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of-muppets-and-men · 5 years

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Qrow as Ruby’s Dad

I am fully aware of the ugly can of worms I am opening just by discussing this but whatever. Here we go.

Just a disclaimer, I mean no disrespect to Monty, Miles or Kerry. I am simply stating the possibility and leaving all options on the table.

The idea of Qrow being Ruby’s biological father has been around since Qrow was introduced back in Volume 3. And although it’s been shot down by the creator and current writers of the show, I’m going to go over as much I can to show that the theory/headcanon still has some level of validity.

This is also pretty long so brace yourself.

Point #1: The Writers

Monty originally “debunked” this theory while dismissing another by saying Yang and Ruby were half-sisters. And recently it was debunked again by Miles, who outright said Qrow wasn’t her dad. The word of the Writer’s is, under most circumstances, Law. But let me say this: What is the one thing you are supposed to do above all else? Preserving your narrative, meaning doing everything you can to protect your plot.

Many writers have concealed or just lied to their audience about certain plot points to maintain the story. And just because Monty, Miles and Kerry don’t seem like they would, doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of it.

Why would Monty lie? Because Ruby and Yang being sisters was what he had presented at the time. Qrow was only a name at the time, so revealing so detrimental so soon wouldn’t make any sense for the show’s longevity. Thus, he kept his lips sealed.

Now there’s Miles; why would he outright deny this theory. Well, if I had to guess, it would be to quell the speculation, to stop people from outwardly talking about it. Has he succeeded? For the most part, yes. Fans and Haters alike have stopped discussing it en mass, but it hasn’t stopped fanfic writers and artists much.

While debunking this theory, Miles gave his reasoning to be “Ruby just admires him so much that she mimics a lot of what Qrow does.”.

Let’s unpack that for a moment.

What about Ruby’s character is reminiscent of Qrow? Ruby is, by all accounts, opposite to Qrow in many facets of her personality. She overwhelmingly optimistic, despite witnessing the deaths of Penny and Pyrrha. She’s open and honest, though a bit naive and socially awkward, but after all she’s still a teenager. Qrow, from the few accounts we know of, is actually pretty suave and quite the ladies man too.

Basically, anything Ruby is, Qrow is not. The only real thing that statement applies too, is her love of her scythe, but even then that argument is flimsy. As an impressionable young girl with a passion for weapons/huntsman, and then seeing her uncle wielding the coolest weapon in entire show; I mean who wouldn’t want a scythe at that point.

Point #2: Appearance

First and foremost, the most obvious thing people tend to bring up; Ruby’s appearance. In current canon, Taiyang is Ruby’s father, but you’d never be able to tell as they share absolutely no physical traits or attributes. Already a bit strange, no? Now I get Ruby is SUPPOSED to be a near spitting image of her mom, Summer Rose, but to no share anything with Tai is a bit of stretch.

Then there’s Yang in stark (hehe) contrast; who is a near even split of her parents. She has Raven’s long bushy hair, is taller than most other girls, has Raven’s general shape of face and paler skin, but is blonde and has lilac eyes; a combination of Raven’s red eyes and Tai’s blue eyes (even though that isn’t how genetics works but whatever). Even Yang’s outfits have been greatly inspired by Tai’s in terms of colour palette and design.

Even comparing other characters within RWBY, such as Weiss, Blake or Ren, have a striking resemblance to both their parents/siblings. So for Ruby to not designed in a similar fashion is odd to say the least. Ruby isn’t exactly identical to Qrow by means, she stills shares a great deal more with Qrow than we’ve ever seen with Taiyang.

Qrow is also a fraternal twin. Or in other words, Ruby is also liable to look like Raven too. Male and Female character models are different looking in RWBY, so it’s reasonable to think to Ruby would share some traits with her could-be aunt.

Ruby’s current overall aesthetic has subtle cues from both Qrow and Summer. Dark but red tipped hair, her mother’s eyes and a near identical outfit. Ruby’s cloak is red and tattered like Qrow’s, but large and hooded like Summer’s. Her aura is red, but generates flower petals when she uses her semblance. Ruby even had Cross as her emblem, until it was changed to be the same as her mom’s. But even still, she had cross pins in her cloak till her outfit change in Volume 4. Only one character shares this cross motif, and it’s you guessed it, Qrow.

One minor thing is that Ruby’s alternative outfit in Volume 2, dubbed Slayer, gives her a noticeably large resemblance to Qrow; even more so than her current or former outfits.

I’m very aware that any of this could be just simple coincidence and random choices in design but let me say this. Colour is an underlying basis for RWBY, and it plays a semi essential role in the show’s lore. So for it’s main protagonist’s colour pallette have next to nothing to do with her actual parent, but share parallels and such to someone she has no genetic relation to is, to me, unbelievably suspect. If Ruby was a strawberry blonde or even a bit tanned, we wouldn’t be even having this discussion, but given everything we know, it just doesn’t add up.

I’ve seen a handful of people say that it doesn’t matter that Ruby doesn’t look like Taiyang or It’s okay because not all children look like both parents. Well that may be true in reality, but in RWBY, this is contrary to the underlying theme of the show.

Point #3: Ruby’s Mentor

Let’s look at Ruby’s phenomenal skill with the scythe. As we well know, Qrow was her mentor and taught her most of her current fighting skills. However, this begs the question of why Qrow taught her and not Taiyang. Taiyang is incredibly skilled at hand to hand combat and is evidently a good teacher, as he trained Yang and currently still is a professor/licensed huntsman.

So why is Ruby so utterly abysmal without Crescent Rose? Since she’s Tai’s daughter, you’d think she’d be at least somewhat talented like Yang but such isn’t the case here. Why would Taiyang heavily train Yang, but leave Ruby practically defenseless (given her dream of being a huntress too)? Seems a bit strange no matter how you look at it.

However. There is something I noticed about Qrow. We know and seen how badass he is with Harbinger in tow; his skills are nothing to scoff at. Many in the RWBY universe are aware of Qrow’s prowess and would prefer to not engage him at all. But when Harbinger was wretched from his hand during his fight with Tyrian, he showed that he is capable without his weapon.

The thing that’s intriguing is he looked very rigid and doesn’t seem too confident without his scythe, especially comparing him to hand-to-hand combatants like Yang or Mercury. It felt like it was just a ‘screw it’ moment so to speak. A weird thing to point out, I know, but it creates another parallel between him and Ruby. Masters of the scythe that don’t fare too well without it.

Point #4: Ruby’s Name

A small thing to point is why Ruby has her surname as Rose. Ruby Xiao Long doesn’t flow off the tongue by any stretch, but there must be some other reason why she hasn’t taken Tai’s last name. Is it to honour Summer? Or is it because she isn’t a Xiao Long at all?

Now a point I don’t love but must mention is the line from Qrow’s theme song Bad Luck Charm.

The line in question is “You don’t want the burden of my name”. Many believe it is Qrow referring to Ruby and how she’s better not being known as a Branwen. As Qrow mentioned, his tribe is a group of “killers and thieves” and likely didn’t want a innocent child to be associated with such a group. There’s a chance it could mean he deliberately convinced Summer to let Ruby have her name, to protect her from the Tribe’s retribution. If Ruby was a Branwen on top of being a SEW, it would likely make her a target for not only Salem’s forces but bounty hunters too. (Going after Ruby to punish the “Traitor” so to speak)

Point #5: Qrow’s Semblance

An argument against Qrow being Ruby’s Dad is that it doesn’t make sense to hide the truth from her but then teach her the most difficult weapon to master in Remnant. While at first glance, this is a fair argument, but let me dive a bit deeper.

In Episode 8 of Volume 4, we learned that Qrow’s semblance is Misfortune. It intermittently causes bad luck to every person around him, from simple inconveniences like a bartender dropping a glass to life threatening things like a massive beam almost falling on Ruby. This gives him a logical reason for his loner persona.

He can’t control what will and can happen to his friends, his allies, or his family. He is, much to his own grief, a constant danger to those he loves. Why does this matter? Because he’d be Ruby’s only remaining parent; meaning she’d always want to be with him, ironically putting herself in more danger. He’d keep the truth from her until she was hopefully old to understand why he kept it from her.

Qrow was also a former Professor at Signal Academy. Though most of the details of his career as a teacher are sadly unknown, It can be at least gathered his semblance wasn’t potent enough to cause too much trouble on campus or he’d have never been allowed as a teacher in the first place (perhaps it’s less effective in crowds?).

Now Qrow likely would have trained Ruby in a controlled environment to ensure his semblance would cause as little damage as possible. Qrow and Ruby are arguably the two closest characters in the series as far as we know and they have been shown to be this way. They understand each other, know each other’s mannerisms and Ruby even gets Qrow pervy jokes. So it’s no shock to think Qrow knew much she idolized the hunter lifestyle and helped her live out her dream, all the while getting to spend time with his baby girl.

Point #6: The Timeline

Another thing many have taken note of is the amount of time it took Taiyang to father both Yang and Ruby. The math is a bit difficult as we don’t know Yang’s birthday, but let’s get an estimate.

As of Volume 6, Yang is about 19 and Ruby is about 17.

Ruby’s birthday is October 31st, so she was conceived near the end of January or early February. Yang was likely already around 15 months (give or take) at the time of Ruby’s conception. In short, Taiyang would have had Yang, been abandoned by Raven, gotten together with Summer and impregnated her in little more than a year. A situation like this is not impossible, but it is extremely unlikely.

Getting over a significant other varies per person, but given how Tai talks about Raven; it doesn’t seem like their relationship has run its course quite yet. Summer was most likely helping Tai because he genuinely needed it. Dealing with a newborn and the fact his lover just left him alone, Tai wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind.

In “Two steps forward and two steps back”, Tai finally opens up to Yang about her mother. The way he speaks about Raven feels as though he still fondly remembers her, despite her leaving so abruptly. It feels as if he still loves her, but if that’s the case, why would he shack up with Summer and have another child so quickly? Anyway you slice it, this is a pretty irresponsible thing to do.

UNLESS, Taiyang was never a part of the equation and Summer and Qrow were together the entire time.

Another thing people tend to point is why Qrow would have Ruby believe Taiyang was her father and Yang her sister. Simple, he didn’t want her to feel isolated. Her mom was gone, and he couldn’t there for her. Children can be cruel, and Ruby not having a dad around would definitely be fuel for any and all types of bullying. Making Ruby and Yang “sisters” would have been made things simple; Qrow was already Yang’s Uncle so why not Ruby’s too.

And if this were canon, it would mean Qrow gave up his only child, just so she could have some semblance of a proper family; something he never had or would be able to give her. That is weapon’s grade bittersweet.

A reason Qrow could be hesitant to reveal himself is because of the backlash. Ruby is just a teenager and to drop a bomb on her like that would be a terrible thing to do. Tai wouldn’t be her dad, Yang wouldn’t be her sister and she’d have to come to terms with the fact the two adults she trusted the most have been actively lying to her face her entire life. Qrow is fully aware of the fact of how this revelation could shatter her whole world. So instead of causing her anguish, he lets her live in happy ignorance with her friends.

Point #7: Scenes of Interest

Now there is a handful of moments from the show that highlight the relationship between Ruby and Qrow. I’m going to over a few that are questionable, to me at least.

First the most notable scene is from finale of Volume 3. Ruby is safely at home, in bed, while Taiyang patiently waits for her to awaken. When she does, she asks Tai about what happened. In his brief recollection, he makes a small mention of her silver eyed abilities. Ruby asks him to clarify, but Taiyang immediately dismisses the subject.

Enter Qrow and he then asks Taiyang to “give them a minute”. Taiyang retorts but ultimately leaves to make tea, letting Ruby and Qrow talk. He asks her if she recalls what happened, to which she does through tears. Seemingly out of nowhere, Qrow then asks if she remembered what Ozpin first said to her; something about silver eyes. He goes off about supposed legendary warriors he Grimm singularly feared and how Ruby was special just like her mom.

(The line ‘You’re special, Ruby. and not in the “daddy loves his special angel” kinda way’ is also really interesting. Is it a throwaway line or foreshadowing?)

This seems like a relatively normal scenario until you realize a couple things. Why is Qrow asking Tai to leave the room? And why does Tai give practically no resistance to the notion? Taiyang should have absolute authority, not only as Ruby’s father, but as the owner of the household too. Yet, he relinquishes control of the situation as if it wasn’t his place, as if he knew he shouldn’t be there.

Qrow’s simple yet sincere plea of ‘Tai… please.’ is peculiar because it sounds like he needed to do this, as if it was his responsibility to Ruby. Tai even gives Qrow a small scowl when he exits the room, so there is some discord here, but not enough Tai to act on it. Reinforcing the idea that Tai knows he shouldn’t argue.

Stranger still, Qrow is the one that tells Ruby of her abilities and the first person to liken her to Summer. The fact Qrow, who isn’t an open book by ANY means, was the one to tell her such important albeit limited information about her lineage, while Tai continued to keep as much as he could from her is a dubious sign something is up. As a parent, it should have been Taiyang's duty to comfort Ruby in such trying times, telling her about herself and about Summer.

Another scene that was weird to me was in ‘A Much Needed Talk’. After Qrow finished telling Team RNJR of the gods, maidens, relicts and so on, Ruby asks him if there was anything else he wanted to tell them. A second after she asked, Raven in corvid form perches herself on a nearby branch, prompting Qrow to say “not tonight”. But what could Qrow possibly say that Raven doesn’t already know about? Raven is already privy to Ozpin and Salem’s secret war, about maidens and the relicts. What information could Qrow not want Raven to know about? (A secret child perhaps? Imagine the blackmail between Raven and Qrow if this were the case)

Even over the course of the show, Qrow has been continuously protecting Ruby all her life. Killing Grimm to keep safe and diving in at the last moment when she’s in a real bind. He goes unnecessarily out of his way for her, but doesn’t do the same when his actual niece needs it. Very dedicated for an “Honorary Uncle”.

There are many minor nuances in Volume 6 (specifically Episodes 10-12) as well; many of which having to do with the way Qrow looks when Ruby is danger. When she misses the cliff, the camera switches to Qrow; absolutely horrified when she starts falling.

Another time is when Ruby gets bold and dives into the Mech’s cannon, the camera again pans to Qrow about to have a damn heart attack. The look on Qrow’s face both times conveys the idea of the fact Qrow is terrified of losing Ruby. Perhaps the same way he lost Summer, and perhaps lose the last piece of her he has left. Bottom line is, this doesn’t look like an uncle concerned for his niece, it’s a father worried for the safety of his child.

Lastly, when Qrow catches Ruby after she comes flying out the cannon. The worry on his face tells the same story. The gentle nudge and the panic when she doesn’t immediately wake up is highly reminiscent of when Tai waited for her to wake up in Volume 3; is my baby girl okay?

And a quick shoutout to @anthurak who made a very in-depth post about the Father-Daughter dynamic of Qrow and Ruby in Volume 6. I highly recommend it if haven’t read it already.

Point #8: Qrow’s Alcoholism and Summer’s Death

Though not overtly obvious, it would appear Qrow’s drinking problem and Summer’s passing are intertwined to a degree.

First there is the photo of his team from when they were still together. Why does he tote this ragged photo around with him? Well if you take a closer look, you can make out a ring of condensation around Summer. You typically only get such stains from cups and glasses, so it would seem Qrow used the photo as a coaster to hide the image of Summer.

But why? Well, Summer, being deceased, is the only member of his team he can’t see anymore, but it seems as though he was closer to her than the rest of STRQ.

From what can be gathered, Qrow broke down while drinking over the loss of Summer and was so devastated that he couldn’t even bare to look at a picture of her. Grief like this usually stems from the loss of someone of immeasurable importance to you; a parent, a child, or a significant other.

According to psychology, losing a spouse (child too but not applicable here) is the most stressful thing that can happen to an adult. A loss of this magnitude can have lasting effects for years after their passing. Given Qrow’s previously mentioned breakdown and continuous drinking, it’s very likely that Summer was of said importance to him. I’m not trying to undermine Taiyang’s own grief, giving that he “shut down” when Qrow told him what had happened.

Speaking of which When Qrow was still suffering from Tyrian’s venom, so much so he couldn’t walk, he mumbles something; “Tai… She’s not coming… Tai.”. The line implies that Qrow was there when Summer died and he was charged with letting Tai and the girls know happened.

Another moment that reinforces this is from Episode 10 of Volume 6 (8:12 timestamp). Qrow goes a tirade about he’s causing Jaune’s plan to go awry. Then he says ”I shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have let any you come. What was I THINKING?”. I don’t know about you but to me that sounds like he’s been down this road before. Like he knows something bad will happen again.

Qrow’s alcoholism is exacerbated when he finds out Salem, the very enemy he’s been fighting against for years, cannot be beaten.

This sends him deeper and deeper into despair and when he socks Ozcar in the jaw, he says “Meeting you was the worse luck of my life”. This is a remarkably harsh thing to say, but it feels as though he isn’t regarding himself in this line. Yes, much of Qrow’s life was spent fighting for Oz and all that time is ultimately wasted, but Qrow has lost many friends and allies in this war as well. Chiefest among them I’d say is Summer. If Qrow was intimate with Summer, then her presumably dying at the hands of Salem’s forces was entirely meaningless. The woman he loved and all the huntsman/huntresses he knew died for a lost cause, which is absolutely tragic.

It’s difficult to discuss Qrow being Ruby’s Dad without mentioning another theory; Was Qrow involved in Summer’s death? I personally think he was, though not intentionally. I’m under the impression Summer sacrificed herself to protect him on her last mission but that’s a topic for another time.

Because of Ruby’s large resemblance to her mom, it has been seen giving Qrow flashbacks of his time with Summer.

When Ruby stands up to Qrow for likely the first time in her life (Volume 6 episode 9), Qrow is not only taken aback by his niece’s strength of will, but is also recognizing how much she is like Summer. The camera angles and shots depict it as if it’s history repeating itself, the daughter walking in the mother’s footsteps. Not letting Qrow spew his bullshit is apparently a Rose thing.

Another time in Volume 6 is when Ruby decides to confront Cordovin alone. Qrow tries to stop her but she shoots a look while saying “i need you to trust me”. Qrow glances back at Ruby, and he ultimately relents, brought down by that stare. He’s definitely heard those words before.

While this may not seem important, it actually lays the foundation for when Qrow finally talks about Summer. After all, besides Yang, he’s the only person who’s actually mentioned her, albeit not by name. (Raven too but that was more of an insult)

Point #9: Thematic Purpose

Qrow being Ruby’s dad I find, adds more than it takes away. It doesn’t do as much for the overlaying plot, it does create many avenues for Character Development.

