dirty bomb.
He’s not as good a swimmer as he is, say, a hiker or a horseback rider, but if there is a large body of water in front of him and he has to get across it on pain of death, then by God he will. There’s no guarantee there won’t be some momentary panic before he figures out his bearings, though, but it won’t stop him. Ironically enough, he’s gotten much better at it as he’s gotten older since it’s a relatively non-demanding form of exercise.
He hates most of the crew of Fright Night—he can count on one hand the number whom he actually gets along with—and for good reason. They laugh at him while he’s on the air (and sometimes the laughter gets picked up by the boom mic, so everyone can hear how little they take their star seriously), they play mean-spirited tricks on him on set, and they constantly remind him that he can be canned at any time. And after being fired twice, Peter’s learned to be just as nasty back at them if he has to.
Peter does have a bit of a soft spot for heather and lavender–they remind him of his childhood home and the beautiful locations he’d worked on years ago.
He’s prone to bottling up his feelings around people unless he’s 100% sure he can trust him and that they won’t mock him for it. After years of having to put up a facade of his fictional alter ego, anything that didn’t line up with that image Peter had to keep to himself, and it didn’t do his mental health much good at all. If he’s going to reveal any of his own raw feelings to anyone, they have to be very close to him.
That scene in Horror of Dracula after Van Helsing has to stake Lucy, where he gently brings Arthur over to look into her coffin and shows her that’s she’s at peace again? Peter cannot watch that scene without getting choked up anymore.
He will sometimes pretend he’s getting into a much nicer car than his old Studebaker in the studio parking lot so that fans will be more impressed.
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RDR2 Character Zodiac Sign Analysis Pt. I
*MAJOR SPOILERS for those who are still playing the game
*All completely theoretical on my behalf, so please do not take any of this as fact
*Lengthy read! Beware if you don’t like to read!
*This is a segmented post, so expect more parts of this coming soon!
Ok, so this is the second attempt to write this due to the last one being deleted ����, but because I love what I do and I really wanted to share this information, I’ve decided to give it a try once more. With that being said, I hope you can enjoy. And please, feel free to comment if you’d like. I love feedback and questions :) ❤️
Anyways, I am very good in astrology and zodiac signs, been studying it for a while, however, I’m not a master in it—yet. I also have a keen interest in the functionality of the human mind and human behavior so I like to study people in general. I used to want to be a psychotherapist but I love writing and telling stories too much. Anyway here is my analysis on what I think the signs of the Red Dead Redemption 2 characters are. I will explain as much as I can on why I think these signs match the characters and give a few examples as well. Although it is highly possible that I may not be accurate, if at all, I still would like to think that I am very close to it. So, bare with me:
Taurus ♉️ The Bull
- Dutch Van der Linde
- Tilly Jackson
Taurus people are stubborn, superficial but on the other end, also practical and well grounded types. They can be possessive and materialistic, almost to an obsession, however, they can also be very sensual and reliable at times. They are the kind of people who seem to have serious trust issues and can not let go of things when they’re in their feelings almost as if they take everything to heart. They may be the really annoying grudge holders but their friendship and loyalty is worth while.
In my opinion, Tilly and Dutch have a few characteristics of Taurus displayed over the course of the story, especially Dutch.
So....
This quote “this is an unfortunate being that has to wander the Earth in order to find freedom” is pretty relevant to how Dutch is portrayed in the game.
———————————————————————
“They are loyal and don't like sudden changes, criticism or the chase of guilt people are often prone to, being somewhat dependable on other people and emotions they seem to be unable to let go of” This can definitely describe Dutch’s personality. During his mental slip, he is constantly bringing his own men into a slew of trouble only to reel in their unforgiving loyalty for him. And if either of them threatens or questions his way of practicality, he becomes a bit irrational in his response.
Dutch was also an advocate believer in loyalty, often preaching about it during camp interactions and even conditioning the others to believe in what he sees of it. Although he may not have been as loyal to his fellow men as he’d expected them to be with him (at least during the climax of the story), I believe that he once was before, which prevailed him as a great leader in their eyes.
When Dutch began to lose his sanity, slowly but surely, he became quite dependent on that loyalty from his men, even willing to have some of them killed off if they’d disagree to conform to his insanity. In fact, Arthur and John’s distrust of him, alone, helped pushed him further into becoming a ruthless maniac. He could not accept his own flaws and would instead, justify his actions with irrational and nonsensical raps about loyalty.
In fact, this sudden change of life as an outlaw, in the days of the new era, in the last year of the Old Western century where civilization and industrialism began to rise, were the very reasons Dutch lost grips with reality in the first place. But they weren’t the only reasons to consider.
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“these individuals have the ability to bring a practical voice of reason in any chaotic and unhealthy situation” Tilly’s personality is a good example of this. In a few camp interactions with the women of the group, she is often the voice of reason when the others become frustrated or rightfully aggravated. For example, she tells Karen that things will change for the better if she’d desired for them to do so. She believes that you are in control of your own happiness and the betterment of your surroundings.
