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caribooed · 3 years ago

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[cha cha slide voice] reverse!

Freeze! Everybody clap your hands!

Ok so Catwoman Guardian of Gotham was a disaster so I'm taking it into my own hands. Only Bruce and Selina are swapped and Alfred still exists, not. The weird maid lady and Bruce is Not a bloodthirsty murderer

This got Very long so it's under a cut

Selina's parents were murdered by Joe Chill and she vowed to never let anyone feel the same pain she did, hence why she later became Catwoman

Bruce grew up on the streets with his big brother Thomas taking care of them both, but Thomas ended up killing a guy in a mugging and got sent to prison and left Bruce on his own

Catwoman hears about a number of high-profile thefts (museums, aristocrats) springing up and starts trying to track down the cat burglar and ends up interrupting a burglarly from a wealthy woman's penthouse

She chases the burglar down and they have a fight on the rooftops where they kick the everloving shit out of eachother but the burglar throws her off the roof and when she gets back up he's gone

Next night, she attends a charity event and meets an activist and fundraiser by the name of Bruce Wayne and they have a nice chat and hit it off

In the middle of it, a waiter bumps Selina in the side right over where her ribs got cracked from the other night and she doubles over so Bruce helps her out of sight and asks what happened

She tells him she tripped down the stairs of her house but he does Not believe it and ends up sticking by her the rest of the night, at the end of which Selina is like. "He's nice I think" and invites him out for lunch soon

Jump a day or two and Selina runs into the burglar again but this time he's got full body armor and a bat motif and she is Not Happy With This Development

Bruce stole a ton of armor and weaponry from the GCPD and made his own suit because Selina rly messed him up the last time they met

So they fight and Bruce hits her in the side and it floors her and he is like. Wait A Minute, but she recovers and he's forced to run

And then over a period of a month or two, Bruce starts hanging out with Selina in the day (lowkey stalking her to see if his wild theory is right) and while over at her manor he spots a bloodstain on her shirtsleeve from a wound that bled through the bandages she was wearing and when he questions her she says she cut her arm open on a nail accidentally and it's not a big deal but he's just. Hm

Also during this period, Catwoman keeps showing up to stop all of Batman's robberies and he's really getting sick of it because he's been using the money from his stolen goods both to like, feed himself but also to support a gang of homeless kids in the neighborhood he lives in and to help provide food for the local orphanage and it's getting Really Hard To Do That When He Can't Steal Stuff

So basically he knows she's Catwoman and Selina is his friend and he's just. I Have An Idea

Batman starts going out more often just to taunt Catwoman while she's on patrol and he starts going to other rogues like Two-Face and Cobblepit to egg them on and he actively breaks Bane out of prison and the Riddler out of Arkham just to set them loose

He's basically manufacturing a crime wave to try and wear Catwoman out and it's working

She's really exhausted because of all this and every time she has to make an appearance in public she's all tired and struggling to keep it together and Bruce makes a point to be there and to cover for her whenever she's too overwhelmed

Eventually Catwoman gets severely injured during a fight and she's too far from the Cave so, not really having another option, she shows up passed out in Bruce's apartment bleeding out and he's all surprised and helps her and gives her impromptu medical care but never pulls off her mask

Selina wakes up on his couch and he's asleep in a chair he pulled up next to her and she's like :] and leaves him a thank you note before going

So Batman has basically become priority one but he keeps causing so many new problems to spring up that she can't actually go after him while he commits a robbery spree, and every tine she deals with everything else he goes to ground for weeks on end

All the while Bruce is there being Supportive Friend Of The Year and they keep going out to eat and they spend events together and it's Grand

Eventually Bruce asks her out! And she's like. Oh No because while she likes him, she genuinely doesn't know if she can handle being in a relationship at the moment but she doesn't want to say no so she gives a tentative yes and so they're dating

Luckily he is a very understanding man and whenever she has to dip out to be Catwoman or when she's too tired to go out he's all "oh it's fine, I can reschedule" and it's a Very Big Relief

Batman goed to ground after another round of Mess With Catwoman and he stays that way for like three months and she puts all her rogues away so for the first time in a While she has proper free time to spend with Bruce and it's lovely! And shes like. "If this is how our relationship is, I don't want it to end" but because she's Catwoman and she doesn't know that she could hide it from Bruce if they were married and so one night she shows up in his apartment as Catwoman and shows him that she's Selina and he's just "!!!!! Oh that explains a lot, that's really awesome"

He swears he'd never tell anyone about her identity and makes a joke about how because Selina makes herself seem so ditzy at parties, nobody would believe him anyway and so Selina proposes to him the next night and they end up getting married and Bruce moves into the manor ❤️

Unfortunately Batman comes back and he pulls a pro gamer move which involves releasing every inmate from Arkham and Blackgate, including but not limited to her entire rogues gallery

So she's having a Time and literally just can't handle everything and every time she does well against a rogue Batman swoops in out of nowhere to divert her and really it's exhausting and she's working herself to the bone

Eventually she manages to wrangle most of them but the Joker is still on the loose and Batman keeps evading her and she Has Not Slept For Four Nights

While she's in the Cave, Alfred makes a comment about how at night it always gets so nerve wracking, especially since Bruce tends to leave after she does and Alfred is worried he might get caught up in something dangerous considering Batman and the crime wave and Selina is like

"He leaves the house at night??? [wh]" And Alfred gets confused tells her how he can never find Bruce in the manor from around eleven pm to two in the morning so he assumes Bruce goes out to visit friends or to deal with personal business and he tells her abt how he asked Bruce about it and he told Alfred that he and Selina had already talked about it

And Selina is just. "He was lying to you, I had no idea he was going out" which makes her Very Suspicious

She can't Do anything about it because she's trying to track down supercriminals but she checks the manor security feeds and she can't find any trace of Bruce leaving which is Concerning

Basically she ends up finding the Joker and stopping him from bombing the city and he gets sent back to Arkham, but before she can go home Batman shows up and they facedown on the roof

Batman goes all "I really didn't want to do this but you gave me no choice" and then starts trying to kill Selina

He gets a bunch of good stabs in but Selina seems to get the better of him and so he runs and she follows him into an apartment building but loses him in the hallways

She spots a bomb behind one of the doors and realizes the building is about to explode so she gets out of there just before it does and Batman corners her with a gun on a nearby roof

He tries to kill her again but Selina manages to get close and hits the gun away

Batman tries to run but she grabs him by the cape and yanks him back and manages to rip his cowl off before he gets away, at which point she sees that it's Bruce and she's Horrified

And it finally clicks that Batman has been trying to get every other criminal in Gotham to either kill her for him or wear her out so that he can do it himself, which would Also be killing Selina Kyle, and since she doesn't have any other heir, Bruce would get her fortune

And she's all "why would you do all this" and he gets really angry and starts telling her all about the people that aren't as privileged as her and he basically tells her that he wants her money so he can use it to help the people living in the East End and the Narrows, since Selina and the other aristocrats of her stature didn't know the problem like he did and refused to help

So Selina is just baffled that he'd go this far and he apologizes to her genuinely before he tries to kill her one last time because now that she Knows, this is his last chance to get away with the plan

It doesn't work, Selina fights him off and manages to get cuffs on him but he gets away and Selina goes home and Divorces That Man Immediately but also realizes that while he was living with her he'd been stealing things like jewelry she never wore or fancy paintings from rooms nobody ever went into and she is just Not Pleased

But she also allocates a ton of money towards charity projects focused in the more rundown areas of Gotham and actively starts funding all sorts of orphanages, soup kitchens, clinics, etc

She tries to track Bruce down but he's just Gone and so she lets it go even though she's very heartbroken and sad that he tried so hard to kill her

#bat and cat swap #batman #catwoman #dc comics #gaysonlyocean #adobe decrees #tysm rat 🥺

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ivarthebadbitch · 4 years ago

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Strange things can happen

Chapter 7 summary: Aldreda and Ivar have a cultural exchange. Ivar hatches a plan of his own.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 1856

Notes: I 100% made up the “cultural” stuff in this chapter, don’t get mad at me.

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare (let me know if you would like to be tagged)

CHAPTER 7: Maybe someday

With the majority of the Mercian rebels either killed, captured, or fled, a treaty skewed heavily in favor of Wessex was swiftly drawn up and signed by the victorious and defeated parties. Aldreda’s father was clearly pleased with the turn of events, and he allowed her, Aethelred, Alfred, and Ivar to witness the signing. Afterwards, he hugged Aldreda and her brothers and even gave Ivar an awkward pat on the shoulder.

As everyone else began packing up camp outside to return home, Aldreda and Ivar lingered to look at the treaty. “So that’s it, then?” Ivar asked. He turned the piece of parchment sideways and frowned. “This chicken scratch is the agreement between Wessex and Mercia? A good rain would wash the ink right out. Or I could tear it in half. And then...no more treaty.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t. My father is already upset with you.”

“I just think it is a stupid way to make an agreement. It’s just parchment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

She took the treaty out of his hands in case he changed his mind and decided to tear it up. Or eat it. “So how would your people do it, then?”

“Easy. You make your agreement and swear an oath, and then you perform a sacrifice so that the gods will be witnesses to it and show favor. Usually a goat.” He regarded her thoughtfully and then shook his head. “Well, I see the problem. You Christians don’t do sacrifices. How does your god know when you make an agreement?”

“Maybe He reads it over later,” Aldreda said dryly. “The whole reason to write it down and sign it is to record the details of the agreement so that all parties can be held to account if they break it. What happens if you make an agreement with someone, take an oath, perform a sacrifice, and later on the other person claims that you agreed to something else?”

Ivar shrugged. “Challenge him to single combat for lying. Then you kill him and take his land and his wife as your own.”

“Ah. Of course,” she said. “Well, then, what about us? You and I made an agreement, but we did not perform a sacrifice as your people would do, so your gods don’t recognize it. Nor did we write it down.”

“That is true.” He gave her a thoughtful look, even though she hadn’t been entirely serious. “So what do you want to do about it?”

“Write it down,” she said on impulse, reaching for the quill and ink pot left on the table. She took her small prayer book out of her pocket and flipped to the blank final page. Near the bottom, she wrote in small, neat letters: Ivar and Aldreda have an agreement. She signed her name underneath and handed the quill to Ivar.

He took it hesitantly. “I can’t write,” he said.

She pointed out his name on the page. “Just try to copy this,” she told him.

He studied his name for a moment, frowning, and then he set the quill to the parchment and laboriously drew the letters. They came out crooked and wobbly, but it was undeniably his name, and she felt a sudden surge of pride. “It takes practice, but not so bad, right?” she said as she tucked the book back inside her pocket.

“No,” he said. He sounded a little surprised. “So, we wrote it down like you wanted. Now we should make a sacrifice.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I am not sacrificing a goat. I hope you will understand.”

“It doesn’t have to be a goat.” He pulled out a knife.

Aldreda hesitated, and he rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t look at me like that. What, do you really think I’d kill you? Right here in the middle of your father’s camp? Even if I wanted to, I’m not that stupid. We can use your knife if you want. I know you have one.”

She did have one, but that was beside the point. She watched as he nicked his index finger with a small hiss. Then he held out the knife to her, handle first, and after a moment she accepted it from him and followed suit. He took her hand and pressed their fingers together. It felt strangely intimate. She could feel her face turning red.

“There,” he said. “Now our oath is sealed in blood.”

He wiped his bloody finger on his pants while she pressed down on hers to stop the bleeding. “I thought you were going to tell me to lick your finger or something,” she joked. “Don’t you pagans drink blood?”

He looked up in surprise. “Oh, of course, we can do that too if you want.”

“Ah...no. That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

***

A plan began taking shape in Ivar’s mind in earnest as they made their slow and bumpy way back to Wessex. To make his way home to Kattegat, he would need somebody to help smuggle him many miles to the coast and get him on a boat. The only reason anyone in this place would do that would be for a substantial amount of money. So he needed to find someone greedy. Or, even better—someone desperate. And beyond that, he needed a bribe, since his fellow conspirator would not be satisfied with empty promises. He would want to see payment upfront. Something valuable enough to make it worth the risk.

His eyes went to Aldreda’s gold necklace.

“You look thoughtful,” she said in an amused voice, and he almost jumped. Though they had started this trip to Mercia bickering, at some point along the way he could feel something had changed between them. It made him a little uneasy that he was beginning to actually like her company, and that she seemed to like his more and more. But he couldn’t allow that to be a distraction.

“That priest your father sent to teach me,” he said. “Father...Wilfred, I think. Why did Aethelwulf choose him?”

“I suppose because he knows your language,” she said with a shrug.

“Not as some sort of punishment for him, then.”

“Well, now that you say that…” She frowned and then leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though it was just the two of them in the carriage. “There was a scandal a few months back. Father Wilfred and a few other priests were caught gambling using church funds. My grandfather and the bishop decided to be merciful because his skill in Norse and in Frankish is useful, but he had to pay back the funds he had stolen, which I believe was a substantial amount. It is possible that teaching you is also part of his penance.”

Perfect. Ivar forced himself to keep his expression neutral. He couldn’t give her any hint of what he was planning to do. “I would like to continue my lessons with Father Wilfred,” he said. “I want to know more about your religion.”

Aldreda stared at him in surprise, and for a moment, he thought she would see right through his subterfuge. But then she unexpectedly gave him a warm smile. “I will tell my father; he will be pleased to hear it.” She added almost shyly, “And I am pleased to hear it too.”

He blushed and looked away, unable to stop himself. She looked happier than he had ever seen her in the past several weeks since they had married.

“Oh, but Ivar—” she said—had she called him by his name before now?—“don’t torment the poor priest like you did last time. If you want some parchment to gnaw on, I’m sure we can find some scraps around.”

She was actually teasing him. Somehow, he didn’t mind. He rolled his eyes at her but smiled back. “Fine. I promise.”

Aldreda leaned back in her seat and gave him an almost hesitant look. “Will you tell me about your home?” she asked shyly. “I’ve never been outside of Wessex, except for this trip.”

“Kattegat?” He took a moment to think about what to say. “The city is on the edge of the bay, surrounded by mountains. It was small when I was born, not much more than a fishing village—that was before my father became king. When I was a child, of course, I thought it was the entire world. Now it’s much bigger and merchants come from all over to sell things. You see all kinds of people there, not like here.

“It gets cold in the winters, but in the great hall where my parents sit, it is always warm,” he continued. “Everyone gathers in there for meetings and feasts. In the summer, I would go with my brothers to the hunting cabin in the mountains to fish and hunt deer and rabbits. The forest there is so thick that even during the middle of the day, it always stays cool and dark…”

There was more he could tell her about Kattegat, like the excitement of the horns blowing when ships arrived in the harbor, or how the hills were carpeted with purple wildflowers in spring, or about the secret waterfall where he sometimes went swimming with his brothers. His heart suddenly felt tight in his chest as he remembered all the things he missed from home. He wondered what his family was doing without him and how long it would take before they no longer noticed his absence. It was almost unbearable to think about.

“Sometimes we sacrifice goats, that sort of thing,” he finally finished, just to make her laugh. “We’re heathens, after all.”

“I’d like to see it,” she sighed. “Not the sacrificing goats part, but everything else. Perhaps my grandfather will allow it someday.”

It was wishful thinking and they both knew it. He allowed himself to imagine what that would be like anyway. His brothers would tease them mercilessly and his mother would initially be suspicious since she had never approved of the marriage in the first place, but with time they would be won over. And perhaps Aldreda would like to see the ocean, since there was none at Ecbert’s court in Winchester. She was sure to be surprised by the size of the mountains.

He shook his head. That was never going to happen. He was going to find a way to get home and that would be the end of it, and it would be better for both of them. She could marry again, this time to someone more suitable. She might be upset about it for a little while, and then she would move on.

“Maybe someday,” he ended up telling her. “But you should improve your Norse first. Your accent is horrible.”

They didn’t speak much after that, but after a little while, she reached out and took his hand. Then, she hesitantly leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. She sat back, blushing furiously—he was certain his face was as red as hers was—and looked away.

Still, she kept holding on to his hand. He couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 years ago

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The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 7)

A/n: We're... so close... I'm so excited.

Word Count: 5000+

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Life really only got worse from there, really for everybody. Most of all for Y/n, believe it or not considering what people like Bruce Wayne were dealing with these days.

Unfortunately it was truth.

Jerome and Y/n were separated. When having different cells didn't deter the two boys from being affectionate during down time or meals, Y/n was put into isolation where the only people he saw were officers that hated him or Dr. Quinzel, who had to pretend she wanted to "cure" Y/n of his "problem of the heart" or whatever. It was terrible for both of them, but if anyone else did it it wouldn't be two friends sitting down and talking through things. Shock therapy had been thrown around as an idea a few times. It was far worse ideas that Y/n hadn't heard about that had gotten Harleen to give in, if the taunts he'd been receiving held any weight.

Finally Y/n was allowed visitors. He didn't expect any, and he still wasn't allowed around the other inmates, so he was resigned to his life of solitude and misery.

Then Alfred Pennyworth paid him another visit.

"Alfred," Y/n croaked. His voice was rough from disuse.

The older butler took in Y/n's state and seemed to be taking it hard. Y/n was pale, his skin so sickly it was practically see through. It only made the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep as well as the bruises from the occasional beatings look even worse. He had started to gather scars- those hadn't been from other people though. In a world that only gave him pain, he found some solace in having some of it be at his own hand. It made him feel just a little more under control. Alfred seemed to be able to tell which wounds were from who, and he looked ready to kill someone- whether it be Y/n or the guards, it wasn't clear yet.

"Y/n... what have they done to you?"

Y/n smiled, trying not to cry. "They punished me for my sins Alfred. For murdering, which I did a bit of in my time I won't lie about that. For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a mad man." Y/n's smile faltered. He was too tired to smile. He couldn't hold them for long anymore. Ever since being away from Jerome, it had been hard to find anything amusing. It was even worse when he wasn't allowed to be himself at all. When he was punished nonstop for being himself. When he couldn't talk or do anything he liked to do or see anyone he wanted to be around or go anywhere other than an empty cell far away from everywhere else. His life was completely out of his control and the people in charge were using their leverage over him to twist and bend him into the shape they wanted him to be. Except it wasn't working. Y/n was still a dreamer. He still did art and thought of other places and people and times. He still smiled when he saw Harleen. He still dreamed of Jerome. He still missed home and cared for people who had probably long stopped even thinking about him. He was still gay. And he was still dangerously, murderously angry. He had far too much free time and he spent probably too much of it daydreaming of ways to put the most painful ends on each of his tormenters.

Now he was calm though. Alfred was family. He was safe. He was part of home. Someone Y/n missed dearly from a time that was lost to him. A time he wished he could get back. Dinners with his parents and his brother. Hiking trips and tea times and bedtime stories. When things were easy and had a rhythm and made perfect sense. So what if he hadn't really been himself? So what if he was a little crazy? Attracted to adventure? At least he hadn't killed anyone, compared to nowadays where he was apparently completely insane and so addicted to danger that it just might actually kill him. So what if he hadn't been allowed to talk about being gay and have a boyfriend? All he'd gotten for that was isolation and violence.

That didn't matter. He didn't want to think about anything but Alfred and good times.

"For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a man?" Alfred offered softly. Y/n shrugged and Alfred's face grew dark. It got quiet until the butler sighed, his shoulders sagging. Alfred had always had the same magic Y/n and Bruce's dad did. He seemed frozen in time, untouchable by death. Both men had seemed unbreakable. Now Alfred seemed worn down and just as old as he actually was. He probably wasn't very old, but only now was it dawning on Y/n that he was... old. Or at least he wasn't young. He was aged. He was getting on in years. He should have been married, with kids, living a peaceful life and watching those kids go to college and move out, alone with his wife to live out the rest of his days in some cottage somewhere in the most beautiful parts of England. He should be reading books and drinking tea and worrying about how tired he felt when it was only 9pm, even though he used to stay up until 3am in his youth. Instead he had no wife but two sons that had been thrust into his hands- both of whom were losing their minds and burdened by so much trauma and darkness that he most likely stayed awake at night and run over probability after probability of how he might go about helping even just one of them, realizing that he would fail them both because no one can truly save someone from themself if the person refuses to allow it.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Y/n mumbled. His eyes watered as he looked at the man that had become a lot like a father to him, right when he needed one the most. Maybe things had been easier when Thomas was alive, but their perfect family wouldn't have survived through the teenage years in a place like Gotham. It would have been messed up eventually. Y/n knew that. "You're trying your best, and you make a lot of the right decisions. I know I'm not the easiest person to care about."

