#also trying to cheer myself up and forget about an unpleasant situation in my life lol

[jfleamont]

Lily trying to explain her crush on James to the girls

[sur-un-fil]

My entry for the third Nayialovecat competition for chidren's day : Karma is still a bitch!

- There are a lot of people... I didn't think the idea of Fifteen would be so successful, whispers the massive Lost One standing at the back of the room to the little one next to him, arms crossed.

- It's true that, bitter as he is, it's surprising! replies the other a little too loudly, her look fixed on the small crowd of Lost ones sitting or standing in groups chatting, a can of soup in their hands.

- Jane... Be comprehensive. He spends his days with Sammy. ALL of his days.

- I don't like what he's become, Jane grumbles, looking away.

G nods, almost in spite of himself. He doesn't like to recognize sadness in others.

- I know. Maybe this Club will make him smile again? he says in a slightly too cheerful voice.

- G. When he told me about it, he was so tense with rage that if I had kicked him, he would have shattered into little black, hateful splinters.

- But we can hope...

- This is an Anti-Bendy Club, G. How do you expect it to appease him?

G prefers to divert - slightly - the conversation.

- Hm. Besides, I'm surprised he hasn't made an Anti-Sammy Club.

Jane shrugs her shoulders.

- He's smart enough to know that even if we can get rid of Sammy, Bendy will exterminate every last one of us.

- Uh, yes, but isn't that also the case if we get rid of Bendy? If his Lord and lover is ever killed... There'll be bits of the culprit all over the Studio. Bits that Sammy will then pick up, paste back into the ink, reform the guy and start again.

G can't help but shudder as he imagines the scene.

- Again and again and again. And again.

- I don't know. I don't think Fifteen is in any shape to think any further, Jane replies.

- 'Poor thing. He should have let Bendy eat him.

- He says so every day. That's why I can't understand why you encouraged him to set up this Club! This is stupid! We should be taking his mind off his anger, not letting him wallow in it!

- I just want to support Fifteen. If we have to spend an hour every three-quarters of a cycles to meet for imagining  unworkable plans to kill a super-fast demon surely immortal with an overdeveloped sense of smell... I'll do it. And then I tell myself that if he realises that it's unfeasible, he'll stop fantasising and accept his fate a little better...

- Or we can try to hit Sammy on the head until he forgets about Fifteen. That sounds just as plausible to me.

G rubs his forehead as he closes his eyes, feeling a slightly guilty annoyance rising.

- Jane... Are you his friend or not?

- Why am I here and not over a cup of ink, eh? 

But she promises herself she'll stop by afterwards. She'll need it.

- So stop being unpleasant. We will have to do this first meeting without Fifteen, he has not finished his "service" with Sammy. This is good. It's a great opportunity to get things moving in the right direction

Jane sighs heavily.

- ... You're very, very optimistic.

Her tone suggests that this is far from a compliment.

- It has to be. If you give up hope, you give up living! G replies cheerfully, ignoring the sarcasm.

- Spare me your positive slogans. It makes me want to throw up.

- I know you don't mean it.

Jane rolls her eyes without answering. G wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her to the middle of the room. She suspects that he will call out to the other Lost Ones to start the meeting. She can't help but resist a little, digging her heels into the floor to slow G down. Her friend simply tightens his embrace without losing his big friendly smile.

She will not escape. .............................................................................................................................

- AND THIS IS THE ONLY SOLUTION YOU HAVE FOUND? TOYS? I SHOULD NEVER HAVE LET YOU RUN THIS MEETING! 

- Calm down, Fifteen. There's no point in shouting like that, G told him in a soft voice.

- YOU'RE A FUCKING CARE BEAR AND NOW, YOU'VE CONTAMINATED THE OTHERS!

-  People won't come back, sighs G.

He decided not to take the insult. In any case, for him, being a Care Bear was not a fault. He liked to be a gentle person, caring for others and always optimistic. Why on earth would anyone want him to be bitter and sullen?

But Fifteen doesn't even blink and opens his mouth to bellow again.

- I'M SURE IT WAS YOUR IDEA! 