Take Ruby: she’s been the same bundle of optimism and joy since she first debuted. Then take this and flip it on it’s head. Her faith in her loved ones is now crumbling and is in desperate need of guidance. This revelation could potentially be the most impactful event of her entire life. This scenario would see Ruby peel away from her Paragon attitude and give her much needed development.

It would also explain a curious theme in Volume 4. Every member besides Ruby is seen with their father. Yang is shown training and gaining valuable lesson from Tai. Blake is shown to reconnect with her estranged parents for the first time in years. And sadly, it is shown how far Weiss’s relationship with her family has degraded, particularly with Jacque. Only Ruby is left out of this trend. Or is she? Only one person was beside her the whole time, protecting her from Grimm and Tyrian: Qrow.

This would shed much needed light on Qrow too. It would explain practically he’s done, everything he’s put himself through and why he’s loathed himself the entire way. This creates a unexpected parallel between him and Raven too. If Qrow is Ruby’s father, then it would mean he’s been loving her from the sidelines while never really exposing himself. In contrast, Raven abandoned her family though never denying who she was to Yang.

And speaking of Yang, it gives her and Ruby’s relationship development as well. This revelation would mean they are cousins, not sisters, but they could persevere beyond this fact. Imagine Yang embracing her cousin and simply saying “I don’t care what the truth is. You will ALWAYS be my little sister and nothing will change that.”

And a brief mention to the fact it sheds more light of the dynamic of Team STRQ and by extension Summer herself.

Closing Statement

Not gonna lie, I’m pretty biased on this subject because I adore this theory/head canon and Hummingbird/Flown North is my absolute favourite ship in the fandom without a shadow of a doubt (I prefer the name Hunter’s Dream). I know people who hate this theory/head canon will more than likely shit on this for all it’s worth. But I wanted to finally put my two cents in on this. I will always hope for this to be canon, even though it’s extremely unlikely.

If the writers at one point or another explain/debunk away any of what I've mentioned in the narrative and reinforce the current canon of Taiyang being Ruby’s Dad, I will gladly concede and admit that I was wrong. Until then, I will hold on to the last vestiges of this theory/head canon.

Let a man dream, okay?

#rwby #strq #qrow branwen #summer rose #ruby rose #qrow is ruby's dad #flown north #hummingbird #summer x qrow #qrow x summer #qrow is ruby's father

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cake-writes · 5 years

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Lifeline (Part One)

Pairings: Rebekah x Reader // eventual Elijah x Reader // eventual Kol x Reader // eventual Klaus x Reader (it’s gonna be a literal train wreck, folks)

Chapter Warnings: Suicide Attempt, Drug Use, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, 18+

Lifeline Master List // Spotify Playlist

The sky was black, with a spattering of sparkling stars and the fullest, brightest moon you’d ever seen. While the concrete against your back was cold, you felt anything but, even as the night's cool breeze blew through your hair.

No, you felt alright.

Better than alright.

The syringe in your hand clattered to the ground as your head lulled back, allowing you a full view of the dark sky from your place on the abandoned rooftop.

You were high. For the umpteenth time, you were high, albeit still blissfully aware of your demons. This would be the very last time you shot up, for you just couldn’t do it anymore. Your bills were overdue, you'd just lost your fourth job in six months, and worst of all, you couldn’t function properly, not anymore. Your parents were dead, and your only remaining family - your older brother - just happened to wish that you were.

You were broken, and tonight, it would end. You'd grant his wish at last. Life just wasn't worth living anymore.

With shaky hands, you pulled yourself over the railing, staring down at the distant street below. The headlights of the cars speeding along eighteen floors down seemed to sparkle just like the stars overhead. It was mesmerising, the flurry of activity even so late at night. Bourbon Street was always busy, of course, with every soul upon it so full of life and purpose. Every soul except for yours.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, gripping that cold metal railing. All you had to do was let go, and it would be over. Just let go. But you found that you couldn’t, no matter how miserable you knew you would be when your mind returned. Right now, you could remember all of your troubles, but you didn’t feel any kind of way about them - just a perfect, drug-induced euphoria. It was unfortunate to know that when you came down, that euphoria would fade, and you’d be longing for death once again.

You just had to jump.

One hand fell away from the railing, and you stretched out your body further over the empty expanse of nothing. Your breaths came out sharp and heavy as the heroin and adrenaline coursed through your veins and you inched closer and closer to your demise.

“Let go,” you whispered to yourself in a pathetic kind of pep-talk. “Just do it. It’s easy.”

“Is it?” came a voice from behind you, soft like velvet, startling you nearly enough to actually let go. Instead, you reacted in the opposite way: in an instant and with a sudden surge of strength, you yanked your body back against the railing, the cold metal biting harshly into your spine. Your knuckles went white as all ten of your fingers once again tightly wrapped around it.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, not looking away from your fate awaiting you below. “It will be.”

A dead silence followed your admission, long enough that you shifted to finally take a look at the mysterious stranger who'd joined you on the empty rooftop. Your breath immediately hitched as you took him in. His short brown hair was thoroughly mussed from the evening breeze, and his eyes were a rich chocolate, dark and full of some kind of mystery you wanted to solve. The neat, immaculate suit he wore was a stark contrast to your own unkempt clothing, black skinny jeans ripped in the knees and a old pair of Doc Martens. Hanging loosely on your small frame was a red and black plaid flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the fresh track marks on your arms.

“If it’s so easy,” he began in a casual tone, and you watched as his eyes trailed from your bare arms to your face, “then, first, won't you tell me why you want to—?” And then he nodded down at the traffic below, needing no further explanation.

He must have seen the evidence of your drug usage, if the pitiable look in his eyes was any indication. Feeling a flush of shame creep up your neck, you turned back to the nothingness in front of you, your voice cracking as you told him, “No.”

“Will another minute or two make a difference?” He moved closer, then, coming to stand right beside you on the other side of the railing. His arms came to rest against the railing as he leaned on it, the soft cloth of his sleeve brushing against your knuckles. “Please. Indulge me.”

You bit your lip, angry with yourself and with him because he was right.

“Tell me why, and then I’ll let you go.”

A shiver went through you at his words, smooth like silk and laced with authority - he would let you. You knew you didn’t need his permission, but for some stupid reason you still wanted to hear him say it. You wanted someone to tell you that it was okay to take that final leap.

Swallowing thickly, you hesitantly did as he asked. It was hard to open up, at first, and then suddenly you found yourself spilling all of your troubles to a literal stranger.

You told him about your money troubles, and about your broken family. Your parents were dead because of you – they’d been on their way to pick you up from your latest stint in rehab, when they got in a car accident due to the wet roads and stormy weather. Not only that, but you’d ruined your relationship with your older brother, too; he still lived where you and your parents used to, Small Town, USA, states away. The last straw had been when you stole from him to get high during the week of your parents’ funeral. You’d had mental health issues your entire life, and nothing had ever helped, so you self-medicated the only way you knew how.

Your new companion listened patiently, even as your body was wracked with sobs. A comforting hand came to rest on your shoulder, and then somehow you ended up on the safe side of the railing, ugly crying into the starched fabric of his pristine dress shirt. Your makeup ran, without a doubt leaving stains: yet another thing to add to your endless list of mistakes, but he didn't seem to care. Instead he held you gently, stroking your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, sweet beautiful lies like, "It'll be alright," and, "You aren't alone."

The sound of his deep voice coupled with the feeling of his breath against your ear sent you reeling. You desperately wanted to believe him.

"Thank you," you breathed, finally pulling away just enough to look up into his eyes where you could see yourself reflected from the moonlight. Black streaks of misery and mascara trailed down your cheeks to rough, chapped lips, red and swollen from the endless abuse - biting - you put them through. Your hair was a mess, your face was flushed, and your eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

A beautiful disaster. You were very clearly not sober, even if your high was slowly fading.

The warmth of his embrace contrasted sharply with the chill of the wind against your wet cheeks, and you shivered, finally feeling the cold after being outside for what felt like hours. When he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, you took a step back, the realisation of what you had just done finally sinking in. You’d gone and spilled your life’s story to a stranger, and here he was, taking care of you so well just like people like him always did, people so perfect and put together. You hated being treated so kindly when you didn't deserve a lick of it - but, at the same time, you craved it. You wanted to feel loved, and the man in front of you did a very good job of that - even if it was all a lie.

You held his jacket tightly around yourself as you looked back upon the bustling city below. Your desire to jump had faded along with your high. You’d shot up on this rooftop so that you’d finally have the courage to end it all, and now, again, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Worse still was that you couldn’t think clearly with the smell of him overloading your senses, a heady mix of cinnamon and musk.

“Go.” At the sound of his voice, your eyes snapped back to him and he gestured to the other side of the railing. “I won’t stop you. Although I would like to know your name, first, if that's alright.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line, not wanting to admit that you no longer had the courage to do it. Your fingers gripped the cool metal of the railing again, but you didn’t pull yourself over; instead, you gave him your name. You'd already exposed your soul to him, so what else did you have left to lose?

He said your name once, as if testing the feel of it on his tongue, before he added, “I’m Elijah.”

“Nice to meet you,” you responded automatically, before you snorted derisively at how stupid it was to say with what you were about to do. “It's a shame we've only met now. I think I would have liked to know you, Elijah.”

He let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, and for a few moments the pair of you just stood there, appreciating the silence. The night was quiet, save for the distant sounds of traffic down below and the whistling of the winter wind. As the seconds passed, an unspoken truth started to permeate the air: you weren't going to jump.

Another shiver went through you from a particularly cold gust, and you studied his profile, wondering why the hell he would want to spend his time here, talking you down from the ledge, instead of doing something - anything - else. That was when he caught your gaze, and in his eyes danced not the pity or judgement you expected to see but a dark sort of admiration, like you were a riddle just waiting to be solved. Within moments, you found yourself lost in a trance, enraptured by everything that he was and everything you wanted him to be.

He spoke again, softly, but his words reverberated in your ears as he compelled you. "Go, lovely girl. Be happy.”

Even though he’d given you the choice to jump, you walked away. Your hand had just come to rest on the doorknob of the stairwell door when he called your name, again, and when you turned back to him, he was already right in front of you.

Then he compelled you again, this time to forget.

65 notes · View notes

restlessmelodrama · 6 years

Text

Say I Never Mattered Chapter 8*:･ﾟ✧

Steve Harrington x Y/N Henderson (Slowburn)

Warnings: mention of domestic abuse, mention of alcohol addiction, angst, swearing

Wordcount: 9.416

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 /

Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Playlist ❦ Moodboard

A/N: Hi, I really haven’t updated this in a long ass time, haven’t I?

I’m sorry about that, but to make up for it this Chapter is super long.

I’m glad I took my time to finish writing Chapter 8 because it is going to be the last one. I’m honestly sad, that it’s over and that I have to leave my babies behind, but everything has to end at some point and we’ve reached that point.

Thank you for all your sweet comments and messages, for every single follow like or reblog. I did not think that anyone would read this story but you did and I’m really thankful for it! <33

So, I hope you like the last Chapter as much as the 7 prior ones.

Enjoy reading!

My requests are still open, so if you feel like requesting a plot etc, go ahead!

Disclaimer: Sorry in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors I made, English is not my native language.

...

The sound of the blue Camaro’s engine, everyone in the small town of Hawkins knew by heart by now was still roaring through the street.

The chief came down the few steps leading from that hell house onto the driveway. His step determined.

“He’s got to be involved somehow.“, Hopper whispered angrily, more to himself than to his colleague, as he hurried past him to get to his car, parked a few houses down on Jackson Road.

“Kid usually means trouble. I’m gonna go find out what the hell that was all about.“, he added, now more audible for the confused Officer and also the small audience that had gathered around, the only barrier between them and the Henderson property, the police line, like they were in a civic auditorium in the days of ancient Rome. Hungry for answers.

“What about the kids?”, Powell asked hands on his hips.

“What about them?“, Hopper replied, still walking and trying to seem oblivious to the fact that he had not sent anyone over to the hospital yet.

“Someone needs to go take their statements and see how the girl is doing.“, Powell explained although he knew that the chief was well aware of what he had meant.

Hopper had walked around the car to the driver’s side and stopped there for a moment, his heart skipping a beat when he mentioned you. It took him a few seconds, to gather his thoughts and find the right words to respond.

“Yeah… Right. Sure. Um, take Callahan with you, I think the State Troopers got it here.“, the chief stammered, nodding and trying to convince himself that he was doing what was best and opened the car door.

“Jim, are you serious? You… know these kids. And Callahan… you know how he can be. Don’t you think they-“, Powell started with frustration in his voice but never got to finish his sentence.

“See you later!“, the chief called out, completely ignoring the fact that he was still being spoken to, by getting in and slamming the door shut behind him, putting the Chevrolet in drive.

“Hopper!“, Powell called out, throwing his hands up in despair as the chief was already halfway down the street.

He turned around to see the neighbours, still standing there, realizing that they had easily followed their conversation and that the gossip about Billy Hargrove being involved in the investigation and the fact that the chief himself was involved with the Henderson family or at least the Henderson kids, would be all over town soon. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before telling them calmly to return back to their homes and give them some space.

The radio was running but stuck between channels, causing this awful white noise that was making the man so anxious, he had to turn it off immediately.

And then the silence kicked in.

He was alone for the first time after getting the horrible message over his radio that had shaken him to his core.

“Report of domestic abuse at 45 Jackson Road-“

Was all he heard before the panic set in and his thoughts were running wild. His movements becoming mechanical, his breathing losing its natural flow. Him just speeding towards the street in the rather run-down part of Hawkins.

The door had been left open. He had run inside. Finding Andrew. Unconscious. In a puddle of blood.

He checked his pulse shouting at the evenly shocked Callahan, who had been with him on patrol when the message came in, to call an ambulance, which Steve had already done, but they didn’t know that yet.

His eyes were wandering around for any evidence indicating what might have happened here when he noticed the knife and the baseball bat on the floor, which in his panicked state he hadn’t before. He manically started checking Andrew everywhere for stab wounds or something, ANYTHING else that could possibly have made him loose so much blood. But he couldn’t find any.

And that’s when it hit him.

He wasn’t standing in Andrews blood.

He was standing in Y/N’s or Dustin’s.

His stomach turned and he walked outside where a few other Police Officers soon to be the whole cavalry had just arrived, with flashing lights but no sirens. No point. No hurry. Callahan catching them up with what he believed to have happened here. The hospital had told the man that an ambulance was already on its way and that three kids coming from that address had arrived in the ER a few minutes ago. One of them with minor injuries, one with none and one with life-threatening ones. The only girl.

Life-threatening.

With that replaying in his head, Hopper started functioning again.

What leads to him now. Driving, Alone.

The thoughts coming back.

His head a storm.

Guilt. It felt like a stone caught in his throat, he kept expecting to choke on, but he didn’t.

He did everything he could have done. Didn’t he?

If he really did…? Everything was still nothing.

He let him hurt you. He should have checked on you more and be more pressuring when it came to talking about him. He should have gotten you out of there. Should have gotten you help. He had known you were afraid of him.

He had seen the fear in your Y/E/C tired eyes in the hospital, when you were tugging on his sleeve, pleading him to stop confronting your abuser. A quiet premonition. Yet, he just left you.

And he was so scared to lose you, that he didn’t dare to check on you now.

He couldn’t even bring up enough courage to drive in the direction of that hospital.

Maybe that was also the reason why he hadn't looked after you more often before.

He appeared to be scared of the ugly truth that was life. But here was the thing, the truth does not change if you ignore it.

He still did… for temporary happiness. It’s in the human nature. People turn blind eyed. No one likes to think about what’s going on behind closed doors. Especially Hopper.

After dealing with Sarah’s death, there had always been darkness around him. Isolating him from everyone, for a long time. And he was working so hard on letting that go, that he wasn’t able…

-No, did not want to see how lost you were and how a former friend of his had been this monster all along. Now he was wrapped up in this darkness all over again.

The thought of losing you crossed his mind and he was about to pull over, tears forming in his eyes when he spotted the Camaro parked on the side of the intersection of Cornwallis and Kerley, the boys had named Mirkwood.

Right, this moment his guilt suddenly turned into anger. His knuckles turning white around the steering wheel as he was slowly driving towards the empty car.

...

The waiting room of the ER was packed at this point. Mostly older people, shooting the two distraught looking boys weird or pitiful looks. Dustin sat in a chair in the corner of the room, that to Steve was beginning to feel smaller, darker and sadder per second. The curly haired boy had taken his shoes off and was reading the new Spider-Man comic. Amazing Spider-Man (Vol. 1) #258, he had told Steve proudly. He had read most of the earlier editions and was obsessed with the series. Reading it now he almost looked content, which was a small relief for Steve. The comic was, what Dustin had brought with him, from the cafeteria, along with a cup of coffee for the older boy. Steve was sitting in the same corner of the room but on the cold floor next to a vending machine. His head was pounding. He felt a little drowsy.

Mrs. Morgan had insisted on him getting medical attention before she had to leave and he ended up getting stitches on his forehead and a wrist splint.

He was taking the last sip of his already cold coffee. Normally he jugged any type of liquid containing caffeine in under two minutes. But not in this case. Dustin had put sugar in it, which was way too sweet for his taste. But the little dork had looked happy being able to do something for his friend, that Steve did not have the heart to tell him that. So his coffee was cold now, almost as cold as the floor.

Dustin was going on about Peter Parker’s costume being revealed to be a living symbiotic creature, attempting to bond to him permanently when the door to the waiting room opened and Joyce Byers and Nancy Wheeler came walking in.

Dustin sprung to his feet as soon as he spotted them and ran over, immediately being engulfed into a tight hug.

“Oh Honey…“, Joyce croaked out, brushing through Dustin’s messy hair and pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Steve got up as well, abandoning his cup on the floor and walking towards them. Nancy met him halfway and they stood still for a moment, sharing a look that was contorted with pain. Nancy taking in every single detail of the one she thought she had formerly loved. Despite the fact that she had come clean about the lie she had held up so long, a few weeks ago, Steve obviously still meant a lot to her and seeing him standing there covered in blood. Your blood. She just wanted to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. The moment seemed endless to Steve but eventually, Nancy let out a sad sigh and broke the distance between them, pulling her former lover into a hug as well. She smelled of vanilla, which he knew was her shampoo. And it felt so familiar and warm. The arguments they’ve had suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore.

He was glad she was there. When they pulled away Joyce and Dustin stood next to them and the woman reached out to take Steve’s hand. She pressed it lightly and locked eyes with the teen,

“How is she?“, she asked voice shaking, the question pulling Steve back to reality…

“We… don’t know yet. They haven’t talked to us. They immediately took her to surgery, when we got here and… they aren’t back yet.“, Steve responded gulping and anxiously licking his lips.