Alfred smiled. "Y/n, of the people I care about you are currently the easiest one to do so for. Maybe I'm not happy with your decisions and where it's... gotten you-" he wavered, looking round the room. Y/n actually managed a weak, broken laugh. A normal laugh. It wasn't manic or wild. It was small and short and wet and weak and broken, but it was also a very normal laugh. The sound everyday people make in situations that were somehow funny when they shouldn't be. It was a nice sound. It lifted the mood even more. "But you're still by boy, and I stand by you." He paused for a while, getting serious. "I don't know what I would do if I was in your situation, Y/n. Finding happiness with a man like Jerome. Finding misery in people you should be able to trust. I just-" He bit his lip for a second before continuing. "Be honest with me: was I ever one of the people that betrayed your trust?"

Y/n's eyes went wide. "No Alfred, oh god. I think you're the last good person left in Gotham. You make me happy and safe. You're the only one that does that anymore."

That seemed to bring some kind of peace to the old man. He looked around the room again and almost mimicked the laugh Y/n had made earlier. "This is crazy. Us finding solace in each other. How did we end up here, hm, Master Y/n?"

Y/n grinned despite himself. "I don't know." He wiped his eyes- he had begun crying. "I don't know Alfred." He sniffed. "You deserve better."

"Damn right I do," Alfred agreed. "And so do you." The men exchanged soft smiles. Alfred's expression changed after a second as he pursed his lips, tilting his head. "Are you and Jerome still...?"

Y/n's smile fell. "I haven't been allowed to see him. I don't know what he thinks happened to me. I kind of just disappeared. I left with you that day and then when I was brought back I was immediately put into isolation so-" Y/n shrugged.

Alfred sighed through his nose. "Do you... love him?" He seemed disoriented by the mere thought of someone loving Jerome Valeska. Of someone he knew - someone he helped raised, who he was close to and cared a lot about and had a lot of faith in - being in love with Jerome Valeska. "I mean, you don't seem..." He motioned with his hands, not sure how to form his feelings into words.

"Crazy?" Y/n offered. It was Alfred's turn to shrug. Y/n scoffed, amused. "I don't think I am. He's just... everything I ever wanted, you know? I can be myself around him and it never disappoints him. He likes me, as a person. I think he likes being with me. And he's funny and knows how to have a good time-" Y/n flinched. “He also knows how to not have a good time, though that's not really a thing to him. He's got a lot going on. I think he's broken a lot more than I am. I just- I don't know I-" He looked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of his feelings without sounding as insane as he was for feeling this way for someone who murdered for fun.

When Y/n looked back, Alfred seemed so uncomfortable. "But do you love him?"

Y/n looked at his hands. "I like the way he smells." His face scrunched up. "And how he holds my hand. His hair, and his smile. How he says my name and laughs at my jokes." Y/n looked back. "Am I crazy Alfred?"

Alfred seemed to think about that. "I think you're lonely and looking for someone like you, and I can understand that."

Y/n relaxed a little. "I think I'm crazy." He shook his head. Neither man smiled. "How do I get help for my condition?"

"If you're talking about getting help for liking men, I want you to take that back right now." Y/n looked at him in surprise. "There's nothing wrong with you, Master Y/n. Do you understand me?" Y/n paused but then nodded, and he felt a weight lift off of his chest. "You have a weird taste in men, but otherwise you're fine." Now they did both laugh, just a little. "You hang in there, okay? I'll try and see what I can do to get you out of here. Then we'll figure this out together, yeah?"

That sounded nice. "Yeah. I would like that." Alfred nodded.

Just then a guard came up. "It's time to go." Alfred sighed but they exchanged goodbyes and Y/n tried to keep a smile as his only hope of light left him alone in the darkness once again. Then he turned to the guard that was with him now: Peters. Y/n was beginning to learn names. Peters was a little softer since Y/n was young, but he still was one of the guards that hated Y/n for being gay, so there was only so much Y/n could say when it came to how much he did or didn't like the man. As they walked back, Peters once again disappointed Y/n. "You know I have to tell them about what you said in there." Y/n stopped moving. He hadn't thought about that. He'd been talking to Alfred. He always told Alfred everything, and he always told him such with complete honesty. Things had gotten easier because Y/n had been able to prove that the "therapy" was doing some good. He'd just admitted out loud that it hadn't made a dent in how attracted he was to men, or how he felt about Jerome. "He won't go as hard on you as in the beginning," Peters assured. He was talking about the first guard that had started tormenting Y/n. They didn't speak his name. Both of them, at the very least, hated his methods even if Peters agreed it was necessary. "You admit you need help. You'll get it. Your butler was wrong and you know that and that's what matters."

Y/n's eyes watered as he began walking again.

Was he really getting to a place again where he believed that something so basic about him really was wrong? He'd just barely, FINALLY accepted it and now he was being conditioned to bury it away again?

Fuck.

It was a nice break to get visitors. Alfred was nice to talk to, and despite the oddity of it, the two men got along well and cheered each other up nicely. Y/n was looking forward to seeing the older man's face when he was told he had a visitor. Unfortunately, Alfred was not the one waiting to greet Y/n that day.

"Bruce?" Y/n was far passed surprised to see his younger brother of all people on the other side of the glass, visiting him. Alfred hadn't said much but from the little he'd divulged about Bruce breaking out of the mind control and then killing some dude that had to do with the weird creepy tunnel Bruce had dragged him to and the dudes in it that had almost killed him. Y.n didn't see what was wrong with that - the dude was obviously bad - but it seemed to be ripping a new one with Bruce. He'd turned into a bit of a dick, putting it nicely. Left me alone in the tunnel then refused to visit me in the asylum. Firing Alfred. Partying and messing around with a bunch of people. It seemed the Wayne brothers dealt with their mental breakdowns very differently. Bruce partied and became an asshole- Y/n killed people and fell in love with psychopaths. One thing can be said: the Waynes sure know how to go out with a bang.

"Y/n," Bruce greeted weakly. He was obviously burdened by nervousness and guilt. As not to push it, Y/n sat down. Perhaps he didn't walk to talk to his tool of a brother, but it was better than isolation so he'd tolerate it. Y/n stayed quiet and allowed himself the luxury of being in the presence of another human being- one who didn't mean him harm or hate him for not being able to control who he was. Bruce spoke again first; Y/n was lost in the peacefulness of the quiet. "I'm sorry I left you in the tunnel." Y/n didn't say anything, so Bruce continued. "I was sort of commanded to kill Alfred when I was under mind control. I, uh, stabbed him. I could only carry one of you so I grabbed him and took him to the hospital. Ended up staying all night because I was terrified he was dead."

"And then you proceeded to treat him like shit all the way up until you did him a favor and fired him."

Bruce flinched. "I got emancipated too."

"Jesus, Bruce," Y/n cursed.

"I know," Bruce moaned. "I'm not handling any of the things well." He rubbed his face. "I wish you'd come home. I miss you." Bruce looked at his older brother, trying to find a remnant of the old Y/n underneath the bruises and coldness in the older boy's gaze. Both boys had come to gain something dark about them. Y/n's was more brightly colored, tickling in every dent and curve of his body and expression. Bruce's was sharper- paving paths of stones along corners and edges. Even now, Y/n was still the softer brother. Perhaps not so much had changed after all. "We've been through a lot, hm?" Y/n nodded, looking at his hands. "I-" Bruce cleared his throat, seeming to get emotional. "I don't know you are anymore. Please, tell me. I feel like you’re a stranger."

Y/n looked at him very seriously. "Probably because I am." Bruce frowned. "But we can change that." Bruce's lips immediately found a soft upward curve and Y/n took a second to appreciate it. It seemed he could bring some sort of smile or another out of even the angstiest of teens.

They spent the next bit talking. Bruce told Y/n everything, summarizing in chunks. Y/n did the same, breezing through his time with Oswald and then being in and out of Arkham and Jerome. That's where Bruce seemed to get caught up. "You really love him?" Bruce was making a face like he'd swallowed something both bitter and sour.

Y/n sighed, lowering his voice and moving his mouth closer to the receiver so only Bruce would hear him. "I don't know about love. But..." He shrugged. "I care for him. He matters to me." Bruce exhaled then nodded. "I don't have many other options," Y/n joked. Then he sobered, unnervingly quickly. "But even if I did, I don't know Bruce." He rubbed his face.

"Let's not talk about it. When we get you out of here-"

"We?" Y/n interrupted.

Bruce's expression became strained. "I called Alfred. I don't know if he'll come back but maybe... well, I know he'll definitely help me get you out. Maybe we can really be a family, you know? Make this town home again. You can talk all bout your art and have as much time as you want to make it."

Y/n felt odd. "You want to go back to how it was."

Shrugging, Bruce seemed to suddenly be distracted by everything, his eyes never finding Y/n's face, almost like the younger Wayne was avoiding his gaze on purpose. "So what if I do?" Bruce finally looked at his brother. "Don't you, Y/n? Don't you want to finally be done with this? Maybe we could go somewhere else entirely for a while. A long while. Bond again. Heal. It could be good for us."

Suddenly, Y/n was angry. "You know, I've been wishing for weeks that I could go back in time. I wanted it all to fix and right itself. But you know what? It won't. Even if the universe suddenly decided to let us be happy and a family or whatever, I wouldn't let it happen." Bruce leaned away, as if Y/n had slapped him. "I've killed people, Bruce. I'm not innocent and nieve and full of dreams or whatever the fuck anymore. It's been so long since I painted something I really liked or cared about- even before mom and dad died. Do you remember when I was first getting good and I started to draw boys? It was freeing and exhilarating and gave me an outlet of some kind- and an excuse to stare at cute boys my age. Mom found out and told me to hide it. She didn't want the wrong person to find it and use it against me." He scoffed. "Do you want to know why I'm into Jerome?" Y/n was being too loud, he knew. But he didn't care. "Because he likes me just as I am. A little crazy, a lot fucked up. He likes that things don't really bother me. He likes my twisted sense of humor. He likes that I'm willing to kill someone if they piss me off or get in my way. He acknowledges that I'm tainted and kind of stupid and I've completely lost my mind. I heard somewhere that it only takes one bad day for someone to lose it- well, Bruce, I've had a whole fucking string of them. And I'm tired of you and Alfred coming in here and pretending I’m still the me you both want me to be and that everything is fine and that we're gonna go back to normal and perfect and happy as if I'm not a murderer. As if I'm not GAY!" Y/n chucked the phone, causing Bruce to jump. "THAT'S RIGHT!" Y/n screeched as he whirled around the face the guard. "I! AM! GAY! You can beat me, torture me, isolate me, fill my head with a bunch of nonsense, but you won’t break me because I'm DONE being ashamed of who I am."

The guard looked disgusted. It was a different man this time- not Peters. "You're going to go to hell for your sins."

"For being gay?" Y/n actually laughed. "How dare you!" This was playful, light. Y/n had finally snapped. "You're sitting here saying that I'm going to go to hell because I'm gay? Sweetheart, you're missing all the far more valid reasons I'm going to hell." The end of the statement lowered to notes that left his voice gravely and threatening, all humor gone. As he’d spoken, he’d taken step after step closer to the guard until they were practically chest to chest. "Remember that I know how to kill you so no one will ever know it was me next time you even THINK of laying a single finger on me, do you understand?" The guard, calm before, now looked very nervous. "You people won't touch Jerome, and I hid behind that for too long. Touch me. I dare you." Y/n leaned close, his voice low as he whispered, "You never know... maybe you just might like it."

The guard made a noise halfway between a groan and a grunt and opened the door, pushing Y/n through and further into the Asylum, and away from him. Y/n winked at him and the guard closed the door, putting it between them like it was going to block them. Y/n laughed. There was power in fear. Power in accepting yourself despite everyone trying to tear you down; in staying together despite everyone trying to tear you apart. It was like when that idiot cut off Jerome's face. Jerome didn't pitch a fit. He adapted. That's why he was so terrifying. So powerful. Things rolled off his shoulders and left him unfazed. He just adapted, never letting pain even waver his smile.

It's time for Y/n to start taking a page out of Jerome's book. He was over being another brooding Wayne boy.

After that, things began to look up again. The guards quickly stopped beating Y/n up- all it did was make him laugh, or make him stronger as he began to fight back. Therapy stopped mattering- he spent all his talks with Harleen cracking jokes and being gay as fuck. Guards sneered at him and spit at him, but there were some good eggs in here and even more that Jerome had wrapped around his finger. All Y/n had to do was place himself at the right guard or flirt with the wrong one and suddenly he had plenty of room to move as idiotic, childish men kept their distance and jeered- as if words alone could do anything other than make Y/n laugh harder. He simply let it all stop affecting him, and so it did. Maybe it was a little crazy, to hear such terrible words or go to bed in pain, and find some kind of twisted pleasure in it. But I mean come on. These morons called themselves men of God then beat up on a teenage boy who was slowly learning how to take them down singlehandedly. They were like children on a playground: pushing girls they liked; calling people stupid names then ducking when they got in trouble; pulling ponytails and tripping kids and sticking their tongues out and pretending they were big boys as they squashed roaches only to run off squealing like babies when the bug didn't die the first time. They were pathetic. It was hilarious.

Word started to get around about Y/n's change.

Jerome hadn't known he was back. Last he'd heard, Y/n had dipped out with Alfred Pennyworth. He'd run home to Bruce Wayne and his old life with his tail between his legs, once again forcing himself to be someone he wasn't in a life he could be content in, but never happy. Jerome had been planning his escape for a while and had considered paying Y/n a visit to see if he could knock the Wayne boy into his senses... but he had other things to do and he had to keep his head down while doing them. When he got the real story, it was far more exhilarating. It also sounded much, MUCH more like his Y/n.

Jerome was going to get Y/n out too, and they were going to burn this stupid city to the ground together, side by side. And no one was going to stop them. Not sense or sanity or decency or embarrassment. Y/n had even shoved off his brother- the boy had nothing holding him back anymore. They were going to have so much fun...

Then Y/n returned to the public eye of Arkham Asylum.

After his therapy stopped working, the guards either got fired or gave up. Words passed like fire about what they were doing to Y/n, and the real reason they were doing it. Guards were supposed to be guarding. Some turned a blind eye when other inmates pulled shit, but it was absolutely not allowed to bring harm to the inmates yourself. Now free, Y/n waltzed around the Day Room cockily, like a peacock showing off his feathers.

"...Y/n?"

The boy looked over casually, expecting something else. The person was too timid and quiet to be Jerome, but he most definitely hadn't expected- "Oswald?" His showiness melted in favor of pure joy. "Oh my god!" He ran to scoop up the little man in a hug. Both of them laughed, leaning apart with matching grins. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was looking for you when-" He swallowed, his smile struggling. "I hope you're not mad at me. I meant to come find you, but things got... complicated."

Oswald shook his head. "I know what it's like to fall in love, especially when said person makes you want to kill someone." He put a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "I thought you were dead. I heard whispers about you with Jerome and then suddenly you went missing and I thought-"

Y/n's eyes went wide as Oswald grew quiet. "Are you kidding me? You're not getting rid of me that easy."

That seemed to lift Oswald's mood. The Penguin pulled Y/n aside, lowering his voice. "I'm getting out of here soon, Y/n. Please come with me. We'll figure out a way to do it- I can figure out some way to-"

"No," Y/n said immediately, stepping away. Oswald looked like he'd been slapped. "I'm your ally Oswald, always, but..." He shook his head. "Jerome is here." He swallowed. "I have another friend here too. She's like me, but only for, um, girls." Oswald nodded slowly, understanding but still a little sad. "You are important to me. Whoever's breaking you out- they'll take care of you, right?"

Oswald hesitated. "If he doesn't, I'll figure it out."

"Exactly," Y/n continued. "Jerome should be fine, but my other friend... she doesn't really have anyone else." Y/n struggled to find words. "Have you ever had someone innocent depend on you for real friendship? Someone who only you get, who you have to make sure is happy and safe? Someone you would do anything for?"

Suddenly Oswald seemed to understand perfectly. "Yes." Y/n frowned. What had he missed? Oswald was... different. "I understand, Y/n." He pat his friend's shoulder again and then stepped away. "I'll see you around."

Y/n smiled coyly. "Aw, are you going to come and visit me when you're out?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. They'd always been like this. Playful and easygoing. It was always easier to do in private, or when things were looking good. Now they had both, with Oswald getting out soon and their respective reclusiveness from everyone else in their little corner. Y/n seemed to be able to bring out a smile from Oswald, just like he always could from people. It was his pride- he could get a smile from Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth- even Oswald Cobblepott. Damn right.

They had a few days to catch up, and then Oswald got out. Y/n was happy for him. He hadn't seen much of Jerome yet, though, which had him a little worried. He would have heard if Jerome had gotten out- where was he? Surely not getting the treatment he had before- that would work even less on Jerome, and would have far more a consequence. Finally Y/n got a guard to fess up about it.

"Jerome's been holed up. He's usually in isolation, especially since he antagonized Oswald Cobblepoptt a little bit. But it seems to be more his choice of recent to be putting himself away. He seems to have a lot on his mind."

That didn't settle well with Y/n. Whatever he was up to, Y/n had the distinct notion that the little peace he'd finally managed to grasp was about to get ripped from him yet again. This time, he was willing to fight for it though. It was obvious that Jerome was avoiding Y/n on some level. Either that or he didn't care about Y/n at all. He hadn't been here when Y/n was finally let out, and he didn't seem to have done anything to try and get to Y/n while he was locked up either. Whatever he was up to, it either didn't include Y/n, or it was a move against him. It wasn't yet clear why Jerome would be mad at him... though the Wayne boy had some suspicions. If it came to that, then fine. Y/n would fight Jerome if he had to. It wasn't just about him now. He had Harleen to worry about. It would all be resolved in the end, and whatever the outcome, Y/n was determined to end up on top.

#Jerome valeska #jerome velaska #jerome x reader #jerome imagine #jerome #gotham #joker #valeska twins #valeska twins x reader #male reader #wayne reader #joker x reader #joker imagine #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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January 21, 2021: The Wages of Fear (1953)

What exactly is a thriller, anyway?

Now, I’ve repeatedly considered having thrillers take up their own month, considering that they’re considered one of the core eleven film genres. However, they intersect so commonly with other genres, that I’ll be incorporating it into other months this year.

The definition of the thriller or suspense genre relies on surprise and intrigue. The audience is made unaware of certain information, giving a sense of mystery to the movie’s setting. The protagonist is often also unaware of these certain things, although that certainly isn’t a requirement.

Sometimes, they’re as innocent as the audience, if not moreso, and may be getting manipulated during the course of the story. Escapes, chase sequences, clear or hidden dangers, all of these meant to build suspense and unnerve the audience. It doesn’t have the overt scares of a horror film, and its action scenes build up to a feeling of building dread. They’re adrenaline-raising, heart-pounding, edge-of-your-seat films.

We’ve already covered one of the most prominent subgenres, the spy movie. We’ll cover more during Horror October, naturally, and a couple more this month. Comedy April’s even going to have a comedy thriller or two, while Romance February will pack an erotic thriller in there. Oh, and let’s not forget Crime July and Drama December. Like I said, they’ll be all over the place. Today, though, we cover one of the seminal French action thrillers, similar to our last two entries, but MUCH older. Enter Jean-Georges Clouzot.

Clouzot is one of the old-school French directors, even though he debuted quite late as compared to most, in 1942. A French Alfred Hitchcock, Clouzot’s first solo film was The Murderer Lives at Number 21. And surprisingly, it’s known as a comedy-thriller, and made a splash in theaters when it debuted in 1943. Which is interesting, given that whole World War II kerfuffle at the time. His most famous film, however, came in 1955, and was called Les Diaboliques. And THAT’S a psychological thriller that may end up on my list for October.

But two years before that, he made an action thriller. You know where this is going at this point, so let’s get on with it! SPOILERS AHEAD for The Wages of Fear!