Jane, a little way off, just listens with one ear while sipping her ink, sitting comfortably in one of the only chairs still standing. She knew that this was not at all what Fifteen meant by "finding a way to have a peaceful life". But left to his own devices, G had done as he pleased. She hadn't even tried to intervene. What was the point? The others had seemed as willing as G. to find a gentle way to avoid being eaten. The idea of killing Bendy (which was much more definitive, admittedly ) hadn't occurred to them. Fifteen would have been mad if he had heard them...

- Well... It's a joint proposal. We all voted, you know? We had to find out exactly what would suit them. They're so different, we couldn't do the same thing... mumbles G, a little embarrassed.

- I KNEW IT! I...

- FIFTEEN!  Jane finally shouts, as a headache begins to pound her temples. QUIET!

Fifteen turns to her, looking as if he wants to shout at her too. A glare dissuades him. He grunts, but turns back to his more conciliatory friend, tacitly accepting his defeat.

Satisfied, Jane takes a sip. At least he'll stop bawling. If she is far from having G's patience, she understands Fifteen. If she were in his place, the Club's crazy proposal would have pissed her off.

- I don't understand how you got to... To this!

- You know I prefer non-violent solutions, but...

- SO IT IS YOU!

- ... you would have been surprised to find out that almost everyone did. Nobody thought of anything aggressive. Finally, we decided together that attempting to soften him would be a better idea. When you think about it, Bendy's not that bad...

- He EATS people!

That's one for Fifteen, thinks Jane, hiding her smile in her glass.

- But he has no choice! And he's doing it very quickly now, with a lot of understanding...

- For God's sake, G! Do you hear yourself?

G suddenly frowns. Which is a bad sign. Slowly, he straightens up to his full height, stepping between the candle's halo and his friend, casting his massive shadow over Fifteen's slightly worried face.

Jane tucks her head into her shoulders. G is an extremely positive and gentle Lost One who can take a lot. In fact, he is so gentle that it is easy to forget that, like everyone else, he has limits. Limits that must not be exceeded...

- Now you will calm down and listen to me carefully. I know perfectly well how pedantic, exalted and annoying Sammy can be. I know that having to spend most of your time doing things you don't like must seem like hell, especially in a place that already looks a lot like Purgatory. But let me remind you of two really important things, my friend.

G's calm tone is extremely firm. Fifteen therefore cautiously keeps his mouth shut. Satisfied by what he takes to be attentive listening, G continues.

- The first is that, painful as it is, Sammy has changed a lot since he... Um. Been seeing Bendy. And even more so now that he has the triplets. If you bothered to talk to him, I'm sure he'd understand and accept your resignation.

Fifteen must be showing his dismay in his eyes because Jane hears G's tone turn to annoyance.

- Or lie, you fool! You could just tell him you'd rather preach to the Lost Ones below. No one will denounce you, and John Dot spends most of his time with them and the little ones...

G's voice then becomes dangerously low.

- And the second... I don't want you to forget that under any circumstances, I could never plan, cause or allow another person's death, do you hear me? NEVER!

With that last word, G's tone is so intense that Fifteen shrivels up in front of him.

- Even Joey's? he asks anyway in a tiny voice.

G shakes his head as he straightens up. If he'd been wearing a suit like he did when he was human, he'd probably have smoothed his shirt or absentmindedly tightened his tie.

- It's not the same. In his case, it would almost be like doing a good deed. But don't change the subject!

Fifteen flinches.

- You will accept the Club's decision WITHOUT grumbling and you will take an ACTIVE part in it. We will need your sewing skills. That way you'll be able to see that even the worst situations can be solved with a positive attitude.

- But...

G stands up without paying attention to this feeble attempt at protest. It's no use trying to be right anyway when G takes that tone. Jane tilts her head back to finish her ink, convinced that G is going to take Fifteen with him, willingly or not. - You'll see, it'll be quick. All we need is three of Bendy's cuddy toy and three tape recorders.

She vaguely hears Fifteen grumbling as she greedily licks the last of her ink. Lowering her arm, she finds G standing in front of her.

- Oh no, she says, backing up in her chair, clutching her empty glass to her chest.