However, Karen disagrees with her as she can only see the present reality around them which left little room for change, especially for women. While Karen’s argument was realistic, Tilly reasoned why her pessimistic views were invalid, challenging Karen’s perception.
Tilly also tried to reason why she thought Grimshaw was right for what she did in a bad situation resulting in Molly’s death. When Mary Beth asked her about it, even though she was most likely in a state of conditioning, she justified Grimshaws actions by applying rational thought into “the rules of the camp”, which appeared to have gone against her moral coding. Although they do not always follow morality, rules are rules, and they are justifiable by way of standards formed by a group of people. In a single logic, it is rational to follow moral codes. In a group logic, it is rational to follow the rules.
Molly’s death may also show how loyalty was defined in Dutch’s standards. The “rules” of the camp are implied only at this point of the story. Perhaps they were set in place just to justify away Dutch’s false constructed rendition of loyalty for the benefit of his need for self worth.
And speaking of Dutch, he, himself, was also quite a voice of reason whenever the gang ran into difficult and chaotic situations, usually being well grounded about it. He was always the one planning a practical way out of the situation rather than to question it, panic or give in.
So in my take, Tilly and Dutch were often the most level-headed people of the gang.
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Taurus people are quoted to be “overprotective, conservative, or materialistic at times, with views of the world founded on their love of money and wealth” which implores both Tilly and Dutch’s personalities. Tilly even expressed these traits during a few camp interactions by mentioning that she was more into the superficial way of life, preferring to associate with people and things of that nature. Later in the story, she even marries a wealthy lawyer.
Dutch was also quite materialistic, having quite a lust for money throughout the entire gang. It was also heavily implied that it wasn’t even necessary most of the time for the gang to collect huge amounts of money he insisted upon, completing many unnecessary heists and, once again, putting his own men at risk. One heist would’ve done the trick for what Dutch explained as his plan. Money was definitely not much of a necessity for the gang at all. There have been times where I thought Dutch was obsessed with money as he talked about it so often.
He was also a man of extravagance, chasing after fancy living and lifestyle. His apparel was also noticeably sophisticated, keeping at bay a clean wealthy appearance and style. However, I believe Dutch had more of a taste for high expenses rather than fashion (unlike Javier).
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Now this: “To find love, a Taurus has to travel the world, change perspective or make a shift in their entire belief system and their system of values” I feel is a very important quote! It beautifully sums up everything that I’ve explained about both Dutch and Tilly’s personalities within the story. Although this quote may state that Taurus people will often do this by adapting into some sort of change or enhancement for the sake of love, this does not only apply to just romance. Love could also mean a purpose in life, acceptance or human consolidation, anything that may be valuable to the growth and/or purpose of that person.
Dutch is a traveling type. Regardless of having to move around due to the heinous crimes he’d committed, he came off as an adventurous man. He was in a constant battle with his flaws, with his perception of the world, his beliefs and self worth, he often shifted around in his head, trying to find ways to suit his spiraling sanity. He was also into worldly philosophies which contributes to the traits of his personality. He liked to hear others opinions and thoughts in order to change or challenge his for the better. He embraced human evolution. And human evolution often comes from experience and adventure.
In order to stay level-headed, Tilly often challenged her realistic views by rationalizing them in a more positive prospective. When things became difficult, she calculated her options with positive reasoning, an outlook that was still realistic but practical with a solution. I assume that Tilly was pretty young while all of those Van der Linde gang shenanigans were going on, so while I still believe she is a Taurus, I also believe that her personality was still forming, and it is difficult to say what her true beliefs and values were. However, she was still a very practical and somewhat materialistic type of person.
Dutch and Tilly were both more than willing to make room for what they’d find valuable for their own personal growth. Individually, Dutch wanted acceptance, love and loyalty and Tilly wanted reason and purpose.
Zodiac sign quotes found here.
#rdr2#dutch van der linde#tilly jackson#red dead redemption 2#zodiac signs#rdr2 zodiac signs#character analysis#my take#taurus#dutch is a gahdayum taurus#imore learn more. be more.#vanderlinde gang
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There where moments between Arthur and Lyanna that would always be in their rememberances, and only in theirs. Moments which would not last long but all the more intense and intimate. No, not due to acts of sexual intercourse but something far more personal and intimate.
Lyanna remembered the night she lived through one of implied moments. She found Arthur in his chambers, standing at the small balcony and obviously deep in thoughts. His tunic was opened, his waistbelt with the sheath in which his sword constantly had a place was thrown over a simple wooden chair.