Recap

Before we start, a tiny disclaimer: GIFs were...impossible to find for this one. HOWEVER, I miraculously found a recolored copy that I was able to convert into GIFs. I prefer the black-and-white version, which is how I watched it, but SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE

We start in Las Piedras, a small village in a Spanish-speaking country somewhere in Central America. A group of men speaking French, English, and Spanish are relaxing on a saloon porch, trying to beat the heat. These men include Mario (Yves Montand) and Bimba (Peter van Eyck). His girlfriend (?) Linda (Véra Clouzot, the director’s wife) works as a servant in the saloon.

Eventually, the men are told to leave, with Bimba being told to go to the airport to pick up mail. Arriving on the plane - other than a man with a whole-ass GOAT, which must have made for a fun flight for EVERYBODY involved - is a rich-looking man in a white suit and a fancy fly-swatter.

Our man, who’s French, runs into Mario, who is also French. This is Jo (Charles Vanel), who, despite looking rich, is out here looking for something monetary. Mario, after being weirdly cold to Linda, leaves for his home where he lives with Luigi (Folco Lulli), who speaks Italian. A real polyglot of a movie, this one.

Over the course of a montage of indeterminate time, we find out that there’s no work in this town for the various men, who are stuck in this town because of the desert surrounding it, expensive tickets, and no jobs or employment opportunities. We also find out that since there’s oil, there are Americans.

The Southern Oil Company, SOC, dominates the town due to nearby oil fields. They aren’t the best, though, and they tend to treat the townspeople pretty terribly. Jo inquires for a job there, to no avail, and reconvenes with Jo. After treating Linda and Luigi, to be frank, like ABSOLUTE shit, Mario...WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND

HOLY SHIT, MARIO AND LUIGI LIVE TOGETHER. REALLY?!? Holy shit.

Jo’s a dick, it turns out, which causes a rift between the two Frenchmen and the others. After literally getting the entire saloon angry with his antics, he threatens the nice Luigi with a gun, causing a tense atmosphere with everybody. After literally handing Luigi a gun to shoot him, the dejected man leaves the bar, dejected. Like I said...Jo’s an absolute DICK.

The next morning, something’s happened. The oil field has caught on fire, killing some of the residents who worked there. This causes some anti-foreigner rhetoric, which’ll probably spell trouble for our mostly foreigner cast. The foreman is Bill O’Brien (William Tubbs), who’s asked to handle the situation by his bosses. The only way to put out the fire is to generate an explosion triggered by nitroglycerin. Which seems...backwards, but I don’t know how oil works. They need to transport the nitroglycerin to the field, but the job is too dangerous for unionized workers. Therefore, the idea is formed to bring in some of the unemployed men, especially those that hang around the saloon. And, of course, that includes Mario, Jo, Bimba, and Luigi.

Speaking of Luigi, sad news. Looks like his construction job has resulted in cement powder depositing in his lungs, giving him 6 months to a year to live. Shame, he seems like a very nice guy. And so, considering that this job is dangerous, but follows a lot of money...he doesn’t have much to lose.

One of the people at the briefing immediately backs out upon learning about the job. He notes that this job infects men with fear that they can’t recover from. For that fear, the wages are $2500 per person. Only four people can do this job; two per truck, with one driver and one passenger. After some trials, Mario, Luigi, Bimba, and Smerloff, a German, are chosen. Jo isn’t good enough, much to his own dismay. However, as Bill and Jo are old friends of sorts, they make a deal; if one of the men doesn’t show up, Jo can take his place.

That night, the men (sans Jo) gather in the saloon. One young man, an Italian named Bernando who wasn’t chosen, gives Linda a note to mail to his mother. Sadly, there’s a reason for that that I won’t show here. But while they tell him that there’ll be a next time, he insists that their won’t be. I’ll let you fill in the tragic blanks.

The next morning, Smerloff doesn’t show up, having last been seen with, uh...with Jo. Wonder where Smerloff went. Well, predictably, Jo ends up replacing him. Jo and Mario go first, after winning a coin toss. They drive off hauling their truck loaded with nitroglycerin, and you can feel the fear begin to set in for Mario. As they drive through town, Linda tries to say goodbye, only for Mario to literally push her off the truck, MAN, I don’t like this guy.

As the truck drives, they encounter their first obstacle: Jo. As he’s driving, fear would appear to set in for him as well. He overcomes a couple of large puddles, but begins to shiver and sweat, saying that he’s sick. But no, he’s definitely just nervous, and they stop the truck in a forest of sugarcane so that Jo can take a break. However, they have to get going quickly, as the second truck is close behind them.

In the second truck, Bimba and Luigi talk a bit, with the affable Luigi doing most of that talking. But when Jo and Mario stop for a second time, they tell the pair off and drive past. Because of this, they hit the first real obstacle: a stretch of rough and bumpy road called the washboard. To get over it, one has to go 40 mph to get over the bumps. If not, then the truck will feel the bumps, and the nitroglycerine will explode. Luigi and Bimba get over with some difficulty, finding out that the gas in their truck contains water, and needs to be changed.

As for Jo and Mario, Jo’s nervousness costs them time and energy, as he refuses to speed up to the proper speed before getting on the washboard. They have to back up (inside their own tire tracks), and Mario officially takes over the wheel. And he starts going fast...too fast.

They almost collide with the other truck, but Luigi and Bimba speed up in time. Next obstacle: a road under construction. A K-turn is needed, and that turn requires a flimsy wooden construction to be driven on. It isn’t easy, the very competent Luigi and Bimba manage it all right. Jo and Mario get there, and Jo, predictably, FREAKS OUT.

Mario, on the other hand, is overly reckless. In order to get over the rotted out road, Mario has to drive to the very edge of the construction. Jo, who was guiding him from the back of the truck, ends up tumbling over the side. While Mario thinks he’s dead, Jo instead takes the opportunity to straight-up run away, although Mario does see him. This is a problem, as the truck begins to slide on the wood without Jo’s help. But Mario, ever-resourceful, figures it out. But...

OH SHIT! Mario gets off the construction just as it’s starting to collapse. He makes it forward, and passes the cowardly Jo, who tries to get back onto the truck.Mario, UNDERSTANDABLY PISSED, almost leaves him behind, but finally stops so that he can get rejoin. The two get into an argument, where Mario calls Jo out for once being brave, but now being a coward. Jo tells Mario that he has no imagination, and that Jo’s “died fifty times since last night.” I love that line, honestly.

Back to Luigi and Bimba. They talk about life after the money, even though we’re aware that Luigi doesn’t have much of that left. It’s then that the next obstacle appears: a talus slope, from which a giant rock has fallen, and blocks the road. Bimba has the...bright idea (?) of using the nitroglycerin to blow up the stone. Which I feel like is an...idea.

They make a hole in the rock, then siphon some nitro out of a container. The others catch up, and back the trucks away, leaving Bimba by himself to do the deed. And it is...ABSOLUTELY NERVE-WRACKING HOLY SHIT. After setting up a Rube-Goldberg device and pouring the nitroglycerin into a hole in the rock, Bimba lights a fuse and sets it to blow.

But because they fear they;ve parked too close, Luigi runs back to put out the fuse! Too late, though, as the nitro blows, and rocks fly, almost falling on the trucks in the process. As for Luigi...he survives! Knocked out by the shock from the explosion, but not injured. In the process, the rock is finally destroyed, and Mario and Luigi finally reconcile as friends.

Back on the drive with Luigi and Bimba! We find out that Bimba’s a German, whose parents died at the hands of the Nazis. He himself was in a work camp for 3 years, which is why he is as brave as he is. Behind them, Jo and Mario talk of France, and Jo rolls a cigarette.

...FUCK.

Luigi and Bimba are gone. Like that. This, of course, freaks out Jo, who runs away from the truck. Mario catches up, and beats Jo for his cowardice. They return to the truck, albeit very reluctantly on Jo’s part. They make it to the site of the explosion, where there’s...no sign. No sign of the truck, of the guys, nothing. Just a busted pipe spitting up oil, creating a massive puddle.

Jo goes into the shallow pool to guide Mario through it, but gets stuck in the pool in the process. Mario runs over his leg, and the truck itself gets stuck in the oil. Mario gets out of the truck and helps Jo, whose leg is FUUUUUUUUUCKED up. I mean it, it’s like a busted sausage link, like a sock made of MEAT. It’s not OK, is what I’m saying.

Mario, using a cable, an iron rod, and his wits, manages to pull the truck out of the oil pool. He gets Jo, and the drive continues. Jo, in pain and possibly bleeding out, is close to falling asleep. To keep him awake, the two talk about Paris. Day turns to night, and Mario continues to drive. They finally make it to the burning oil field...but too late for Jo.

Mario’s finally able to get out of the truck, and stumbles towards the fire and collapses. Not dead, just exhausted. He gets all of the money promised to the four, and leaves in the now empty truck to go back to Las Piedras. Free of nitroglycerine and free of fear, he gleefully drives back. In the saloon, the patrons celebrate Mario’s survival while listening to Blue Danube, and so does Mario! And Mario is driving...carefree. And recklessly.

...That’s The Wages of Fear. See you in the Epilogue.

#the wages of fear #le salaire de la peur #henri-george clouzot #yves montand #charles vanel #folco lulli #peter van eyck #action thriller #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #user365 #my gifs #mygifs #moviegifs #action january

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bisexualsforprompto · 5 years ago

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Teen Titans AU Part 12

This chapter is longer since I’ve taken longer to update! Today we’ll meet a certain redeemed blonde Bee miraculous holder. Maybe she’ll have a love interest 😉.

Gabriel Agreste had been working with Slade for a while. He knew who the traitor of the Titans was and he knew all the information given. He also knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug, it was too risky to tell his son though. They needed Ladybug removed and if he knew his so-called ‘princess’ was Ladybug he might refuse to fight her or hesitate. In the end, Gabriel always knew what was best for his son and his grand plan. He chuckled to himself as he walked the streets of Jump City, until he finally made it to his destination. He was in need of a certain Italian girl’s assistance.

“Ah!!!! Guys they’re online! They’re online!” Jon screamed at the top of his lungs. “Coming!!!” Garfield yelled as he shoved a pancake into his mouth. The team assembled in the common room as Jon hit the accepted the video call. There on the screen was a smiling Marinette with hair in twin braids and a scowling Damian who seemed to be...holding Marinette’s hand?! Raven gave a sly smile as Gar grumbled and discretely passed her twenty dollars. “So when did that happen?” Raven asked in a monotone with a hint of a smirk on her face. Marinette blushed, “I-I guess technically yesterday.” Damian glared at Raven, but he had a nagging feeling once again, guilt. It was awful, he felt...bad for Jon, especially after telling him he didn’t want to date Marinette. He felt almost like he had lied to Marinette, what if she wanted to be with Jon but thought that he didn’t like her so Damian was her only option?! “Oh.” Jon coughed. “Anyway,” Marinette said oblivious to the situation, “We wanted to catch up with everyone. Maybe individually if that’s alright with you guys?” The team took the bait, “Of course! I need some Mari time!” Gar exclaimed doing some jazz hands, “And Damian time too of course.” Marinette giggled but then realized, Gar could be the mole. She sighed and knew when she found out who the traitor was, it would hurt like hell. Jamie shoved the computer away from the rest of the team. “Me first, I have something I want to run through you guys.” Marinette nodded kindly and Damian’s face held the same amount of brooding on it as before. Before the others could protest Jamie took the computer to his room.

“Sorry, this is really important and I think you’ll want to know.” He took a deep breath, “So I asked my scarab if searching for miraculouses could be done since you mentioned you’re missing some. You won’t believe where it found a bunch.” Damian raised an eyebrow, “Spit it out Reyes.” Jamie rolled his eyes, “Ok ok. A storage unit in slightly south of here. An hour out from Gotham and an hour out from Jump City. The scarab said that both the horse miraculous and butterfly are active. I didn’t know if that meant anything to you.” Marinette nodded though she was internally freaking out, she really hoped Gabriel hadn’t gotten out of prison. “Thanks Jamie. I’ll have to get them as soon as possible. This is extremely important. In the wrong hands the miracle box is the most dangerous weapon ever. Although if only two miraculouses are active that means Hawkmoth has only one other co-conspirator, I’m guessing Slade.” Marinette’s mind went at 100 miles a minute, she’d need to find the box as soon as possible.

Jamie nodded and smiled, he went back to the room to give the computer to someone else. Damian muted it, “You know we were supposed to stick to the plan.” Marinette nodded and squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, “I know Dami but it can’t be him if his scarab can track miraculouses. Chat Noir would already have mine.” Damian scowled and unmuted the computer.

Everyone else passed by easily, Damian and Marinette gave each of them a different location where they were ‘hiding’ the Ladybug miraculous. The plan was off without a hitch, all they had to do was wait, well wait and Damian had to talk to Jon. Marinette had gone downstairs to clear her head, she still couldn’t believe someone who she’d been living with betrayed her and the team. Jon got on the computer, he didn’t look too mad so Damian was slightly relieved. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon depanned. “I-I it just happened. I’m sorry, I really wanted to tell you.” Jon nodded and then sighed, “It’ll take awhile but I’ll get over Marinette. If anybody I’m glad she’s dating you. Besides,” he said cracking a smile, “I won the bet.” Damian stared at him confused. Jon laughed, “We’ve had this bet ever since I got to the tower. Betting on if you’d ever date anybody. Most people said no, but Raven and I said yes and we both are twenty bucks richer.” Damian scowled, “You bet on me?!” Jon cracked up and nodded. “Anyway, why did you talk to everybody individually. It was super weird.” Damian crossed his arms, “The Titans have a mole.”

Jon’s eyes widened, “W-what?! Since when? Who?! Are you sure?!” Damian rolled his eyes, “I don’t know when or who but I am sure. That’s what we’ve been trying to find out. Don’t make me regret telling you and don’t tip off the rest of the team!” Jon nodded still in a stupor. Marinette hopped back upstairs and into the room, she sat down next to her boyfriend and waved, “Hey Jon!” Jon smiled, “Hey Marinette, how's it going?” “Pretty good. Sorry I’ll have to cut this short, I realized it’s almost time for lunch. What do you want Damian?” Damian shook his head, “You know Alfred can go out for that.” Marinette shrugged, “I need to stretch my legs.” Damian nodded, he was slightly concerned, but he knew she needed this because she had been so stressed since the mole debacle. “I don’t want you running off alone in Gotham. I’m coming with you.” Marinette giggled, “Okay, I’d be fine if you didn’t come though.” Damian patted her on the shoulder, “I know Angel, but you can’t help me being paranoid.” Jon smiled, he had to admit they were a cute couple, “I’ll let you guys go then. Bye!” Marinette waved and Jon hung up. “Ready?” Marinette asked standing up. “Sure. Where’d you want to go?” Marinette tapped her chin, “Since you’re coming maybe we could go somewhere, you know for our first real date.” Damian blushed, “Any places in mind?” “Well you know the area better than me, but how about Gotham Diner? It’s near the fashion district.” Damian chuckled, “Sounds perfect Angel.”

Marinette grabbed her bags, they ended up going into stores before they ate and of course Marinette bought new fabrics. Damian insisted on paying but Marinette refused, he pouted and said he’d pay for lunch. Marinette giggled and agreed. As Marinette walked down the street, sunshine radiating off of her, Damian followed smiling a little to himself. Gothamites gawked as they saw the Ice Prince with his girlfriend, they were surprised he could smile, that he had a girlfriend and that he was back in Gotham. Some people snuck pictures. As Marinette walked, with Damian in tow a blonde girl with her hair cut in a short bob squealed and ran up to her. Damian was shocked and they Marinette and the blonde started talking excitedly in France, he almost didn’t catch it.

“Dupain-Cheng!” Squealed the blonde. “Chlo?” Marientte turned to see her ex-bully turned best friend. She thrust her into a hug and squeezed her. “Look Dupain-Cheng Im glad to see you too, but I do like breathing,” Chloe strained. Marinette released her, “Sorry it’s just that I haven’t seen you in so long. Wait, what are you doing in Gotham?” Chloé narrowed her eyes, “Could ask you the same question DC and who’s this?” She asked motioning to Damian. “That’s Damian,” Marinette exclaimed, “my boyfriend.” Although Marinette turned pink and rushed her statement a little Chloé screamed, “FIRST YOU’RE IN GOTHAM WITHOUT TELLING ME AND NOW YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND! THAT’S IT WE’RE CATCHING UP NOW!” Chloé grabbed Marinette by the arm and stormed off. Damian stood there in a stupor, his girlfriend was just sister-snatched before his eyes. Chloé whipped her head back, “You coming or not?!” Damian didn’t say anything, he knew from his family that you do not mess with strong willed women like Chloé, he followed obediently like a dog.

Chloé led them to a small café where she sat down at the closet empty table. She sat down and wasted no time, “Why are you in Gotham Dupain-Cheng?!” Marinette giggled, she’d always enjoyed Chloé’s...directness. “Damian took me here to meet his family?” Chloé narrowed her eyes, “You!” She pointed at Damian, “How long have you been dating Maribug?” Damian’s eyes widened, “What’d you call her?” Chloé hissed in Marinette’s face, “He doesn’t know?” Marinette sighed, “He does, and we’ve been dating since yesterday but we’ve known each other for months. Anyway, Damian this is Chloé otherwise known as Queen Bee, and Chloé this is Damian, he does have a name.” Chloé rolled her eyes, “Whatever. You do realize it’s stupid to go with some random guy to a different city right?!” Marinette nodded, “Damian’s not-“ “Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Stop going off with random dudes Maribug! And don’t tell them you’re identity!” Chloé flicked her in the head. “Um Chloé, I distinctly remember you telling everyone you’re Queen Bee.” Chloé rolled her eyes once again, “That’s different Dupain-Cheng, you know I can’t hide this fabulosity.” Chloé flipped her hair as Marientte giggled, “But you still shouldn’t tell random people that you’re Ladybug!” Damian decided to step in, “I’m not a random person.” “Excuse me?!” Chloé said, turning shooting daggers with her eyes. “I said I’m not a random person.” Damian repeated plainly. Marinette shrank down in her seat as Damian and Chloé continued their intense staring contest. “He’s a keeper Maribug.” Damian shook Chloé’s outstretched hand. “Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’s mayor and fashion designer Audrey Bourgeois.” Damian nodded, “Damian...Wayne.” Chloé sprung up from her chair, “You bagged a Wayne?! Yes Maribug, way to use what I taught you! He’s definitely a keeper!” Marinette started cracking up until Chloé saw a shadowy figure in the distance. “Don’t look now but I think a certain alley cat followed us. Why is he here anyway?!” Chloé scowled. “I recently joined a team, ever since then he’s been getting intel from one of them about my whereabouts.” Marinette sighed. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! RIDICULOUS, UTTERLY RIDICULOUS! GET ME MY MIRACULOUS I’M GOING TO KILL THIS TEAMMATE AND THIS STUPID CAT!” Damian cracked a smile, finally something he could agree on. “Chloé, no killing. But I might be able to get your miraculous back. Once we deal with a certain black cat we can find the miracle box, Damian pull up the location Jamie said the box was.” Damian obliged and pulled up a map. “Got it, but what will we do about that idiot?” Damian asked while motioning to Chat. Chloé smirked deviously. “I’ve got a couple ideas.”

Taglist (you already know how this goes):

@Zebrabaker

@2sunchild2

@northernbluetongue

@violatiger8

@mochinek0

@beaversuenightly

@poshplumcot

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@heaven428

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@indecisive-mess-named-me

@captainmac6

@mandy984

@emjrabbitwolf

@synnesstra

@mjisntme

@i-have-no-cool-username-to-use

@shamefullove

@yokizu

#damian wayne #batfam #marinette dupen chang #damianette #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloé bourgeois #maribat #teen titans au miraculous

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there?

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking!

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike?

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was.

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

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clickforspoilers · 4 years ago

Text

mad libs for a mad lad.

WHO: Stephanie @clickforspoilers and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: SCPD Jail WHEN: May 19th 2020 WHAT: Stephanie is the first to visit Jason in jail bc this isn’t her first rodeo. She’s surprised to find that she can actually relate to him on some level.

Steph: As soon as Steph heard that Jason was in jail, she assumed Dick or Bruce brought him in for what happened and the docks and she was filled with righteous indignation. Then she talked to Tim and got the backstory, which was somehow even worse.

