Post by Dean Harper on Feb 23, 2023 23:21:11 GMT
Isn't it interesting how many people use the word dog to refer to me?
Lap dog. Attack dog. Rabid dog.
Mostly in reference to someone else. Because I spent so much of my life following orders. I have never denied being a follower. Following orders is simple. Never having to make a call on your own? Easy. You don't have to think. You don't have to question. You just do. You have the target and you go for it. You don't need to think about the complicated bits. You just go.
Because that's what I was good at. Good boys do what they are told.
I was most loyal. I was the good son.
How does one switch from follower to standing on their own?
Usually some time away. Usually seeing someone else stand where you stood and hating them for it.
The usual.
Last time I was on my own, where I tried to stand on my own it did not go well. I admit that. Steve Fucking Awesome saw me trying to stand on my own, trying to be a better person and mocked the death of the only women I ever loved. And I retreated back into my father's shadow. I was happy to be in his shadow.
I have never been angry at my father's shadow.
I have been angry about what other people seem to think being Angel Blake's son means. I came in second my first heir to the throne. I earned my first title shot, I beat Devline Raine. I won my first Joker in the Pack Match. I beat Spike Kane 9 times out of ten, the last time I beat him until his useless fucking heart gave out and I took the World title. I beat the man who beat my father for the world title. I won Heir to the throne.
BY MYSELF
I didn't make it into the hall of fame because of who my father was. My father, as much as I love him, did nothing to my success.
Who I am in the ring? My ruthlessness and my violence? That has nothing to do with Angel Blake. My success? That has nothing to do with Angel Blake.
That was me.
If we want to give training credit then to a lesser extent that crown goes Rowan MacDonnough for what she made me into.
But I took that training and turned it into what I am now. Brooklyn Maddox had that training and while she had an iron grip on the women's world title for a time, no one accuses her of only getting it for nepotism. Caleb Lockwood had the same training, and as much as I care about him, he did not make it to where I have.
I did this. I made myself into the monster I am.
I got injured. I had my title stripped from me. If my father's blood gave me some kind of special privilege's in this company then I would still be holding the tag team title. But it doesn't. And I don't.
My father casts a long shadow but I'll be damned if I hear one more fucking mouth breathing claim anything that I am is because of him or because of some special privilege from him. I didn't know who he was until I was already an adult. He didn't do that.
He pointed me in the direction of targets. He encouraged my baser impulses.
But I made the decision on how far I'd go. I have always made that decision. I maim who I want when I want. And when I say I am going to face my father for the world title I want you to understand there is nothing you can do to stop me. No amount of time in my father's shadow has lessoned my brutality, if anything it's only increased it.
There is no one holding my leash now. When I win the roulette I will do it on my own. As I have everything else in my career.
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again as Damien had the Bluey stuffed toy seat buckled next to him. He felt like he should say something, apologize. But how do you explain something like this to a child? How do you explain something to a child that it wasn't a bad thing, it was just something other people didn't understand?
"Ice cream?" Damien asked as Dean pulled in to the empty parking lot.
"Yeah, I was thinking..."
"Doctor's appointments we get ice cream. But this isn't the place we get ice cream."
"We're gonna go get ice cream, trust me. I just wanted to talk to you quick before we meet up with Warren, okay?"
"About the test."
"About the test." Dean agreed. "It's... it's not a bad thing, okay? It doesn't make anyone love you less. Just means that we're gonna be talking a bit more about how you feel about things."
"Okay." Damien nodded.
"And just because you have autism doesn't change anything between us, okay?"
"Okay."
"Daddy just feels guilty."
"Why?"
"Because... Daddy is used to feeling like he messed everything up."
"You don't mess up pancakes." Damien seemed a little confused, as if how could Dean mess things up but still make pancakes. "But you had a bad childhood so Warren says sometimes we have to be soft."
"First of all," Dean turned around. "Warren should not have said that to you."
"You cry while watching Bluey with me. People who had good childhoods don't cry while watching Bluey."
"...Hurtful." Dean laughed for a lot longer then was needed but it felt better, nothing had changed. Damien was still Damien. He was freaking out over nothing, maybe life would be harder later, but Dean would burn down the world before letting it hurt Damien. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"I love you too Daddy." Damien smiled. "Ice Cream?"