"Arthur?", she asked cautiously, anxious not to startle him. But who could startle a man of his reputation, though? After her own experience, nothing could get him scared that easily. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of the delicate frame of Lyanna standing at the door. If the girl was only as soft as her stature... "Come in", he offered kindly. No matter how distant and serious Arthur appeared, he always had an open ear and kindness remained for Lyanna, his Lyanna.
When she approached him, wearing only her nightgown, he asked, "Can I help you?"
Her expression changed, from curiosity to concern. "Actually, it is my turn to ask you this question. What is it that bothers you?" Arthur was not used to such care, at least not since a long time.
"It is nothing, no need to worry yourself, my lady", he declined.
But she could see that he didn't speak the truth; she could read everything in his facial expressions, from the movement of his sensual lips to the change of his eyes. And his posture, of course. It was a skill that was very useful and, sometimes, very bothering. But not with Arthur.
"You can tell me", she encouraged him, "There is no one I could tell, well besides Jon, but I doubt he would show any interest." Her little son was now one year old, and he grew and throve day by day. Now many moons had passed since the three of them had flew across the Narrow Sea, living now in Pentos. They had thought about looking for a purposive house at Yunkai before, but it was a dangerous city, far too harmful for Jon. But now, living in peace, Arthur still had worries.
"Really", he insisted, "It's a rather minor problem." And with that, he confided that he did not want to talk about it. Lyanna respected it.
"All right", she sighed. In a sudden impulse, she took his hand in hers and softly urged him to come with her inside. Arthur himself was slightly surprised by her sudden boldness, but he did not object. When they stood there, only the light of the candles brighting up his chambers, Lyanna looked him in the eyes for a long time. She studied his handsome face, his sharp cheek bones, his sensual lips which still looked manly, his nose that fit perfectly in his face.
Arthur felt almost intimated by the piercing eyes of Lyanna. But most important, he felt sort of reliefed, eased. His eyes locked with hers for a few minutes, and they did not break it once. It was the most intimate thing Arthur had done in his life. Lyanna rose a hand to his face, tenderly touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers. She felt out the stubbles of his beard, the tanned skin that started to heat up. Her fingers, appearing like bony fingers of a ghost compared to his skin, traced the shape of his jaw and his cheek bones, the shape of his nose and last but not least his lips, their shape and their warmth.
Arthur's response to her tender touches were at first tense, but the more she touched him, the more he eased. Her hands became bolder as they wandered along his neck, feeling his pulse which has started to fasten. Lyanna smiled. She liked to have such an effect on him. She went down on his chest, but Arthur gripped her wrist, gentle but consequent. Her gaze fell upon his.
"Trust me", she whispered. So he did, hestitantly, but he did nontheless.She pushed his tunic aside, and Arthur slipped his arms out of the sleeves. There he stood, with his experienced and toned body. 'Beautiful', she thought. Both of her hands now started to explore his torso, wandering from his collarbone across his toned chest down to his muscular belly, tracing every line, every scar that marked him. 'Yes', she thought, 'Beautiful'.
For the sake of fairness, Lyanna opend the buttons of her nightgown and it fell down to ground. There she stood, exposed to him, bare to her feet but having no shame. Hestitantly, Arthur rose his hands and touched at first her shoulders, feeling the soft skin in them and their shapes. "You're beautfiul", he whispered in a low voice. He always told her she was, but this time, it was like the first time he did.
His hands wandered down, carefully cupping her breasts. Lyanna sighed with closed eyes, obviously at ease. She opened her eyes again, looking at him like it was the first time she really saw him. She closed the little distance between him and her and pressed her lips softly at his cheek, nearly not sensible. But he felt it intensely, felt the tickle running down his spine.
Now it was her mouth which wandered across his face. At first his jaw, then his cheeks and his nose, but only brushing his own lips. It was like a torture; he was longing for her kiss after all the things she did.
Finally, her lips found his, very gentle and light. They moved together, slow and tender. It was Arthur who deepened the kiss, making her grip his arms firmer. For a woman of her stature it was surprisingly strong. But this didn't matter; only their moment mattered.
Carefully, he pushed his tongue against her warm lips. She responded immediatly, but they did not become any faster or harder, no. Their tongues played carefully with one another, teasing each other. Lyanna's grip losened and her hands wandered to his back, feeling the always moving muscles, while Arthur's hands moved towards her but, pressing it gently and feeling its curves.
When they broke apart, he leaned his forehead against hers. Yet this moment didn't last; Lyanna led him to the bed, and both lied down, facing one another. They did not say a word; it was unnecessary. Instead, she stroke his cheek and he her bare thigh with his finger tips. They let their bodies speak, their touches. Both wished this moment - their moment - could last a life time, and yet both knew it wouldn't. For that, they had their many other little moments.
END
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Oh, it’s terrible characterisation for sure; Richard’s actions against his brother’s family were horrifying.