Regardless, she was one of the first to fill out an application to be a visitor and even picked up a few extra for the others. The receptionist was new, but Steph got a wave in to Gordon. She practically grew up around the police department with how often her father was in and out of jail and prison.

As soon as Jason's commissary was up she made sure there was money in it. After having several Thanksgivings with prison food she couldn't imagine it was much better in jail. Probably worse, especially with how out of date the place was. She also brought a ton of books she knew would be approved, asking Alfred which were Jason's favorites since no one else seemed to know.

"Wow, you look... orange." Those were the first words out of her mouth. A bit of levity. Jason: Jason had known that people would show up. He wasn’t sure who or when, exactly. Steph being at the head of the line did genuinely surprise him a little, considering how much time recently he’d spent getting in her way. None of it had been malicious, exactly, but he still wouldn’t have figured she’d show up before the others.

“Yeah, well, I told them that red was more my color but nobody seemed to care.” She had something with her, some kind of package, and he nodded toward it. “That for me?” What kind of screening process had the SCPD managed to drum up when they could barely keep officers on streets? Steph: "No, I just figured I'd read all these books and do all these Mad Libs in front of you as my own personal brand of torture." Steph could never keep a straight face even when she was being sarcastic. "Oh, I also put some cash in your commissary so you can live off twinkies or Snickers bars. They had a whole episode on Dateline about where they get jail food and trust me, you don't wanna eat it."

Maybe she was a little annoyed about the whole patrol thing, but she knew what Jason was doing. Maybe part of her enjoyed the petty competition. It introduced a little chaos into the regimented NOVA patrol-watching she would otherwise be doing. Not that she would actually admit it. Jason: “You read books? Color me impressed. The Mad Libs I believe.” Not that one single part of him actually thought Steph was dumb. Nowhere close. She’d be dead again if that was the case. Ignorance as a vigilante was a death sentence more than any knife or gun.

He reached one hand through the bars, though they were too narrow to get far. The books would fit. “I ate out of the trash in Crime Alley for years. I’ll survive jail food.” But he wouldn’t turn down a Twinkie either. Steph: "Fuck you. I read all the time." Maybe not everything she read was a book, but still. Steph preferred the more hands on method. She learned better that way.

Smirking, she handed him a Mad Libs book even though she knew that wasn't what he wanted. "Why eat maggots when you don't have to? That's seriously what they found in some of the food, y'know." Jason: “Protein is protein.” He wasn’t being serious, and even his incredibly low standards were still standards. “Pretty sure Dick might slip me a burger or something if it gets that bad, but I’ll keep my eyes open for creepy crawlies in the oatmeal.”

Jason took the mad lib book with a barely suppressed sigh. What was he, eight? Who did Mad Libs? Had he ever actually done one? In his whole life? He was fairly sure the answer was no, because he barely remembered what they were supposed to be. Since she’d brought it, though, he opened it and started to flip through, only to find that words had already been filled in.

“Seriously? You brought me used Mad Libs?” Only as he asked did he catch ‘Tim’ as one of the words. He read the rest of it quickly and sighed. “Yeah, well, everybody is upset.” Steph: Steph made a face at the idea of maggots in oatmeal, but she didn't say anything. She was too distracted watching Jason go through the Mad Libs. Maybe writing a note in there was a little hokey, even for her, but at least he was reading it.

"Yeah, Tim told me everything. I'm caught up." She hoped there wasn't anything else to know, at least. Even though she hadn't been involved in the Deathstroke plan, she hovered behind Babs and watched the whole thing go down. The entire day had been more than a little tense. "I know, but I think we should all try to be on the same page. It'll make things easier, at least. You know?" Jason: “All of us on the same page? Did you get high before you came in here? Have you met all of us?” They were never going to be on the same page about anything, or at least not on the same line of the same page. Still, the last time he’d spoken to Tim in a non-official capacity hadn’t exactly gone well. He hadn’t been in the mood for more feelings and of course that was the exact time that Tim, of all people, had wanted to have some.

Jason dropped the Mad Lib book to his side and ran his free hand over his jaw. “It’s not like I’m ignoring him. I just didn’t want a fucking heart to heart when he tried to have it, alright?” Steph: "I mean about this whole thing, not about literally everything ever." That was never going to happen and Steph wasn't naive. She might be less strict than the others about procedures and whatnot, but she generally followed the same code. It was something she accepted and it was the antithesis of what her dad had been. Sometimes she wondered if Jason was trying to do the same thing, but... opposite. Sort of. "I know you wouldn't ignore him, I'm just saying, you could reach out. You get phone calls, right?" Jason: “Are you kidding me? Why do I have to call him when you’re going to see him probably as soon as you leave? I’ll write a note in the Mad Libs and you can take it back to him.” Did it have to be so dramatic? He was in jail. That was hardly a position to be coddling somebody else’s hurt feelings, especially when Tim had been more than willing to pop off that night, too. It hadn’t been all on one side. Steph: Steph gave an exaggerated sigh, but his offer was certainly better than nothing. There was a reason she asked for something big first. This seemed like a fair compromise, even though she knew Jason wasn't about to write anything touchy feely. "I might be okay with that. It depends. What are you gonna write?" “How about stop being a fucking nerd and come see me in jail. Does that hit the right note? It’s an invitation.” If Tim holding out for some kind of apology, though, that wasn’t going to show up in Mad Lib or any other form. Once in awhile Jason offered them, he’d even given one to Tim before, but he had to feel well and truly in the wrong before he did it. In this case, he didn’t. Tim hadn’t known when to quit, he’d pushed and then snapped when he didn’t get the kind of response he wanted. It was on him as much as it was on Jason. Steph: "Maybe don’t be an asshole and leave the first part out. Then it's -" Steph clicked her tongue. "Perfect." Leaning on her elbow, she watched him for a few seconds before saying anything. "Maybe it was the wrong time or whatever, but you know how he is about showing feelings. He's not good at it. He admires you, so... go easy on him." Jason: “But the first part is how he knows I really wrote it.” Not that he had anything to write with. Maybe Steph had a pencil stub stuck in her bag. Was that a weapon? Probably. He could’ve made it a weapon. All he needed it for was writing the dumb Mad Lib note, though. “Fine. I’ll be the bad guy.” As always. “Am I supposed to do this in blood or can the SCPD spare a crayon for me?” Steph: Steph waved a pen and handed it over. “Flexible ink well.” She was prepared. Her father had to have one of the bendy pens when he’d been in prison, or a really short pencil. “This is you being the good guy, Hoodie. Not to put a bad taste in your mouth or anything, but when you aren’t an asshole you actually are a pretty good guy.” Jason: “How dare you slander me right to my face.” He took the pen and held the Mad Lib book against the wall to scribble his note to Tim. It said exactly what he told her that he was writing, minus the first part, though he did add “nerd” onto the end before signing his name as though Tim might suspect Steph had done it instead. Once he’d finished, he held it back through the bars to her and motioned for the rest of what she was holding. “Can I have the actual books now?” Steph: "I'll take my vengeance in small ways." Steph had a plan to get Jason back for the pizza incident, but then this happened. She reached for the Mad Libs and glanced at what he wrote. Sliding the box over, she took out one book at a time so she could pass them through the bars. "I got my information from Alfred. If it were up to me you might've ended up with the newest issues of Seventeen." Jason: “Your vengeance. For what? That crummy pizza? There’s twenty bucks in the nightstand by my bed. Buy another one.” Or he was pretty sure there was, anyway. There was probably something in there. He’d just bailed on the manor with his bag to stay with Dick for all of about a day before everything went down and couldn’t remember what he’d left or not left.

Jason rolled his eyes and started collecting the books one by one beneath his arm. Alfred, unsurprisingly, had given Steph his favorites and a few he hadn’t actually read before. It would keep him Bush for a little while. “Thanks for bringing these,” he said, suddenly serious as he took the last one. Steph: Rolling her eyes, Steph made a scoffing sound. "You're not getting off that easy." There was no way she planned all that for nothing. "I'll totally take the 20$ though," she added as an afterthought.

It was so rare that Jason was sincere that it sometimes took her a second to recognize when it was happening. She nodded, even though she still passing him various puzzles like Sudoku and a book of Crosswords. "Sure," she said once there was nothing more to hand over. Holding the empty box on her lap, she hesitated before asking, "Have you talked to Bruce yet?"

Jason: “You can always throw in some theft charges against me,” he offered, like that was going to make much difference alongside the murder and all.

His demeanor changed the instant that Steph brought up Bruce. He hadn’t laid eyes on him since Dick told him what had happened with Joker, and the mere thought of it gave him a whole fresh wave of anger. “No, and I don’t have a damn thing to say to him if he deigns to show up.” Steph: "Wow. Money, charges, and my own personal brand of revenge. Any more ideas?" Steph grinned, as if she fully intended to take every suggestion Jason was willing to throw her way.

The smile faded at the dramatic change in Jason's mood. "I know you hate him on principle, so don't bite my head off or anything, but what the fuck? Aren't you staying at the manor?" Jason was never on good terms with Bruce, but this went beyond their usual tension. Jason: “Fresh out, but those should keep you busy for awhile. They’re worth one pizza.” Not to mention that whole scenario had been hilarious, even if Steph had been unwilling to see it.

“On principle,” he repeated bitterly, like hating Bruce came as naturally as the properties of gravity or something. Any objects heavier than air will fall and Bruce Wayne is a bastard. Did any of the rest of them know what had happened with Joker? Someone did, surely. Dick had said Babs tried to stop him from going after him, Tim had been there. “I was. The day before we went after Deathstroke I started crashing with Dick,” he said, not immediately offering the explanation. Steph: "Best way I could think to describe it," said Steph with a sigh. Unlike Jason, she didn't hate Bruce despite his failings. Then again, she hadn't died and been resurrected in a Lazarus Pit.

No one told her about Jason leaving. She'd even stopped by his room to see if he were in the mood to spar in the gym. When she didn't get an answer, Steph just assumed he needed a break from the manor. She expected him to be elusive. "...Why? The whole reason you came to the manor is because Bruce has an amazing security system. I mean, Babs designed it." Jason: “Why? Because if I’d sooner punch him than look at him and I figured Alfred shouldn’t have to clean up the blood.” It had been a long time since Jason had truly entertained violent notions against Bruce, aside from an empty threat here or there that he made against practically everyone, but what Dick told him had stirred up something deep that Jason genuinely thought he was beyond.

“You don’t know, do you?” He didn’t owe Bruce enough to keep his secret, but maybe he owed Dick. It wasn’t like the story wholly belonged to Jason. He swiped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “Ask Dick.” Steph: Surprised, Steph's eyes widened and she sat back in her seat. Even though the intention took her off guard, even if it wasn't a serious one (...she was pretty sure it was), her expression was more confused than horrified.

"Know what? Is it about the files? Because he has files on us?" That was the only thing she could think of that was at all related to recent events and might have pissed Jason off. It seemed like a small thing, considering it was Bruce and his obsessive information gathering wasn't new. "I'm not asking Dick, I'm asking you." Jason: “No, it’s not about the files, but it might be in Dick’s.” He’d realized that in retrospect, but they’d never made it past the line about Deathstroke and Jason hadn’t gone back to check.

Jason stared through the bars at some fixed point past Steph. “He brought Joker back to life,” his voice was low, not for privacy but because repeating it had added a threatening edge to his tone. “He brought him back because Dick killed him and Bruce...” suddenly his eyes were back on her, “Bruce places more value on the fucked up golden calf he’s made out of Dick than on our lives or anyone else’s.” How many people had Joker gone on to kill after that resurrection? Steph: Jesus. All this was making Steph really dread ever finding out what was in her file. Hopefully it was all stuff she already knew and not stuff she made a point to block out.

The news didn't elicit any shock from her. Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. "I know. I was there." She'd watched Bruce resuscitate Joker and witnessed the aftermath. Uncharacteristically quiet, her nails picked at the edges of the box on her lap. Even though she knew Bruce had been determined to get to the Joker before Dick killed him, she never expected it would end the way it did. "But why?" She finally whispered, meeting his eyes. Bruce's motivations weren't even something she'd venture to guess at. She'd always been wrong in the past. Jason: “You were there?” Did everybody fucking know except for him? Had they all just sat back for years and let him think that Joker had walked free and clear after killing him, when the truth of it was that Bruce refused to let him stay dead? Had they all known?

Jason clenched his hand and took a step back from the bars and away from Steph. “Why? Who cares? Why does it matter why? Would the answer make you feel better?” Because it wasn’t going to help Jason. Bruce’s explanation was never, ever going to be good enough. Steph: "Yeah. I got there at the same time as Bruce." Steph dug her fingernail into the box and watched it turn white. "He was dead by then."

She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. He didn't avenge me either, Jason. Maybe I wasn't dead, but he didn't know that, so I at least know how shitty it feels to know the guy who fucked your life up is still out there walking around and no one cares enough to make him pay for it. I'd be beyond pissed if he actually brought Sionis back to life." She swallowed hard. "But I'm not his kid. It's worse for you. I'll never say you should forgive him." Jason: Jason could have killed Black Mask. He’d meant to, eventually, at the end of all of it, except he hadn’t got the end that he’d been expecting and by then Roman had gone back underground to lick his wounds. Steph deserved better than that, even if Jason hadn’t been around or been part of things when she’d “died.” He’d been too preoccupied with his own revenge against Bruce to make Black Mask any kind of priority. He’d suffered at Red Hood’s hands, sure, but he shouldn’t have been drawing breath by the end of it. A loose end. He didn’t say any of that to Steph, but he put it somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I’m sick of his bullshit. I’m tired of hearing him defended. I won’t do it anymore.” Not after learning everything. It was worse, somehow, than Bruce refusing to kill Joker himself. “I’m not going back to the manor when I get out of here.” Steph: After Steph's return, she was shocked to find out so many people even knew she died. Her stint as Robin was so short that she would have believed it didn't even count, if it weren't for those words Bruce said to her in the hospital. They were still words she held onto, even now when she knew she shouldn't. His approval still meant something to her. He might not deserve her loyalty and maybe she should be as bitter and angry as Jason, but Steph just didn't have it in her. She'd wanted to be Robin. Her last act was her own doing.

But that didn't mean she didn't understand Jason's wrath just because she responded with hurt rather than rage. "Where are you going to go?" She asked with a frown, concerned. "I thought you didn't have a safehouse yet." Jason: "I'll figure it out. I have money," his own money. "It talks." Just because he did not burn through it as rapidly as Roy didn't mean it wasn't there. Jason had spent the last few years still working, even after the Red Hood & Arsenal venture had come to its end, and even though he didn't do everything for pay, he still did plenty. The accounts weren't in his name, and in all likelihood nobody knew about them but him. It was a rainy day fund, more or less, and suddenly it had started fucking pouring. Steph: "Too bad it doesn't walk," Steph quipped, even though her tone was dry. She didn't like seeing Jason in here. It didn't seem right, even if he killed people and all that. He wasn't a villain. "You didn't go to the manor because you didn't have money. You went because it was safe." She frowned suddenly, glancing around the jail as if her immediate surroundings might give some indication. "Are you safe here? I mean, I know it's jail and all, but that isn't saying much." Jason: "Yeah, and the manor was always supposed to be temporary." He'd never wanted to have to stay there, but it had been the best short term option at the time. Maybe leaving hadn't been in the best interest of his safety, but it was certainly in the best interest of everyone else's. He knew where his head had gone after that conversation with Dick, and whether Dick said it aloud or not he was fairly sure he knew it, too. Maybe that's why he'd been so quick to offer Jason a room at his place.

At the second question, he just scoffed. "Here? Probably not. If I actually wanted to get out of here, I've already thought of about four different ways, and if I can think of ways out that means it's a lot easier to get in." But he'd known that when he'd had the idea, not to mention how quickly both Roy and Dick had pointed it out. Steph: Steph winced. "And you just sitting in a cell with nothing but Mad Libs as a weapon. Fantastic." It was some comfort that Dick was there, but he wasn't there every second. Gordon could also hold his own even if he wasn't a vigilante. At least the officers were armed. "It's not likely to happen though, right? I mean, seems dumb to attack a jail even if it isn't as secure as you'd think." It was Jason's helplessness that was troubling. They could literally just shoot him through the bars.

A buzzing sound made her roll her eyes. "Time's almost up." Jason: "I'm not worried about it. If I was, I would've thought up something better than this." Maybe some of that was bravado, and a little more was for her benefit (and everyone else's) than his own, but still. He wasn't losing sleep over it. He'd played out a few different scenarios in his head, put together a little mental list of who (if anyone) was most likely to come for him there. "I've got good improv skills. I'll handle it."

He looked back down the hallway and nodded. "Yeah. Go buy a pizza and give Tim that dumb note. Thanks for the books."

#c: discord #jason todd #stephanie brown

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tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

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Batman #440

Look at this beautiful cover! I don't know why I even read modern comics.

But don't worry! He's The Batman! He doesn't know what the word "mortal" means!

Some kid on a bike stood off in the distance taking pictures of Batman battling Ravager. At least I'm assuming it's a kid simply because he rode their on his BMX. He might also be a DUI. Whatever, the kid slash drunk with a suspended license rides seems to know Batman is actually Bruce Wayne and that Dick Grayson is Robin and/or Nightwing. Hopefully he captured the moment Batman kicked Ravager off of the dam and into the churning water below so that when The Ravager's body turns up, Batman can finally be exposed for the fraud he almost certainly is! Nobody fights crime for years, beating the shit out of everybody he meets, without killing a couple of criminals! Batman just can't admit that he's killed anybody at this point because Superman would have a field day lording it over him.

Oh! I wonder if the little girl spelled the name of my blog?! Good for her!

How is a conservative supposed to enjoy this Batman comic book after Wolman takes that shot at George Bush?! Ha ha! That was a rhetorical question. I don't really care if a conservative can't enjoy this comic book now. Get fucked, snowflakes! Some guy's radio convinces him to kill Batman. Again, I guess, since it looks like he's the one who sent Ravager after Batman. Is he also the guy on the bike? I don't know! It's possible I'm supposed to have figured out who this guy is six pages in but I'd hate to truly believe that because then I'd have to admit I'm stupid. And there's one thing a stupid person will never admit to being is stupid! Just try it! Call somebody you know is stupid stupid and see how quickly they retort, "I am not! I'm smart!" Then call a smart person stupid and watch how they just smugly laugh in your face and go about their business. It's the easiest intelligence test in the world! By the way, I'm not stupid! Batman crawls back to Wayne Manor where Alfred is ready to give him a good doctoring.

Oh, did I say "doctoring"? I meant "buggering".

Look, I said I wasn't stupid! I know Alfred isn't really fucking Batman in the ass in that picture. It's actually just Batman vomiting up the bed sheets he ate earlier. Alfred looks on at Bruce sleeping after the "doctoring" and thinks, "He looks so tired. He has since Jason passed away." "Passed away"?! Jason was brutally murdered by The Joker! Stop being so passive in your language! I mean, you even say "he looks so tired" instead of admitting the man is fucking exhausted! Fuck, why do I expect anything but passivity from the man who allowed a traumatized child to turn into a violent, obsessive, death-wish holding, bat-cosplaying maniac?! Send that kid to counseling, you idiot! My version of DC's Zero Hour would have led to a Batman had counseling as a child and became more noble and non-violent than even Superman. A man who used his money to help his community to actually get better rather than reliving the pain and trauma of his youth night after night. And Superman would been found by the Kents who wouldn't have taken him illegally into their family. They would have run him through the system where he would have become a bitter and cynical child of the American foster program. He'd be even grimmer than Return of the Dark Knight Batman! Wonder Woman would still be Wonder Woman but instead of using the invisible technology for her jet, she'd have used it for her costume. Oh! I just realized the stupid kid on the bike is Tim Drake! I think I remember him getting his Robin series with the fancy covers during my first year of college. I probably would have remembered this earlier if it hadn't been thirty years since I read this comic book and also I was better at retaining DC history!

This was the clue that made me remember Tim Drake!

If I scan all of the panels where Dick Grayson's first name is used innocently in a way that makes me laugh, I won't have time for any inciteful commentary! And yes I spelled it that way on purpose. I've been doing this gig for eight years and I'm fairly certain I can take credit for five different riots.