- Oh yes, replies the Lost One in a quiet tone, holding out a hand as big as a pot lid towards her.

A second later, G, glowing, walks out of the room. He carries a dishevelled Jane over his shoulder, who spits out every swear word in her vocabulary, gesticulating in vain. Fifteen follows, shuffling along, arms crossed and face sullen.

- Everything is going to work out for the best, you'll see! says G in an energetic tone, both to convince the other two and himself. .............................................................................................................................

-MUUUUUMYYY! DAAAADYYYY!!!

There is a sound of wet running in the hallway and almost immediately the door swings open.

Sammy stands up on one elbow and gropes for his mask, while Bendy doesn't even move. The light splashes on his dark face and he blinks, disturbed. He manages to make out Bendy Jr's small face raised towards him. He smiles at once and puts down his mask to reach out and caress his cheek. Curiously, his son seems to be holding something, but Sammy is still too sleepy to pay attention.

-Shh, kids. What's going on? Is everything okay? he asks in a low voice. 

Henry Jr. puts the candle on the floor and the light stops dancing, allowing him to see better. Sammy wonders vaguely what time it is, as his triplets trample their blanket bed to join him. It's early, of course. But it's always too early when your little ones wake you up screaming.

Sam is the first to arrive and snuggle up to his father. Henry Jr. sits on his lap smiling broadly and Ben, after kissing him on the cheek, nestles against Bendy's back a little ways away. They all have a cardboard box in their hands.

- What is it? asks Sammy, his eyebrows already furrowed.

- We found them outside the door! exclaims Henry Jr. in a high-pitched voice, wiggling around, clearly full of energy and overexcited. We heard a noise this morning and went to see. There was no one left, it was all dark and empty, but there were these things. It's got our names on it, Dad!

- Gift! exclaims Sam in delight as he shoves his box under his father's nose.

Sammy gently pushes his son's little hand away so he can examine what he's so vigorously handing him. It's a simple cardboard box, one of those that held paper, cut to form a cube that closes. And on one of the sides it says "For Sammy Jr, from the  B.F.C". The box is light, but when you shake it a bit, it makes a soft, squishy sound. It seems completely innocent, but Sammy is wary. Their little family doesn't have only friends. His throat tightens because he hates to hurt their feelings, he tilts his shoulders a little - as if that will help him when his babies cry - and begins in what he hopes is an authoritative tone:

- I don't know what it is about, kids. Maybe it's not safe to...

- There's nothing dangerous in it.

As always, Bendy's deep voice sends a soft warmth through his empty chest. The demon continues without turning around, only reaching back with one arm to briefly caress Ben's head.

- I would have smell it. They can open it.

-YEAAH! the little ones scream.

The carton almost disappears as the children eagerly tear it apart. There are still pieces falling down when Sam gets up shouting:

- Cuddly toy! Cuddly toy mummy!

- What? says the aforementioned mother. Machinically, he lifts Ben up so as he not to crush him when he turns around. He settles him against his stomach to be able to see the presents. The little one hugged the cuddly toy enthusiastically. Sam is also happy, but Henry Jr. looks a little disappointed.

- I would have preferred a little pirate ship, he mumbles as he looks at hiscuddly toy . He finally drops it to sulk in his father's arms. But when the cuddly toy hits the ground, a voice exclaims with a constrained air:

- We love you!

Sammy tilts his head to one side.

- The voice sounds familiar.

The fact that the cuddly toy can talk is instantly appealing, and to all three this time. Henry Jr hurries to pick up his, while Sam stares at it, delighted, and Ben frantically searches for the switch in his cuddly toy Bendy .

The real Bendy is the only one who doesn't seem thrilled by the presents.

- I don't know how I'm supposed to take it, he says thoughtfully, looking at the little replicas of the character that he was supposed to embody.

- I don't think it's an insult or a bad joke, my lord. They weren't going to send us an ugly B.I.T.C.H. cuddly toy, or the canine abomination that lives near the music department. Those are the only ones suitable for children of a Go...

Bendy glares at him and Sammy doesn't finish his sentence. He shrugs contritely, as if to say, "Sorry. It's the usual. ".