And I do hate with a complete passion the way that Philippa Gregory portrays Elizabeth because ‘Bitchy Lizzie’ is unbelievably so self-centred and out of touch with the world that I couldn’t muster a single ounce of sympathy for her, even when Those Moments occurred in the book. I DNF the White Princess, I couldn’t make it past Arthur’s birth because my blood pressure just couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly reading about Elizabeth’s ‘tru wuv’ Richard (who I don’t recall being mentioned as her uncle in TWP) made me want to hold a seance to summon their ghosts to go be Philippa’s personal poltergeists.
The thoughts I had about the whole ‘romance’ was based on what little I found while reading PGregs books: I never thought that Richard truly cared about, let alone loved, Elizabeth, and I honestly believe that he was just using her, and while I was doing some Tumblr deep-diving through accounts, I found a post about the Kingmaker’s Daughter and Anne’s relationship with Elizabeth. I can’t remember the wording, but one thing mentioned was how Anne’s jealousy prevented her from protecting Elizabeth from Richard. One phrase in particular used in the post was that Richard was grooming Elizabeth in the Kingmaker’s Daughter. I haven’t been able to find the post again, which upset me, but I nevertheless agree that I also interpret the relationship in the Gregoryverse to be grooming.
Anyway, in my original ask, I mentioned that I did some brainstorming on how I’d personally write the show for the White Princess. Honestly, this version is only if a gun was held to my head, and I was expected to work in some sort of ‘romance’ between Elizabeth and Richard because otherwise, I wouldn’t have such a thing.
TLDR, in this version, Richard emotionally manipulates Elizabeth to the point that she thinks she loves him; Elizabeth ends up learning that Richard planned on marrying Joanna, after which point she and Henry reconcile and work on becoming friends, and it’s ultimately her idea for them to have premarital relations.
Let’s say that in this fictional universe, when Elizabeth leaves Sanctuary and enters Richard’s court, Elizabeth has a confrontation with Richard about his treatment of her family, and he continually mentions how this was all so important because it was the only way to ensure their safety and other such nonsense. Richard deliberately emotionally manipulates Elizabeth enough that she believes he loves her, and she thinks that she’s in love with him.
When the Battle of Bosworth approaches, Richard writes a letter telling her that if he defeats Henry, he’ll marry her. (But at no point do they kiss, let alone have sex.)
Anyway, Bosworth happens, Richard is slain, and Elizabeth and her family go to reside with Margaret Beaufort. Henry meets Elizabeth, and she cannot help but feel guilty that she's attracted to and intrigued by him because he’s the reason Richard died.
Soon after this first meeting, Henry and Elizabeth have an argument, during which Henry mentions that he’s shocked that she’d trust Richard after he degraded her family. Elizabeth insists that Richard only did that because he was trying to protect her family and that he said that he loved her, to which a frustrated Henry shoves a pile of letters in her hands and tells her that Richard was only using her (something that multiple people had told her in the past).
The letters Henry gave her reveal that Richard had been lying to her, that he’d actually been planning on marrying Joanna of Portugal the whole time he’d told her that he loved her and was going to marry her.
Elizabeth is heartbroken and confides to her mother, tearfully stating that she should have listened the first time she was told that Richard was manipulating her to lessen support for Henry, admitting that she should have listened to her gut feelings. EW insists that Elizabeth is not at fault for Richard’s actions and shouldn’t feel guilty because he took advantage of her when she was most vulnerable. The more EoY thinks about what happened, the more rage she feels towards Richard in the final humiliation he inflicted upon her, realising that what she’d once felt towards him couldn’t have been actual love, and she resolves to move past Richard. (This is a replacement for That Scene in the first episode).
The next time they meet, Henry and Elizabeth apologise for the things they said to each other during their argument, and Henry tells Elizabeth that he respects what she has gone through and does not ask that she love him.
Through the months approaching December, Henry and Elizabeth work on becoming friends, during which time they learn that they have a lot in common. It’s also around this time that Elizabeth comes to a friendly understanding with Margaret Beaufort.
When Parliament approves their marriage on December 10th, it’s ultimately Elizabeth’s idea for them to have an early consummation, not Henry’s.
It’s worth mentioning that this is not meant to be a single episode but at least two or three. I have more ideas, but I’m going to end it here.
of-tudor-roses here, I’ve got to admit, from a fantasy storytelling POV, I don’t hate the idea of having Elizabeth of York having been in love with Richard III. I mean, I don’t like it either, but if it helps drive characterisation I don’t hate it either. I was having a conversation about this with my mother on the issues of Philippe Gregory and how I personally would write The White Princess (the show because there’s no saving the book). I’ve written details that I can further explain in a reboot ^^
Hi! To be honest, I don't know how it could drive Elizabeth of York's characterisation to have her in love with the person that caused so much harm to herself and her family (as I've explained here). Unless you want her at the start of the story to be absolutely alienated from everything that was happening around her—making her quite obtuse then—or have her as a self-centred girl with no love for her family (and again a bit thick as to what was happening to herself and her status). If it's the latter I don't see how she could 'grow' from there: if the usurping of her brothers doesn't affect her, what would? In truth, I could see Elizabeth wanting to marry her uncle so as to have 'revenge from within' and protect the rest of her family, but I think having Elizabeth of York genuinely in love with him is a hallmark of bad writing considering the circumstances of his ascension and what it cost her and her family. If it's a matter of giving Elizabeth a love interest before Henry, I could think of a few names that would make more sense for her to have been in love with.