Sometimes?! SOMETIMES you wonder?! You should be kissing Alfred's ass every fucking morning you wake up alive, you ingrate!

Alfred lectures Batman about how careless he's become since Jason's death. Instead of responding by saying, "No, you're right, Alfred. I've been a wreck," or "It might be twenty years too late but maybe I should look into therapy," or even, "Alfred, I know you care. But somebody has to protect the people of Gotham," he doesn't say a thing. He just sits there grinding his teeth angrily pouting. Alfred must not have perfected his tough love approach pre-Zero Hour. Alfred's words have an effect on Batman. He slows down the next night and thinks with his head instead of whatever he was thinking with before. He said that, not me! He was looking at his fists when he said it but you know what his head was thinking about. Using the detective part of his repertoire, Batman finally realizes that Two-Face is behind the attempts on his life. He curses himself because it should have been obvious. But it's only obvious after you realize Two-Face is behind it! I mean, I almost figured it out on the second (2nd!) page when Batman thought, "The Ravager, in the past two weeks he had killed as many policemen." If only I had gone on the rant I was going to go on about that only being two cops (which, obviously, is two too many! Whew! Good thing I said that before the Blue Lives Matters bullies descended upon me!). Maybe I would have been all, "Only 2 cops! Over 2 weeks! And this clue on the 2nd page. OH MY GOD! Two-Face!" Tim Drake decides to hunt down Nightwing because he knows how much Batman needs Dick. But he doesn't find him at Titans Tower nor at his apartment which he shares with Starfire. Although Tim does remain on stakeout watching Kory through his binoculars until after she's showered. I think Tim Drake just discovered a dick he hadn't been looking for! Is that inappropriate? He's like twelve or something right? I think making a boner joke about a twelve year old is okay. I just thought, for a second, he might be eight or nine. That would be crossing some kind of imaginary line that I can't see but everybody else seems to notice for me all of the time, judging by all of their judging. Batman #440 Rating: A. Yeah, I know, right?! I gave a comic book written by Marv Wolfman an A! But it was co-plotted by George Perez who probably had all the good ideas, like the Alfred lecture and the Two-Face reveal and keeping Tim Drake's identity a mystery by having the reader look through his eyes and avoiding putting him in rooms with a mirror. Not that anybody would recognize him! I mean, they might. I think he was introduced a few issues prior to this. But who pays that close attention to comic books?! Fucking nerds, that's who! I'm using the term "nerd" in the 80s sense where it's a devastating insult that means your head is about to be shoved into a toilet bowl hopefully devoid of urine or feces and not the modern use of the word nerd where people use it as some kind of cutesy brag that they're into nerd culture. "Oh, I'm such a nerd! Tee hee!" Man, I wish every ticket to Avengers End Game came with a surprise swirly on the way to the theater! Just for the, you know, authenticity! People should have to remember the actual consequences nerds had to once deal with!

#Batman #Marv Wolfman #Jim Aparo #George Perez #DC Comics #DC #Tim Drake #A Lonely Place of Dying #Comic Book Reviews

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ncfan-1 · 6 years ago

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Gotham 05X05, ‘Pena Dura’

- I’m having a really hard time caring. This is Gotham.

- Okay, I am officially Checked Out of Selina’s storyline. If you guys think what’s happening is really good, and it doesn’t involve moralizing over Selina’s having committed Murder, message me and maybe I’ll turn the mute off, but for now, no. Just no. I’m not here for this, especially not on Gotham, of all shows.

- Some old man is watching a black and white film on a film projector, to be confronted with guns by Jim and Harvey. He and his gang are holed up in a church.

- Jim and Harvey are had. Except not, because what what looks like a black ops team crashes in, destroying a stained glass skylight.

- And one of Jim’s old army buddies has showed up.

- And by Eduardo, Jim… has really gone to seed. Why am I not surprised.

- “Jim’s taught me a thing or two about being careful.” What? Harvey, why are you lying?

- Why do I feel like Eduardo’s second-in-command is going to be relevant later.

- Bruce is running around the GCPD looking for Alfred. Apparently he can’t find Selina. Alfred’s right that Selina can take care of herself, and is of the opinion that, well, Selina was probably doing the world a favor by stabbing Jeremiah in the gut. Thank you, Alfred. I may not be muting all of Selina’s scenes, after all.

- I can’t believe I’m praising Alfred for anything in relation to his treatment of Selina, but unlike Bruce, he seems to at least recognize that Selina has agency and is going to do what she wants regardless of whether Bruce approves. So yeah. Very faint praise for Alfred. (Whether you choose to damn him with it is up to you.)

- “You’re not a murderer, Ed.” Yes he fucking is. Shut up.

- And now Ed is up against a wall with guns pointed towards him. See how little I care.

- I don’t know what’s going on; I have the mute on. Jim looks… I can never tell if that look is supposed to be troubled or constipated.

- Eduardo has stepped on a sinking tile; I presume he just triggered a trap.

- The floor is lava!

- Eduardo is disbelieving that anyone would seriously choose to come to Gotham, let alone Jim. Join the club, buddy.

- I chickened out and put the mute back on once the scene switched to Bruce looking for Selina. He was in the Sirens, it looked like? Barbara was there, and she looked happy as anything.

- We’re back to Ed with mobs literally out for his blood. A good look for Ed.

- And Oswald is carrying out a deal, and doesn’t exactly look happy when he finds out Ed is responsible for Haven (Though I’m honestly at the point where I think Jeremiah framed him). I notice that for someone who, as Mr. Penn said with his dying breath, everyone hated, he seems to have built up his power base again very quickly.

- Maybe I’m supposed to feel sorry for Ed trying to evade the people out to kill him, but really, I’m not. And I don’t feel sorry for him when he wakes up duct-taped to a lawn chair, either.

- I have the mute on, I really don’t know what’s happening, but I can guess.

- She’s… after him because he killed her dog? Really, I don’t know.

- Gotham is kinda funny with the mute on.

- These actors make really good weird faces.

- And now he’s having some sort of vision of Oswald? I know all this is going to result in is Ed blaming Oswald for Everything That Has Ever Gone Wrong Ever, because God forbid Ed ever take responsibility for anything, but really, this is just gonna be… Oswald, honey, I really hope you’re finally over him. He is so not worth your time.

- Okay, commercial break over, and I think I’ll try turning the mute off.

- “I’m going to fix you, Ed.” Why do I feel like this’ll be sad in context?

- It’s funny with the mute off, too.

- What are backwoods rednecks doing in Gotham, anyways?

- And Ed is here to blame Oswald for Everything That Has Ever Gone Wrong Ever. Oh, the joy.

- I feel like Oswald would be careful enough to have a gun on him at all times.

- Jim doesn’t seem eager to take on Oswald. Interesting.

- Mute is back on with Selina. Selina looks kinda dead-eyed.

- Mute’s off, and Selina’s telling him about her watching his parents get shot. She’s tearing up. Poor sweetie.

- Selina, you’re not convincing anyone when you say you don’t care. You literally teared up when you talked about watching Bruce’s parents get gunned down; that is not the sign of someone who doesn’t care. Sneaking into Arkham for Bridgit’s sake is not something someone who doesn’t care does. Selina probably wants to not care about anyone, but yeah, I don’t think it’s in her to be apathetic to everyone and everything. And of course Bruce is hurt by that, but I don’t think he believes that.

- Boo hoo Ed. Gag me with a spoon; I literally could not be less sympathetic towards him if I tried.

- Turned on the sound just in time for Oswald to tell Ed that he had saved his life.

- And yeah, I’m with Oswald: if he wants to fuck with Ed, Ed is automatically gonna know it’s him.

- Again, boo hoo Ed. I could not care less.

- Oswald is fully willing to hand Ed over to special forces; thank you. But now he’s the only one left holding the bag. Of course.

- Armed standoff time.

- Yeah, Oswald, Harvey’s a free agent.

- And once again, Oswald can’t have a victory that lasts longer than one episode. Because of course.

- Barbara makes very creative threats.

- Yeah, Ed, Barbara has known you to do shit like that. That’s the problem.

- “They killed those people.” Barbara’s not likely to care.

- I don’t like this Christian Bale voice Ed’s doing. It was bad when Christian Bale did it, and it’s somehow even worse when it’s CMS.

- I don’t wanna watch Oswald get tortured. Next scene, please.

- Exchange between Jim and Oswald. And once again, Jim is choosing Oswald even at the expense of clashing with one of his allies. Gotham? You are never gonna sell me on Jim with one his lady love interests. Never.

- Yay, it’s BD Wong time!

- I love BD Wong.

- I love BD Wong even more when Strange is trying to reason with Ed.

- Strange is playing with him and it’s painfully obvious.

- This performance is delicious; why can’t BD Wong be in every episode?

- It’s bizarre to see Harvey giving Bruce a more inspirational speech than Jim’s ever managed. Nice, though.

- Damn; I didn’t expect to see fresh brain in this episode.

- BD Wong is really redeeming this episode for me, because up to now it’s been mediocre to awful. But I’m actually smiling now.

- Oswald’s home again, lugging his dog around. It’s honestly kinda cute.

- Secret vault? Secret vault.

- There Amontillado in that vault?

- “I was merely helping a man who needed medical attention.” I laughed.

- Given how Ed uses people as tools, I’m not shedding tears over him being used as tools.

- I was wondering when the other shoe would drop with Eduardo. Strange is escorted out, and “Walker”—Amanda Waller, I’m guessing; the name’s close enough—wants Ed killed. I presume Amanda Waller is also the one ultimately controlling Ed.

- Honestly, given Amanda Waller’s personality in other works, I wouldn’t put it past her to do the “pragmatic” thing and have Haven bombed so the army can be brought in and Gotham can be brought to heel. She is very much for the order part of law and order.

- If we actually see Amanda Waller, they’d better get someone good. I wish we could get CCH Pounder, but, I don’t know, given that this is show business, they may decide she’s too old for the role.

- I disapprove of mind control on principle, but with Ed, I can’t really dredge up much of the ability to care.

- And Jeremiah’s not dead, because of course he’s not dead.

- I hate what they did with Ecco. I really do.

- “All systems go.” Well, that can only signal good things.

- Last scene is Jeremiah looking at two women who’ve just had bandages removed. “I love family reunions, don’t you.” Whatever this is about, I’m sure it’s going to be clichéd, and not nearly as shocking as the music tries to imply.

- …And something just occurred to me. The army turning out to be Evil completely absolves Jim of any responsibility for fighting with the Army as we saw him doing in the first episode. …

…

SERIOUSLY?????

Good night, everybody.

#ncfan watches Gotham

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deadcactuswalking · 4 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 26/12/2020 (LadBaby, Boris Johnson, Ed Sheeran)

It’s Boxing Day in the UK as I write this and I’m pretty tired but we still have to review those charts regardless, especially this chart as this is the Christmas chart – at least it’s being paraded around as such – and hence we have a Christmas #1. For the third year in a row, family vlogger, pseudo-comedian and amateur musician, not to be confused with DaBaby, Mark Ian Hoyle – more commonly known as “LadBaby”, has bagged the #1 for the holiday season. Every time I’ve covered the Christmas #1 it has been this guy and, yeah, I’m tired of it. At least this year he felt some stiff competition, and hey, the songs’ proceeds do go to charity. Oh, yeah, and this guy is the third act to have three Christmas #1s in a row, putting this nobody from Nottingham with a barebones Wikipedia page and a couple million YouTube subscribers on the level of the Beatles and Spice Girls. God, the UK Singles Chart never fails to amaze me. Anyway, that’s arguably not even the biggest story here so let’s start REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

As I said before, this is the “Christmas week” so throughout the UK Top 75 there are a lot of holiday songs re-peaking or reaching new peaks, before dropping off entirely the next week. Let’s start as we always do by listing the drop-outs from the chart, of which there are quite a few notable ones. Most of our top 40 debuts from last week are gone, like Taylor Swift’s “champagne problems” and “no body, no crime” featuring HAIM, as well as “Show Out” by Kid Cudi, the late Pop Smoke and Skepta. We can also say goodbye to “Sunflower (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse)” by Post Malone and Swae Lee, finally after 54 weeks and a surprise return earlier this month, in addition to other top 10 hits like “you broke me first” by Tate McRae, “See Nobody” by Wes Nelson and Hardy Caprio and “What You Know Bout Love” also by Pop Smoke, as well as some more minor hits like “Wonder” by Shawn Mendes, “Lonely” by Justin Bieber and benny blanco, “Train Wreck” by James Arthur, “Golden” by Harry Styles and “Plugged in Freestyle” by A92 and Fumez the Engineer, but I can see almost all of these rebounding hard next week so I don’t think there’s much to worry about here. For fallers, since Christmas has really consumed everything about this chart this week, we have some big ones that’ll find themselves back in the top 10 or at least top 20 next week like “positions” by Ariana Grande at #19 (the first non-Christmas non-debut song to appear on the chart, by the way), “Sweet Melody” by Little Mix at #20, “Whoopty” by CJ at #22, “34+35” by Ariana Grande at #28, “WITHOUT YOU” by The Kid LAROI at #31, “Prisoner” by Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa at #35 alongside “Midnight Sky” also by Miley at #36, “willow” by Taylor Swift off the debut to #37, “Get Out My Head” by Shane Codd at #38 and “Paradise” by MEDUZA and Dermot Kennedy. We also have “Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish at #43, “Really Love” by KSI featuring Craig David and Digital Farm Animals at #45, even “HOLIDAY” by Lil Nas X at #49, “Mood” by 24kGoldn featuring iann dior at #54, “Loading” by Central Cee at #59, “Head & Heart” by Joel Corry and MNEK at #60, “Monster” by Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber at #64, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd at #66, “Dynamite” by BTS at #67, “Lemonade” by Internet Money and Gunna featuring Don Toliver and NAV at #72, “Levitating” by Dua Lipa with the biggest fall down to #73 and finally “No Time for Tears” by Nathan Dawe and Little Mix at #74. To put the dominance of holiday music on the charts in perspective, if we take the songs that are not either explicitly Christmas-related or a clear Christmas #1 campaign (i.e. LadBaby), the song at #38 would be at #10 and our #1 would be “positions” by Ariana Grande at #19. “Whoopty” by CJ, that entered the top 10 last week and dropped to #22 this week, would be at #3. There are 11 songs in the top 40 that never made an effort to take advantage of the holiday season. When we get into some of our debuts, it’ll be even clearer how big Christmas is in British pop music. Anyway, let’s skim through our gains and returning entries, most of which are Christmas or Christmas-related. For returning entries, we have the comically awful “Lonely this Christmas” by Mud at #71, last year’s scam attempt at a Christmas #1, “River” by Ellie Goulding at #69, “The Christmas Song (A Merry Christmas to You)” by Nat King Cole at #63 (which I’d appreciate more in the top 20 like it is in the US every year – this is a classic), “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders at #62 (again, incredible song that deserves a higher holiday peak each year), “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” by Darlene Love at #58, “Santa’s Coming for Us” by Sia at #55, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Sam Smith at #53 and for whatever reason, “Holy” by Justin Bieber featuring Chance the Rapper at #41. In terms of notable gains – and I stress notable, since a lot of higher-up Christmas songs had small gains but still good performance - we have “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by the Jackson 5 at #57, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” by Frank Sinatra at #56, “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby at #52, “Baby it’s Cold Outside” by Brett Eldredge and Meghan Trainor at #51, “Forever Young” by Becky Hill at #50 (both off of the debut), “Baby it’s Cold Outside” AGAIN by Michael Bublé and Idina Menzel at #47, “Love is a Compass” by Griff at #46, “Feliz Navidad” by Jose Feliciano at #44, “Cozy Little Christmas” by Katy Perry at #42, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” AGAIN by Dean Martin at #39, “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes at #34, “Christmas Lights” by Coldplay at #33, “Santa Baby” by Kylie Minogue at #32, “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber at #29, “Jingle Bell Rock” by Bobby Helms at #27, “Wonderful Christmastime” by Paul McCartney at #26, “Holly Jolly Christmas” by Michael Bublé at #25, “All You’re Dreaming Of” by Liam Gallagher at #24 (thanks to a Christmas #1 campaign that crashed and failed), “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by Andy Williams at #23, “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” by John Lennon and Yoko Ono with the Plastic Ono Band featuring the Harlem Community Choir at #21, “One More Sleep” by Leona Lewis at #18, “Merry Xmas Everybody” by Slade at #17, “Underneath the Tree” by Kelly Clarkson at #15, and finally, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Justin Bieber illegitimately notching a spot in the top 10 at #8. Finally, we can get onto the new arrivals, although something about this next one tells me that we won’t be in line for anything all that good.

NEW ARRIVALS

#70 – “I’ll be Home” – Meghan Trainor

Produced by Meghan Trainor

...for Christmas. She’ll be home for Christmas. I guess she just can’t finish sentences, even though her cover art has the full title. Anyway, this is a 2014 original Christmas song that went nowhere except Sweden. It’s not anything like the Bing Crosby and wasn’t nearly as successful, mostly because it’s a jingly, inoffensive ballad tacked onto a silly Christmas EP that also features Fifth Harmony and Fiona Apple of all people – who probably should have charted her track instead – as well as the deluxe edition of that debut record Title that nobody liked. At least in this, she’s not going for a faux-retro style, or at least one that I can find the inspiration for, and is just singing over this oddly jaunty piano melody – which sounds pretty albeit bland – as well as some swells of strings and acoustic guitar that do work sonically. The content implies that Meghan Trainor is in contact with Santa Claus personally, and that he gave her the advice to be home with her lover this Christmas and... that’s why this charted, isn’t it? Well, it’s not her fault – it’s not a “stuck with u” moment, but it is dodgy that she decided to put this on her own Christmas record that was released in October of this year, which can’t seem unintentional. I’d be lying to say this isn’t a pretty little tune from Trainor and her voice does fit this instrumental, but a jazzy rendition from someone with a deeper, smoother voice, would work wonders with the content. Oh, and that Christmas record features guest appearances from both Earth, Wind & Fire and Seth MacFarlane, as well as her dad, because, you know, sure, 2020.

#65 – “Gnat” – Eminem

Produced by d.a. got that dope

I can’t tell if I’m underestimating Christmas or overestimating Eminem when I say I expected an album bomb – or whatever that equivalent would be in the UK and our land of silly chart rules – from the deluxe edition of his pretty damn terrible album, Music to be Murdered By. This 3/10 trainwreck consists of two hours I’ll never get back of either great beats wasted by Eminem’s corny, stiff flows and painfully unlikeable delivery or obnoxious, unlistenable beats that are dated enough for Eminem to start going on his Relapse “killing women in funny accents” shtick, which was awful then and even worse now when he tries to replicate it. Marshall, you’re 48, and I know that you’re just “messing around” but if you’re going to treat the album as a cinematic masterpiece within the album and its thematic Alfred Hitchcock interludes, you have to understand that the audience will see it as that way as well, so you having fun and being painfully unfunny in the process over cutting-room-floor trap instrumentals cannot slide. At least Kamikaze had some genuine anger and dare I say some actual balls in how it tackled controversy and dissed everyone he could think of off the top of his head. The last record was angry and bitter, this one’s just tired and lazy, and that’s before we get into some of the ugliest bars, instrumentals and cadences Slim Shady’s ever put on record, which is especially present on “Gnat”, a lightweight trap banger with some acoustic guitars not dissimilar to those that would appear on a Lil Baby mixtape, complete with questionable bass mixing and really bad hooks. On the verses, he sends a death threat to Mike Pence, but on the chorus, his bars are “like COVID” because “you get them right off the bat”. I don’t know about you, but in 2020, I don’t want to hear Eminem harmonising with producer tags, making topical and insensitive pandemic references, or spitting sex bars with coughing ad-libs. Before the beat switch, his flows are some of the sloppiest and drawn-out he’s ever used, and yes, I’ll admit, that second beat is a lot better and Em kills it over that instrumental – but only for a brief moment before we have a third beat, which Eminem is pretty great over, especially with that sax and sweet piano keys overlaid with hard 808s and Eminem’s rapid-pace, quick fire flow... and then he raps the chorus again and I want the song to end as quickly as it started – thankfully, it does end rather abruptly. Just wasted potential all throughout – if that beat switch and flow was a guest verse on damn near anyone else’s record (Em has made tracks with Don Toliver of all people, and he could work), this could be great. For now, Em, you know Kris Kristofferson? I think you should Piss Pissofferson. Forever. Look that up, by the way, that’s a lyric on the record because of course it is.