Everyone kept silent for a minute, eyes pinned to the floor.

“What… what happened, Steve?“, Nancy broke the silence, nervously.

Steve sighed, not ready to explain it once again. He had left them and everyone else a message on their answering machines explaining where they were and that your father was the reason for that. They practically knew already but he guessed they needed confirmation that this wasn’t just a bad dream. That this was intoxicatingly prosaic.

“I think we should head outside to talk.“, Steve suggested, not wanting everyone in the waiting room to listen to their conversation. There was going to be enough talk about it and he did not feel the need to stir the fire.

Joyce agreed. And they headed down the hall in the direction of the next exit, while Nancy and Dustin stayed behind since the boy had to put his sneakers back on, first.

“Where is everyone?“, Steve asked sounding beat while walking through the white-tiled hallway.

“Jonathan is with the kids and Kali. I don’t know, if you-“, Joyce tried to answer, but was interrupted, “Yeah, I- uh I heard.“, he cut her off.

He wasn’t ready to deal with anything other dimensional right now since he already felt like worlds had collided and he had ended up in a totally different dimension than he’d been in this morning. His very own Upside-Down.

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the short walk.

“Was Hopper here?“, Joyce wanted to know as they reached the exit.

Steve pushed open the door, holding it so Joyce could walk through first.

He followed closely behind.

“Um, no. He wasn’t. Actually, no one from the department was.

They haven’t even taken our statements yet.“, Steve stated, clenching his jar. He was frustrated. No one seemed to care enough to come by. It had been hours since and they hadn’t even received a call.

“Maybe Jim is dealing with Andrew…“, Joyce set up a theory, obviously trying to soothe him, noticing how tense he got.

“Yeah, maybe.“, Steve sighed, deciding at the same moment that it was better to just let it go.

...

Hopper had made his way out of the car and passed the empty, blue Camaro. He had glanced inside, seeing the keys still in the ignition. Untypical. Billy Hargrove worshipped the vehicle and to leave it like that was very out of character. The chief took a look around but didn’t see a sign of the teen, so he decided to follow the little trail, right next to the parked car, leading into the forest. It was unlikely that Billy went any further than this, with his car unlocked, waiting to be stolen. The trail was muddy in places and he watched his step, seeing were boots had slipped, erasing the traces of footprints laid before.

And indeed after a few meters, Hopper began to hear dull sounds he couldn’t quite make out. Moments after, he spotted the Hargrove boy.

Billy was hammering his fists against an old oak tree with full force, letting out grunts.

Hopper stood for a second, confusion on his features. It was like watching a car accident. You want to stop staring, but you can’t. Only when Billy winced in pain, he decided he had seen enough.

He whistled and proceeded to yell, “Hargrove! What the hell are you-“ His words were stuck in his throat, when Billy turned around tears streaming down his face, chest heaving like he had just run a marathon.

Billy couldn’t make out who the man was at first until his vision focused and he let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head,

“Of course, the chief of police followed me here. What else is new!“, he snorted in a cocky tone.

Billy’s knuckles were bleeding, his eyes red and swollen. His denim jacket torn on his underarm. The sight of that made the chief push his anger aside.

“You wanna tell me what happened?“, Hopper asked slowly walking towards the mullet-headed emotional mess of a boy.

“I sure don’t want to.“, Billy responded laughing, towering over the chief, thin and sharp-looking, as though you got to close to him, you’d cut yourself.

Hopper was about to roll his eyes, feeling the anger burn up again when Billy’s smile dropped slowly, and he added, “But, I’m gonna.“, feeling acutely the sharp shame of his actions washing over him.

...

“Alright that would be all“, Callahan exclaimed closing his notebook and patting Dustin on the shoulder while flashing him a bright smile. Both him and Steve gave him displeased looks as he got up to leave the room. He waited for his partner to do the same, but Powell tilted his head down, signalizing him to leave without him. So, he shrugged his shoulders and did, whistling some happy tune.

Powell was still sitting at the table across from them.

Dustin opened his mouth only to close it again, like a fish, so caught off guard by the officer's lack of empathy.

“I’m sorry, he isn’t the most thoughtful person around.“, Powell sighed, apologizing for his colleague’s indifferent behavior.

“No shit.“, Steve whispered in response.

When they’d shown up, he’d been glad that someone finally was there to take their statements but he had expected that someone to be Jim Hopper. This felt important enough for Hopper to at least drop by. But apparently, it wasn’t.

While Steve was fuming about how the situation was handled, Dustin had other concerns,

“And he really is fine?“, he asked for the fourth time, guilt in his voice.

“Small concussion and a cut over one of his eyes. Nothing too bad, don’t worry and don’t you feel guilty. You made the right call. You were just protecting your sister“, Powell tried to console the kid.

The boy nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Steve’s eyes were wandering back and forth between them. He was still speechless about how these people behaved. Like this was some all day, everyday procedure. They were only another day to them. They acted like everything was just fine, like you were just fine, not ringing for your life.

And Hopper not being there was the cherry on top.

He wanted to scream at the man in front of him, but he swallowed his anger, and settled for, “More importantly where is the asshole and who is making sure he’s staying there and not coming here?“

But the officer was still able to hear the hostility in Steve Harrington’s voice and gave him a depreciating look while crossing his arms over his chest and answering in a more determined tone,

“He was brought to a hospital a few towns over. A few state troopers went-“, he started only to be interrupted by the now visibly angry brunett, “State Troopers?!“, he laughed,

“Where the hell is Hopper than?“

Steve stood up from the table throwing his hands up in despair before running them quickly over his face and groaning. This wasn’t real.

They were in the same quiet room again, where he sat with the social lady before and he felt trapped. Too much was on his shoulders. He felt like breaking down, but there was Dustin, sitting next to him and he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t cry anymore and he really shouldn’t start a fight with a police officer. At the same time he knew that he couldn’t keep it together for much longer and again he began to wonder how in the world you did exactly that, for all those years.

How did you manage to cope with all that?

Without letting your grades slip.

Without missing work…

Or forgetting someone's birthday.

How the fuck did you manage to listen to Steve’s and everyone else’s whining without flipping your shit because you had it so much worse?

Everything in him started burning at the thought of that and it was as if a vice was pressing against his temples, threatening his sanity.

“You need to calm down.“, Powell said calmly, watching Steve dig his nails into his scalp,

“The chief… he-… he’s following a different lead.“

That’s when Steve snapped. The last bit of will to keep it together for Dustin evaporated at this statement.

“A DIFFERENT LEAD?“, he screamed slamming his hands down on the table.

“YOU HAVE TWO WITNESSES, ONE PERP, AND ONE-…“, he stopped, catching his breath and lowering his voice, “…one victim!“, he hissed.

“So, what do you mean… a different fucking lead? The case is pretty clear! Or isn’t it?“

“Yes, but..“, Powell sighed again and Steve began to wonder if the guy was able to do anything else, “I can’t tell you much…, he added.

“This is an ongoing police investigation. I’m sorry, kid.“

“An ongoing police investigation, I am part of!

FUCK THAT! I’m out of here!“, Steve yelled before rushing out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Leaving the heavy-hearted Dustin and a speechless Officer behind.

Steve ran through the long hall, passing by the waiting room where Joyce and Nancy were sitting and going straight for the staircase. He went up a story and opened the door leading into, yet another white-tailed hallway. He felt claustrophobic, this place slowly began to seem like a maze, he wasn’t sure he would be able to escape. He began to spin in a circle until his eyes meet what he was searching for: the sign “Smoker’s Corner“ and he started walking towards it.

A few seconds later he pushed outside onto the small patio he had found you on, the last time you were here and sat down in the same place you had.

He closed his eyes and brought his hands, covered in the soft fabric of his hoodie to his face, as the tears began to fall. Letting his breath, he didn’t realize he was holding escape his lungs. He couldn’t breathe in this goddamn place, his chest felt like sand.

...

Billy came clean to Hopper about everything, starting with that party and him touching you inappropriately the next day to make you afraid of him and to never, on any account, let his power and superiority be underestimated again, showing his rampant chauvinism.

And finally hearing from Reed about the complicated relationship you had with your father and how he felt about you dating someone; him driving to the “Hideaway“, one of the few bars in the county;

And lying to the man with the watery eyes, a slight tremor in his hands about your relationship to Steve Harrington. And how his reaction made him think of his dad on those days where he needed to keep his voice and head down to survive.

Hopper was so close to choking Billy until he mentioned his own father and despite the hatred, the chief felt towards the teen, everything suddenly made sense. Billy Hargrove was a victim as well. He had become like the very person who wrecked him. He had grown into someone he swore he’d never be and Hopper felt bad for him but still angry and sick about what he had done. And there would be consequences to his actions but right now the troubled teenager needed help. Not “tough love“, like lots of abusive parents like to put it. Not another bad example of toxic masculinity and anger management issues.

“Please… Say Something!“, Billy cried out.

Hopper didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything yet. And he certainly didn’t know how he was supposed to tell him what was on his mind without letting him off the leash easily and without any yelling?

He took a step towards him. Billy fully preparing himself to be physically attacked, but not even flinching because he felt like he deserved what was going to happen to him. For the first time, he really deserved it. Whatever it would be.

But instead, the chief spoke in a soft tone, “You really screwed up, kid. You really, really did and there are going to be consequences for what you have done…, he sighed, “But we’re going to fix this.“

Billy Hargrove stood still in disbelief. He didn’t understand.

“You hear me? It’s not too late to turn your life around. To not become like your old man.

I believe you’re not a bad person, Billy. I think you’re someone who lost track of what’s right or wrong over the course of time you only experienced “wrong“.

You were honest with me today and you showing remorse, speaks for your character.

It’s going to be hard, but we’re gonna deal with this. The right way.“, Hopper finished.

He slightly squeezed the boys shoulder. And Billy’s tears started falling again. It had really taken all of Hopper to not bury the boy two feet under right then and there, but this was the right choice.

He had gotten through to him. Finally, someone had.

...

“I kissed her.“, Steve spat out when the silence became unbearable.

He tilted his head to look at the surprised, curly-haired girl sitting next to him.

“Oh… wow.“, Nancy croaked out, having forgotten to clear her throat before speaking.

Certainly not what she had expected him to say.

“Yesterday.“, he said a gentle smile playing on his lips, his brown eyes finding their warmth again for a millisecond.

It hadn't been scary to Nancy to see his expression so cold and bitter earlier because it was the way he had looked at her for the last few weeks after she had drunkenly dropped the “I-don’t-love-you-bomb“ on him. What scared her today was how dead his eyes looked. The one’s normally so warm they were able to light up a whole room when you were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of them.

But now talking about you, that light came back. And it became clear to Nancy that Steve was moved on as well and her heart felt a little lighter.

“And did she kiss you back?“, Nancy asked, bumping his shoulder, grinning sheepishly.

It took Steve a few seconds to respond.

And again a smile brightened up his features, “… She did.“

But this time it hurt. Because this smile was almost nostalgic.

Nancy knew he thought he would never get to kiss you again and she felt the tears build up in her eyes, but she bit them back, wrapping her arm around the much taller boy's shoulders and resting her head against his. Reaching for his bruised hands with her free one.

...

You remember lights above you, bright as suns, the sound of beeping that never seemed to stop.

You had stared at these lights so hard, dark clouds were forming over your eyes.

You couldn’t remember where you were for a moment. You starred at the sterile bright ceiling looking for triggers.

And than it all came back faintly.

It all happened lightening quick.

He came home.

He started screaming.

He grabbed you.

The floor.

A knife.

Everything going black, every time he… What did he do?

The pain being unbearable.

Muffled voices.

His weight disappearing off you, once.

Him coming back.

Your brothers terrified eyes appearing over the man’s shoulder and than the bat in the air.

His weight disappearing for the second time.

Hands wrapping around your upper body.

Steve.

Yelling.

Outside.

Inside.

Yelling.

Car engine.

Inside again.

Lights.

Bright Lights.

“Y/N Henderson, HER NAME! Y/N Henderson.“

Steve.

His hand leaving your’s.

Darkness.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

A hand on your shoulder.

You flinched, so afraid it was him, but the hand immediately disappeared.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.“, you melted when you recognized his voice and his head appeared in your sight. Steve.

Steve.

His eyes were red and his hair messy. He hadn’t slept in a long time.

“Every- Everything is alright. You’re safe. I’m- I’m here.“, Steve cried out.

A small smile settling on his features.

He was desperate for your touch but he did not want to scare you.

A tear escaped his eye’s and landed on your cheek, the salty warmth bringing reality back.

Reality doesn’t wait until your ready. It’s like a persistent mosquito determined to suck your blood. You weren’t ready for it yet but reality was ready for you.

So, you found Steve’s hand and pressed it as hard as you could loud sobs escaping your throat.

He kneeled down beside the bed and pressed his forehead against yours. In this moment Steve felt whole again. And you sat there crying for what felt like hours.

Which in reality were only a few minutes, when your brother and some nurses arrived.

Dustin taking Steve’s place. Your body erupting into trembles, like millions of earthquakes were hitting you at the same time.

Your breath kept catching in your throat, but you croaked out,“I love you. I love you so much.“

You gasped and more earthquakes erupted through your blood, while the boys were both sobbing next to you.

When the doctors came they sent Steve and Dustin out. Letting go of Steve’s hand was one of the hardest things you ever had to do.

Your body felt cold after you had lost contact with his soft skin.

And you were lingering after his touch.

While the doctors told you everything and made sure you were alright, the waiting room erupted into tears of joy and relief.

Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, and Lucas were all there.

And Joyce was soon to be as well since they had trusted Billy to stay with El and Kali.

Weird, right?

Here’s everything you missed:

Day 1:

After Steve had talked to Nancy on the patio, a nurse came to tell them that you were stable but not awake yet. The amount of relief washing through everyone’s bodies had been overwhelming, but with that, another waiting game had begun.

Hopper had taken Billy to the police station, to take his statement and then had dropped him off at the Byer’s place, so someone would have an eye on him and he didn’t have to go home, while the chief drove down to the hospital, finally having gathered enough courage to.

When he arrived. Steve and Hopper had gotten into a fight. Hopper told him that he had suspected that something was a little off in the Henderson household and admitted that he knew about your father’s alcohol abuse.

“You knew?!“, Steve had screamed at him.

“I- No. I just… I wasn’t sure.“, the man answered tears threatening to fall.

“Well, why didn’t you make sure?!“, Steve yelled.“

“I don’t know… I don’t know.“, Hopper cried out, adding, “But you can’t tell me you were completely oblivious to the fact that something was wrong. You must have noticed something as well.“

And Steve had left him then and there standing in the middle of the parking lot, everything growing over his head.

The teenager had been awfully quiet towards Hopper since than and had only heard of Billy’s involvement on hearsay account. He was not at all surprised by that and he didn’t have it in him to hear about the reasons behind it. The only thing he could focus on was you and his guilt eating him alive.

Day 2:

Hopper had tried to apologize to Steve for making him feel like he any had guilt to carry.

But had only received a cold stare back.

Meanwhile, Dustin had left with Joyce to take a shower, get some fresh clothes for him and Steve and to sleep for a little while on something more comfortable than a chair in a waiting room.

They had also gone to the police station to pick up his walkman and your favorite book, he had asked Powell to get.

A few hours later, Dustin had been listening to your favorite Queen cassette while Steve was reading through the book finally understanding why you liked it so much. He had never read a something faster. Normally he’d get tired of it after two or three pages but he felt like he was keeping a piece of you close to him while reading your favorite story. He’d even been surprised at how early it still was when he finished it. The only times he had looked up while reading was when a nurse walked by. Him giving them a questioning look and them shaking their head with a sad smile on their lips. Nancy’s comforting hand on his knee, a small smile thrown in her direction, so she knew he was alright and then back to reading.

Between the last page and the cover of the book were your polaroids and he took them out smiling. He handed Nancy the one with her, Barbara and Y/N, and Dustin the one of him as a baby and the one of the party on Halloween this past year. Steve stared at the one of you two sleeping on his cousin’s couch and he thought of that whole trip. The memory of it led to him to letting out a laugh, grabbing the others attention. “Where was that?“, Max had asked.

“In Chicago at my cousin's house. That was our last day there. I remember she was acting a little weird and when we went to go to sleep she asked if she could sleep on the couch with me instead of the blow-up mattress. My cousin took the picture when he left for work around 4 am waking us both.“, his smile grew wider and wider while telling the story.

Nancy had bitten down on her lip, thinking that, that must have been the day you had told her about.

“You went to a dance together?“, Will wanted to know while looking at the other pictures in awe.

“Yeah, a snowball. In fact our very first one“, Steve had let him know, his gaze and smile dropping.

A few minutes later the kids were occupied with deciding what they wanted to eat since Hopper had offered to take them all to Benny’s Burgers when Nancy asked Steve if they could talk outside for a minute.

They headed to the small patio again and Nancy began telling Steve something you had entrusted her with and she’d swore she’d never tell.

“You remember, that one summer Y/N basically lived in the library?“, Nancy started.

“Yeah, of course, I remember. I barely saw her for months. I had to drag her out of that place every few days because she had forgotten that we wanted to meet up.“, he chuckled, adding,“Why are you asking?“

“Well, I spent an awful lot of time there too and I noticed very quickly that she wasn’t reading something for class or any other normal book. She was searching through newspapers from Chicago…“, Nancy told him, pausing a few seconds to wait for his reaction. Maybe he already knew.

But he looked confused, “What? Why would she do that?“, he asked furrowing his brows.

“That’s what I wondered as well and when I went over there to ask her about it, I startled her and she hid her notebook behind her back, clearly searching for a quick lie to answer with. But after a few seconds had passed she seemed to decide that I caught her and there really was no point in lying. So, she told me…

She was searching for her mother.“, Nancy explained.

“Oh god“, Steve sighed. Another memory of you falling apart. “Do you know, if she ever found something?“

Nancy nodded, “Yes, she found a wedding announcement. Her mother had remarried.“

Steve closed his eyes letting out a sigh. His chest was heavy again. He felt so sorry for you.

“But that’s not the end of it“, Nancy interrupted Steve’s thoughts, “I don’t know how she knew her mom was in Chicago or how she contacted her, but after you came back she showed up at my house crying and telling me she went to meet her.“

Steve starred at Nancy with wide eye’s. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t you tell him?

“She said that I was the only person who knew anyway and that she didn’t want to ruin your trip, by telling you.“, the curly haired girl said, knowing that Steve would ask himself that sooner or later.

He took a deep breath before asking, “So how… how did it go?“

...

You were so nervous, you’d bought a train ticket the day before. And had told Steve that you were going to get takeout while he was catching up with his aunt who was visiting as well.