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LAW # 13 : WHEN ASKING FOR HELP, APPEAL TO PEOPLE’S SELF-INTEREST, NEVER TO THEIR MERCY OR GRATITUDE
JUDGMENT
If you need to turn to an ally for help, do not bother to remind him of your past assistance and good deeds. He will find a way to ignore you. Instead, uncover something in your request, or in your alliance with him, that will benefit him, and emphasize it out of all proportion. He will respond enthusiastically when he sees something to be gained for himself.
TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW
In the early fourteenth century, a young man named Castruccio Castracani rose from the rank of common soldier to become lord of the great city of Lucca, Italy. One of the most powerful families in the city, the Poggios, had been instrumental in his climb (which succeeded through treachery and bloodshed), but after he came to power, they came to feel he had forgotten them. His ambition outweighed any gratitude he felt. In 1325, while Castruccio was away fighting Lucca’s main rival, Florence, the Poggios conspired with other noble families in the city to rid themselves of this troublesome and ambitious prince.
THE PEASANT AND THE APPLE-TREE
A peasant had in his garden an apple-tree, which bore no fruit, but only served as a perch for the sparrows and grasshoppers. He resolved to cut it down, and, taking his ax in hand, made a bold stroke at its roots. The grasshoppers and sparrows entreated him not to cut down the tree that sheltered them, but to spare it, and they would sing to him and lighten his labors. He paid no attention to their request, but gave the tree a second and a third blow with his ax. When he reached the hollow of the tree, he found a hive full of honey. Having tasted the honeycomb, he threw down his ax, and, looking on the tree as sacred, took great care of it. Self-interest alone moves some men.
FABLES, AESOP, SIXTH CENTURY B.C.
Mounting an insurrection, the plotters attacked and murdered the governor whom Castruccio had left behind to rule the city. Riots broke out, and the Castruccio supporters and the Poggio supporters were poised to do battle. At the height of the tension, however, Stefano di Poggio, the oldest member of the family, intervened, and made both sides lay down their arms.
A peaceful man, Stefano had not taken part in the conspiracy. He had told his family it would end in a useless bloodbath. Now he insisted he should intercede on the family’s behalf and persuade Castruccio to listen to their complaints and satisfy their demands. Stefano was the oldest and wisest member of the clan, and his family agreed to put their trust in his diplomacy rather than in their weapons.
When news of the rebellion reached Castruccio, he hurried back to Lucca. By the time he arrived, however, the fighting had ceased, through Stefano’s agency, and he was surprised by the city’s calm and peace. Stefano di Poggio had imagined that Castruccio would be grateful to him for his part in quelling the rebellion, so he paid the prince a visit. He explained how he had brought peace, then begged for Castruccio’s mercy. He said that the rebels in his family were young and impetuous, hungry for power yet inexperienced; he recalled his family’s past generosity to Castruccio. For all these reasons, he said, the great prince should pardon the Poggios and listen to their complaints. This, he said, was the only just thing to do, since the family had willingly laid down their arms and had always supported him.
Castruccio listened patiently. He seemed not the slightest bit angry or resentful. Instead, he told Stefano to rest assured that justice would prevail, and he asked him to bring his entire family to the palace to talk over their grievances and come to an agreement. As they took leave of one another, Castruccio said he thanked God for the chance he had been given to show his clemency and kindness. That evening the entire Poggio family came to the palace. Castruccio immediately had them imprisoned and a few days later all were executed, including Stefano.
Interpretation
Stefano di Poggio is the embodiment of all those who believe that the justice and nobility of their cause will prevail. Certainly appeals to justice and gratitude have occasionally succeeded in the past, but more often than not they have had dire consequences, especially in dealings with the Castruc cios of the world. Stefano knew that the prince had risen to power through treachery and ruthlessness. This was a man, after all, who had put a close and devoted friend to death. When Castruccio was told that it had been a terrible wrong to kill such an old friend, he replied that he had executed not an old friend but a new enemy.
A man like Castruccio knows only force and self-interest. When the rebellion began, to end it and place oneself at his mercy was the most dangerous possible move. Even once Stefano di Poggio had made that fatal mistake, however, he still had options: He could have offered money to Castruccio, could have made promises for the future, could have pointed out what the Poggios could still contribute to Castruccio’s power—their influence with the most influential families of Rome, for example, and the great marriage they could have brokered.