#61 – “In the Bleak Midwinter” – Jamie Cullum

Produced by ???

I had only briefly heard the name “Jamie Cullum” before this, but he is an English jazz-pop singer and pianist who’s basically useless and uninteresting but, hey, at least he has a radio show on BBC Radio 2. Sure, I mean that might have been the reason that Amazon Music picked him up for an exclusive project for which this is the biggest single. It’s not on Spotify, it’s not even on Genius, and it’s barely on YouTube but since it is, I should tell you that this is his first charting single since 2009 and it’s a remarkably uninteresting rendition of a Christmas carol done a lot better by Jacob Collier – and that one’s on Spotify – so yeah, your sleepy piano arrangement and tone that makes you sound like Robbie Williams half the time and Beck the other, doesn’t interest me. Goodbye.

#30 – “Afterglow” – Ed Sheeran

Produced by PARISI, Fred Again and Ed Sheeran

If we inexplicably remove everything Christmas-related on the chart, Eminem’s “Gnat” would have debuted at #20, and this new track from Ed Sheeran, already stunted from being released on an unconventional day, would have hit #5. Regardless of chart position, Ed Sheeran’s back with his first solo single since Divide. Yes, I’m purposefully ignoring that collaborative project he put out in 2019 because as far as I know, it doesn’t exist. At the end of the year, when things are looking as if he could start touring again, Sheeran predictably releases his lead-off single. This song in particular is a heartfelt ballad from Ed to his wife, who he wishes to be there forever and even if they aren’t together at any moment, whether he’s touring or they separate for whatever reason, he’ll “hold on to the afterglow”. I won’t lie, it’s a really sweet and convincingly sold love song from Ed, even if it’s not anything new, it does feel like a different approach since he’s a newly-wed man now. Although I’m not a fan of this somewhat muddy mixing that somehow messes up just a guy and his acoustic guitar, making what should be a really pretty, ethereal and mellow track sound almost ugly, which doesn’t flatter Ed and his limited delivery at all, especially when he starts getting multi-tracked in the second verse and whooshing sound effects of strings pop up in the mix, and, yeah, it just sounds cheap and gross at this point, which is really a waste of incredible content and a great performance from Ed, who sells everything as well as he can. I understand how this is supposed to be down to Earth, so a perfect mix wouldn’t make sense, but if you’re going to make him harmonise with his own background vocals and even show signs of belting, give him some more grandiosity and go full out instead of restraining him so that it just sounds jarring. With a different mix this could be one of Ed’s best tracks since the melodies are on point, the song feels really heart-warming and sincere, especially coming from Ed to his wife, but we won’t get a remaster anytime soon, I imagine, so for now this is just pretty damn good. I love the cover art as well, painted by Ed himself, and released alongside the single as a bit of a Christmas gift to fans, as well as the start of what I’m pretty sure will be a promo cycle. If this is a good peek into what that album will sound like, it’s safe to say I’m more than excited than ever to hear from Ed Sheeran.

#5 – “Boris Johnson is a Fricking Jerk” – Kool & the Gang

Produced by ???

Okay, so the song’s calling Boris Johnson something stronger than a “fricking jerk”, and the song is decidedly not by soul legends Kool & the Gang, although I’d love for that to happen sometime. This is a family show, of course, so we have to take some liberties. This track originates from a comedian from Basildon, Essex of all places, and whilst we don’t know his name, the songwriting credit on Spotify is given to contemporary British poet Wayne Clements so maybe he’s behind this, who knows? Whether he is or not, I can tell you the history behind this comedian’s music, as he has been making crude short singles about controversial topics in British society and politics for a while, including some about Nick Clegg that charted, although never higher than #63. He retired in 2016 but after writing an autobiography, the guy’s back and he released a compilation of punk rock tracks, all of which are small and profane, with a “band” of puppets that I also can’t name. State-controlled Russian television networks – because, sure, again, it’s 2020 – say that he will start touring in 2021, mostly because he’s finally reached that mainstream audience with this family-friendly tune about Boris Johnson. Here’s how Vick Hope and Katie Thistleton introduced it live on air during the mid-week chart reveal.

Now at #19, we've got a track about Boris Johnson that has so many bad words in it, we can't play it on daytime Radio 1.

Ah, you cowards. Wait... Anyway, I’m pretty happy that the British public can stick it to Boris and the heartless Tories that follow him and currently rule the country, even if it is all a bloody stupid joke from an anonymous punk rocker. We can dig into Boris for his failures on Brexit, mishandling of the pandemic, disgraceful reality-star-esque personal life, that he wasn’t even born in the UK yet is basically a nationalist, his history of Islamophobic commentary, his crap excuses for journalism back in the 2000s or even his clown-nose, blonde bowl-cut “hair style” he adopts whilst addressing us on live television feeding us lies and misleading statements that turn into retcons the next time he has to address the nation, whether it be on Brexit or COVID-19 tiers and regulations, both of which are a confusing mess to both sides of Europe that exist to drift us away from where we should be going as a nation, and further into the realm of political party tribalism that we know absolutely does not work in the States and that we mock the Yanks for. We’re more than the sick man of Europe, we are the America of Europe. I guess you could say Ireland is our Canada, but we don’t even have a Mexico to make us look better, we just have other western, central and northern European countries that may be flawed but are far ahead of whatever the hell this shell of a union is in 2020, less than 80 years after the creation of our National Health Service. People will look to pundits and newsreaders like Piers Morgan, entertainers like Phillip Schofield, war veterans and charity-givers like Captain Tom Moore, and even politicians like Boris Johnson, as the “heroes” of Britain’s 2020 but it’s increasingly clear that absolutely no-one is a hero, and it’s the people’s right to be upset. Hence, nearly exactly a year after Boris Johnson cheated his way into power by smear campaigns and elitism, we have this song debuting at #5. Unfortunately, the song doesn’t go into any of that. It just repeats the title in an anthemic – and considerably agreeable – refrain that is an undeniable punk hook. The riffs and guitar work here isn’t of any interest, but the guy’s delivery is powerful and furious, so I’ll give the song credit: it’s not just correct but it’s really good, especially for a one minute runtime. He also released some satirical MIDI-level synth-pop remix with gross Christmas sleigh bells and hi-hat skitters, because, say it with me, it’s 2020. I wouldn’t recommend the album though, it overstays its welcome by the time you get to “Jesus Died of a Stranglewank”.

#1 – “Don’t Stop Me Eatin’” – LadBaby

Produced by who cares?

I can’t get mad at this lazy “parody” of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” about sausage rolls, or even its Ronan Keating remix, which is LadBaby doing a favour to Ronan Keating, if anything. Sure, my blood boils with the idea that this incompetent Internet personality from the East Midlands – which I think I’m sadly also able to describe myself as – got the #1 over Mariah Carey, or even that Boris Johnson diss track, but it’s going to the Trussell Trust and it’s ultimately an inoffensive, vaguely happy track that even gets the vegans involved. I, for one, prefer “Boris Johnson is a Sausage Roll”, a version of our #5 you can – and should – play on the radio even after Christmas. I don’t have anything more to say about this guy so piss off, LadBaby, you can’t even get the album cover right to the song you’re parodying, thrice in a row.

Conclusion

Best of the Week is definitely going to the Somethings for “Boris Johnson is a Something Something”, with an Honourable Mention to Ed Sheeran’s “Afterglow”. I can’t bring myself to give a charity single Worst of the Week so I’ll spare LadBaby the honour and grant it to Jamie Cullum for his greedy Amazon exclusive trite, with a Dishonourable Mention for “Gnat” by Eminem, for just being wasted potential all across the board. Next week, everything Christmas-related will be gone and we’ll get a bunch of returns and hopefully some new, interesting returning entries. We might even get the impact of Playboi Carti’s long-anticipated album – and I hope so because it’s fantastic – but that’s wishful thinking. Anyways, I hope everyone had a happy holiday season. Here’s our top 10:

Thank you for reading. You can follow me @cactusinthebank for more rambling about pop music and occasionally politics, and I’ll see you next year.

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feynavaley · 7 years ago

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Hetalia Fanfiction – Arthur Kirkland’s Guide to Being a Big Brother Ch 1

Summary: (Human AU) After ten years of living as the youngest of four children, Arthur Kirkland is firmly convinced that older brothers are useless at best, a nuisance at worst. The introduction of six-year-old Alfred into his life is the first of many changes that force Arthur to reconsider his position.

The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app. I hope you’ll like this!

AO3 | FFN | Next | List

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Alfred, Part One

In retrospect, Alistair would say that it was all Arthur’s fault. Arthur would deny, of course, because he wouldn’t agree with Alistair even under torture, but when he was alone, without his older brother’s grin tormenting him, the boy would recognize that yes, he had certainly played a hand in the events that had followed. And the thought was always accompanied by a spark of pride, because, unlike his older brothers, Arthur could see what truly mattered: he could see the way their mother’s eyes sparkled now, the way her smile was more genuine, her features finally lacking the tension that had hardened them for so many years. It hadn’t always been like that.

It wasn’t like that the day everything was put into motion, a warm morning of June when Summer’s temperatures and bright sun were timidly starting to make themselves seen. Arthur had felt blessed for the presence of the air conditioning that cooled down the rooms and corridors of the university, making him forget the humid heat he had complained about outside. And it wasn’t only that: the university building was incredibly interesting, in the humble opinion of a ten-year-old. It was a maze of ample corridors sided by grand walls adorned with low reliefs and motives that exuded a note of solemnity, almost reminding Arthur of some old buildings from home, with the high windows opening on a cloudless sky that gave no indication of the location. If Arthur pretended hard enough, he could almost imagine that he was still in England.

The architecture wasn’t the only interesting thing, however. Somebody seemed almost to have feared that people could forget they were inside a university instead of a random old building, and had done his best to remind them. The halls and corridors were invaded by boards with colourful posters and displays that highlighted the activities of the university, such a rich display of knowledge and trivia that Arthur’s head was almost spinning, he didn’t quite know where to look to absorb all that information.

A series of panels about an expedition in Egypt was the cause of the boy’s ultimate downfall. What he did was nothing special: he merely stopped to have a closer look at the pictures and found himself completely engrossed in the explanation. Yet such an apparently harmless, insignificant action led to unforeseen consequences of much bigger magnitude.

After reading one of the panels, Arthur turned to show his mother the discovery, his lips curled into an excited smile – only to find an empty space next to him. The boy needed a moment to process the unexpected information, then his eyes quickly roamed over the corridor, widening, his features slowly shifting from excitement to horror as his stomach coiled with dread.

“Mum?” he tried to call fearfully, his voice wavering, but deep down, Arthur already knew that it was useless: his mother’s bright red hair was hard to miss, and there weren’t many people around the corridor. Two girls were chatting next to a door, a young man was walking at a brisk pace, but there was no trace of red. If Arthur couldn’t see his mother, it meant that she wasn’t there.

And neither was Alistair, who had left even earlier to check on something – Arthur hadn’t even been listening to him. The boy couldn’t claim that he liked Alistair, but at that moment, even he would have been welcome.

“Mum?!” Arthur called again, his breathing pitching up.

For a second time, nobody answered him.

Arthur swiftly turned around, his eyes wildly inspecting every corner as his head frantically moved from side to side, but the result didn’t change: no red hair. It was at that moment that the boy was invaded by another horrifying realization: he had no idea of where he was. He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, too taken by the displays and pictures, and now he didn’t know how to get back to the entrance or how to get out of the corridor. There was only one thing he knew with certainty: that place was huge.

Now, Arthur was a big boy. He was ten years old, which was almost a grown-up, no matter what Alistair or Connor or Dylan said, so, he was aware that he shouldn’t panic. Yet, that knowledge wasn’t helping. Arthur didn’t know what to do. He kept looking around, his eyes as wide as saucers, but his feet were frozen on the spot. Mum mustn’t have realized that he had stopped, so she didn’t know where he was, either. She would look for him, but would she ever find him? That place was so big…

Arthur almost wanted to run, but that would have probably only resulted in him getting lost even further. What could he do, then? Those corridors, that had looked so bright and inviting a few moments earlier, where suddenly ominously big – the walls were too high, the small windows suffocating, they almost seemed to be curling inwards, closing over him.

Arthur’s throat was closed off by a big lump, his vision blurry – tears, he realized suddenly. He felt a slight twinge of shame at that and he swallowed painfully, somehow managing to restrain the hot tears that were pressing against his lids. He still didn’t know what to do, however.

He was in a foreign country, with people who spoke a butchered version of his language, who were said to carry guns around and maybe kidnap children and sell them for their organs – that was what Oliver had said when he had learnt that Arthur was moving, at least. Arthur hadn’t believed him, his mother had told him numerous times that he shouldn’t take heed to anything that came out of his cousin’s mouth, but at that moment… what if Oliver was right? The fear was closing off Arthur’s throat, a barrier between his brain and any rational thought, his heart was racing.

He wanted Mum. Or Alistair. He would have hugged Alistair if he had seen him, even if he didn’t like him at all. Scratch that, he was never going to say another word against Alistair…

“Hey, kid, is everything all right?”

Arthur jumped, screeching.

The man who was crouched next to him smiled, holding up his hands in a placating manner.

“Whoa there, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I just noticed that you seemed to be alone… where are your parents? Did you get lost?”

Arthur didn’t answer, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the stranger.

The man was American, he had immediately realized it by his accent. He was tall and strong, casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt that highlighted his tanned complexion. His chiselled features were framed by straight chestnut brown hair and his eyes were of the most intense cornflower blue that Arthur had ever seen, so bright that it almost looked fake. His white-toothed smile was far too perfect as well, there was no way somebody would smile like that without having a hidden agenda. Suddenly, all of Oliver’s tales about disappeared children sounded far too real.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Arthur declared drily, inching away from the man.

Much to his surprise, the stranger laughed. It wasn’t the sound Arthur would have expected out of the mouth of a child-snatcher, but a hearty, honest laugh.

“Fair enough,” the man retorted, “Nice to see that there are some judicious young men around. Well, I’m George Jones. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. And I won’t do anything, I promise – just take you to the information point so we can make an announcement and call your parents to get you, how does this sound?”

George Jones offered Arthur his hand, but the boy made no move to take it.

“How do I know that I can trust you?” he asked, forcing himself to stay completely still.

George Jones simply smiled.

“Turn around and look.”

It was probably a stupid thing to do – maybe the man would snatch him as soon as he got distracted – but on the other hand, the stranger’s seemingly open face had piqued Arthur’s curiosity. He turned around – and was met by George Jones’s startling blue eyes and tanned face, smiling wildly from a picture in the panel.

‘Professor George A. Jones,’ the caption said, ‘Head of the Archaeology Department’.

A soft ‘Oh’ seeped through Arthur’s lips as he turned again to the man, his eyes wide.

“See?” said Professor Jones, “I’m a faculty member, not just some stranger. I’ll just take you to the information point, I promise, I’m not trying to kidnap you.”

Arthur was aware that Jones’s words weren’t a reliable proof of his intentions – being a university professor didn’t mean that he couldn’t also be a child-snatcher – but after all, did he have any alternative? And at least, Jones was a renowned person inside the university, somebody would probably be able to identify and remember him if Arthur turned out missing.

“Okay,” he muttered, “I’m Arthur Kirkland.”

George Jones smiled even more widely as he got up, dusting off his jeans.

“Great, Arthur!” he said, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder to lead him, “Like the king, right?”

Arthur nodded as he started to follow the man’s steps.

“Mum likes legends.”

George Jones hummed.

“Ah, yes… You come from England, don’t you? I don’t think I’ve heard such a perfect British accent in a long time… Do you have an older brother or sister who wants to study here?”

Arthur shrugged.

“Not really. Mum got a new job, so we are just moved here… Alistair is studying in Edinburgh and Connor in Belfast, and Dylan will start university in September… Mum hopes that he’ll move with us so she came to have a look at the university, but it’s useless. Everybody knows it, she just keeps deluding herself. Alistair is going to stay in Edinburgh, Connor is going to stay in Belfast, and Dylan is going to a university in England or in Wales. It’s just going to be Mum and me.”

Arthur suddenly realized that his throat was uncomfortably tight. He didn’t want to cry – he wasn’t even sad about it, actually. He didn’t mind being without his older brothers, they were only a nuisance, always mocking him for everything and trying to act like they were superior to him. But his mother clearly thought differently, and Arthur’s chest clenched every time he saw the lines on her face getting deeper, her eyes, once as bright as his, duller. Arthur wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but every time he tried, the words seemed blocked in his throat. And it wasn’t only that. Everybody kept saying that a change of air would do his mother good, that she needed it, but… in spite of everything, England was their home. Deep down, Arthur knew that he wasn’t ready to leave it behind, just like his brothers weren’t.

Jones gently tightened the hold on his shoulder – barely, but enough for Arthur to understand that it was meant to be a comforting gesture.

“I see…” the man’s voice was soft. “You sound like a very bright boy, Arthur.”

Everybody always told him that, but somehow, Jones sounded earnest in a different way other people did. Arthur decided that he liked him.

It wasn’t long before Arthur and George Jones arrived at the office. It wasn’t far from the place Arthur had gotten lost in – maybe, he would have even felt embarrassed, if he hadn’t been so relieved.

“Arthur Kirkland is waiting for his mother Aila Kirkland at the information point at floor one,” a bored-looking secretary announced at the interphone a few moments later, under the boy’s request.

The smooth, professional voice alleviated the weight at the pit of Arthur’s stomach. Mum would know where he was, now. It was going to be all right.

Much to Arthur’s surprise, George Jones didn’t leave. Curiously, he asked the secretary to prepare a cup of tea before bringing his attention back to Arthur.

“Aila, uh?” he mused, “That’s a Celtic name.”

Professor Jones spent the following minutes discussing with Arthur about Celtic mythology and naming, he seemed to be weirdly knowledgeable about it. But of course, he was an archaeology professor, that was probably normal. Arthur answered with enthusiasm. He had just started to relax while Jones was telling him how much he would have liked seeing Stonehenge, when a scream tore through the air.

“Arthur!”

His heart missed a beat. He jumped up, ready to run to hug his mother, but as soon as he turned, he found himself frozen on the spot.

His mother looked horrible. She was as pale as ghost, her eyes bright and bloodshot, and there was something wildly out of control in her brisk steps. Without stopping for a moment, she crossed the space between them and convulsively clutched Arthur to her chest. He could feel her shaking – and suddenly, to his horror, she burst into tears.

“Oh, Arthur, thank goodness you’re all right, I turned around and you weren’t there anymore, nobody remembered seeing you, I had no idea of where you were, what if somebody had taken you—”

Arthur was aware that he probably should have said something, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His body felt frozen, his brain unable to connect with his tongue. He had never seen his mother like that. She wasn’t supposed to be like that, she was strong, not… not that snivelling, bawling mess.

“—and then a lady said she had seen you leave with a man and oh God Arthur you have no idea of just how terribly worried I was, what if—”

It was at that moment George Jones cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

“Uhm, excuse me, Mrs Kirkland…”

Aila straightened abruptly without releasing her hold on Arthur.

“I’m the man Arthur was with,” Professor Jones said, “I noticed that he looked lost and I brought him here to give the announcement. I understand that this must have been quite a scare, but it’s all right now.”

“Oh…” Aila murmured weakly before regaining some control of herself and wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Oh, thank you so much, sir… I’m sorry for causing such a scene, I just…”

She finally loosened her death grip on Arthur, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop crying.

George Jones offered her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry about this. I understand perfectly, I have a young son as well and God only knows how much he makes me worry… I know how terrifying this must have been.” He laid a gentle hand on Aila’s arm. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Aila nodded weakly, still sniffling. She let herself be led away from Arthur and collapsed on a chair next to a small table, where a cup of tea had just been placed by the secretary.

Arthur wanted to join his mother, but his feet were glued on the spot. He didn’t understand, he had only stopped to look at a display, it shouldn’t have led to such consequences… it shouldn’t have, really. And in spite of that, his mother was clearly hurting. Arthur’s stomach started churning at the realization.

“Arthur! Mum!”