You hadn’t spoken to your mother since she had left but you’d been able to find out where she worked now and you were on your way there to talk to her. You truly missed your mom, even though missing her felt more like anger than sadness. You had all those scenarios in your head how this could go. How you’d feel when you’d see her, how she would react. But you were in no way prepared for what was actually going to happen. You got off the train and immediately spotted the small café your mother supposedly worked at. You were so anxious, your panic became as large as planets standing up front. You needed release and finally dared to head inside.

It was bigger than it had looked from the outside. It was actually kind of nice. But you didn’t have a lot of time to take in all the details. You were interrupted by a familiar friendly voice behind you, “Hi, how can I help you?“

You turned around slowly. You felt like you saw a ghost.

She looked better. Healthier. She was dressed nicely and her hair was up in a tight bun.

It took her a few seconds to recognize you since you were wearing sunglasses and you had swiftly blossomed into adolescence like it was a trifle. The only thing that had seemingly been easy on you. “Hi, mom“, was the only thing you brought out. She was staring at you thunderstruck. Her smile had dropped. “What are you doing here?“, she whispered angrily, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. Your words started slipping away. Was she really mad at you for looking for her? Inside your pockets, your hands started trembling. She looked around the room apparently making sure you weren’t watched before she pulled you outside. The closer you got to her, the less you felt yourself. If she’d only smile, or hug you or ask how you’ve been. How you got here. If you were okay, alone, safe. Anything. But she said nothing. She was just staring you down.

“I don’t have any money right now.“, was the first thing that she spat out, lighting a cigarette.

You were about to cry already. She seemed so cold. She didn’t care for you.

“I don’t want any money, I-“, you tried to tell her, but were interrupted, “What else do you want that makes you think showing up here is okay?“, she said into her chest. You gulped. You really didn’t want her to see you cry. It felt wrong to let her see.

“I saw that you married… some guy and that you lived here now and I… I wanted to see how you were and ask you-“, you took a deep breath trying not to cry or scream at her, “why you left us and if you were planning on ever talking to your kids again?“

She took a step towards you and for a second you thought she might actually hug you. You were almost as tall as she was, now.

She reached in her pocket and took out an envelope. You didn’t take it so she grabbed your hand and curled your fingers around the edges.

“What is this?“, you asked confused.

“500 dollars. That’s all I have. I meant to deposit it later.“, she told you.

“Mom I-“, you tried to interrupt, but she just continued, speaking a lot louder this time,

“You are going to take that. Get on the next train. Get your ass back home and never return here. Do you understand me? I have a new life now and I don’t need none of you try and ruin it. I don’t want you showing up again. This is as far as I go, Y/N.“

You were standing there, speechless.

She took a last pull from her cigarette and crushed it under her sneakers.

She didn’t look up at you again and you weren’t able to look at her for too long, tears threatening to fall. Your vision became blurry.

“We all know it’s better that way. That’s just not us. We don’t work out. Just try not to fuck up your brother’s life too, okay?“, she said.

And just like that she started to walk away but turned suddenly, wrapping her arms around you and you thought she’d at least want to hug you goodbye but she pressed her mouth against your ear, whispering, “Come back here and you don’t leave with 500 Dollars, you leave with less you came with. Be smart.“

“You were always so smart”, she added brushing her fingers through your hair.

Then she was gone and your body grew hot, hot as you stood there on the urge of tears. The emptiness of the world, so huge, and so small, all at once.

You took it all in and promised yourself to never embarrass yourself like that again, by coming here and to never let your brother know. The pain of growing up in this family had already been enough, he didn’t have to know about your mother and her new life, she desperately tried to keep you out of.

You looked at the envelope in your hands. You thought about going back in there and throwing it in her face, screaming at her, letting her know how you felt. Instead, you took out a 20 dollar bill and shoved the envelope in your backpack, before walking towards a Chinese restaurant with the huge sign “takeout“, half a block down, risking one last look at your mother who was standing behind the bar, smiling like nothing had happened. And you finally let the sobs escape.

Those 480 dollars was the first money you put away for your brother's college savings.

...

“And I think she never heard from her since“, Nancy sighed after telling Steve every detail she remembered.

“Thanks for telling me, Nance. I guess, I really don’t know anything about her.“, he let out a sad chuckle.

The two teenagers talked to Mrs. Morgan about the situation with your mother that afternoon and she decided that it was better to leave her out of this for now.

...

It was 5:30 pm on the dot when the nurse’s head shaking turned into a nodding and they were finally able to see you.

Steve took your hand that night and didn’t let go until the next morning when he was sent away because they had to change your bandages.

The light had buzzed over your heads, illuminating your skin, pale and grey.

Steve could hear you breathing evenly, above the sound of the buzzing lights.

He gazed down at you and he was sure he could wake you up when he just called your name loud enough. He waited for your eyes to flick open, but they didn’t.

Sitting outside with the others his eyes were dry and his throat empty. The only thing he could think about was your stupid fight and how much time that seemingly had cost you, although it was just a couple of days, it felt like you had missed lightyears. You were so stupid for being apart.

Day 3:

Hopper took Steve’s place for a couple of hours while he drove home to change and shower.

He walked into an empty house. As always.

The first thing he did was check the answering machine.

“No new messages.“

So, they had heard about what happened. Yet, they just ignored it their son’s frantic messages.

His next destination was the kitchen because his mom sometimes had the decency to at least leave him little notes.

“Hope you and your friend feel better. If anything comes up, call Dad’s lawyer. We’re in NYC for a while. Love you. L.H“

There it was neatly pinned to the fridge…

...

Joyce had read some of “84, Charing Crossroad“ to you, although the doctor’s told her that you definitely didn’t hear any of it. Fiat least it made her feel better and Dustin fall asleep.

Around lunch, Powell had dropped by to update the chief on Andrew Henderson. He was remaining in custody until there’d be a trial, he was refusing to speak to them and he had asked for a lawyer and a beer.

Billy had called the hospital a few times asking about you. They always told him that they couldn’t give him any information about you and that he should talk to your relatives. But he didn’t dare to show up, which seemed like a good choice.

And in the evening you had finally woken up. Steve by your side.

Steve.

...

Your wounds were healing slowly. You had spent almost a month in the hospital. You were lucky, the doctors had told you. Not what you necessarily would call a person that had just been stabbed eleven times by their own father, but you went with it. The knife didn’t hit any vital organs so there wouldn’t be permanent damages. When you were discharged Steve came to pick you up, you were still a bit wobbly on your legs, so he let you lean against him until you got to the exit, where he stopped in his tracks, “You ready to go home?“, he asked, his lips curling up into a gentle smile.

Home. That word meant something entirely different to you now and it was a good thing. You grinned back, “Yes.“

That’s all Steve needed to here. He swooped you off your feed and carried you to his car.

“Harrington, let me go!“, you laughed.

“If I let you walk we’re here till tomorrow morning because I parked all the way back there and someone surely wouldn’t appreciate me bringing you back after curfew on the first fucking day. I had to beg, to pick you up. Not kidding.“, he chuckled, but then added, “Besides, I’ll never let you go again.“

You gave him a warm smile before pressing your lips against his. You feel the sparks go off.

...

On your way home, you passed Jackson Road.

Steve took your hand.

Passing the house, you felt like an electrical wire was strung tight through your whole body and you weren’t sure if you ever would be able to go back inside.

...

Hoppers car was the first thing you spotted.

“Is this it?“, you asked.

“Yeah, It’s really pretty here. Really quiet. I think that’s why he couldn’t bare living here alone.“, Steve answered, pulling into a small driveway.

You looked into the window and there was your brother giving you a big smile and waving excitedly. Then his head disappeared and the front door opened. The man stepped outside and gave you a small smile as well, making this really warm feeling rise in your chest. It only lasted a few seconds because Steve ripped the door of the red BMW open, the cold December air engulfing you in seconds.

...

“Welcome home, Y/N.“, he welcomed you in.

You couldn’t help but hug him tightly, tears welling in your Y/E/C eyes, “Thank you, Jim. For… for everything.“

...

Hopper had done everything in his power from the moment on you had told him that you would be happy to live with him, to make that happen.

From countless meetings, with Mrs. Morgan to moving back into the house, his daughter had taken her last breath.

And it had all worked out.

A few weeks ago on a Wednesday morning, Dustin, El, and Hopper came to visit you in the hospital.

Dustin was waving around a color chart.

“What do you think? Eggshell or Lavender?“, your brother asked snobbishly.

“What do you mean?“, you laughed.

“For your new room of course!“, he blurted out a bit too excited.

You had been caught off guard. Your mouth agape, your eyes were wandering between Hopper, El and your brother that were all smiling like maniacs.

“Oh my god!“, you cried out, realizing what was going on.

“We get to live with you?“

“Yes, I got the papers this morning.“, Hopper announced happily.

At this point, you were just sobbing. Tears of joy.

...

Christmas had passed by really quickly. You had had a family dinner. Which from now on consisted of Hopper, El, Dustin, you and… Kali. A friend of El’s who was visiting from Sweden, you were told. Steve was there too. He had lunch with his parents and decided that he was coming over for dinner.

He even was allowed to stay the night, as long as you kept the door to your room open. That had ended up being painted in a soft lavender.

Hopper passing through the hall, every few minutes.

“It’s kind of crazy“, you chuckled.

“What?“, Steve asked.

“We could have had so many of those nights in the other house“, you started, “…also more private ones“, you added laughing and kissing Steve’s neck playfully. He laughed pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but it just way. And that is okay. We have each other now.“, he said his eyes finding yours.

“Yeah we do“, you whispered.

A few seconds of silence followed before you heard Hopper coming down the hall again.

“But I also have this guard dog listening to everything we’re saying outside now!“, you added loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey!“, Hopper exclaimed, “I’m not listening to what your saying… I’m listening to know when you stop. Keep on talking! Keeps you two busy.“, he mumbled going back to his spot down the hall in the living room.

You two erupted into laughter.

Steve stopped abruptly, catching your attention.

You stared in his warm, brown eyes, that felt like sunshine and he stared into your Y/EC ones.

“I love you.“, he sighed happily.

And your heart fluttered.

YES. YES. YES. That’s all you had been wanting to hear, and all he’d been wanting to say since the moment you opened your eyes in the hospital.

“I love you too.“, you answered.

...

One month later.

You were nervously fiddling on the hem of your black wrap dress, starring in the mirror. All you wanted to do was hide in a hoodie and your sweatpants. Make coffee and crawl back into your cozy bed with Steve. But you couldn’t not today. Your brother’s appeared behind you in the mirror. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a black tie, and a white button-down, his usually messy hair combed back and gelled to his head.

He smiled and stretched his hand out towards you. You intertwined your fingers with his, your hand cold and shaking.

“We got this.“, Dustin said in a soft voice. “It’ll finally be over tonight.“

You nodded, taking a deep breath, before turning around to hug Dusty.

“You’re right. We got this. We got us.“, you whispered.

The drive was silent. Hopper and Dustin sat in the front, you and Steve, who was wearing a navy blue suit as well, sat in the back seat.

When Hopper pulled up into the parking spot, you froze. You felt the panic rising inside of you.

But you got out of the car anyway. This would over by tonight, you kept thinking.

Just one more day and you never had to see him again.

In the hall, you saw a familiar face. Billy had just walked around the corner on the other end.

He stopped when he noticed you. He had cut his hair short and was also in a suit.

He gave you a small wave and you could feel Steve tense up next to you, but you held him back.

You smiled at him, gently.

When Hopper told you about his situation and how everything was being handled, you decided to allow yourself to forgive him and it had been easier than you expected.

Billy was going to anger management classes and he was put in other therapy. He also had to do a shit-ton of hours of community service at the Police station and Mrs. Morgan was checking in on him and his family every few weeks. He was on his way to get better and who were you to let any of that stand in the way of his and your healing process. Steve had a harder time with just letting it go through.

...

You sat down in the courtroom. You had been able to give your statement the day before, without Andrew Henderson’s presence and so did Steve and Dustin.

So, you all got to sit next to everyone else.

The judge came in and you all stood up. You were nervously biting your lip.

He said a few opening words and you got to sit down again.

Everything around you drawn out, until you heard his name and the doors opened, to reveal the man you were so afraid of. The air was caught in your throat and you had to look at him. You had to.

He had gotten even thinner, he almost disappeared in his big suit. His face all sunken in.

And then his gaze fell on you. You felt like you were choking.

Just for a minute, you thought you saw something, some wave of emotions, flit across his face.

In his eyes was something you had never seen before. Not on him. It took you a few seconds to recognize it for what it was.

Remorse. Regret.

You wanted to scream. Everything hurt.

You felt like you couldn’t make it through.

But then Steve’s hand was on your’s and you turned to look at him into his beautiful eyes.

And the sunshine feeling came back, once again drawing everything else out.

You did not know how, but his touch made you feel less torn.

You weren’t sure what peace felt like but at that moment you thought it must feel a lot like him.

...

Andrew Henderson pleaded guilty in all charges.

You couldn’t believe it and so couldn’t his assigned attorney, who honestly looked really relieved about it.

Your father looked small up there, so pathetic.

He’d always been cigarettes and whiskey.

Dirty white shirts and the couch he was always passed out on.

He was Y/E/C eyes and scratchy cheek stubble.

He was days of not getting up of the floor, days of screaming or scary silence.

Yet, somehow he had looked the most pathetic you ever seen him at that moment when he did the right thing for the first time. Maybe because it looked like it was killing him.

...

It felt weird.

It really was over now.

You had never thought that that moment would come and it took you a few seconds to realize that was it. The moment you had dreamed off, you watched thunderstruck as he was being cuffed and escorted out without looking at you again.

On the way out everyone congratulated you on winning, tears were shed and you couldn’t help but smile. You were free everything was about to get so much easier. You stood there Steve’s hand in yours surrounded by your favorite people that all came to support you and your little brother who seemed relieved as well. It was like the sorrow was washed away until there was nothing but calm.

You stepped outside and the first warm rays of sunshine fell through the thick blanket of clouds, opening up the sky and you just knew that things were going to be alright from now on, whatever was going to come. You’d get through it together because you finally understood what trusting someone really meant.

...

On the way home you were really silent, you sat next to Steve in the car that often had felt more like home to you than any other place ever had and your heart felt full. Hopper had left with Joyce and her kids, leaving you three to drive back alone. You listened to the other’s conversing about the outcome of the trial, how happy they were but your thoughts were already somewhere else. This chapter was closed. Finally closed. Shut.

...

“Everything okay, Y/N?“, Steve asked placing his hand on your knee, waiting for you to take it.

You smiled intertwining your fingers with his, “Yeah, everything is fine. I was just thinking.“

“About what?“, Dustin wanted to know.

“I was thinking about how everything is over now... and when one of you guys is finally going to tell me what the actual hell happened to our poor cat. Like the real story, you know.“, you said looking into your brother's eyes through the rearview mirror, seeing his expression change from calm to panicked within seconds.

You couldn’t leave it alone any longer. You needed to know now.

Steve mirrored Dustin’s expression perfectly, mouth agape, not really knowing what to say.

They had discussed telling you with Hopper and the other’s before but they never actually came to the topic of how to.

They starred at each other for a bit before Steve stopped the car on the side of the road and nervously croaking out, “Dusty, you… you wanna?…“

“Um, yeah. I-“, he said looking at you with narrowed eyes, thinking about how to break to you gently that your beloved Mews had been eaten alive by some other dimensional creature,

when you chuckled and said, “Come on guys, it can’t be that bad.“, Dustin and Steve shared another intense look before they both shrugged and your brother began, “Well,…“

But that’s a different story.

...

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington/reader #stranger things imagine #say i never mattered #joe keery #joe keery x reader #stranger things

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fillogree · 6 years

Text

into the snake's den

this is an in-depth hodpodge of character analysis, theory and headcanons for the sides. this does get a little darker and includes some extremes for the sides personality. please proceed with caution.

so we’ve seen that being in the other sides’ rooms effects the other sides’ personalities, & i do very much like the idea of the others growing scales from prolonged exposure in deceit’s room, but i’d like to add onto the theory of lying.

in ‘can lying be good’ we got a number of manipulation tactics from deceit– this was the antagonist that i adored, rather than his scooby doo villainy & opposite day lying. so i’d like to add those types of manipulation to the sides.

Logan:

deceit!patton’s main method of manipulation suits logan the most. he backed up the idea of lying through proof. referring to immanuel kant’s argument. we’ve seen logan use reasoning to describe why the world is beautiful, & why progress and hard work are necessary. so using logic to justify a situation he feels is more beneficial would be his go to. he already does this now.

“it actually would make sense for you to place your dreams on hold, thomas. while they do bring you joy, there are so many more other things in this life you could focus on. moreover, if you pursued a career in this field of study instead, you’d find yourself more financially stable. moreover your schedule would be more consistent, you would sleep & eat better. the pros of placing a stop to your creative endeavors & pursuing something more in line with what you had previously planned greatly outweigh any cons that would arise from the transition.”

not a lie, necessarily. but presenting evidence as irrefutable fact in order to preserve the values logan finds most important.

continued exposure in deceit's room would drive logan not only to get others to see his point of view but get frustrated when they couldn't. he'd become more and more critical, and self righteous. at his very worst his personality could become obsessive. severe and hyper critical of others while rationalizing his own mania and delusions of righteousness.

Disney Hero: Milo Thatch - (Atlantis) Disney Villain: Judge Claude Frollo - (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Roman:

roman already admitted deceit always had nice things to say about him. we also know that roman is our dramatic boy & gets easily carried away. we’ve seen how thomas gets swept away in roman’s enthusiasm as well from the video 'why do we get out of bed in the morning?’ i don’t think our prince would realize he was even lying because he would speak with such hyperbole & enthusiasm as he already does.

“thomas! how could you even think for a moment that what you were doing is wrong?! look at your adoring fans! look at the fandom you’ve created just by being yourself! you’re a celebrity! practically a legend! you are adored internationally! fame is basically your birthright, you have been in front of a camera since you were a child after all! sure there are other things that should be focused on, but they could get done at literally any time! you have to do this now! there has never been a better opportunity to do this, & anyone who gets slighted now will understand in the end! your friends adore you always, no matter what you do! their feelings couldn’t possibly get hurt in the wake of all the joy you’ll be bringing into the world! you have to do this!”

roman’s lying would be the inverse of logan’s. rather than presenting facts he would rely on thomas’s feelings & joyful experiences. using the feeling of accomplishment & happiness to blind him, in a sense, of any potential fallout or reasons he shouldn’t listen to him. hyping him up to the point of unchecked confidence & enthusiasm.

continued exposure to deceit's room would twist roman from ego to pride, to narcissism. continued excitement and hyping up this confidence to an elevated but false sense of self could lead to a more histrionic personality type and a god-complex at his very worst.