Instead Stefano brought up the past, and debts that carried no obligation. Not only is a man not obliged to be grateful, gratitude is often a terrible burden that he gladly discards. And in this case Castruccio rid himself of his obligations to the Poggios by eliminating the Poggios.
Most men are so thoroughly subjective that nothing really interests them but themselves. They always think of their own case as soon as ever any remark is made, and their whole attention is engrossed and absorbed by the merest chance reference to anything which affects them personally, be it never so remote.
ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER, 1788-1860
OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW
In 433 B.C., just before the Peloponnesian War, the island of Corcyra (later called Corfu) and the Greek city-state of Corinth stood on the brink of conflict. Both parties sent ambassadors to Athens to try to win over the Athenians to their side. The stakes were high, since whoever had Athens on his side was sure to win. And whoever won the war would certainly give the defeated side no mercy.
Corcyra spoke first. Its ambassador began by admitting that the island had never helped Athens before, and in fact had allied itself with Athens’s enemies. There were no ties of friendship or gratitude between Corcyra and Athens. Yes, the ambassador admitted, he had come to Athens now out of fear and concern for Corcyra’s safety. The only thing he could offer was an alliance of mutual interests. Corcyra had a navy only surpassed in size and strength by Athens’s own; an alliance between the two states would create a formidable force, one that could intimidate the rival state of Sparta. That, unfortunately, was all Corcyra had to offer.
The representative from Corinth then gave a brilliant, passionate speech, in sharp contrast to the dry, colorless approach of the Corcyran. He talked of everything Corinth had done for Athens in the past. He asked how it would look to Athens’s other allies if the city put an agreement with a former enemy over one with a present friend, one that had served Athens’s interest loyally: Perhaps those allies would break their agreements with Athens if they saw that their loyalty was not valued. He referred to Hellenic law, and the need to repay Corinth for all its good deeds. He finally went on to list the many services Corinth had performed for Athens, and the importance of showing gratitude to one’s friends.
After the speech, the Athenians debated the issue in an assembly. On the second round, they voted overwhelmingly to ally with Corcyra and drop Corinth.
Interpretation
History has remembered the Athenians nobly, but they were the preeminent realists of classical Greece. With them, all the rhetoric, all the emotional appeals in the world, could not match a good pragmatic argument, especially one that added to their power.
What the Corinthian ambassador did not realize was that his references to Corinth’s past generosity to Athens only irritated the Athenians, subtly asking them to feel guilty and putting them under obligation. The Athenians couldn’t care less about past favors and friendly feelings. At the same time, they knew that if their other allies thought them ungrateful for abandoning Corinth, these city-states would still be unlikely to break their ties to Athens, the preeminent power in Greece. Athens ruled its empire by force, and would simply compel any rebellious ally to return to the fold.
When people choose between talk about the past and talk about the future, a pragmatic person will always opt for the future and forget the past. As the Corcyrans realized, it is always best to speak pragmatically to a pragmatic person. And in the end, most people are in fact pragmatic—they will rarely act against their own self-interest.
It has always been a rule that the weak should be subject to the strong; and besides, we consider that we are worthy of our power. Up till the present moment you, too, used to think that we were; but now, after calculating your own interest, you are beginning to talk in terms of right and wrong. Considerations of this kind have never yet turned people aside from the opportunities of aggrandizement offered by superior strength.
Athenian representative to Sparta, quoted in The Peloponnesian War, Thucydides, c. 465-395 B.C.
KEYS TO POWER
In your quest for power, you will constantly find yourself in the position of asking for help from those more powerful than you. There is an art to asking for help, an art that depends on your ability to understand the person you are dealing with, and to not confuse your needs with theirs.
Most people never succeed at this, because they are completely trapped in their own wants and desires. They start from the assumption that the people they are appealing to have a selfless interest in helping them. They talk as if their needs mattered to these people—who probably couldn’t care less. Sometimes they refer to larger issues: a great cause, or grand emotions such as love and gratitude. They go for the big picture when simple, everyday realities would have much more appeal. What they do not realize is that even the most powerful person is locked inside needs of his own, and that if you make no appeal to his self-interest, he merely sees you as desperate or, at best, a waste of time.
In the sixteenth century, Portuguese missionaries tried for years to convert the people of Japan to Catholicism, while at the same time Portugal had a monopoly on trade between Japan and Europe. Although the missionaries did have some success, they never got far among the ruling elite; by the beginning of the seventeenth century, in fact, their proselytizing had completely antagonized the Japanese emperor Ieyasu. When the Dutch began to arrive in Japan in great numbers, Ieyasu was much relieved. He needed Europeans for their know-how in guns and navigation, and here at last were Europeans who cared nothing for spreading religion—the Dutch wanted only to trade. Ieyasu swiftly moved to evict the Portuguese. From then on, he would only deal with the practical-minded Dutch.