Arthur gasped, whirling around. Alistair was coming towards him in long strides, almost running. His light blue eyes were wide, the paleness of his face even more evident in contrast with his crimson hair. He started slowing down his pace only when he caught sight of both his family members visibly unharmed.

“It’s all right, Ali,” Aila called weakly from her spot, her trembling hands cradling the cup of tea like a new-born pup. “Mr Jones here found Arthur, he’s fine. It’s all right.”

She didn’t make any move to get up from the chair, she looked too drained to do so. After a brief smile at Alistair, George Jones turned back to Aila. Arthur realized that he was talking, but his voice was too soft for the boy to make out any word. His mother was nodding, however, and the trembling of her hands was starting to quell down.

Alistair’s hand suddenly descended on Arthur’s shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze.

“Let’s give Mum some space,” he murmured as he started leading Arthur away.

Alistair’s eyes were dark on his stony features – not a good sign. Arthur still followed him, too shaken to protest. He couldn’t erase from his mind his mother’s teary eyes, her anguished expression… and especially, the horrifying, gut-wrenching knowledge that it was his fault. There was no strength left in him to oppose his older brother.

Only when they were outside of the office Alistair loosened his hold, positioning himself in front of his younger brother.

“I want to know what you were thinking,” he hissed.

His hands were shaken by slight tremors, his eyes bright with rage. Arthur instinctively took a step back, but his older brother followed him.

“How can you be so fucking selfish?! Mum has so many things on her plate that you can’t even start to imagine it! And instead of helping, what do you do?! You decide to run off on your own, without caring about how much it’s going to hurt Mum!”

Arthur wanted to defend himself. He really did, what Alistair was trying to describe was nowhere close to the truth… his tongue seemed frozen, however, his throat blocked off by a big lump. And Alistair kept scolding him, his voice rising in volume until he was almost yelling.

“I can’t believe you! You know what’s going on, but you don’t pay the slightest attention to anything, you just keep being this self-conceited brat—”

Arthur hadn’t meant to behave in the way Alistair was describing. He wasn’t selfish, he loved Mum above anything else, and would have done anything to ease her concerns. He had only stopped to look at a display, he hadn’t realized that his mother had moved away…

In spite of that, the trembling mess that was now his mother was a direct consequence of that brief moment of carelessness.

Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. All the emotions that had swelled inside his throat burst out in fat tears streaming down his face. ‘I didn’t want this!’ he wanted to yell, but Alistair didn’t leave him any space to talk, he didn’t even seem to realize that Arthur had started crying – he only kept yelling, his clenched fists trembling.

“—And if you have any idea of just how much we were worrying, you should have seen Mum she was completely frantic— Ouch!”

“Leave him alone, you big bully!”

What?

When Arthur managed to blink away the tears, his blurry vision returned to focus on a surreal scene. Alistair was still in front of him, but expression had shifted from anger to confusion as he looked wide-eyed at the small child who was at his feet, valiantly kicking his shins.

Alistair raised his hands, taking a couple of steps back as he tried to subtract himself from the child’s fury.

“Now, lad—” he started saying, trying to dodge the small feet, but the child interrupted him.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, you meanie!”

Alistair’s blue eyes were wide in confusion. After a moment of hesitation, he gingerly bent down to try and placate the child, who merely snarled at him and took a couple of steps back before charging again.

Arthur had even forgotten to cry, he could only watch in fascination the odd scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes – Alistair, being attacked by a child who couldn’t be any older than seven. Certainly, not something Arthur had ever expected he would see, and his brain was failing to react. He was having trouble merely processing the situation, he still couldn’t believe that it was real.

George Jones’s shocked voice finally jerked Arthur back to reality.

“Alfred! What are you doing?!”

Professor Jones swooped in and swept up the child, tearing him away from Alistair.

“I’m sorry,” he started saying immediately, “I really don’t know what’s gotten into him… he was supposed to stay in my office!”

In his arms, Alfred scowled, folding his arms across his chest.

Recalling Jones’s words to his mother, Arthur wondered if the child was his son. Alfred’s features were softer and his hair dark blond, but he did share some resemblance with Mr Jones: they had the same straight nose, tanned skin and, more importantly, those striking cornflower blue eyes. There was no denying that they were related.

“You were taking forever, Dad!” Alfred whined, proving Arthur’s theory. “So I came looking for you! And luckily I did, because this man was being a big bully! Look, he made him cry!”

Arthur blushed slightly as George Jones’s eyes darted to his face, while Alistair’s expression was darker than ever. Jones faltered. It was clear that he didn’t know how to deal with the situation – but somebody else did.

“Alistair!”

At the shrill shout, everybody turned towards the small form that was advancing towards them with brisk steps.

Aila seemed to have mostly recovered. While her face was still pale and her eyes puffy, she was walking with her shoulders squared, and only determination showed through her features.

Alistair paled under her scorching gaze. Arthur’s tears were still clearly visible on his cheeks, and Alfred was glaring at the young man. There was no mistaking what had happened, especially not to Aila’s expert eyes.

“I think we need to have a talk, Alistair,” she declared, folding her arms across her chest.

In spite of everything, Arthur found himself cheering internally, the knot in his stomach loosening: somebody was going to get a good thrashing. Next to him, George Jones swallowed, visibly uneasy.

“Well, why don’t you come to my office with Alfred, Arthur?” he asked, somehow summoning a wide smile. “You were looking at the panels from the Egypt expedition, I have some interesting articles about it that have yet to be published…”

Arthur wouldn’t have minded assisting to Alistair’s demise, but on the other hand, the articles sounded interesting, and they had the added bonus of showing Alistair how superior Arthur was to the entire situation.

“Okay, thank you,” he decided, taking the offered hand.

“You can ask the secretary where my office is,” Professor Jones said, at which Aila answered with a small nod.

“Thank you,” she replied without turning, her eyes boring holes in Alistair’s face.

“Mum, I—” Arthur heard him saying.

“No, don’t start apologizing now!” Aila cut him off, “What I want to know is how it could even cross your mind to talk to your brother that way?! You’re not his parent Alistair, I’ve told you one million of times! Nothing gives you the right…”

Her voice faded in the distance. The disappointment blossomed in a small frown on Arthur’s face – the discussion was finally getting to an interesting point – until he felt George Jones’s hand slightly relax the hold on his one, making him understand that the man had offered to take him away to save him for a potentially harmful situation. It wouldn’t have been, but Arthur realized with surprise that he wasn’t any less touched.

He turned to offer Professor Jones a small smile, only for his eyes to meet Alfred’s bright blue ones. The child was still perched on his father’s arm, looking at him with curiosity.

“Your Mama is quite scary,” he commented, “Is she always like that?”

A slight crease disturbed the smooth skin of George Jones’s forehead.

“Alfred…” he started rebuking, but the remark had made Arthur realize how he had reached his conclusion.

“No, only if somebody does something wrong,” he cut in, “She’s actually very sweet when she’s not angry. But I don’t mind, really, she wasn’t angry at me, just at Alistair. So it’s fine.”

Alfred nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer, leaving Arthur wondering whether such a small child could truly understand what he had just said.

“You talk funny,” Alfred declared then, twisting in his father’s arms so he could look more closely at Arthur.

George Jones barely managed to restrain a snort behind a dry cough.

Arthur found himself frowning.

‘You’re the one to talk!’, would have been the immediate reply, because honestly, and yet… after a glance at Alfred’s big, earnest eyes, the words died in Arthur’s throat. There was no malice in the child’s expression, only genuine curiosity.

Moreover, Alfred had to be truly young, Arthur had to remind himself, maybe not even old enough to go to school, blaming his ignorance on him wouldn’t be fair. That was without even considering how rude it would be, when his father had been nothing but kind to Arthur.

“That’s because I come from England,” he answered in the end, his words slightly clipped.

Alfred cocked his head.

“Oh wow, it sounds really far away… is it farther than Canada?”

Once again, Arthur had to refrain himself from rolling his eyed. ‘He’s just a child,’ he reminded himself before talking.

“Much farther. There’s an entire ocean in between.”

Alfred’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Wow… This is so so far away… like Egypt! I went to Egypt once! Didn’t we, Dad?”

Jones chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. Alfred didn’t wait for an answer before resuming his excited chatter.

“And it was soo beautiful! The pyramids are so big… I wanted to climb one but Dad didn’t let me. But he let me have a ride on a camel! They smell weird, but it was so much fun! And then…”

Alfred kept blabbering about the trip to Egypt the entire way to his father’s office, his eyes wide and bright with excitement. Arthur slowly found himself relaxing, the child’s enthusiasm was contagious, taking his mind away from the memories of the last moments.

George Jones’s office turned out to be as interesting as Arthur would have expected. It was a big rectangular room, with a huge window that opened on the garden, and it might have looked airy, hadn’t it been for the books that almost swallowed it. They were piled all over a big wooden desk, stacked in sturdy shelves, there was a pile on a coffee table and one big volume with a blue cover had even been left on one of the two cushioned armchairs next to it. The parts of the wall that weren’t occupied by books were covered with old-looking maps and some pictures.

Alfred’s voice seemed to fade into the background as Arthur looked around, his eyes widening at the impressive display of knowledge. He itched to put his hands on the books, he wanted to spend the rest of his days in that office, he decided suddenly. He even forgot about the articles until he saw Jones put down Alfred to reach some papers on a shelf.

“What are you looking for, Dad?” the child asked immediately, jumping to try and see the papers his father was sorting through.

“Some articles for Arthur,” Professor Jones answered, “I told him before, weren’t you paying attention? You know—”

A gentle knock at the door claimed everybody’s attention.

“Yes?” George Jones answered immediately, his voice deeper than it had been when he had been talking to Arthur.

The door opened to reveal a girl with a frizzy hair and the hugest pair of glasses Arthur had ever seen. Arthur judged her to be around the same age as his brothers, but instead of exuding their confidence, she was nervously chewing on her lower lip and the binder she held tightly in front of her chest looked almost like a shield.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, professor, I hoped I could talk to you about my last paper…”

George Jones straightened up as he walked towards the door.

“Yes, of course. You sent me an e-mail yesterday. Barbara, right?”

He was still talking in a deeper voice. That was Professor Jones’s voice, Arthur realized suddenly, the same one he had used with the secretary. His countenance was slightly different too, he was standing straighter, and when at the girl’s small nod he moved towards her, his steps looked more deliberate. Arthur was just starting to realize how much George Jones had been trying to make him at ease, which brought a pleasant sense of surprise.

“I’m sorry, boys,” Jones said just before stepping out of the room, looking back at Arthur and Alfred. “I’ll be back in a minute, you two can stay here… Arthur, if you see any book that looks interesting you can take it.”

Even if they weren’t the articles George had promised, Arthur was satisfied with the arrangement. His eyes immediately darted to a packed library, but he didn’t have the time to choose a book.

“Hey, who was that man who was yelling at you before?” Alfred asked unexpectedly, “Do you know him?”

The child had sat down on one of the two armchairs and he was swinging his legs as he looked at Arthur, his head slightly tilted to a side.

Arthur sighed, carefully moving the book to a side before settling himself on the second armchair.

“Just my older brother,” he answered, frowning at the thought. “He’s…”

He hesitated, stopping himself just in time. ‘A pain in the ass,’ would have been his next choice of words, but Alfred was a child. Arthur couldn’t talk that way in front of him.

“A real bother,” he said in the end, “He’s always very mean and grumpy. But Mum is going to give him a big scolding.”

Alfred’s eyes widened.

“But this is horrible! That’s not how big brothers should behave, he’s so mean!”

Arthur shrugged. He couldn’t deny that Alfred’s outrage brought an unexpected twinge of satisfaction, but it was far too clear that the child didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was talking about.

“That’s just how big brothers are. Let me tell you, I’ve got three of them… Alistair’s the worst, but they’re all horrid.”

Much to Arthur’s surprise, Alfred pouted and folded his arms across his chest.

“Nu—uh. Big brothers aren’t supposed to do that. They’re supposed to be awesome and take care of their little siblings!”

Arthur didn’t know where Alfred had gotten that skewed view from. The TV, maybe, Arthur had seen siblings’ relationships generally presented in a positive light there, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. And yet… as he opened his mouth to answer, Arthur was once again forced to confront himself with the fact that Alfred was just a small child. Did Arthur have any right to crush his naïve beliefs? Besides, Alfred had been so ready to take his side… Arthur really couldn’t find it in himself to cause the child some distress.

“Well, maybe mine are a peculiar case,” he conceded, but Alfred didn’t seem deterred.

“And doesn’t your Mom scold them, then? And what about your Dad?”

“Mum does, but sometimes she tells me I’m exaggerating. And Dad…” once again, Arthur found himself hesitating. How much was he allowed to tell such a young child without frightening him?

“He’s not around anymore,” he decided to settle for in the end, “And this is why my big brothers are so insufferable, too. They want to act like they’re my Dad, but they aren’t.”

That was what Mum always said when she tried to explain to him his brother’s actions, at least, but Arthur wasn’t completely convinced. He was sure that there was a lot more to being a father than behaving like grumpy, whiny spoilsport.

“Oh.” Alfred nodded solemnly, his eyes wide. “I see.”

He managed to keep his composure for about half a second before fidgeting, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Is he gone like Mama or gone like Jefferson?”

Confusion creased Arthur’s forehead.

“Come again?”

“Oh, yeah.” Alfred waved his hand in a careless gesture. “Jefferson the hamster. He was really old and sick and now he’s in Heaven with God.”

Well, so Alfred knew about death. Of course, Arthur had known as well at Alfred’s age, but he had been in a different situation.

“While Mama left me and Dad and now she lives with Mattie in Canada.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold. He knew about divorces, and he knew how unpleasant they were. He could see it written in the too tight features of Alfred’s face. He found himself deeply disliking that expression, the child was much better smiling like he had been before.

“My Dad is in Heaven. He wasn’t old, but he was really sick,” Arthur answered evenly.

“This is really sad,” Alfred mused, looking at him with impossibly expressive eyes. “I can still see Mama, but you cannot see your Dad… You must be very sad. I was sad when Jefferson died…”

An unexpected spark of warmth blossomed in Arthur’s chest. Alfred was just a child, but his concern seemed genuine, and his words were clearly a clumsy offer of comfort.

“It’s all right,” he answered with a small smile, “I cannot really remember Dad, I was still very little when he died.” Henry Kirkland was hardly more than a flash in Arthur’s memories, a frail hand ruffling his hair, a breathless laughter, a thin body enveloped by white sheets. “So I cannot really miss him.”

That wasn’t quite correct, however: while he couldn’t miss his father, Arthur was acutely aware of the painful void that his absence had left. He could see it in his mother’s dull eyes, in the way her face was constantly wrinkled and tense, so different from the smiling girl Arthur could see in some old pictures. He could see the void in the way Alistair clumsily tried and failed to take charge, in the fact that, when his mother couldn’t pick him up from school, Arthur would see one of his brothers, not his father like other children did.

But Arthur couldn’t possibly say any of that to the bright-eyed Alfred, who had straightened his back to look more adult and was nodding solemnly. Once again, the child was back to a more exuberant countenance in a matter of seconds, his eyes lighting up as a satisfied smile stretched his lips.

“Hey, you know what? My Dad is alone and your Mom is alone. They should marry, so they won’t be alone anymore and your brothers won’t have any excuse to bother you!”

Arthur’s badly concealed snort quickly turned into full-blown laughter. Alfred’s suggestion was simply preposterous, it wasn’t how romance worked, but Arthur couldn’t manage to stop laughing long enough to tell him, he could hardly breathe. Fortunately, Alfred didn’t seem to take offence at that, or maybe he mistook Arthur’s amused reaction as an assent, seeing how he never stopped smiling proudly. Arthur found out that he didn’t mind: after all, Alfred was just a child, and his genuine enthusiasm had had the side effect of making Arthur almost forget about his previous concerns. While he stayed in the office with Alfred, his mother’s tears and Alistair yells seemed far away, easy to ignore. The fact that Alfred seemed to dislike Alistair as much as Arthur did was an added bonus, too.

After that, Arthur kept chatting with Alfred, barely realizing the passing of time. Even the books were forgotten in front of Alfred's enthusiasm – there were clearly some misconceptions in the way he retold his trip to Egypt, but it was entertaining to see how Alfred's eyes sparkled, unspoiled by maturity. By the time George Jones came back with Aila in tow, Arthur had completely forgotten about Alfred’s plans, and when he waved him goodbye, he wasn't expecting to see him again – and he wasn't even truly sorry about it. For how pleasant that time had been, Alfred was still a near-stranger and a child far too young to be considered Arthur's friend.

In spite of that, Arthur found himself thinking about Alfred when Alistair started nagging him again (this time, on the fact that he should try to go and talk to some children who were playing near their house). He couldn’t stop recalling the way Alfred had kicked Alistair, and a smile tugged at his lips at the memory. Alfred had been a sweet child. Arthur probably wasn’t going to meet him again, but he hoped that everything would go well for him – and at least, he had a caring father instead of an annoying older brother. He certainly deserved that.

(word count: 6,106)

Notes:

Arthur’s mother is a bit inspired by how I would imagine the personification of Albion (I’m not a big fan of Hetalia OCs, but in these cases I will use them). She’s supposed to be Scottish, while Arthur’s father is English. Aila is a Scottish Gaelic name that means ‘from a strong/resilient place’. She got married at 22, had her first child at 23 and she’s now 45 years old.

Alistair, Connor and Dylan are respectively Scotland, North Ireland and Wales, and they’re 22, 20 and 18 years old.

Oliver is 2P England, and his mother (a single mother) Lillian is 2P nyo England. She’s Arthur’s father’s much younger sister, and certainly not a positive person. They won’t make any other appearance, however, I just thought that Oliver would be one to tease people like that, and they will be referenced some other times.

George Jones is an OC, but I bet you can guess where I got his name from. He’s 42 years old.

Jefferson the hamster was actually named after Thomas Jefferson. I’m 100% sure that Alfred would do something like this.

English isn’t my first language, I apologize for any mistake. Feel free to correct me!

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #feyna's writing #akgtbabb #hetalia fanfiction #completed work #human au #ace brothers human au #family #fluff #hurt/comfort #aph scotland #wk: 6k+

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justgotham · 7 years ago

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Gotham season 4 will be coming back to Fox starting on Thursday, September 21, and based on all of the promotional material out there, this looks like an enormous season for Bruce Wayne. At the end of season 3 he seemed ready to step into the role of crime-fighting vigilante, and that’s something that the show will be exploring in the new season. Bruce will move towards becoming Batman (as he’s destined to be), but also more than likely experience some bumps and bruises along the way.

In leading up to the premiere, we had a chance to discuss all things Bruce Wayne with none other than David Mazouz, who knows the show and this character very well after 4 seasons of being on Gotham. Below, Mazouz explains why this season feels so different, the rift coming between Bruce and Alfred, and also a particularly exciting episode for his character that you’re not going to want to miss!

CarterMatt – The last season of the show ended with Bruce putting on the mask for the first time, and then you’re coming back this season with all sorts of Batman hype and even ‘A Dark Knight’ as the tagline on the promotional material. Does this season feel different or more special in some way?

David Mazouz – Bruce is a vigilante this year, which is a huge change from anything that I’ve gotten to do on the show previously. Bruce is becoming Batman in every sense there is. I really feel like all of his morals, and his public persona are going to be developed this year. I feel like at the end of [season 4], he will be extremely similar to the Batman that we know. We’re getting there rapidly, and the writers aren’t shying away from that narrative. They’re pushing some of the decisions that they made at the end of last year with Bruce as a vigilante. It’s beyond exciting for me and I’m over the moon doing it. I couldn’t express more how, for Bruce at least, very, very different this is from previous seasons. Bruce is out there kicking butt and wearing a mask and creating gadgets and making allies. He’s becoming very involved in Gotham.

I would assume that with all of that, you’re going to be more involved in some of the action this season. Has there been different training for that?

There’s way more fighting among the main characters this year, and the stunt guys actually got us some pads and some boxing bags [to practice]. Whenever we’ve got any free time on set and we want to hit the bags and practice our kicks, they really encourage it. Training has become much more intense; everyone’s more focused on it. For me specifically, I’ve continued with my routine, but whenever I have any free time I really try to learn some new martial-arts moves and everything in that regard.

