once your patients reach a certain level of whiny and attention-seeking there is only one appropriate, morally & ethically sound, starfleet medical-sanctioned way to shut them up.
She supposed that’s what had cemented her resolve in following Jim Hopper through the gate that night. That despair, the devastation. She knew the moment she’d lost Billy Hargrove that she’d refuse to lose Hopper, too. It was visceral, it was instinctual. They didn’t know what was on the other side, but at the very least she knew that whatever it was, she could protect him from it. That’s all she knew, and she clung to it like a lifeline, like a safety blanket. This was what she was builtfor.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. They were met with guns, with violence, with ice. They were met with what they were sure was death.
But as long as she co-operated with them, Hopper would be safe. At least, that was what they promised as they strapped her down and reduced her to a lab rat once more. The poking, the prodding, the continuous cycle of torture and sedation, hoping to provoke the power within; power that had been dampened and stolen by grief. She’d escaped that life once, only to find herself back in it. Only these doctors cared little for much else about her other than what they could steal, replicate; what they could weaponise. Martin Brenner’s embrace had been far from warm, but it scorched in comparison to that of these new beasts, these men clad in white coats, these men who were doctor only in name, and monster in nature.
All the while, she felt it. The stirrings of a malicious force returned, just beyond her reach, tugging at her flimsy tethering to the Upside Down. A warning chord, struck deep within her bones. He’d come back. One had come back. And El… Zara could feel her, too. The pain. The suffering. The rage.
Zara Mathers had spent her entire life trying to escape Hawkins. But now, at the furthest geographical point from it, she’d give everything she had and everything she was to get back.
Ok that bit where garak said sentiment is weakness and julian said if thats true thats a lesson id rather not learn WHILE STARING AT HIM dear god reblog if you agree
Ed, to Izzy, haunted: at night I hear things. Horrible things. My ghosts have finally come to collect their pound of flesh. They torture me with nightmarish tales.
HARD CUT to Lucius reciting My Immortal at the top of his lungs from within the walls while Ed lies in bed with a pillow over his head to drown it out.
So I was thinking about how it’s pretty thoroughly established that Frenchie can’t read or write, but then we get to episode 4 and he a) identifies the party invitation and b) writes receipts as part of the pyramid scheme. The first one could be explained by what little we know of his background – he knows what a fancy party invitation looks like – but what about the receipts? I’ll admit, the possibility that Frenchie lied about his literacy level in order to avoid getting stuck with Lucius’ job was veryfunny to me, but I went back and looked and no:
No, he just drew pictures again. Which, first off, incredible, love that, but it does kind of make me wonder how he got away with it and the only thing I can think of is that he. That he told them the receipts were written in hieroglyphs.
And presumably a bunch of aristocrats were like “that sounds fake but I definitely don’t know enough about Egypt to dispute it, one half a pyramid please.”