Japan and Holland were vastly different cultures, but each shared a timeless and universal concern: self-interest. Every person you deal with is like another culture, an alien land with a past that has nothing to do with yours. Yet you can bypass the differences between you and him by appealing to his self-interest. Do not be subtle: You have valuable knowledge to share, you will fill his coffers with gold, you will make him live longer and happier. This is a language that all of us speak and understand.
A key step in the process is to understand the other person’s psychology. Is he vain? Is he concerned about his reputation or his social standing? Does he have enemies you could help him vanquish? Is he simply motivated by money and power?
When the Mongols invaded China in the twelfth century, they threatened to obliterate a culture that had thrived for over two thousand years. Their leader, Genghis Khan, saw nothing in China but a country that lacked pasturing for his horses, and he decided to destroy the place, leveling all its cities, for “it would be better to exterminate the Chinese and let the grass grow.” It was not a soldier, a general, or a king who saved the Chinese from devastation, but a man named Yelu Ch‘u-Ts’ai. A foreigner himself, Ch‘u-Ts’ai had come to appreciate the superiority of Chinese culture. He managed to make himself a trusted adviser to Genghis Khan, and persuaded him that he would reap riches out of the place if, instead of destroying it, he simply taxed everyone who lived there. Khan saw the wisdom in this and did as Ch‘u-Ts’ai advised.
When Khan took the city of Kaifeng, after a long siege, and decided to massacre its inhabitants (as he had in other cities that had resisted him), Ch‘u-Ts’ai told him that the finest craftsmen and engineers in China had fled to Kaifeng, and it would be better to put them to use. Kaifeng was spared. Never before had Genghis Khan shown such mercy, but then it really wasn’t mercy that saved Kaifeng. Ch‘u-Ts’ai knew Khan well. He was a barbaric peasant who cared nothing for culture, or indeed for anything other than warfare and practical results. Ch‘u-Ts’ai chose to appeal to the only emotion that would work on such a man: greed.
Self-interest is the lever that will move people. Once you make them see how you can in some way meet their needs or advance their cause, their resistance to your requests for help will magically fall away. At each step on the way to acquiring power, you must train yourself to think your way inside the other person’s mind, to see their needs and interests, to get rid of the screen of your own feelings that obscure the truth. Master this art and there will be no limits to what you can accomplish.
Image: A Cord that Binds. The cord of mercy and grati tude is threadbare, and will break at the first shock. Do not throw such a lifeline. The cord of mutual self-inter est is woven of many fibers and cannot easily be severed. It will serve you well for years.
Authority: The shortest and best way to make your fortune is to let people see clearly that it is in their interests to promote yours. (Jean de La Bruyère, 1645-1696)
REVERSAL
Some people will see an appeal to their self-interest as ugly and ignoble. They actually prefer to be able to exercise charity, mercy, and justice, which are their ways of feeling superior to you: When you beg them for help, you emphasize their power and position. They are strong enough to need nothing from you except the chance to feel superior. This is the wine that intoxicates them. They are dying to fund your project, to introduce you to powerful people—provided, of course, that all this is done in public, and for a good cause (usually the more public, the better). Not everyone, then, can be approached through cynical self-interest. Some people will be put off by it, because they don’t want to seem to be motivated by such things. They need opportunities to display their good heart.
Do not be shy. Give them that opportunity. It’s not as if you are conning them by asking for help—it is really their pleasure to give, and to be seen giving. You must distinguish the differences among powerful people and figure out what makes them tick. When they ooze greed, do not appeal to their charity. When they want to look charitable and noble, do not appeal to their greed.
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A Very Thoughtful Review Examining WHY "The Price" Is So Difficult to Get Right - Talkin' Broadway.com
The Price Theatre Review by Matthew Murray - March 16, 2017
Arthur Miller's The Price Directed by Terry Kinney. Set design by Derek McLane. Costume design by Sarah J. Holden. Lighting design by David Weiner. Sound design by Rob Milburn & Michael Bodeen. Hair and wig design by Tom Watson. Original music by Jesse Tabish. Dialect coach Stephen Gabis. Fight consultant Thomas Schall. Cast: Mark Ruffalo, Tony Shalhoub, Jessica Hecht, and Danny DeVito. Theatre: American Airlines Theatre, 227 West 42nd Street between 7th and 8th Avenues Tickets: roundabouttheatre.org
Subtlety is no great hallmark of Arthur Miller's plays. In some he hides this better (Death of a Salesman) than others (The Crucible), but each must contend with the playwright's natural didacticism that makes them at once compelling and frustrating. This affliction is seldom more pronounced in his oeuvre than it is in his 1968 effort The Price, something you're keenly aware of throughout Terry Kinney's otherwise fine revival for Roundabout at the American Airlines. The glimmering members of its all-star cast grasp for every chance they can to sparkle, only exacerbating the fact that isolated moments, of greatness and mediocrity alike, are about all this play is built on.