"Ice Cream."
Lap dog. Attack dog. Rabid dog.
Mostly in reference to someone else. Because I spent so much of my life following orders. I have never denied being a follower. Following orders is simple. Never having to make a call on your own? Easy. You don't have to think. You don't have to question. You just do. You have the target and you go for it. You don't need to think about the complicated bits. You just go.
Because that's what I was good at. Good boys do what they are told.
I was most loyal. I was the good son.
How does one switch from follower to standing on their own?
Usually some time away. Usually seeing someone else stand where you stood and hating them for it.
The usual.
Last time I was on my own, where I tried to stand on my own it did not go well. I admit that. Steve Fucking Awesome saw me trying to stand on my own, trying to be a better person and mocked the death of the only women I ever loved. And I retreated back into my father's shadow. I was happy to be in his shadow.
I have never been angry at my father's shadow.
I have been angry about what other people seem to think being Angel Blake's son means. I came in second my first heir to the throne. I earned my first title shot, I beat Devline Raine. I won my first Joker in the Pack Match. I beat Spike Kane 9 times out of ten, the last time I beat him until his useless fucking heart gave out and I took the World title. I beat the man who beat my father for the world title. I won Heir to the throne.
BY MYSELF
I didn't make it into the hall of fame because of who my father was. My father, as much as I love him, did nothing to my success.
Who I am in the ring? My ruthlessness and my violence? That has nothing to do with Angel Blake. My success? That has nothing to do with Angel Blake.
That was me.
If we want to give training credit then to a lesser extent that crown goes Rowan MacDonnough for what she made me into.
But I took that training and turned it into what I am now. Brooklyn Maddox had that training and while she had an iron grip on the women's world title for a time, no one accuses her of only getting it for nepotism. Caleb Lockwood had the same training, and as much as I care about him, he did not make it to where I have.
I did this. I made myself into the monster I am.
I got injured. I had my title stripped from me. If my father's blood gave me some kind of special privilege's in this company then I would still be holding the tag team title. But it doesn't. And I don't.
My father casts a long shadow but I'll be damned if I hear one more fucking mouth breathing claim anything that I am is because of him or because of some special privilege from him. I didn't know who he was until I was already an adult. He didn't do that.
He pointed me in the direction of targets. He encouraged my baser impulses.
But I made the decision on how far I'd go. I have always made that decision. I maim who I want when I want. And when I say I am going to face my father for the world title I want you to understand there is nothing you can do to stop me. No amount of time in my father's shadow has lessoned my brutality, if anything it's only increased it.
There is no one holding my leash now. When I win the roulette I will do it on my own. As I have everything else in my career.
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again as Damien had the Bluey stuffed toy seat buckled next to him. He felt like he should say something, apologize. But how do you explain something like this to a child? How do you explain something to a child that it wasn't a bad thing, it was just something other people didn't understand?
"Ice cream?" Damien asked as Dean pulled in to the empty parking lot.
"Yeah, I was thinking..."
"Doctor's appointments we get ice cream. But this isn't the place we get ice cream."
"We're gonna go get ice cream, trust me. I just wanted to talk to you quick before we meet up with Warren, okay?"
"About the test."
"About the test." Dean agreed. "It's... it's not a bad thing, okay? It doesn't make anyone love you less. Just means that we're gonna be talking a bit more about how you feel about things."
"Okay." Damien nodded.
"And just because you have autism doesn't change anything between us, okay?"
"Okay."
"Daddy just feels guilty."
"Why?"
"Because... Daddy is used to feeling like he messed everything up."
"You don't mess up pancakes." Damien seemed a little confused, as if how could Dean mess things up but still make pancakes. "But you had a bad childhood so Warren says sometimes we have to be soft."
"First of all," Dean turned around. "Warren should not have said that to you."
"You cry while watching Bluey with me. People who had good childhoods don't cry while watching Bluey."
"...Hurtful." Dean laughed for a lot longer then was needed but it felt better, nothing had changed. Damien was still Damien. He was freaking out over nothing, maybe life would be harder later, but Dean would burn down the world before letting it hurt Damien. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"I love you too Daddy." Damien smiled. "Ice Cream?"
"Ice Cream."
Well howdy there pardner.