I feel like relationships really are at the heart of what Gotham is, so after what happened to Alfred in the finale with [Bruce effectively killing him] thanks to Ra’s al Ghul’s manipulation, where is their relationship going to be?

It’s funny that you bring up relationships being the foundation, because I really agree with that. With Bruce in general this season there’s an overall theme of his relationships being broken in harsh and brutal ways. When it comes to the people on the show he is closest to, he will go long periods of time where he is completely disconnected to them — especially Alfred. He is the closest character to Bruce on the show, but they go through an extremely rough patch this year, rougher than we’ve ever seen times five.

Starting season 4 things seem to be normal on the surface, and both characters don’t want to talk about [Bruce killing him]. I think that’s kind of normal, and that’s something that you see a lot of early on in, Characters don’t want to talk about tragedies and the horrific things that happened. Everybody is kind of pretending that everything is okay, but really it’s not and those demons start to come out as the season progresses.

Alfred and Bruce Wayne are no exception to that. They’ve obviously went through a really difficult time at the end of season 3, and it was kind of surprising when I first read season 4 and thought ‘oh, they’re kind of normal again. This feels like a conversation that they could’ve had at any point in the show.’ Yet slowly, you see the effect that [Bruce killing Alfred] has on Alfred in terms of what it meant, in terms of the Lazarus Pit, and in terms of their relationship being shattered in such a harsh way. Bruce actually had the capability to kill someone who looked after him for his entire life.

Aside from Bruce the vigilante, what’s coming up for Bruce the person? Will he cultivate his public life more? Has he become better at compartmentalizing these two worlds?

Yeah. I love this idea in the Batman mythos that Batman wears the mask, but Bruce Wayne is really Batman’s mask. Batman is the real guy. That’s the real version of Bruce and who he wants to be and vigilante Bruce is what he is becoming. Absolutely there is this other side of him, this public side, that he’s portrayed to the rest of Gotham. That becomes very different from the Bruce we’ve known and seen the past few years.

But Bruce having the mask and having this vigilante identity will impact all of his relationships, whether it be with Selina, Gordon, with Lucius, and especially with Alfred. I think that the vigilante Bruce is the real Bruce in season 4.

I know that for me, one of my favorite episodes and performances of yours was the end of the Jerome arc in season 3 with the carnival scene and the showdown. After all of that, are you asking the writers when Cameron [Monaghan] is coming back?

I have asked, I don’t know the answer myself. I haven’t gotten a straight answer.

The truth is that last year he came in at the end of episode 12 and was there [until episode 14]. I didn’t know he was coming back until we started shooting episode 11, and I don’t think any of us knew for sure. I think it was very much a last-minute thing and the writers didn’t want to reveal anything before they knew for sure and everything was 100%.

I remember shooting episode 10, though, and ever since his big arc at the start of season 2 our set dressers will always put little ‘ha ha ha’ signs at the back of any location that we were in. I took a picture in front of one, and I thought that maybe he could be coming back — I had heard rumors, but I didn’t actually think it would happen. I had just put it on Instagram to tease the fans. Then a couple of days later I found out he was coming back (laughs). I do remember when [I learned]: John Stephens had sat me down and told me that Jerome was coming back and I was like ‘okay, great.’ I was so excited. Then, he told me what I was going to be doing with him and I was over the moon.

If he’s coming back this year I don’t know about it yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me, because last year it was so last-minute. I really hope they explore the Bruce – Jerome storyline even more.

After he was gone for so long, did you expect to ever see Scarecrow on the show again?

Yeah, I did. I’ve been wondering when it would come ever since season 1 after Jonathan Crane had the arc with his dad. I figured they would bring him back eventually. I was waiting for it for a long time, and a couple of weeks before we came back for shooting I read an article that somebody did with one of the writers saying that Scarecrow would be back. I was like ‘finally.’ It’s been three years.

Is there any scene coming up this season that you’re especially excited for people to see?

I feel like everything I do I’m really proud of, but there’s something in episode 7 that was one of the most fun days of work that I’ve ever had. I don’t know how it will look. Let’s just say this: I thought fight scenes were fun. When you see it, you’ll be like ‘oh, I know what he means’. It was a blast. I can’t freaking wait to see what it looks like.

#Gotham #Jerome Valeska #Cameron Monaghan #Bruce Wayne #David Mazouz

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ageless-aislynn · 8 years ago

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Gotham Binge-watch #1

My goal is to power through all 2 and a half seasons’ worth of episodes so that I can join in when s3 resumes in April. *fingers crossed* ;) So far, I’m up to season 1, ep 8. Here are a few of my jumbled thoughts. (I didn’t think about doing this until I’d already watched my way through the first 2 discs of the set so this will be just more like overall impressions of some of the characters and where they’re at at this point. There’s no, you know, deep meta or the like. I’ll hopefully be more organized in future posts! ;) )

SPOILERS, NATURALLY ;)

Selina

@kathemy warned me that there wasn’t very much Baby Batcat in s1 and that is definitely true, especially so far here in the first quarter of s1. It seems like Selina just sorta disappeared for a bunch of episodes there! O_O I was VERY glad to see her resurface in ep 8, even if just for a few scenes.

However, the fact that I started by knowing a whole bunch about current events means that I at least am content to know that we have a lot of Baby Batcat still to come! :D And what we’ve had of Selina so far has given us glimpses into both her sassiness and the heart that lies underneath it all. ;)

Barbara

One thing that’s REALLY surprised me so far is how sympathetic Barbara has started out. Because all I’ve heard and seen about her has been as a crazypants!villain, I honestly thought she’d start with that, even if she was pretending to be good while with Jim. Honestly, if I didn’t know that we’re not going there at all, I’d be shipping them pretty hard about now. (Not that I still might not do that anyway once I see where it all shakes out. My Inner Shipper makes no promises, lol! ;) ) I’m really curious now to see what all is going to happen in order to turn her from someone who seems to basically be a good person who really does love Jim into this...

ZOMG, I adore nerdy!Ed! ♥♥♥ I know we’re not going to have long with him before things start taking their darker turn so I’m determined to enjoy every second of him while I can! :D I just want to *squishy squish* him every time he starts to “riddle me this” (and I want to smack everybody who NEVER LETS HIM FINISH, C’MON, WOULD IT KILL YOU TO LET HIM TELL HIS RIDDLES AND APPRECIATE HIS CLEVERNESS FOR ONCE??? *squishes him* ;) ).

Full confession, though: I’ve seen enough clips and vids and such to know that I’ma like dark!Ed, too. I’m just appreciating this sweeter, dorkier version of him while he lasts. ;)

Harvey

Next full confession: I watched part of the Gotham pilot waaaaay back when it first aired and... I couldn’t stand Harvey. *blush* I thought he was going to be the total stereotypical “corrupt cop” and that was part of the reason why I just shut if off and never went back. I didn’t want to see something that was just going to be utterly bleak, with poor Jim as the only good cop in the entire city,* with his “partner” probably spearheading the fight against him. :(

(*Okay, that is all still actually pretty true, I know! ;) But just knowing that Jim does have Harvey on his side made a big difference to me going into this with fresh eyes. ;) )

My apologies, Harvey. Despite the fact that, well, he kinda IS a corrupt cop, lol, Harvey still has a heart. And we saw in ep 6 that he was once more the idealistic “white knight” sort, rushing into danger in order to try to save a life.

Life has pretty much beat the idealism out of Harvey by ep 1 until Jim’s inherent honor and goodness has started bringing it back to life again. And who could’ve guessed but Harvey is now one of my favorites! (I even have his action figure standing front and center on the other side of my keyboard right now, lol! ;) )

Oswald

I’ve posted about Oswald before but now that I’ve seen a few more eps and am not just going more from vids, clips and other posts, my original feelings have only intensified. I shouldn’t like him so much and yet I do! He just wants to be loved, he just wants to have friends, to have respect but he goes about it all wrong and he’s undeniably a bad guy at the core of it all but... I can’t help but feel for him.

ZOMG, just look at that bb in that GIF above. Look at those eyes, those microexpressions, just everything! I need to wrap a warm blanket around him and feed him freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and just *squish* all of the homicidal tendencies out of him!*

(*Note: Please remember that in real life you can’t *squish* the bad things out of people, no matter how much you might wish otherwise. Loving a fictional bad guy/gal and wanting redemption for them should never translate to trying to redeem a RL “bad” person and letting them abuse you in the process. Please stay safe out there! *hugs* [/Afterschool Special] ;) )

Alfred and Bruce

In all of the previous versions of Batman, we generally knew that Alfred took care of Bruce after his parents died but yet, when we see them after Bruce is grown up, I’ve never really gotten that feeling that Alfred pretty much raised him during some awfully formative years. I’ve felt there was love and a definite feeling of family between them but I haven’t really gotten the feeling that the guy that calls the grown man “Master Bruce” and helps him fight crime was also the one who had to get him through his tumultuous teenage years with no doubt a very firm hand, lol! ;)

What we’ve seen of their relationship so far has made me into a HUGE Alfred fangirl!

Anyway, that’s all for now but I’ll hopefully be back in a few days with my thoughts on the next batch of eps! *fingers crossed* Thanks for reading! ♥♥♥

#ais is watching #gotham #baby batcat #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #binge-watch

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 8 years ago

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Gotham s3ep12 “Ghosts” Personal Review

“Okay. Weird” .. “But not illegal.” Warning spoilers below

“Please don´t leave just yet” BRUCE WAYNE says to Mrs. Kyle. Before that the ornament OWL gets examined, the one they stole and people died for. And yes I do very much like to know why this thing is so important as well and thank you Gotham that might have been the most interesting seconds of this plot: Bruce puts the owl aside and sun shines on it, revealing a map or something. I´m curious! Better be useful, Luka died for that. Anyway it´s all about SELINA KYLE´s mother who was an orphan and left at the same step as she did leave Selina and now tries to make up for over a decade of neglect. Selina is not having it she is angry. Her mother brings a box to the Wayne Manor that they should give her daughter and omg Bruce is so precious in this, he tell her to stay and try reaching out once more! Well done Bruce! He brings mother and box to Selina and they hug. They all have dinner and get along well. Daughter and mother bond over robbing Alfred and it´s glorious. It feels like a happy family and I really like that but why do I got a bad feeling about this.. Bad feeling gets some fodder when Selina accompanies her mother going into her hotel room. Some guy wants money. At first I thought Mrs. Kyle might work together with that guy but she does seem truly worried? Selina is quick to offer Bruce´s money. Like when did that happen, at first she did not even take the offer of a shower and warm place to stay now she is spending his money. Okay it´s not for her but someone else but still. Mother says this is her past and that the Wayne boys should be warned because they are not to be messed with .. Dear, ALFRED PENNYWORTH is really into Mrs. Kyle, and .. really?! .. I thought he would look down on her just as much as he does on Selina and despise her, but then again both are horrible with the parent role so maybe that connects?

“Let the vultures have at me.” Okay now I do call bullshit how does OSWALD COBBLEPOT not know that he has been doing good for the city. He seemed to have been involved as much that he knew he was doing good for the mob interests he gotta know that stuff at least some tendency. Like yes, he did not know how to do the bar thing with Butch but now I´m starting to get annoyed. Once he finally gets the memo that things are alright he is all smiling and “How´s my hair” and that´s more the penguin I want to see. Also for fox sake can´t they have him be happy for more than a second. They just throw shit at him that keeps piling, this is not fun anymore. Being mayor could have been so great and good for him why always skip that stuff. Anyway TARQUIN, deputy chief of staff elegantly offers his assistance and also arranges some national TV interview. Meanwhile “someone” digs up Elijah van Dahl´s corpse and gets spooky. Oswald´s sanity certificate shatters, how symbolic. Oswald sees his dead father wandering around and even warning him about a birthday boy that should not be trusted. Tarquin gets some birthday cake and Oswald finds a corpse in a bag, one thing leads to another. Tarquin gets murdered. “You are a sick man! What are you plotting? What's the angle? Who are you in on this with?” Yes Oswald that´s what you should be asking but honey, dead people can´t give you answers. I feel sorry for the both of them, this is a mess. Oswald thus is late for his TV interview, which of course can only take place in this mere moment, but makes it “Sorry I´m late, mayor stuff”. TV lady told him she is no fan of him and wow she really isn´t, she suggests Oswald murdered his family to inherit the money. NO! You don´t do that lady. I mean from her point of view yes you do very much do that and question the whole thing but god damn it. Anyway I´m pretty annoyed as well that Oswald did not seem to be able to answer her question about how he has archived doing good for the city but I can let that slip because I so deeply relate to that “Well ..” I really don’t like this plot, what annoys me most is probably the question of: Don´t other people see Clayjah van Spook ? Like have him spook around in Oswald´s place at night okay, but have him show up at the TV interview?! Why isn´t Oswald all like .. stop, hold that man that looks like my dead father. Or just stop that man. Like it does not make him look much more insane than running of and even saying “to hell with the people” This is annoying me so much. On a bright side: I like TARQUIN the way he presented himself was just lovely. And I adore his elegant reaction of *gets hit .. well, better place this cake carefully, so it won´t go to waste falling on the floor. Why did he have to go so early. I´m a bit pissed at Ed for setting him up like this. EDWARD NYGMA is still in full rage mode and wants Oswald to suffer plenty before putting him out of his misery. BARBARA is still all excited about getting a new empire to play with and meanwhile CLAYFACE is worried about his performance, the voice issue again ..

“That´s the law, this is family” HARVEY BULLOCK explains to Jim Gordon who is watching Mario Falcone´s funeral and is absolutely right. Jim feels guilty, wants to do something but for once thinks about his actions and leaves. Damn it LESLIE THOMPKINS really fits into that mob family. I´m more and more thinking about her being at least as much into the family as into Mario. And damn it Mario, he deserved better. Least I´m glad that seemingly he indeed was a decent person. [Why the heck did Victor not like Mario??!] LESLIE shows up at the GCPD “You´re the real virus, Jim” and I think what a drama queen but then again she is right. Nathaniel and Mario had the same infection, one is dead and one isn´t. Jim could have shouted at her instead of shooting Mario. She might have died then, or not. Given the way they showed Jim last week I do blame him up to a certain extent as well but that whole thing is annoying too. LEE & FALCONE have a mob moment discussing the death of Jim Gordon. “Blood for Blood” Falcone say and wants Jim dead. Falcone also says that Jim was more like his son than Mario in some way and, really?! Like they had some thing, but they barely met. What kind of judgment is that?! Anyway Lee spits hate and wants him dead too but Falcone says Jim is his, and that it anyway is a decision Lee has to live with without doing it herself, he is used to it. “Everything bad that's happened in my life has happened because of him.” “If Gordon dies, it's a weight we'll both have to carry. I'm used to such burdens.” LEE later visits BARNES to get to know more about the infection, thinking she might have had a life with a cured Mario but Barnes gets into full, no okay about 60% executioner mode (I´m surprised that he stopped the screaming that annoyed Jervis so much, maybe the blood just did not prepare his vocal cords for this) and Lee changes her mind. She tells Falcone to spare Jim. Falcone tells her she still loves him. Why is listening Falcone to her?! It´s still about his son and he is still dead.

* Leslie wants Jim dead for killing her love interest. Edwards wants Oswald suffering and then dead for killing his love interest. Don Falcone tells Leslie she talks of hate and revenge because she does not want to acknowledge that she still loves Jim Gordon. Is this meant to be a parallel?

“It's inevitability, Jim. Embrace it.” We have gone from S1 Everyone loves Jim to everybody wants to kill Jim. What a development. NATHANIEL BARNES declares he still wants to judge, jury and execute Jim and he is pretty confident that he will get out of Arkham and do as he declared. And omg that was great acting! Then VICTOR ZSASZ visits Jim Gordon and raids his kitchen. He warns him about Falcone wanting him dead but drops a hint that he does not. “Nice shot on Mario, I never liked him.” [Why?!] Omg, omg .. Zsasz could have an own agenda?! Do we finally get to know things about his loyalties about how he works and all that stuff we have been wondering about for so long?! I´m totally excited. Also I´m totally worried. This could get so messy. Also I can´t quite wrap my head around why he would hint something like this but still carry out orders like usual business. Like does he care about his own opinion?! Anyway I guess I got to wait for more answers. [But please Jim & Zsasz .. gotham you´d make me happy] Later Falcone orders Jim to get killed and Zsasz goes after him with two new fellow hitmen, who promptly get probably killed. Zsasz does not even bat an eyelash anymore when Jim uses one as cover and puts several bullets into them, seems this has become usual business. Why do people still work with him? [Or did he pick some he did not like anyway and was plotting to have Jim get away all along, for Mr. I do good work that was pretty much not good work there in the kitchen] Jim beats him, biig surprise, and points a gun at him, it clicks and it´s not loaded .. would Jim have shot him if? Jim leaves. Round two happens in his place but Falcone calls the whole thing of. Victor Zsasz leaves without any of the usual words of “oh please boss, let me kill, and murder, pretty please” ... this is suspicious, okay maybe I just want to see it as suspicious.

“These days I no longer say impossible. Unlikely.” LUCIUS FOX says when examining a dead/again girl. She was stabbed, she was fried with electricity, took a walk and died again. The morgue is more like a motel HARVEY says and he and JIM make their way to it. DWIGHT does not know how the corpse could escape but he worked at Indian Hill so he might have a clue and the Detective Dream Team follows him to a weird but not illegal gathering. Dwight got a Jerome patch on his back (someone tell me again patches are stupid and insignificant.) The crowd is dressed in Jerome memorial straight jackets and in for a good laugh. Guy on the stage shows some cut together Jerome material. Everyone is blind, bla and just believing the establishment´s lies, bla sanity is just a prison, bla .. wake up and be super duper enlightened and chant the same stuff as your fellow cult members. The GCPD Boys put a stop to the laughter but can´t catch Dwight. Instead VICTOR ZSASZ shows up and Jim is oh, shit! while Harvey is all oh shit?! and legitimately pissed about the question mark. As he tells Jim later, Jim should have told him. While Jim thinks it´s just his business because Zsasz is a professional, has great work ethics and only after him Harvey points out that he pretty often stands beside him and dear please tell me Harvey was aware of that great double meaning. Harvey always got Jim´s back. Jim should honor that with giving him a bit more of that quite vital information. Falcone appears and calls Victor back. Jim approaches him and all I can think is whatever comes out of your mouth better be an apology and he does say “I´m sorry”. Phew. Basic decency. I´m relieved. Falcone says that if it were his choice he would be dead .. giving Jim something to think about. Lee. God please no.

“You´re a good egg” I am so glad that Gotham is keeping this man that could kill you shows up in your kitchen eating your food thing, like I´m really glad this keeps happening, I love that .. also I might really have to move, this .. and all the fancy bathtubs..

* Diseases & Viruses 1. Alice Tetch´s Blood = Virus in the literal sense “This virus isn't the disease. It's the antidote.” Nathaniel Barnes says to Lee about being infected with the blood. Lee believes in a cure but Barnes does not want to have that. There is an interesting parallel to the second kind of Virus they have established.

2. Jerome´s Cult = Virus in the metaphorical sense “There is nothing more contagious than laughter.” Jerome announced in Season 2 and established the grounds for what we see now. People spreading and adding to his message. They see it, such as Barnes sees his infection as the antidote: “What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing you're just tiny little cogs in a giant, absurd machine, Wake up!” Moreover with them trying to bring back Jerome from the dead there is an additional little parallel established when Barnes talks about the Virus restoring his body “I've never felt better in my life. Clearer, stronger. More focused. Even now, I can feel it coursing through my veins. Restoring my body.” With Barnes it’s the blood infection and Jerome will be resurrected by the contagious laughter he spread.

3. Jim Gordon = Virus as moralist (mis)interpretation ? “You're the real virus, Jim. You seep into people's lives until you destroy them.” Lee says.

I´m tempted to apply the bible exegesis thing here but I´m struggling with the fourth type of interpretation and who cares anyway. And there has been disease talk in Gotham before all this but I´m too lazy to look stuff up .. for now..

* Omg that mouse running through the storage house

#gotham #Victor Zsasz #jerome valeska #Captain Nathaniel Barnes #mine #mine Gotham full episode reviews #gotham s3ep12 Ghosts

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