Disney Hero: Timothy Q. Mouse - (Dumbo) Disney Villain: Jafar - (Aladdin)

Patton:

not to make this an angst fest, but we all already know– patton is the best liar there is. he would use the same little white lies he always does, only moreso. this was deceit!patton’s very first 'lie’ “logan! everyone’s favorite character! little lies like these are the ones we’ve learned and told ourselves and others since childhood. it’s the very reason why being deceitful can be considered an act of self preservation. lies like these are the ones we tell to avoid any potential bigger problems & patton is exceptional at it. lies like these, constantly told can be incredibly detrimental. these would be the worst types of lies for patton to form a habit out of because he values relationships & happiness more than actual goals in comparison to the other sides.

"hey there, kiddo! i know it’s been kind of a rough day, but dahlia said she could use someone to talk to. just tell her you're a little sleepy but you'd love to have her over! she needs ya!"

"uh-oh! you're not really going to tell camden his shirt is ugly, are you? that would hurt his feelings! tell him you love it! it would make him smile!"

"yikes! you slept in, instead of hanging out with valerie? just let her know it was a crucial day for filming! she'll understand. we can hang out next time and bring her present to apologize, right?!

lies like these are the reason deceit took patton's form, because little baby white lies don't seem like trouble at all until you twist them to delude yourself.

"anxious? no way! this seems like a perfectly safe thing to do, it could be fun!"

"leo couldn't be mad at ya, kiddo! he's probably just tired! just leave that message on read and let him get some rest!"

"sad? not a chance! we'll just watch something silly and not think about it!"

continued exposure to deceit's room would have patton continually minimizing his and thomas's problems. he'd start to become stubborn in his "everything is fine!" phase. this could lead to dissociation and retreating mentally. leaving patton repressed and probably unable to even speak his true feelings properly, even if he wanted to.

Disney Hero: Giselle - (Enchanted) Disney "Villain": Peter Pan - (Peter Pan)

Virgil:

oh boy. if you thought virge in his own room was bad, keep him out of deceit's. virgil and deceit are two sides of the same coin, and that's self preservation. the only difference between the two is intention.

anxiety is a worry that you can't really control. it's what makes you double check if the door is locked and review your test answers one more time. deception is the same thing but a but more selfish. both usually stem from that increase of adrenaline and nervous fluttering of butterfly wings in your tummy.

anxiety is: oh no! okay. what do we do to make sure this okay and safe? deceit is: ..!! what do i do to make sure i'm going to be safe?

in deceit's room virgil's anxiety is heightened. being hyper vigilant he would see the changes in the others right away. his lies would start off cutting and sharp to break any illusions the other sides had about themselves. lies that hurt, but would help his friends.

"no. logan, you're wrong. that doesn't make any sense at all."

"you're foolish for even thinking that, princey."

"i don't like any of your ideas at all patton. they're all horrible"

if the others were straying towards their worst selves, his lies would be almost delusional in his desperation, and he would basically become the embodiment of paranoia.

"everything that they said is right. you did do a bad job. you are a bad friend. you did fail that test. you aren't funny, clever, or creative. this is a mess. this is all just a mess."

"we have to leave right now. roman is going to get too excited and tell thomas to jump off a cliff. he's going to kill all of us"

"logan, if you keep feeding thomas that twisted logic he's going to believe it every single time. then he'll think all lies are the truth. you're ruining his mind, logan."

"patton. patton stop it. just stop it. you're the reason we're here. you're going to ruin everything. we're never going to be happy again."

prolonged exposure to deceit's room would take virgil from worried, to paranoid, to delirious mania. his worries would be amplified, the fear in his own mind would be loud, and the fear for his friends would be louder, but the thought there was nothing he could do would be thunderous. if not pulled from deceit's room quick enough, virgil could become catatonic in a last ditch effort to save himself and thomas.

Disney Hero: Flounder - (The Little Mermaid) Disney Villain: Robert Callaghan - (Big Hero 6)

Deceit:

deceit on his own in his room isn't nearly as bad as the sides in their worst states. he's just constantly looking out for number one. himself & thomas. like roman & logan his focus would be on accomplishment. he's got goals, drive & ambition, & he's not going to let thomas be inhibited by outside or inside forces.

he'd push thomas towards his goals & carefully construct each lie, pick out the right words, & subtly slither past any obligations that would keep him from them, all the while constantly reassuring thomas they're doing the right thing.

in his best state, deceit is a subtle manipulator utilizing roman's passion, & logan's sound reasoning as a basis for why thomas should do things. patton's love for those around him and virgil's worry would be warped into a basis for why it would be okay to be deceptive.

"what if your friends get mad? you can't hurt their feelings!"

in his worse state deceit has the power to make everyone else do what he wants. amplifying roman's enthusiasm, skewing logan's reasoning, blinding patton's sense of morality, and silencing virgil. there's nothing to worry about, because nothing is wrong. now do as i say.

Disney Hero: Captain Jack Sparrow - (Pirates of the Caribbean) Disney Villain: Mother Gothel - (Tangled)

#mine.txt #ss analysis #episode analysis #character analysis #sanders sides analysis #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina Part 34/? - Taormina

They finally catch up with Madame Desrosiers, and she has something surprising to say.

As they rumbled along the road to Taormina, Sir Stephen refused to let his argument against archaeology go. “For another thing,” he went on, “the people and places you go to see did not ask to be objects of wonder. Your Princess Sitamun, from what I have read of the Egyptians, hoped to have her funerary temple tended while her body and its sarcophagus rested undisturbed. Or think of the villages we saw on the island of Santorini. The people living there do nothing but serve the needs of visitors. They have no industries of their own – I heard a woman tell her tour group that even water must be brought in, for there is none native to the island.”

“Pilgrimage towns were the same,” said Nat. “During the high middle ages, tourism was almost the only industry in Santiago de Compostela.”

“But the people there were doing God’s work,” Sir Stephen said. “And the relics of Saint James were meant to be seen, so that they could perform their miracles. Saint James himself, were he able to watch, would be pleased. Could you say the same thing of the Egyptians?”

Natasha just sighed. They’d had this argument a dozen times before and they would doubtless have it again. Sir Stephen just didn’t like digging up the dead.

“You can’t speak for them,” Jim spoke up. “You’re not an ancient Egyptian. You only know what you think.”

“I think I have a better understanding of the peoples of old than any of you,” said Sir Stephen, in a voice that rejected the entire twenty-first century.

“Princess Sitamun lived nearly three thousand years ago,” said Natasha. “You were born nearly a thousand years ago, but that’s still closer to now than it was to her. Even if it wasn’t, two millennia is such a long time, I don’t think it matters. None of us know what the ancient Egyptians would have thought of us.”

“Then none of us should presume to speak for them,” said Sir Stephen.

“Let it go,” said Sharon, patting his arm. “You won’t convince them and they won’t convince you. Personally, I think the Egyptians don’t care, because they’re dead.”

Mount Etna itself had not been visible from Messina, only its towering column of cloud. As they got closer, with dusk closing in, the volcano itself emerged from among the hills, taller than all of them and with its peak shrouded in mist lit eerily red from within. The town of Taormina below it was a tiny place among a dozen similar tourist towns that looked down on the beach. It was all arranged along one narrow, meandering medieval street behind a city wall, where shops sold everything from cheesy souvenir magnets and keychains to expensive designer jewelry, beach gear to hand-made marionettes and everything in between.

With the volcano currently putting on such a show, the population of the little town had swollen to capacity and beyond. Not only was the main street full of shoppers, diners, and people enjoying various entertainments, roofs and balconies were covered with people, many of them with binoculars to view the mountain peak. The whole place felt like it was having a party… but there was also an undercurrent of something much more ominous. In particular, there were signs set up at the sides of the roads to direct people who were evacuating from higher up the slopes.

The six members of the CAAP and Jim made their way through the crowds of tourists, locals, and intermittent stray dogs to the Hotel Isabella. Like the Europa Palace in Messina, this one had four stars, but as rather unprepossessing from the outside. Its façade was a narrow stone building with an arched door, wedged in between a place selling football merchandise and another offering designer purses. Nat went to the front desk, and asked if Mrs. Desrosiers were there.

“You missed her,” the clerk, a balding man wizened from a lifetime in the sun, replied. It had become a depressingly familiar phrase, but what followed gave Nat renewed hope. “Only by about ten or fifteen minutes, though – she met a friend and they went out for supper. I don’t know when they’ll be back, but we have a bar if you’d like to wait for her.”

“What friend?” asked Natasha. He couldn’t mean Newton, could he? Every indication thad been that the two alchemists despised one another. If it weren’t Newton, though, that suggested there was a third person involved here and that was the last thing they needed. “Was it a German, with long white hair and a very ugly hat?”

“It was an older man,” the clerk said, “but I didn’t hear his voice enough to know if he were German.”

Newton was far from being history’s only famous alchemist. Desrosiers had said her husband was dead, but history and legend were full of characters like Paracelsus or Agricola who, if alchemy were a real thing, might well be still around causing trouble. That was a depressing thought, and it was mainly on that account that Nat decided to stick to believing Desrosiers’ friend was Newton until she saw evidence to the contrary.

“We’re gonna have to split up and search again,” she told her companions. “If we’re only a few minutes behind her, we can’t lose the opportunity.”

“Somebody’s gonna need to stay here in case she comes back,” said Allen.

“Then you do that,” Nat told him. “The rest of us will have to search the nearby restaurants.” Unlike in Kotor and Santorini, most of the restaurants in Taormina were indoors, rather than spilling out into the streets. There simply wasn’t room for them here. That would slow them down considerably.

Sharon and Sir Stephen went together, of course, as did Sam and Clint, who seemed to have bonded in mutual mistrust of Jim. That left Jim himself with Natasha – and that, she realized, meant they were going to have to talk about their sexual dalliance and what the rest of the group thought of it. Nat would definitely pass on what Allen had told her, but she wondered whether Jim would believe her. Would he think she was just sparing his feelings?

Sure enough, once they were away from the others, Jim brought it up almost immediately.

“I think I need to apologize,” he said. “I didn’t realize they were gonna be so… it was selfish of me to ask you, and…”

“Don’t,” said Nat. “I can’t take any more apologies. You asked my permission, I gave it to you, we both enjoyed it, and they don’t care as much as it looked like. I talked to Dad about it.”

It seemed he did believe the explanation when she passed it on, because he looked relieved. “That’s… still really awkward. But I wouldn’t want your colleagues to think less of you.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t,” said Nat. “Trust me, I wouldn’t let them.”

Jim had to smile a little at that. “I believe you.”

Meanwhile, Natasha had realized that the two of them were clearly marching down the street with a purpose – they were not blending in. “We look too much like we’re on a mission,” she said. “Slow down, and put an arm around me.”

Jim laughed.

“Seriously,” she gave him a poke.

“Just for the mission, huh?” asked Jim. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, until their hips touched. “Wouldn’t want to stand out.”

Nat smiled, too – she could have stopped herself, but right now it could be part of their act. She rarely got to enjoy this kind of closeness. Allen hugged her, but there was still a level on which he had to love her because he was, in whatever sense the word was meaningful, her father. It was possible to argue that Jim didn’t have much choice, either. He had no family or friends of his own, so if he needed human contact, his options to get it were extremely limited.

Yet at the same time… this was nice. Maybe the honesty had something to do with it. As Natasha had noted earlier, she rarely got to be honest with people. Allen encouraged her to be honest no matter how terrible the truth might be, and yet she rarely did, just because she was afraid of hurting him with it. Now, here she was and here was Jim, and they were both whatever they were. If either of them had wanted to get close to anybody else, they would have had to lie about it, but not with each other.

Nat’s phone buzzed. She stopped and pulled it out, and found a text message from Sharon.

We’ve got Desrosiers, it said. She’s alone at the sushi place above the bus parking.

On our way, Nat texted back. “Looks like we have to turn around,” she told Jim.

“Yeah, I saw,” he said. “Does this mean we stop blending in?”

“Of course not,” Nat said, and patted his hand on her hip, indicating she wanted it to stay right there.

Just outside the city gate, next to the self-consciously spectacular Excelsior Palace Hotel, was a very tiny mobile midway consisting of a merry-go-round and a bouncy castle in a car park. Just beyond those was a petrol station with a row of bank machines and a couple of elevators to go down to the parking garage below. Beside that was a little restaurant serving sushi and antipasto on a balcony overlooking the bay, and Madame Desrosiers was sitting there as if waiting for somebody.

She was, as always, flawlessly dressed in a flowing gray dress and very tall heels, with a tortoiseshell comb in her hair. She was sipping at a glass of water while staring out across the water at the lights on the Calabrian coast. Every so often, she would glance at her watch, but she kept her back to them at all times, which Natasha thought was suspicious in itself. If she were really expecting somebody, she ought to be facing the car park so she could see them coming.

Natasha approached. The others, who’d been waiting for her, Jim, and Allen to join them, followed her. When she got close to Desrosiers’ table, the woman looked up and said, “oh, it’s you again.”

“You say that as if you haven’t been sitting here for half an hour waiting for us,” said Nat.

Desrosiers sighed. “Very well, sit down,” she said. “I was worried I’d made it too difficult for you to find me, but I thought if I made it easy you’d get suspicious.”

“You’re right,” Nat said. “Right now I’m extremely suspicious.”

They arranged themselves around her. Natasha, Jim, and Sir Stephen sat with Madame Desrosiers, the other four at the table next to them. Nat did notice that although her back was to the door, Desrosiers was also sitting closest to it, with the least furniture in the way.

She didn’t try to run immediately, though. Instead, she looked at Jim and nodded. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine so far,” he replied. “I’d like to stay that way.”

Desrosiers shook her head. “There’s not much to be done for that. You can only continue to exist by being regularly replenished – and even then, you won’t change the way a human being would. You won’t get older, your hair won’t grow… you will look the way you do now for however long you last.”

Jim looked crushed. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he asked.

“Because you were already upset,” Desrosiers said.

He must feel like yet another bit of humanity had been stolen from him, Natasha thought. She felt sorry for him – and yet they had to stick to the point and learn as much as they could before Desrosiers ran off again. “Why did you want to meet us?” Nat asked. “Was it to give Jim more doses?” If it were only that, she would be… delighted on one level, deeply disappointed on another.

“No. The rest is at home in my workshop and I can’t spare it on short notice,” said Desrosiers. “I’m here to ask a favour. You have Neustadt’s notebooks. That’s why you went to Santorini, isn’t it? I need them.”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sharon carter #sam wilson #clint barton

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capblacksails · 6 years

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Honestly, why do I keep doing this to myself ???

Post-Canon. Silver-centered. John Silver is a lost man after having lost Madi. He goes to the only person he knows who understands his loss. And (un)surprisingly, here starts a journey full of love… (In short : It's +20 years of love(s). It's past hurts, and growth. It's tying Black Sails to Treasure Island, somehow. Includes also THE two scenes we've been robbed of in 4x10: James/John and Madi/John) (James/Thomas, James/John, John/Madi(past), James/Miranda/Thomas(past), Thomas&John). If this fic was BS soundtrack: It would be ‘Funeral At Sea’ I guess?

Read it all : FFnet / AO3

From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise)

I finally wrote it. I’ve been struggling with it for so long, even considered chickening out and making just a memo; but Madi deserved better, and so here it is. And now, I need a hug.

VI.

John excuses himself instead of stopping at their place for a card game after dinner. It's not in itself that unusual, but added to the off impression he had seemed to wear all day, and the fact that it's about 11 months that he arrived, James and Thomas can't help but think that it might be the anniversary of Madi's and their child's passing. And so James goes to check on him.

John is sitting outside, on the stairs before his door. His head is bowed down, forehead resting against one fisted hand, elbow on his knee, and James's heart constricts from such a sight: he doesn't think John is sobbing - he is too still for it; but his whole posture emanes utter despair. James approaches, making sure he makes enough noise in order not to spook John, then sits down next to him, elbows on his knees and hunched forward too, hands entangled. Only then does James notice the thin black braid of hair clutched in John's left fist, laced thrice around his hand.

John's eyes are still closed; and James can only hope the movie behind John's eyelids is the less horrible possible - even if it doesn't change a thing in the end, and if it is too horrible to comprehend anyway… James stays silent, until John finally inhales deeply once and then looks at him. John's face is tears clear, but his eyes are red-rimmed, and daggers to James's heart.

"Would you rather be alone? We thought you shouldn't be, but I don't want to intrude-"

"It's all right. I know you cherished her too."

"You could have told us."

"I didn't want to ruin your evening too. I was overconfident though apparently in my ability to hide it. I apologize."

"There is no need for it."

John sounds angry, even though is voice stays even, and James understands that his anger is directed inwards. "Yes there is. It's stupid. It's not like I need a date- What's about today that wasn't yesterday and won't be tomorrow anyway?"

"I understand."

John sighs: "I know."

James pursues: "And yet, it is so. Especially at the first mark."

"Well, I still think it's stupid. I'm stupid. (opening his palm, looking at the middle of it, where a tiny ribbon holds hair that is not Madi's tied to one end of Madi's braid) I keep locks of their hairs, as if they held answers I know they do not have; as if there was any strength to draw from them when I know there is none left; as if their hairs could even matter, when there is only forever their absence, and my responsability..."

James's heart breaks all over again. "It wasn't your fault. I know you came here because you felt you should be punished, but I just hope one day you'll realize that it wasn't your fault."

Still looking at his palm, John sighs; and it sounds empty. "You keep believing me to be greater than I am. I am not you, nor Thomas. I came here simply because you had promised me once you'd help; and I had believed you then. I was crying over their bodies, feeling everything and nothing, feeling hollow; and The Queen was holding me and calling me 'Son'; and the only thing I could think of, no matter how disgusting it felt, was (that it weren't her arms I needed around me - John had thought but would never tell - and) how relieved, just that once, I was, about knowing where you were - because it meant I knew where to find you. That's the ugly truth of it. I came here simply because I trusted you, and no other, to stop the pain, one way or another."

I trusted *you, and no other*, *to stop the pain, one way or another*.

James can't help but shout out, everything spiralling down, out of control: "John!?"

He realizes he just called John by his name; and it's strange, that a name that he so often hears in his own mind, and that has so often passed his lips while talking to Thomas, has never been heard before by the one it actually defines.