- They like them a lot. That's all that matters, he says with a smile.

- If you say so. We'll still have to find out where they come from...

- Yes, but I'm sure that... Wait a minute. Ah! I knew I knew that voice! exclaims Sammy, making his lover flinch.

He grabs Sam's cuddly toy, which starts to whine. After pulling his son into his arms and whispering a " Wait, Daddy's watching something " to soothe him, Sammy pulls the little Bendy close to his face and starts the recording again, listening carefully.

- It's the voice of Fifteen!

Bendy frowns.

- Who?

- The second Lost One to join our chur... Discussion group. The one who always seems to have something bitter in his mouth.

- Ah, yes, that one... answers the demon without having any idea who it is. Sammy gives the cuddly toy back to his son and then looks at his children with tender eyes.

- These gifts are obviously from him. It's so nice of him!

- Humf, say Bendy, happy to see his children so pleased, but can't bring himself to call anyone "nice".

Let's not exaggerate.

Sammy seems so delighted by his disciple's devotion that he almost claps his hands.

- I think to reward him, I'm going to give him more responsibility. It will be a lot more work for him, of course, but I'm sure he'll be very happy. What could these gifts be, apart from an unquestionable mark of faith?

And Sammy turns away to play with his children.  As he looks down, Bendy notices a small piece of paper folded in half. When he opens it, he finds it written: "Gift from The Bendy Friends Club , a new Lost association. Our motto: We're so nice, so don't eat us! Hope you enjoyed it, sincerely, B.F.C". 

- They're getting clever, aren't they... he whispers to himself while his eternal smile widened further.

...

The end.

[longitudinalwaveme]

No One Tops the Top

Almost all the Rogues had issues with their biological families. Captain Cold and the Golden Glider had been abandoned by their mother and abused by their father. Heat Wave had accidentally killed his entire family when he had set his house on fire.  Captain Boomerang had been abandoned by his biological father and largely ignored by his stepfather, while his mother had let him run wild, and if anything, he was even worse to his son, Owen. The first Mirror Master’s father had died when he was a baby, and he had rebelled against his mother in his teens, and the second Mirror Master was an orphan. Weather Wizard’s parents had ignored him except to complain about why he wasn’t more like his older brother, Clyde, and the Pied Piper had been disowned by his wealthy parents and thrown out of his home. But no one really knew about the parents of the Top, because he never spoke about them.

Unlike Heat Wave, he never spoke about missing them, but unlike Cold, he had never complained about them either, and because he had never obviously confronted his parents, no one had ever felt inclined to investigate, especially since he also tended to be an arrogant, unlikeable jerk. Roscoe’s past was a mystery to almost everyone, and, if Roscoe was being honest, he preferred it that way.  He was an intensely private man, and he had no desire to blab on and on about his childhood the way the others did. However, that didn’t mean that there were no skeletons in his closet-after all, those skeletons were the reason that Roscoe took a trip to Bridgeville, a town 40 minutes outside of Central City, to visit his parents once every year. Currently, he was sitting on a train, wearing a magnificent three-piece suit (courtesy of Paul Gambi, underworld tailor) with his hair immaculately combed. (He, unlike the other Rogues, took great pride in his appearance and was usually dressed to the nines when not in costume.) He held a briefcase full of tops in one hand and carried a bouquet of flowers in the other. Suddenly, the train stopped and a number of people got on. One of them, a tall, blonde man, sat down next to him, much to his annoyance.

“Hi. How are you?” the man asked, much too cheerfully for Roscoe’s tastes.

“Sit somewhere else.” The other man grinned, seemingly oblivious to Roscoe’s hostility.

“I’m Jacob Rogers. Who are you?”

“Roscoe Neyle Dillon,” Roscoe replied, hoping that learning that he was sitting next to a supervillain would drive the overly-cheerful man away.

“Nice to meet you, Roscoe. I’m headed to Bridgeville to visit my grandmother. Where are you going?”

“I am also going to Bridgeville. My parents and I are having our annual meeting,” Roscoe replied stiffly. He started to rock slightly in frustration and anxiety. He hated small talk.