Nowhere is this more noticeable than in the person of Gregory Solomon, played, with ballpark-filling amounts of relish, by a delightful Danny DeVito making his Broadway debut. Though nominally a conflation of one ancient archetype (the money-minded Jew) with another of slightly more recent vintage (the Catskills comic), the part is twisted up with enough sympathy and warmth—however surface-level—that he becomes something a bit more important and mature. His framing as a furniture appraiser tasked with assessing the worth of an accumulated lifetime both helps and hurts this venture. Are this harp, that table, and the bed in the other room worth more than the dozens of other possessions that surround them? Is this style so antiquated that it hasn't a hope of bringing a fair price on the open market? Such are Gregory's concerns.
That they scarcely run much deeper does not stop DeVito, who assaults them with the unwavering brio he might, say, King Lear, and who nails all the laughs and likability inherent in Gregory's cajoling lines. Though tiny of stature, DeVito unleashes an enormous barking voice that grips the room (his and ours) and commands attention. Rather than submitting to the apparent structure of the man, he upends it to prove its vitality and his necessity here. From listening to his around-the-back insistent manner, you can tell exactly why Gregory has been successful and why he's survived well into his mid 80s and could just as easily endure to 110. He knows that life is about grabbing what you can, while you can, and making the best of it, and trusting that everything else will sort itself out.
The problem with Gregory isn't just that his style conflicts with and overwhelms everything else in The Price, it's that by doing so he could not be more thematically obvious. The lessons he represents are a brightly flashing counterbalance to the main story, about the family who hired him for the job. Victor Franz (Mark Ruffalo), a career policeman who just passed retirement age and is pondering his future, picked Gregory's name out of a phone book to take charge of the houseful of stuff left behind by his deceased parents now that the building in which it's all crammed is about to be torn down.
Victor hopes to make enough money to placate his wife, Esther (Jessica Hecht), who is tired of living on the edge of poverty after nearly three decades, and to finally free himself from the shadow of his far more successful (and tight-fisted) brother, Walter (Tony Shalhoub). There is, of course, much more going on, as Walter, a doctor Victor believes made himself rich breaking his and his father's backs, has quite a different perspective on the life Victor is so concerned with escaping.
The central trio is robustly developed, as you'd expect from Miller; he knew his lower-middle class (upper-lower class?) subjects intimately, and always invests them with size and dignity. Victor is convincingly beat down by a life he should never have lived, Esther by her refusal to abandon the faint hopes that have sustained and enslaved her, and Walter by the success that's long separated him from his family. And each of these concerns is respected and addressed.
But Miller's method of doing so results in a plot that synopsizes far better than it plays. He so front-loads all the questions and rear-loads all the answers (including some to questions that aren't asked) that The Price feels less like a finished drama than a staged reading of a sketchbook, with every idea verbalized but few connecting threads tying them all together. Much must be taken on faith, if faith that you're not given a chance to build on your own; it's dropped upon you when needed. The only way for this to work (as well as it can, anyway) is if the cast is so in tune that you don't question the presence of the divisions between them from the get-go; you discover what the issues are, not that they are.
Good though the members of this cast might be, they fall short of that ideal and don't register as either an integrated family or an integrated ensemble. Ruffalo's existentially exhausted Victor doesn't occupy the same emotional universe as Hecht's upscale-slumming Esther or Shalhoub's low-key, good-guy-gone-wrong Walter. Each of their performances would make sense alone, and their monologues, temporarily walled off from the direct input of others, are as strong as this production gets. But because the last third of the play revolves around exploring how and why linked souls can be forced to make different, life-altering choices, the explanation stutters when coming from three people who aren't withering appendages of the same issue-laden family.
If Kinney could have unified them more, his staging is otherwise strong, with the oppressive nature of the brothers' personal history kept constantly in sharp focus. Derek McLane's dreamlike set highlights this, with its many floating furniture pieces and imposing cityscape in the background; it's aided by Sarah J. Holden's class-conscious costumes and David Weiner's moody lights, which capture the same mood, though Jesse Tabish's original music veers a bit too much toward melodrama to support the Serious Intentions that are otherwise out in full force.
Except, of course, with DeVito, though you won't find yourself doubting that he and Gregory take their charge seriously. They land with more immediate power than anything else, and if that's disrupting to the fragile alchemy, it makes those chunks of the evening enjoyable. Still, misapplied charm can grate, and as Gregory keeps injecting himself into the action just when he's needed to resolve a simmering conflict, you may wish he'd just let the leads alone to work on their problems in peace. There's no mistaking Miller's hand in driving his points home, as with a jackhammer. The unavoidability of that is all the more reason to treat The Price with the gentle, thoughtful touch it doesn't receive enough of here.
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