James can't exactly explain the reason for it. He knows it might have started from the military habit to use last names; both for commodity (for instance, how many Johns would be on one ship - probably a dozen...), and for distance, maybe (because why should anyone wish to get too close to ones one may lose - not every soldier was granted a long carreer...) - even if sometimes it ended meaning more than exchanging first names too somehow... There had been a few exceptions on the Walrus; but the crew had chosen them, and so at some point James just had had to finally abide by that fact, each time it had happened. But the thing is - James has never directly adressed John 'Silver' either... It went from 'you' (of course in the beginning James truly couldn't even want to address the bloody thief by his name), to another kind of 'you'... But why had James sort of stubbornly kept not using John's first name - no matter how close they had finally become? Was it because he wasn't sure it was his name to start with? Was it because he felt his not-naming as a talisman that would protect John, because he had lost all the ones he had called by their first names? Probably both?

But regardless how significant it might be, that he finally called him 'John'? Right now, it doesn't even matter. The only things noteworthy are that John had wanted to end it all - worse: might still want to end it all? - and that John had thought - hoped even maybe? - that James might be the one doing the ending?

John thankfully meets his eyes again. His voice is both low and away - yet kind, as if he wills to soothe James's evident panick. "I wanted to join them. Not even out of guilt. Simply because it was the only way to follow them and be with them... But I knew Madi wouldn't have approved…"

James is reassured by the use of the past tense. But he still can't help but feel not only incomprehensive but also downright angry (not offended; just angry - which means it really hurts) that John could even think - but he tries to convey only the first and not the second: "But how could you think I could - I would -"

John sighs. "I knew I had... mattered to you. But you could have grown to resent me since then, even hate me. I considered it a possibility. Not only for all I did on that island. Not only for having brought you here. But for letting Thomas in? Or even for Dooley, at the least? He was nothing but loyal to you and... It would have been more than justified. I would have understood."

"Dooley is entirely on me. I should have made some things much clearer to him than I did…"

John is angry now, once more; but this time, James feels the anger is directed towards him. "No. You were right; I wasn't thinking clearly. How can I have ever believed that Rogers would just be satisfied with the chest and let her, and us, go… I can't regret showing him the chest when I did - because he was going to kill her right then. But I wasn't the one who saved Madi. You were. You bought us time, and in that time… let's be honest and just say Madi got lucky. But Dooley is on me; along with those five men who went after you; and anyone else we lost there. I understand why you think I shouldn't blame myself about Madi; because that's what I thought while Madi felt responsible about our son. But do not fight me on this. Nor on what I did to you and Thomas. I know I do not deserve your understanding - and even less your support."

A boy. It had been a boy. James isn't sure John has wanted to share this information to start with, nor if he's realized his slip...

James allows his voice to carry now only his concern, and acceptation; no matter his will to fight John about his own responsability in the mess on that island - because things could have gone differently, if he had explained his plan to John before acting - and no matter his internal need still to break something at the thought that John ever considered -: "Well, no matter what you may think, you have both anyway."

John seems to register the words, then lets his eyes drop to his hands again. "I know…" It's no more than the ghost of a whisper, and it sounds shameful, and James isn't sure if he was actually meant to have heard it; but James feels grateful he could catch it nonetheless.

They are silent for a while. James is here to offer company and support - but either silent or talkative is to be John's decision. John has unlaced Madi's braid from around his hand, and is now slowly running it repeatedly through his right hand, from one end (the one tied to the child's hair, which he holds in his left hand along Madi's) to the other, eyes on his hands. Then he stops, opens his palm once more.

"She named him Mmɔbɔ - sadness. Had he been born alive, it would have been Fahodi - freedom; either boy or girl." (*AN1)

James closes his eyes. He feels one silent tear escape anyway.

"Madi died in her sleep. And to think I was relieved when she finally fell asleep in my arms… She had just been through so much… Last time the midwife had checked, she hadn't seen anything alarming. I don't think Madi knew - she wouldn't have left me without *something*… But when the blood stain appeared and kept growing, and I shouted for help and shook her, calling out for her… It all happened so fast, and I realized this only afterwards, of course, but... She was by then already gone. Her heart was still beating; but she was already gone."

James still can't speak. It's too profound, and too raw. Their boy. Madi. John's pain; then, now, and until his last day. John's honesty and trust, and not only about the facts. All that James has learned this evening… Maybe it's because John doesn't want James to have to wonder anymore about the worst of how it went. Maybe it's because John just needs to get some of it out, finally. But if it's the second? James will take it. He'd take it all; if only he could.

"The Queen wasn't surprised when I said I would be leaving. I couldn't be their King-to-be without Madi anyway. She understood. Kofi's brother (*AN2) will be next, I guess; Julius is at another camp."

James thinks they've reached the end of the tale, and collects himself. He has to get himself back under controle. For John. And for Madi, who would expect him not to fail John.

John isn't over yet though: "When the funeral came… I still didn't want to leave them. They were laid in, together, I had insisted, and the only thought I still had was that I belonged there too - with them. So I thought they should have a part of me with them, at least. You know how Madi used to tie braids in my hair? So I cut one of those and linked their hands with it. And then I took some of their hairs - because I didn't want them to leave me alone too; no matter how pointless it was."

And James can't address the rest, but this, he can help with. So James pulls at the three leather cords around his neck (loose enough to hang, but not loose enough to get past his head) showing to John the ring attached to them.

"See this ring?"

"I noticed it right away - I had never seen it before. It's Thomas's, right? I saw he wears one of yours that way too." (*AN3)

"Yes, it's Thomas's. But he gave it to me more than 15 years ago, not here. And when I thought him gone? It was the most sacred thing I owned. I was afraid of losing it if I wore it (*AN4), and afraid of losing it if I left it hidden somewhere. I ended keeping it in a dubbel-layered leather pouch sewed in the waist of all of my undertrousers, under the belts. Now, that's where I keep Miranda's favourite pair of earrings, the one jewelry she had told me we would never sell, no matter what. I was so relieved to find them in their usual cache after Charlestown... And those earrings were so meaningful to Miranda because - as I learned when I asked Thomas if he wanted to keep one for himself - they were Thomas's first gif to her. Memento's are indeed pointless, but for most people, they're necessary all the same. There are days you hate them, and days you cherish them; but most of all, days you just need to know you have them."

John nods. He takes one breath.

"Thomas doesn't though, if you still carry two earrings."

"He does too; his just isn't material."

"His Faith?"

"Yes."

"I envy him."

"That makes two of us."

(Silence.)

"We're of the same mind though... I carry them in a tin box in here", John says, pulling his shirt out of his trousers at his side and indicating a thick (most probably dubble layered too) leather pouch tied under his shirt, around his waist, by no less than five different ropes.

"I thought so. I didn't know what it was exactly you carried in it; but I thought so." John gives him a look, and James explains. "It doesn't show, don't be concerned. But I felt it, once: that time your crutch slipped on the mud."

John nods, and kind of shrugs.

They share silence again for some time. At some point, John laces the braid back around his hand.

"You should go back to Thomas."

James isn't surprised that John finally wills to be alone. He knew that moment would come. He tries though, unwanted fear creeping in and making it impossible to just let John on his own right now: "You could join us. You wouldn't need to participate in conversation. We could play dice or cards; just see you through the night…"

John meets his eyes, and the tone of his voice does feel like a promise: "I'll be alright." When John sees that James has understood what he meant, he goes on more softly: "I just need some time on my own."

And now that he feels reassured about John's will to see yet another day, James can't refuse him. He knows some things are better done in private.

So James nods, and John gets up. The hairs are still laced in his hands, and James knows they will stay there until he falls asleep - if he falls asleep.

James calls out back, somehow helplessly: "John?"

James realizes he's done it again. It shouldn't be a surprise though; once the dam is breached, what stops him from doing it again? And honestly... James realizes he likes it.

John turns back to him, and James meets his eyes dead-on.

"I won't tell you it will get easier; because it won't. But I can tell you you will grow stronger."

You have to.

For me, please, if not for you.

John's eyes seem to soften, as if, once more, to appease James.

"I feel slightly less angry at the world simply for still turning around lately, if that's what you mean."

When your world suddenly stops; when time, for you, has suddenly frozen - it hurts to see everything and everyone else just going on, indeed. James remembers that anger; how he had used to lash out at Miranda, because he had known she would understand, because he had known she would not only take it, but even forgive it… It had happened less and less in time; because James had come to realize how unfair it was to her - to force her to be the strong one of the two of them. Miranda had barely ever lashed out at him...

Nor John; but that's because he lashes out at himself. So. James knows it means that John still feels guilty, for even breathing - while they are gone; for any second of not-thinking-about-them he realizes has passed; for any stolen moment of joy, of respite; for laughing; for enjoying anything at all to start with… James knows that road is long, and reaching its end is not even an option. But John is now walking the path, at least…

"That's a start, then."

"I guess."

John turns and takes the few steps towards his door. He turns back though before opening it.

"James?"

So. John has noticed, huh... The warmth though that blossoms in James's chest at being addressed so by John is more than worth his slip. But it feels as if there is a true question in John's voice, along the call for attention, and James nods, signalling his consent.

"Thank you. For this. For everything."

"Any time, John."

And thank you, for having believed that old promise, and for having accepted my help, even when you didn't want to.

John nods once more. He turns. The door opens. The door closes. James stays, just a minute, in case the door would reopen. When it doesn't, he goes back to Thomas. The last thing he wishes after all would be to be able to hear John cry…

*AN2: what Silver doesn't know is that Kofi had another brother … who used to be Madi's first love(r)…

Madi before Silver, a headcanon :

1) The way she moves and looks at Silver, Madi is no virgin. (you can't not know what moment i mean!)

2) She is Queen-to-be. Her virginity feels important to her - not because it's something she feels pressured about by others, but because she is all about her duties. She wouldn't have done it with some meaningless dude just to get rid of it.

3) If you love Madi, it is just impossible to stop loving her, right !

CONCLUSION:

Madi's first love was one of Kofi's younger brothers (he had two younger brothers - she was with the 2nd born, the middle one). They loved each other since they were kids and well, as they grew up, it evolved. But then. He died…

AND BECAUSE I'M AN AWFUL PERSON:

He was wounded by white slaves hunters and died at the camp from his wounds (yep, like her dad (i don't call him mr scott) - i warned you, i'm an awful person). It's cruel but necessary that she saw him dead - because would he have been captured, of course, she would have moved earth and all to find him back :(

But what matters is: her first love died, killed by white men.

And then she meets Silver and loves him anyway - despite the colour of his skin. Can you imagine it ? The purity of her heart to start with, and the force of her love for him, to be able to see past what has happened ?

Oh look, I made myself cry yet again :(

* AN1 : What John doesn't say is that they had thought of 'Anidaso' (hope) for a second girl, and yes, 'James' for a second son… (They saw themselves growing into this happy family with cute kids and James and Thomas as neighbours after having helped them out and OUINNNNNNNNNNNNNN I'll never not cry about this :().

Also, I tried to trace the names from the show and found Kofi (akan), Eme (a lot of languages, but from Africa = igbo), Obi (igbo) and Zaki (arabic) - but I kept with Akan words, because Kofi was very close to the Queen and Madi, and I found 'Dwumadi', an akan twi word for action/activity, which fits Madi (much more imo than Madi being a variation of Madeleine of whatever…) so what if it was shortened in fact that way ? I realize akan names are normally not 'meanings' but 'circumstances' (ie second (etc) born, good year, born on monday (etc)); but I tried 'something'. Do not hesitate to tell me if it's just not to be done, I seriously do not mean disrespect or anything - or send me better ideas ?

*AN3 : Yes, of course, they kind of married (my heart :)) They both wear the ring around the neck - on your hands isn't handy when you work growing crops, so… (my heart :()

*AN4 : James wore it though, once - the only time the meaning of actually wearing it overcame the fear of losing it while wearing it (aka, as we all kind of agreed on, when he killed Alfred Hamilton). (MY STABBED AND FOREVER BLEEDING HEART)

Bury me with Madi and Mmɔbɔ. Bury me with Miranda. Bury me with John's and James's and Thomas's feelings. Just bury me.

#black sails #silverflint #long john silver #john silver #captain flint #james flint #from the embers of the shadows in our pasts a phoenix will rise #my two pieces of eight #silvermadi #flinthamilton #text #fanfic #madi #thomas hamilton

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nigeiadigitalmarketingcompany · 5 years

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Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

Digital Elixir Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

“It’s too late baby Now it’s too late” –Carole King

Politics is show business for ugly people. And you’ve got to play by show business rules.

Show business is all about preparation, getting the act, song, movie, TV show, ready and then marketing it so people will be aware of it and buy it.

And you always want to be first, and you want to eliminate all chance.

You want an upward curve, even if you start low and slow.

You want no lulls. You want to keep people interested, by teasing them with new information on a regular basis.

You want to control the narrative.

And what is the narrative the Democrats are trying to sell?

Damned if I know. The only thing they can agree on is they hate Trump. I hate KISS, but that doesn’t keep them off the road, playing to empty arenas, their fans support them. And speaking of KISS, Gene Simmons is one of the greatest marketers of all time, a complete blowhard, but he’s making it work for himself and the band. Maybe he learned it all from Neil Bogart, who changed his name from “Bogatz,” to give the right “impression.” Bogart failed on his first attempt, trying to sell a record of Johnny Carson routines, it went instantly into the cut-out bin, but then he pivoted to disco and Donna Summer and KISS.

And Bogart was a showman, full of crap. Seemingly everything he said was inflated and wrong. Remember when there were four simultaneous KISS solo albums and Neil said they were instantly gold? The press bought it, even though all of them but Peter Criss’s came back.

You see it’s all about perception. Sell the myth, not the facts.

It’s more important that Elizabeth Warren be seen as a fighter against the man than any specific policy position. People don’t go that deep. CONGRESS doesn’t go that deep! Did you read the “New Yorker” story on Al Franken? His accuser told boldfaced lies, there was history disputing her account, but she got out there first and what she said ruled, even though she was working for a pro-Trump radio station. Once again, the Democrats reacted, and now they’re doubling-down, can’t see why they were wrong. Kirsten Gillibrand, YOU’RE HISTORY!

The press said Trump was losing because he brought up the “i” word before the Democrats. But Trump knows you get ahead of the blowback, you make the first punch, and you load the media with so much b.s. that it can’t keep up.

Meanwhile, the public doesn’t know the difference between impeachment and conviction and Pelosi seems as old as she really is. She’s Perry Como after the Beatles. Doesn’t she realize THE RULES HAVE CHANGED?

Happens in entertainment all the time. Suddenly you can’t sell hair bands. Suddenly hip-hop is burgeoning. And if you fight the tide, you drown. Oh, little fish can still swim in their own private backwaters, but if you’re playing for everything, if you want to run the table, you’ve got to be looking to the future, not the past!

Trump speaks to the public. Pelosi speaks to insiders.

That’s why AOC gets so much traction, she speaks to the public-at-large, it’s less about legislation than attitude, which is move over you old farts and let the younger generation take the reins, you oldsters have no idea what is going on anymore!

But Team Pelosi says you’ve got to run to the center, because you’ve got to appeal to those districts that flipped for Democrats in 2016. That’s like making Aerosmith play acoustic, and refusing to let them play new material.

Of course, Aerosmith doesn’t play new material, and Chris Christie is a big Boss fan. It’s kinda like long hair. Once upon a time it symbolized something, you were either for us or against us, then it was just a fashion choice.

Anyone who plays to the rearguard is always disrupted. Didn’t you ever read Clayton Christensen? Everybody pooh-poohs the new, saying it’s not as good as the old, and then it becomes better and the old folds overnight. Christensen says to embrace the new, and then eliminate the old when the new gains traction. The DNC is being disrupted and their answer? Let’s go back to Good Ol’ Joe. That’s like asking your grandfather for music advice.

So what we’ve got is candidates who want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and the Democrats are freaking out, they can’t even get aligned on one position. Criticize the Republicans all you want, but after Trump they all got in line. That’s how you win, when you play like a team!

And if you try to appeal to everybody, you lose. The road is littered with middle of the road artists, who fail on the chart and play to a dwindling audience in Branson and clubs. You want to get people EXCITED! That’s what Warren and Harris and Bernie and Buttigieg are doing.

And what does the establishment say?

THEY’RE TOO FAR LEFT!

AC/DC was too heavy until suddenly they weren’t. “Back In Black” is still streaming prodigiously today, “You Shook Me All Night Long” is an American anthem! Of course Mutt Lange helped. The right has Karl Rove, who do we have on the left?

So the reason you wanted impeachment is so the whole world would watch, so Trump’s bad behavior, criminal or not, would infect the public. When the truth outs, it’s hard to deny.

But no, it was never time. Pelosi and her pals are like a Silicon Valley outfit that never releases its product. It’s so busy getting it right that it can never come out. Meanwhile, Facebook becomes so big by having a motto of “move fast and break things.” Forget that Zuckerberg is the enemy now, he’s on top of the pyramid, he controls the conversation more than not only Congress, but the mainstream media! Furthermore, he just pivoted, saying it was about private conversations, when the Democrats are still looking for that elusive consensus. Everything worth paying attention to starts off the radar, small, and then it blows up and BECOMES THE MAINSTREAM!

So Barr says Trump is innocent.

The Dems folded their tent.

Then Mueller sends his letter and they think…wow, maybe there’s something here. Like a band the label has stopped working that is suddenly selling tickets…the label is on to something else, it’s hard to get it restarted on your old product.

And then the Democrats placed all their hopes on Mueller testifying. That’s like taking someone with a great record, who’s never been on stage, and having them headline Coachella! No one would do that, the odds of failure are too high.

So Mueller didn’t deliver. Oh, don’t make it about Russia, the Dems thought Mueller was gonna blow a hole through the curtain, reveal that Trump was culpable and should be charged. Not only did Mueller not do this, he said as much after he delivered his report earlier…this was his final statement!

And the Dems are playing by old rules and crying to the nonexistent refs that the Republicans are cheating. No, Trump and his posse have invented new rules, like no one in the regime needs to testify. When they up the ante, so do you! You don’t say there’s no crying in baseball!

So now, on left wing radio, all the talk is about getting the transcripts from the grand jury. God, even in the NFL when you lose, you lose, no matter how heinous the call. Because without rules, you’ve got no game.

And that’s what’s happening now, WE’VE GOT NO GAME! Trump and his cronies are running ragged and the Dems and the media are so flummoxed, they do NOTHING!

Come on. Even the most lame influencer knows you’ve got to deliver product on a regular basis. You’ve got to hook the audience and deliver. That’s certainly what Trump has done, and all the left keeps saying is HE SHOULDN’T TWEET!

Meanwhile, these same wankers are posting to Instagram, the national pastime, and despite their constant disparagement of the internet and Twitter, Twitter is where the news happens, and if you’re not on it, you don’t know what’s going on.