“Cool! Why don’t we stick together, then? I mean, we are going to the same place, and I’d love to have a traveling buddy.”

“No.” Roscoe waited for “Jacob’s” face to fall, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he just smiled more widely.

“That’s all right. It’s nice enough just to have someone to sit next to. Say, what do you think about the weather we’ve been having?”

“I think that the Weather Wizard is in the mood for blue skies.” Jacob laughed.

“You’re really funny, you know that? I’m so glad I got to meet you, Roscoe.” Roscoe glared at the man. If it hadn’t been for his desire to avoid a scene, he would have used his telekinesis to forcibly remove the overly-cheery man from his seat. What, exactly, had he said that was so funny? Mardon had told him himself that the recent good weather had occurred due to his instigation.

“You are very easily amused,” he said flatly, having no desire to reveal his confusion to the man.

“Yeah. I guess I just like to look on the bright side of life. So, Roscoe, how have you been?” Roscoe started rocking harder. He hated it when people asked him questions like that. It was an invasion of his privacy!

“I woke up this morning at precisely 6:40 AM. I made my bed, ate my usual meal of one piece of toast, buttered with exactly ⅛ an inch of butter, brushed my teeth for exactly 3 minutes, got dressed, brushed my hair for exactly 10 minutes, left the house, bought a bouquet of flowers for ten dollars and sixteen cents, plus tax, and then arrived at the train station at 8:00 AM on the dot. I bought one ticket to Bridgeville for five dollars and thirty-five cents and boarded the train at 8:05 AM. The train left the station at exactly 8:07 AM, and I was planning the rest of my day when you boarded the train at exactly 8:25 AM and sat next to me. That is how I have been,” he said in a monotone. Jacob looked at him oddly.

“Are you...okay?”

“I have a throbbing headache, but I am otherwise in perfect physical condition,”Roscoe replied in the same bored tone as before.

“But are you happy?” Roscoe continued to rock. Was he happy? He didn’t know. He wasn’t particularly unhappy.

“I am fine,” he said after a few seconds of pondering. Why wouldn’t this insufferable idiot leave him alone?

“Are you sure? You’re acting a little strange.”

“So I have been told. Many times, actually.” It was growing increasingly more difficult to resist the urge to telekinetically move this fool into another seat, or, better yet, another train. To help control himself, he started to flap his hands a bit. It wasn’t the same as spinning, but the motion calmed his nerves.

“Do you….do you have autism?” Roscoe glared at the man. How dare he imply that he had some kind of neurological deficit?

“I do not have autism! I am a genius, and it is not my fault that the world is unable to appreciate that fact!”

“Being autistic and being a genius aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.” Roscoe was too annoyed to listen. He was not defective! He couldn’t be defective! He was not retarded! The overly-cheerful man had gone too far by implying that he was mentally deficient. Roscoe’s eyes glowed green and he lifted Jacob into the air.

“W-what’s happening? What are you doing?”

“Making sure that you learn a very important lesson: no one tops the Top.”

“Y-you’re the Top?”

“Yes. Fortunately for you, I have no desire to cause a scene, so you will live to remember this day. However, considering the grave insult you gave me by implying that I am retarded, I am afraid that you must be punished.”

“But I wasn’t implying that!” Roscoe shook his head. He was supposed to believe that? After all those years of people implying that he was intellectually subnormal and in need of being removed from the normal classroom? This “Jacob” was a bigger fool than he had thought.

