ok so heres my Jake Lockley theory. because i think that was him in the first episode, taking out Harrows guys on the street, it was obviously him that killed the guys on the roof as neither Marc or Steven remember doing it, and its him in that sarcophagus
but, if theres a third personality, how did Marc balance the scales?
i think, its because Jake is a personality Stevencreated. because if Marc created Steven to “have a good life believing his mom loved him” but it was Steven she physically attacked, then why does Steven not remember that? unless Stevencreated Jake in that moment the camera panned away before his mom started hitting him.
it would definitely explain why Jake’s so violent, if his only experience with life is being abused. and he’d want to make sure nobody does it again
but i think he comes out to protect Steven, which would explain why Marc was confused when he killed those guys on the roof - Jakes never come out to protect Marc. now that Stevens aware and watching what Marc does from the ‘backseat’ so to speak, when Marc got almost knocked out by the dudes on the roof, Steven was seeing that, scared, panicking and awarehe was in danger. out comes Jake to protect him. same as when he was surrounded by Harrows men and couldn’t call on Marc yet to help him. Jake protects Steven when Marc can’t, because he’s Stevensalter
and now that Stevens ‘gone’, so is Jake. until they both obviously come back
She blessed Jack having taken early to sleeping through the night, and given the business of caring for a one-year-old, Abigail slept hard where she could. So when she woke, she found she was one of the last to learn that John had left in the night, and not only for a good time in town or to go scout a job. He’d left a terse note at the door of Dutch’s cabin: “I got to go. Don’t know that I’ll be back. John.”
And that was that. He was gone. Not planning to come back. A few simple words, and he’d left it to someone else–Hosea, it turned out to be–to tell Abigail what was what.
For Abigail, he left nothing. No note, no words. Nothing except for the boy sleeping peacefully in the apple crate that had become his crib courtesy of Pearson’s handiwork. The boy he still hadn’t claimed, and now likely never would. She turned and went back to the tent, heartsick and feeling about two inches tall. Not wanting to face the others–how they must have been debating how to tell her before she woke, and not wanting either their pity or their told-you-sos.
“Abigail.” She didn’t turn from Jack, hearing Arthur’s voice behind her. “I’ll ride after him, if you want it. Drag him back slung over my damn saddle if it comes to it, I will.”
Arthur would, at that. She didn’t doubt he could catch John and do it, even with John having hours of head start. She could hear the steely fury in Arthur’s voice, the rough edge that told her he’d like nothing more than to chase John down and bring him back by force. The same way he’d talked to John and about John this past year and a half since Abigail told him she was pregnant by young Mr. Marston.
“No.” It came out as barely more than a whisper. She swallowed hard through her dry throat and repeated herself. “No. It ain’t worth it. He’s made it clear he’s got no interest in m–in Jack.” No, he still had interest in Abigail. Enough to keep her hoping now and again that he would finally, truly see the sweet boy that they’d made together, and whatever fears he had about being a father would be put to rest. Neither of them had grown up with much of an ideal there. She knew that. They’d talked plenty about their lives in those weeks two summers ago–so damn long now–when everything seemed so bright and full of hope and love. Like she’d found the life she’d longed for in John Marston, and they would make everything right for each other.
Poor fool. She wasn’t the first woman left with a baby with no father. Growing up as she had, she had no illusions of that. But she’d so wanted to believe that it was real. That the love between them was enough, and all the ugliness of their childhoods could be behind them.
She’d already spent so many nights howling at the moon over John Marston, aching to be seen by him as she thought she had been for those idyllic summer days and nights, aching to belong to him and have him belong to her in turn. To see him embrace Jack with joy rather than ignoring him like an unwanted stray, or worse, more or less calling him a whore’s bastard by claiming he could have been anybody’s.
He’d given an answer. She’d spent so much time chasing him. She was tired of it. They could find him and drag him back, even make him marry her and claim Jack as his own at gunpoint, and what was the point of it? Nothing would change unless John changed. She looked over her shoulder at Arthur. Lifted her chin and said, “If he ain’t man enough to claim his son, then let him run away.” Some part of her hoped he’d never come back so she could be done with him for good.
Arthur looked back at her steadily, some emotion she couldn’t quite read in his eyes. “He ever comes back, I promise you he’ll answer to me for this.” From him, she knew that was a promise, though she silently knew Dutch probably wouldn’t let that comeuppance happen, as he hadn’t in all this time. But still, it meant something that Arthur would say such a thing.
If only love was like a candle and she could simply blow that flame out, and be done with him, and be done with the hopes and the heartache. But it wasn’t, and she suspected she’d waste more tears and hopes and anger on John Marston yet before it was all said and done. But for now, she had a boy to raise, and she’d done it without John already. She would find a way, somehow.
it wouldn’t make a very good fic bc i would want literally everything else to remain the same as canon, like sozin and his family still start the war, but i think it is fun to think about an atla au where u swap the elements of the water tribes and fire nation
like at the south pole, southern tribe remains the same, but katara as a firebender… something something family and the hearth, fire cooks your food and keeps you alive in the cold, etc. and then maybe a greater focus on the ocean as a fair/ uncaring (depending on your pov) but relentless force something something azula’s speech about the tides
bc while it does make sense for waterbenders to live near an abundance of ice i feel like u could also make the reverse argument, that the people who can keep themselves warm with the *literal fire of their souls* are the people best suited to living in below freezing temperatures. u kno
and if waterbenders can thrive as long as they are near their element (see: the foggy swamp tribe) it would also make sense for them to settle down on a chain of islands, even if the climate there is really warm. they can keep cool using the ice they make with their minds
I thought of texting you “good morning, I can’t sleep” and then I remembered that you are on a journey which I am not a part of and that’s okay but good morning I can’t sleep