So impeachment failed in the marketplace. It’s like Annapurna, Megan Ellison’s movie company. No matter how great the film, and she’s put out plenty, they never reach expectations. “Booksmart,” one of the best-reviewed movies this year, which appeals to oldsters and youngsters…dead. Product is only one part of the puzzle, you need the aforementioned marketing. The big studios may put out lame films, but they’re experts in marketing them.

When you fail, you write it off. Just look at the Fortune 500, that’s what they do. Did Bezos try to improve the Fire phone? No, he deleted it from the catalog. And today, your mistakes don’t haunt you as long as you continue to play and make noise. Once again, the game has changed, there’s so much noise that the biggest challenge is just reaching the public. And if you don’t, people forget what you were selling, they’re inundated with new messages.

And I’ve used a plethora of metaphors here, but now I’m gonna use one more. Pro football used to be a running game. Now running backs make a fraction of what they used to, all the emphasis is on passing and receiving! You change with the times!

Seems like everybody can change with the times but the Democrats.

So forget impeachment. This is the gang that can’t shoot straight, even if they have clear evidence that Trump needs to go, the right will spin it otherwise and rule the marketplace, i.e. public opinion. And just like a record, you don’t have to appeal to everybody to win. How come Trump knows this and the Democrats don’t?

Instead of clinging to the past, trying to rebuild the old edifice, it’s time to build a new one. And there are a number of candidates promising this. Safe rarely succeeds. Can you say Romney? Can you say Kerry! One of the reasons Obama won was because he HAD little history. There was little to nail him on and he promised hope.

Believe me, Ol’ Joe is not promising hope. He’s like a boomer musician waiting for Hilary Rosen to save them from streaming. But Hilary’s moved on from the RIAA, and streaming has already won, soon there won’t even be any hardware to play discs! Apple kills the iPod because the innards are no longer manufactured, and the Democrats keep trying to prop up oldsters, held together by baling wire. Bill Clinton had Linda Bloodworth-Thomason and her husband selling him, and despite baggage, he won anyway!

Who do the Democrats have?

Maybe it’s time to hire Bill Belichick.

Oh, that’s right, HE’S A TRUMPER!

~~~

Visit the archive: https://ift.tt/IH9kjT – @Lefsetz http://www.twitter.com/lefsetz – If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter

Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

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#Digital Marketing #SEO #Social Media Marketing #Nigeria Digital Marketing Company #Lead Generation

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allopropaganda · 8 years

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In regards to these posts 1 2

As we, hopefully, reach a new era in our history, one where we may talk freely among ourselves and explore new and old ideas. We are at a cusp of growth.

We have dealt with foaming aphobes, we’ve been dealing with them for so long, maybe we forget that there are other levels of violence.

Let me be clear, I have been fighting for a long time. Reactions that spring up in me come from years of “training”, I have a very intuitive grasp of social justice issues and I’ve come to realize/reason that just because something seems obvious to me, can’t make it so for others. I think we need a bit of breakdown to see where the community is becoming ableist, aphobic, and victim blaming, and areas that are going to hurt us in the long run.

So this post is in two parts, because when I said I felt “ganged up on” I meant it in more than one way.

The Personal Attacks.

You make what you believe to be an innocent comment, maybe you make hasty judgements, and in many many ways even I - the CPSTD sonofabitch - must admit, that there would be no way for you to truly know where you’ve misstepped, before you’ve stepped.

Nobody thinks they’re saying something harm/that harmful, and that’s essentially why it’s not up to them to decide they didn’t! (not without real evidence).

*dramatically opens curtains* Come see through my eyes *tinkling music plays*

Firstly, claiming I had reacted aggressively - was majorly aphobic and ableist. For the aphobic part, that may be a little easier to see. My response did not shame someone, believe me I can shame I’m sure you’ve seen it. I did not look to attack them personally, I actually did not attack at all! My response was about the heartache a-specs had to go through, it was about experiences that happened to me. To assert that I was harming them, that mentioning the attacks on me where harming them, the words “that’s messed up” come to mind.

The left hook on this is the implication that showing any emotion and not seeking to soothe the aggravator is aggressive. At no point does an oppressed person have to placate the oppressor - nor does the oppressed person have to coddle and soften words to soothe their feelings. If you spread oppression, even if you didn’t mean to, that is your rightful title! And the world is inundated with people making these mistakes, the best thing for you to do is own up to them, take responsibility, and seek to rectify! THAT makes you an ally! THAT truly changes the world! And yes, you can definitely spread oppression even if you are in that group, that is exactly how oppressive systems work! They rely on many hands.

Boop down to the abelism which I don’t think you could have possibly recognized even if you DID take a special interest in me, or in C-ptsd, or remember those two things at a time - but this is what happened to me all the same.

C-PTSD Is Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Many of you may be familiar with PTSD, that’s what war veterans get diagnosed with all the time. I think we can all remember instances where it’s been depicted of war veterans suddenly going in to “fight mode” when they get triggered. All of the bad instances where they had to survive comes up, boiling hot like a geyser, and the truth is that it’s not always wrong. That’s me. I don’t know what you may be thinking what fight mode may be like, but fight mode is filled with fear, panic, and anger. I am ready to attack and disable my attacker at all costs. For me, enemies are everywhere, everyone’s motive is suspect, each new thought is a breakdown in my spatial cognition. This is a survival mechanism that is made to protect me.

So what I’m saying is, with all of this running through my veins, clouding my mind, how my brain screamed attack and justified any means of survival, and was actively telling me that not to attack was wrong, I still did not attack. I did a really great job of restraining myself, in the interest of bettering my community, and you…trashed that.

And in regards to claiming my tags were “aggressive”, well like I mentioned above about hostility and all - my tags where about asking if this ask was legit or not. So with CPTSD it is hard to tell when someone is being sincere, or reading any other emotion other than hostility. Let me tell you, I have literally read really nice messages sent to me and couldn’t understand them because I read them in an hostile slant. So that’s why I ASKED, to make up for my disability.

Oh man, which brings up another thing. Gaslighting me. Gaslighting is further explained down the post but in regards to me - My thoughts scatter, and I may read things that just aren’t there. To make up for that I read, reread, think - over think, reduct my think, over think a little more, write out the thinking. There’s a hell of a lot of thinking just to be absolutely sure that I’ve had this down correctly. No offense, but I’m a really smart person, and I am highly intuitive. When I come up with a stance, I have written a book in my head to back me up (see ENTIRE POST). It is so inappropriate to jump in and say “nuh uh”, just because you like the person who said the thing, or is entirely reactionary. I see that as highly disrespectful of my intelligence and trying to take advantage of my cognitive disabilities. Hey, that could be my CPTSD talking, but also you could just not do that, ever. For the record, if I doubt something I ASK, or put it in non-definitive terms. No argument of “nuh uh” is an acceptable retort to what I put into my words.

And to put an extra fine point on it, don’t even try using my disabilities against me to attempt gas lighting me. I specifically take precautions to protect myself from that.

And for icing on the abelism cake - using anger as a reason to dismiss marginalized peoples. No.

I was able to save myself, because I’m pretty kick ass at that. You take this entire post and everything it means, and crunch it into one burst, and shove it in my soul - all of this at once and ongoing. Could you possibly imagine that I would be able to make a coherent argument? I think not. It would have gone on - everyone justifying their actions because “I can’t act right”, but this in turn sparking even more hostility. But I stopped myself, even when I KNEW I was right and you DESERVED to be gotten and I was wrong and dangerous to leave, I knew this in my soul, but I still left because I could take hold of something tiny and believe in it against all odds. To say that this is fair and just to expect other people to do, other victims to do - I could never suggest such a thing. I am just lucky. Respect people’s right to be hurt.

Part Two

In regards to our community, in the new times there will be new prejudices rearing it’s ugly head, it will be subtle, it will be blatant, it will come from our own side.

And you’ve been exposed to blatantly violent aphobes for so long, I know a certain feeling arises in you that you associate with “bad people.” To be sure, assigning labels such as “good” and “bad” person wise is a mistake made time and time again, stretching time and place.

“Nice Guy”*

*The “nice guy” is a phenomenon ever occurring in our society and is not meant as a way to gender anyone - phenomenons have no gender.

What you are teaching yourselves is that no one “nice” should be corrected or called to attention. They should have words minced, you feel like a traitor and mean for suggesting that they might have some aphobic biases. Newsflash, everyone has aphobic biases, we live in an aphobic society!

And to be honest, the “nice guy” rhetoric has been used on just about every abuse victim and should never deign to cross the lips of someone interested in justice. In my mind this is the shock, anger, and call to fight that fills my heart.

But let’s go back. For one, the defense of the “Nice Guy” is often that they didn’t know better, they misspoke, and/or they didn’t really mean that. In all of that - it doesn’t change a thing of what was done. Aphobia doesn’t just stop “because it was a mistake”, it keeps going, it gets picked up. You can’t undo what you’ve done by saying, “not me”! You can only work to erase your actions by having a reaction, you must put forth an effort to rectify your mistake. In fact, raising your hands and declaring no responsibility is dangerously disrespectful.

Next, you cannot say, “they didn’t mean that”, just because you like the person. This is a form of gas lighting. You are taking reality and shouting that it never happened. Gaslighting is abuse.

Here’s the scenario, either A) They typoed something and they said the exact opposite of what they meant. That means they still said it, that means it was still spread. That means it definitely exists and has caused harm. To say it didn’t exist doesn’t help a-specs, to recognize the mistake and take steps to fix it does. Just own up to your mistake and don’t get angry that it upset people and they reacted. Of course they reacted they just got blindsided by aphobic rhetoric, just respect their feelings.

B) They didn’t realize how horrible they sounded, until it was pointed out. This is called “internalized aphobia”, or maybe micro aggressions for allo people. It happens to everyone. That means they still said it, that means it was still spread. That means it definitely exists and has caused harm. To say it didn’t exist doesn’t help a-specs, to recognize the mistake and take steps to fix it does. Just own up to your mistake and don’t get angry that it upset people and they reacted. Of course they reacted they just got blindsided by aphobic rhetoric, just respect their feelings.

C) They really did mean what they said, but are willing to shrink back due to backlash. This has no matter (and no way to determine through isolated incidents) because all you need to do is call out the behavior.

But they were Mean to the Nice Guy It forever remains a mystery how you can demean someone with a smile on your face, but when the oppressed don’t smile back they are viewed as the hostile ones! I think we’ve covered this time and time again! It really should not be your priority to police the emotions of a harmed oppressed person. People can react hostilely to people because they are using a system of oppression that boosters them up while putting the oppressed down. People have feelings.

The Logical Conclusion to Nice Guy So your first instinct is to not make waves, to be as understanding as possible, you are friendly, you are nice. As long as you Smile you are Nice. You see something that makes you uncomfortable and you let it pass, because we’re all friends! So that something is passed around, it’s multiplied, other people, it becomes established. The implications of why it made you uncomfortable becomes clear as an aphobic notion takes root. What was now one misinformed statement is now a war. WOULD your nice guy, because they are so nice, really want that? Would they really want to harm the a-spec community? If they would, well then they’re not so nice, if they wouldn’t, then in the end you are helping them and yourself out.

#asexuality #aro #a-spec #aromantic #asexuals #actually aromantic #says goat

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fathersonholygore · 7 years

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USA’s Mr. Robot Season 2, Episode 3: “eps2.1_k3rnel-pan1c.ksd” Directed & Written by Sam Esmail

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “eps2.0_unm4sk-pt2.tc” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode, “eps2.1_k3rnel-pan1c.ksd” – click here Mobley (Azhar Khan) and Romero (Ron Cephas Jones) keep up the good fight for fsociety. We hear the oral history of their little arcade, from Romero, and the origin of fsociety’s name comes from the corporation title, “Fun Society Amusement, LLC.” A long, weird, ugly history. Out of which is now growing something good, or at least aimed at the intention of good. All boils down to this being the perfect place to do some hacking. Romero wants to sell the place off, under the radar. He doesn’t want to go back to jail, though. He doesn’t want to be involved. Although Mobley talks a good game. Oh, by the way, this is before Romero met Elliot (Rami Malek). The origin of their at times tenuous relationship amongst the fsociety. A great opening scene. “Panic. Here it comes again.” Elliot’s character is so compelling because he’s very real. Not only is he talented, he’s disturbed, he has mental health issues. But they’re not atypical, all the same things we’ve seen before. He’s brilliant, he’s also flawed. Now Elliot’s talking to Tyrell (Martin Wallström) over that red phone. “I think about that night, when we became gods,” Tyrell tells him. More than that he’s got dad (Christian Slater) continually barking in his ear. On top of it all he’s found out about the murder of Gideon Goddard. That morning, Mobley finds Romero at his place, shot in the back of the head. Taken out so quietly under everyone’s nose. Because whoever it is has unbelievable reach. We’re also getting a glimpse into the life of Ray (Craig Robinson). Seems he’s got his own mental issues, too. Sitting at the table, eating, looking as if he’s hooked up to dialysis, he talks to somebody who isn’t there. This is very interesting if what we’re seeing is what’s going on, if there’s no trickery. Because in this case, he and Elliot have so much in common. Which could be bad. What’s really no good is Elliot self-medicating. He’s determined to push Mr. Robot, dear ole dad into the recesses of his mind. He swallows down a bunch of pills to drown out the sound of his rambling. Right before a guy looks like an FBI agent crosses his path. Darlene (Carly Chaikin) isn’t overly surprised about their friend being dead when Mobley meets to talk with her. She’s cynical, but more so a realist. Yet it’s still not hard for them to wonder what the fallout of their actions will be ultimately, after all is said and done. Such as how Elliot’s been taken by the FBI man, or whoever he is, and they’ve got him tied to a chair. They’re mixing concrete in a barrel, as well. Big plans for him. They’re going to pour it down his throat. No, it’s just another vision, along with dad making it all happen. He forces Elliot to throw up the pills, only to be thwarted when his son, vomit and all, slurps them back down. He’ll do anything to “not be owned.” “I have burrowed underneath your brain, I am nested there, I am the scream in your mind.”

Love that we get a good look at Dominique DiPierro (Grace Grummer) in this episode, seeing more of her, as well as in her personal space. She’s not your archetype of an FBI agent with a drug problem or anything like that. Although there’s some mystery about her. Now she’s involved slightly with the murder case of Romero; her name’s turned up on a list the hacker had in his things. This gets her digging around later, by herself, cosying up to Romero’s mom to get a second look at things. We also get more of Trenton (Sunita Mani), after Darlene and Mobley go see her. They’re all divided. That sense of power, of righteousness keeps throbbing in Darlene, she’s not even scared after their close friend was killed. She also won’t listen to anything else, about Elliot, or getting away to someplace safe. Mobley and Trenton realise the danger of the Dark Army, she doesn’t appear bothered. This leads Mobley to wonder if the brother-sister team aren’t in on the whole thing. Paranoia abound. The full story on Ray comes out further. He’s got a website. He deals with very bad, dangerous, violent people. He is also likely just as violent, maybe as dangerous. He’s doing some kind of shady shit online, that’s obvious. More mystery surrounding him, even after a bit of information. Ray: “We‘re not animals” Meanwhile, Elliot believes he’s rid himself of dad’s influence. He’s taking the right amount of pills, getting enough sleep. Well, sometimes. Adderall has changed his life, he’s even into Leon’s (Joey Bada$$) theories on George Costanza and Seinfeld. He’s actually gotten into basketball. But he’s medicated into another kind of madness. However, he’s starting to see it all differently. No matter what he does there’s always that darkness lurking in him, the damage will never go away. It is inescapable. He’s starting to break down, all over again. In a whole new way. “The scream in my mind is coming back” I worry a bit about Angela (Carly Chaikin), who’s meeting Phillip Price (Michael Cristofer) for dinner on a Saturday night. Seems sort of, questionable? Until arriving to find him there with a couple of her colleagues, Sol and Jim. She looks disappointed somehow, though she ought to be happy. Maybe she’s finally being taken seriously. Or maybe not, who knows. Afterwards, Price is alone with her. Tells her those two men were involved with Colby, back when they devastated her hometown. Oh, my. Didn’t see that coming. He’s actually brought her evidence to boot. What’s the ultimate cost? That’s my only thought. Elliot’s starting to see that he’s, despite all the trouble, better unmedicated. He sees the truth when he’s unmedicated. And while, to some others, it might sound insane, it’s all so true. He goes on a rant at his NA meeting about gods, organised religion, and how God “owns you” through belief and the “distortion of reality.” In this sense, God is like a father, his father, many fathers. That evening, Elliot gets a visit from Ray, who still wants help with whatever kind of website he’s been running. Ray tells him about losing his wife several years before, and that’s why he talks out loud at the breakfast table. This dude scares me, some aspect of his personality doesn’t sit right. Elliot winds up back at Ray’s office with him, then things get deeper between them. The guy almost echoes his father’s “control is an illusion.” This is already more dangerous than I imagined. Lord, I’m in love with this TV series! Great writing, fantastic themes being illustrated in ways we’ve not seen before. As much a show about mental illness as it is about hacking. Can’t wait to watch more. Haven’t even finished Season 2, already dying for Season 3. “eps2.1_k3rnel-pan1c.ksd” comes next.

Mr. Robot – Season 2, Episode 3: “eps2.1_k3rnel-pan1c.ksd” USA's Mr. Robot Season 2, Episode 3: "eps2.1_k3rnel-pan1c.ksd" Directed & Written by Sam Esmail…

#Adderall #FBI #fsociety #Fun Society Amusement LLC #George Costanza #God #Hacker #Mental Illness #Murder #Rami Malek

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capblacksails · 6 years

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From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise) (this part is Thomas & John - so of course it’s most of all about James...)

Post-Canon. John Silver is a lost man after having lost Madi. He goes to the only person he knows who understands his loss. And (un)surprisingly, here starts a journey full of love… (Includes also THE two scenes we’ve been robbed of in 4x10: James/John and Madi/John) (James/Thomas, James/John, John/Madi (past), Thomas&John)

It was the last Friday of the month, in the middle of the afternoon, which meant that Thomas would be home by now, after having worked at/for Oglethorpe's library, while James would still be at the fields.

On his arrival, John had been given the opportunity to be brought to James right away; but he had declined - he hadn't been sure of the welcome; at all... So he had been brought to his 'place', and had waited. He had recognized Thomas as he had been approaching, and Thomas had obviously recognized him too: "Mr Silver, I presume?" John had had to bite his tongue about how the crutch and missing leg simply gave it away, and had only answered with a curt nod. Thomas had let him in, informing him that James would come in in about two hours, but had logically left him in his silence with his bad mood, despair and stress…

But John thinks *now* is maybe his chance to have some time alone with Thomas. The man is still a mystery, for the most, and John is curious - because the man means so much to James, indeed. Besides, John has to know, somehow, what Thomas actually thinks of him.

So John knocks at the door, and Thomas let him in - apparently surprised that John came 'to visit' that soon.

John takes the offered seat by the table and break the ice the only way he can think of - telling Thomas about his day with the kitcheners, and how it feels to be busy growing potatoes too - instead of only peeling them, which he has a long history of.

Thomas eyes him, and John feels scrutinised and dissected. But when Thomas finally talks, his words are as soft and gently-spoken as John has ever heard them - but with an added layer of wonder:

"You are quite like James. You adjust here so easily…"

John hears the opportunity; and of course, he takes it: "I take it you didn't, then?"

The interest is genuine, and Thomas understands that John is still not willing yet to talk to him about himself; but that he is truly willing to get to know him. It seems John cares about him in the way Thomas knows he cares about John - simply because they both love James; and James loves them both.

When Thomas had recognized that it was indeed James in front of his eyes, the whole world had started to spin, in an exhilarating way; and had stopped turning only once he had felt James in his arms, again, after so long; anchoring him...

But then, when he had realized that James wasn't here to take him out but to stay in himself, he had asked James as he had returned to him, with bile in his voice (not because he wasn't going out, but because James was incarcerated - and that felt worse yet than his own captivity) who had turned him in; willing to commit to memory the vague image of the already gone man he had seen James talking to from afar. The clear absence of poison though in James's voice as he had simply ushed out "John" - as if it was self explanatory - hadn't been something Thomas had expected; and the words that had followed even less: "He believes he's saving my life and giving me what I want. And you're here."

And James had been looking at him with such wonder, and Thomas did share that feeling; so he had decided it wasn't worth spoiling any of it with questions right then.

James had started sobbing again though: "Miranda would have been so happy."

The words had cut through Thomas like a blade, and he had only helplessly repeated the words; wanting - needing - to deny what they meant. "Would have been?"

"I'm so sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry."

Miranda. Thomas had felt like an avalanche was washing over him; everything spinning, but this time downwards. Miranda. How? When? All those questions he needed an answer to... But not right now. Because Miranda was evidently now out of his reach; but James was here - and obviously not only needed him, but seemed to dread his reaction to that news. And so Thomas had only been able to take James back in his arms, and held them together while they both had cried...

The gossips at the mainhouse though had been inevitable ("Long John Silver? Turning his own Captain in? Does it means he's better or worse than Flint?" - "Well, with Teach, Vane and now Flint out of the picture, we'll find out sooner or later I guess..." - "I've heard he's in good terms with Calico Jack" - "Oh, that means Anne Bonny... Let's pray it will be later then!" / "Hard to believe Captain Flint was the scourge of the seven seas - they say he could command winds and waves; but his own quartermaster could overthrow him so easily; while missing a leg? - Well, obviously, he knew a secret..."). Thomas hadn't been able to decide if he should wish to hear more, or nothing at all. He hadn't mentioned any of it to James. He had passed on to him though any major piece of 'news' he fell upon concerning Nassau - new governor, for instance, and James had asked him, then:

"You would tell me, right, if you heard anything about..."

Thomas couldn't tell what felt worst: the fact that James seemed unable to finish that sentence; the stop yet plea in his voice; the obvious fragility in James the mysterious man seemed to provoke, while being evidently so undeserving of it; or the fierce flash of anger at that damn man that seeing James in such a state ignited in himself... But Thomas would never refuse James anything.

"I do not have *news* about him, I'm sorry."

But James had surprised him then - he had smiled: "No news is good news. He's with Madi then."

Another name he didn't know, and Thomas hadn't been able not to end with a sigh:

"I hear gossips though... and I can't help but wonder about who is, in truth, Long John Silver."

It wasn't exactly a question; Thomas would never ask for something he felt James might not be willing to tell.

But the way James tilted his head that had followed the simple unrequest had made very clear that James did want to share - but that the answer was nothing but simple. James had seemed to need to evaluate; as if he himself didn't know how to define the man. And when he had finally settled on a description? "Not the monster you think him to be."

So that had been when Thomas had understood not only that James loved John, but that he loved him profoundly.

And so Thomas hadn't pushed for more, not wanting to force James to live through what he believed to be painful memories once more. But the whole story had come out right then out of James's soul. John Silver - not Long. The cunning thief; the unexpected ally; the devoted quartermaster - to the crew and to him; the unanticipated friend - and his reprehensible, yet somehow comprehensible, choice in the end. How a bond, born from a common goal (suspicion and distrust aside), heightened by circumstances, got finally severed when they couldn't agree on what their common goal should be anymore. The chest. The war. Madi. Him. Danger or safe-keeping. The right fight or the nightmare...

And Thomas had doubted, though privately, about John's actual friendship: James loved the man, maybe he wasn't seeing things clearly - it wouldn't have been the first time that 'a friend' betrayed them, right: Peter had turned on them, in fact, at each and every occasion he had been given... And to think that Thomas would have never believed any of it; if it hadn't been James revealing all of it to him...

Those doubts though had been vanquished, right the moment Thomas had seen John actually interacting with James, only through silence. John's sincerity had been obvious, and profound too. That's when Thomas had started to believe that John did indeed love James too.

So Thomas decides that - from what he has always heard from James, and from what he has self witnessed over the last month - he can take that dive with honesty.

"Do you know La Fontaine's Fable about the dog and the wolf? (John nods*AN*) Well, I was born as a dog, and as such always aspired to be a wolf. But the both of you? You've been wolves, and yet - maybe that's some truth to dwell upon… But no, indeed. I had known worse, as I think you know. (John nods again) Definitely worse. But when I arrived here? It infuriated me nonetheless. I should have felt relieved - because I was out of Hell. But even though the general cleanliness made it easier to suffer… And even though after a while it felt like I was useful, again… It didn't make its concept less ugly and wrong, in my eyes…"

John can't help but lower his head, and Thomas needs to make clear that he isn't brandishing the hatchet: "You weren't the one who sold me in."

John feels guilty nonetheless, and cannot be a coward about it. This needs to be discussed. "But I was the one who could buy you out and left you in. I was scared, of so many things, and I only saw how it would keep him alive, at least. I never considered you, at the time. And I know it's too late and it rings hollow and pointless, but I am sorry."

Thomas sighed. "You were also the one who sought me out to start with. You were the one who planned to get me out. I know it got… complicated. But I know your intentions, at least, were right - and that is more than I can say about my own family and the people I used to call friends."

The implications down on John, as echoes from the past once more come to his mind - 'This is not what I wanted. It was a gift.' John exhales, relieved, but still somehow uncertain: "He believed me."

And Thomas is nothing but certainty, and proof: "He did."

Thomas lets the moment pass before continuing.

"Anyway. To come back to your original question? Now, I am grateful I was sent here, no matter how wrong - I would most probably never have been reunited with James otherwise. And of course, even if I had started to realize the *possibility* being here still gave me, my vision of this place shifted even more when he arrived."

Thomas nervously taps his fingers a few times on the table, looking at them as though they hold the answer to how much he should reveal, then finds John's eyes again.

"You know he's kept count of the people he's killed; of those who died either at his hands, or because of his actions."

John stiffens but silently agrees once more - that knowledge still feels as raw as the first time he had been confronted with it. Because John had never given a thought to this aspect of the deal, beforehand; but it had turned cristal clear that it had been part of James's acceptance too - right the moment James had walked into the room on John's first day here, and John had realized that he had still kept shaving his hair…

Thomas's voice brings John back to the present:

"Most, I believe he can live with - so many have turned on him in time, it's a miracle he actually stayed alive…" (Thomas's voice falters some, from having conjured in his mind all the scars, both from bullets and swords, on a body he had used to know pristine. Thomas has scars of his own too, of whip and abuse. But James's scars, bullets and blades, tell a story of battle after battle after battle - and that's only the ones that marked him - and Thomas always needs a moment when he sees them, both from heartbreak and wonder. Because he knows that the worst yet are not the ones you see. Thomas has marks etched on his soul more permanently than the ones on his back and on his writs. The crimping in the dark, and the sudden pain in his limbs and eyes when he was abruptly brought ouside and see light again after having been deprived of it for so long. The isolation, and how not to turn mad. The cold and no-food punishments. All that had been done to him 'in order to cure him'... So Thomas knows James have yet worse scars too on the inside...) "But a few weigh far more, and I guess he thinks it fair to be punished for those, somehow… Especially as he got me back; he feels there should be counterweight in the balance."

Thomas will never forget that first evening. They had been clinging to each other, for who could know how long after being reconciled, between cries and shy smiles and soft kisses and cries, still half unbelieving they had been given the other back, and still mourning over Miranda's absence. But James had started talking first. A neverending flow of his wrongs, a litany of names Thomas had for the most never even known, a complete confession of his burden of old and newer guilts - heavy, never to be washed away, deeply and permanently tortuously tangled and twisted in James's soul GUILTS - from the moment they had been separated to the moment they had been brought back together, telling him everything that had happened during those long years, but most particularly, telling him about how he should have come after him in London; telling him about his mother and his father, and how he might have learned right then where Thomas was if he hadn't been that expeditive; telling him about Peter Ashe's lies and deceit, and telling him about Miranda - about how much and how often he had wronged her and let her down, even before her end; telling him about one years-old friend he had ended killing with his own bare hands, and about one nothing but loyal man he had killed solely for one instinctive and selfish reason - how he had become the one who betrayed; and Thomas had listened and listened and listened, and cried and cried and cried; but the only thing Thomas had truly heard had been James listing all the reasons why Thomas shouldn't love him anymore; how MONSTROUS and unworthy of even being loved at all James believed he had become. And when there had been silence, finally - when the list had ended: James had been looking at Thomas with nothing but expectation - waiting for the judgement, for the condemnation, for the killing blow.

But the only thing Thomas had been able to do had been to kiss him, reverently, all over his face, his hands, and hold him tight as James had once more started crying… Because, no matter how James believed himself not to be anymore the man he had once been, Thomas had always known James would be violent if tested - and had accepted it long ago; simply because it gave James a better chance at surviving anything that would come for him, and so Thomas couldn't not be glad for it - James was military after all, so things were bound to come. And because Miranda might have never have to die as she did, and James might have never have had to be reduced to this endless ocean of remorse to start with…

"But the thing is - and this, John - may i call you John? (John is surprised at the desperate tone Thomas's voice is taking, but wordlessly consents) - I insist he must never know - he would only feel guilty for this too (John is stunned at the indisputable trust, but quickly nods again in agreement): I share his responsability. The majority of his deeds have been in my name. And no matter how wrong it is, at the origin, that we were so unjustly and so profoundly punished simply for loving each other… I knew the rules, and I knew the risks. I grew up with them. I lived for years with them. He was discovering, and enthralled, and he couldn't see clearly; but I should have known better. And I'd been warned. Several times. I didn't listen - because I had a name I fancied powerful enough to protect us all, because I was both drunk on his admiration and blinded by his trust, and because ... I had never been in love so helplessly, and simply loved him too much to see clearly too. But I should have been more careful…"

Thomas's voice drops even more. "And so, now, to be honest: I don't think I could go back, to the world outside. I gave it a thought, in the beginning. Add his notorious anger to mine - who knew where it might bring us… But well, you know about the pamphlets... And as long as he is at peace too… We walk hand in hand in here; and no one cares. It is such a simple thing, but it is actually worth the world… Outside? Pretending? Being careful? I couldn't then; how would I fare better now? And what if I got him killed, this time? In the end, maybe I'm just selfish too…"

Thomas turns his eyes away briefly. Then he takes a deep breath, and meets John's eyes again.

"He misses the sea though. God knows it tears at my heart, how much he misses it."

John has to close his eyes. It feels like a knife twisting in his guts; like he's going to throw up blood. John had never given this a thought before either. He has always seen the sea as a way to be safe, to put barrier and distance between him and the horrors of his past. But he knows what the sea means to James, indeed. He knows James has chosen the sea, and has never turned his back on it: Navy, Piracy - a boat is a boat. He suddenly realizes how James must feel: amputated - and John knows how a missing limb feels.

Thomas waits, and only goes on when John's eyes open again: "I'm thankful there's a spot here where it can be seen, at least. He mostly goes alone - it's his place. But maybe we should go with him, next time."

Thomas hesitates, only an instant, before pushing through: "Last year, there was a funeral. And as the cart went out to the cemetary, I heard him sigh: 'I never thought I would be put under the ground.' And I promised him. I promised him if he went first I would find a way to get him where he belongs."

Thomas meets John's eyes dead-on then: "I thought you should know."

John is speechless. He knows he is probably just over a decade younger than them: he understands the logical demand. So John nods, yet again.

But, most of all, John hears what Thomas is actually saying: I trust you with this, because I know you love him too.

So John has to ask, finally, what he truly wants to know: "It doesn't bother you, my being here?"

Thomas takes some time to answer, and John knows that the answer will be honest.

"I am sorry for you; that you felt that you needed to come here, of all places. But honestly? You are the one who brought me back with James. If anything, I am in your debt. (pause) And you've come to the right place. He loves you, very much, too."

John is surprised - not actually about what Thomas said; but that he said it at all. The open admission feels like a gift: acceptance, entrance to an alliance - in order to take care of James, together.

And John feels like repaying it in some way.

"He never had another man." He echoes: "I thought you should know."

Thomas looks surprised at the turn the conversation took. And he sort of blushes. But John presses on - this is his gift. It's proof (even if Thomas doesn't need one to start with) that he's no danger; that he knows his place. And it's proof that he agrees to Thomas's opening.

"I know I wasn't there all those years. But I know what I saw. And what I didn't see. And what I didn't hear. I know he never looked at anyone in that way."

And John should know. He knows he has tried, to be looked at in that way. Striking pauses. Flashing smiles. The whole book he had been taught, he had used on James, at the beginning. Not exactly consciously, but he had found himself doing it, on purpose or not, time and time again. Old habits died hard. Especially when they had saved your skin, several times. It was the only power he had (even without actually playing things through of course, because the idea, the unease, worked sometimes even better); so yes, he had tried to use it. And had most definitely failed. But it was not only him. It was simply no one, it had seemed, who could get this type of reaction from James. He had believed James truly loved 'his Barlow woman' - which had felt strange, because love? John had no notion of the concept, at the time. But after having actually seen him with Miranda, well, it hadn't been a belief, but an indeniable knowledge. So John had been actually stunned, when James had confessed Thomas...

"He could have, you know. Everyone feared him. And the ones who didn't want him dead? They simply revered him. Apologies for being blunt, but no one in Nassau cared about who you fucked, literally - as long as you weren't fucking them, figuratively. He could have, so easily."

Thomas tries to counter, even if it sounds weak: "He had Miranda."

"True. But I don't believe she was the only reason."

There's silence, for a while, but they let their eyes sign the deal.

And then James comes in…

*AN* : John heard of it from Muldoon, in case you wonder :(

JEAN DE LA FONTAINE (1621 – 1695)

THE WOLF AND THE DOG (I,5 - 1668)

A wolf reduced to skin and bone, So well the dogs had watched their care, Met with a wildered mastiff stout as fair, Fat, in good case, and straying all alone ; Gladly Sir Wolf had made the attack, And tore his belly from his back. He fain would have his dinner ; But he must to battle fall, With a mastiff strong and tall, Which kept in awe the sinner. Most humbly therefore he the silence broke, And pretty compliments admiring spoke, About his goodly size and fat. " " Why, " said the Dog, " you soon may equal that ; Leave but your woods and come along with me, And from your wretched, starving neighbours flee ; For here you live by fighting or by fetches ; No easy cheer, no certain state, Poor, despicable, hungry, shabby wretches : Corne follow me and share a better fate. " " And what's the work, " said Wolf, " required in place ? " " A trifie, "—answered Mastiff, " just to chase Beggars and men with sticks away ; Fawn on the family, and please the master, Which mounts our wages up the faster ; Platesful of broken victuals every day, Pullets' and pigeons' bones are on us pressed ; You've no idea how we're caressed. " The Wolf o'ercome assented weeping, He formed great popes of such high keeping. As they advanced he saw the Dog's neck bare. What's that ?" he cried.— " Nothing. " — " Nothing ? why pause ? " " Pshaw ! what ye see, perhaps is worn-off hair ; The collar I'm tied up in is the cause. " " Tied ! " cried the Wolf, "" ye don't run where ye will ? " " Not always.— But no matter ; we've our fill." " Have you indeed ? I really do not care Now, for your sumptuous fare ; For liberty I count all treasures light. "— He said, and fled, and still holds on his flight.

LE LOUP ET LE CHIEN (I,5 - 1668)

Un Loup n'avait que les os et la peau ; Tant les Chiens faisaient bonne garde. Ce Loup rencontre un Dogue aussi puissant que beau, Gras, poli, qui s'était fourvoyé par mégarde. L'attaquer, le mettre en quartiers, Sire Loup l'eût fait volontiers. Mais il fallait livrer bataille Et le Mâtin était de taille A se défendre hardiment. Le Loup donc l'aborde humblement, Entre en propos, et lui fait compliment Sur son embonpoint, qu'il admire. Il ne tiendra qu'à vous, beau sire, D'être aussi gras que moi, lui repartit le Chien. Quittez les bois, vous ferez bien : Vos pareils y sont misérables, Cancres, haires, et pauvres diables, Dont la condition est de mourir de faim. Car quoi ? Rien d'assuré, point de franche lippée. Tout à la pointe de l'épée. Suivez-moi ; vous aurez un bien meilleur destin. Le Loup reprit : Que me faudra-t-il faire ? Presque rien, dit le Chien : donner la chasse aux gens Portants bâtons, et mendiants ; Flatter ceux du logis, à son maître complaire ; Moyennant quoi votre salaire Sera force reliefs de toutes les façons : Os de poulets, os de pigeons, ...Sans parler de mainte caresse. Le loup déjà se forge une félicité Qui le fait pleurer de tendresse. Chemin faisant il vit le col du Chien, pelé : Qu'est-ce là ? lui dit-il. Rien. Quoi ? rien ? Peu de chose. Mais encor ? Le collier dont je suis attaché De ce que vous voyez est peut-être la cause. Attaché ? dit le Loup : vous ne courez donc pas Où vous voulez ? Pas toujours, mais qu'importe ? Il importe si bien, que de tous vos repas Je ne veux en aucune sorte, Et ne voudrais pas même à ce prix un trésor. Cela dit, maître Loup s'enfuit, et court encor.

#black sails #long john silver #john silver #silverflint #silverflinthamilton #from the embers of the shadows in our pasts a phoenix will rise #my two pieces of eight #text #fanfic #captain flint #james flint #thomas hamilton #ALL THE COMPLICATED EMOTIONS

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