“Come now, how much of a fool do you believe me to be. I know what being called autistic means. It means that I am intellectually subnormal, that I am incapable of properly functioning or keeping myself in a presentable condition. It means that I am a freak, that my genius is really nothing more than an obsession and that I will never be able to come out on top. And that is a lie! I am not stupid! I am not!” Roscoe said, growing louder and more hysterical with every sentence. He spun the man around in the air, ignoring his shrieks of fear. It was only when the other passengers started to stare at him that he realized that what he was doing was less than conducive to avoiding attention. Upon this revelation, Roscoe quickly sat the man back down in his seat. Once Roscoe’s hold on his body broke, Jacob fled from the seat and towards the back of the train. Roscoe’s eyes followed him dispassionately. Being spun in the air probably hadn’t been the most pleasant experience, but it wasn’t as though he’d actually hurt the man, so why had he reacted so strongly? As he had said, he hadn’t wanted to cause a scene, so the worst the man would have received was a bump on the head. He thought briefly about apologizing to the man and explaining that he hadn’t planned on injuring him in any permanent way, but quickly decided against it, as he had little experience in that area. Besides, it wasn’t like the man was likely to believe him. Roscoe spent the remainder of the trip rocking and flapping his hands and trying to forget the whole unpleasant situation. At precisely 9:15 AM, the train pulled into the station at Bridgeville, and Roscoe left the train. He looked around for the man he had levitated but didn’t see him, then walked to the street, where he hailed a taxi and took it to his parents’ house. After he paid the driver, he walked up to the house and rang the doorbell, which played a snippet of Mozart’s “Fur Elise”. A few seconds later, his father, Reginald Norton Dillon, opened the door.

“Oh. It’s you. Well, don’t just stand there, Roscoe, come inside, and quickly.” Roscoe complied, shutting the door behind him telekinetically.

“How did you do that?” his father asked, sounding shocked. Roscoe sighed. He’d forgotten that his parents didn’t know about his telekinesis.

“Um, the wind must have blown it shut.” His father didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the matter further.

“Rosa, Roscoe is here!” A few seconds later, Roscoe’s mother, Rosa Nicole Dillon, arrived in the hall.

“Roscoe, my dear boy, it’s so good to see you!” She hugged him, and he stiffened like a board. He hated being touched.

“Hello, mother. These are for you,” he said flatly as he handed her the flowers.

“Why, thank you, Roscoe! That was so thoughtful of you!” She proceeded to kiss Roscoe on both cheeks, despite his desperate attempts to avoid the contact, and then she started pinching his cheeks. At this point, Roscoe had had enough and started spinning. He started out slowly, but it didn’t take long before he was whirling around at speeds approaching those of a tornado.

“ROSCOE! Stop that!” his mother screamed. Reluctantly, Roscoe stopped spinning.

“I don’t like being touched, mother.” His mother sighed.

“I’m sorry, Roscoe,” she said meekly, only for his father to snap,

“Apologize to your mother right now! It’s not her fault that you’re so particular. Haven’t I told you that you’ll never be successful until you learn to respect your elders?” Roscoe sighed.

“I am sorry, mother.”

“That’s better. Remember, son, no one will respect you in the business world until you learn to be normal.”

“Yes, father.” There was no point in reminding his father that he was not in the business world, as that would only lead to a rant about how he should have gone into business.

“And son, what on Earth are you wearing? Haven’t I told you that no one wears white tie in the business world anymore? You have to keep up with the times, or you’ll be a failure, just like you were as a boy.” Roscoe winced.

“I like wearing white tie,” he protested. His father ignored him.

“Son, that suit is too tight on you. What have you been eating? Putting on weight like that will only be detrimental to your coming out on top. You might want to think about losing those extra pounds.” Roscoe flushed. The last time he had checked, he had weighed 183 pounds, which was a more than decent weight for a man of his 6’3” stature, but perhaps he had put on weight since….

“I..I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. And while you’re at it, do something about your hair. No one wears it like that anymore, and it makes you look like a pathetic schoolboy.” Roscoe started flapping his hands again. This was why he only visited once a year.

“What do you have in the briefcase, Roscoe?” his mother asked. Roscoe smiled-a rare occurrence for him when he was out of costume.

“I’m so glad you asked, mother. I brought my tops. Do you want to see?” His mother smiled.

“I suppose so, dear.” Roscoe opened his briefcase excitedly and started to pull out his tops.

“This is one of my favorites, mother. I bought it at an antique store several years ago, and its design is exquisite. Just look at the detailed, delicate handiwork that went into creating it! Oh, and this top is one of the largest tops I’ve ever found. Isn’t it lovely? Yes, I thought so. It spins very quickly for its size, you know. Oh, and this top is jewel-encrusted. Isn’t it a marvel? I got it from a museum. And this top is one of my oldest ones. Do you remember going to the store with me to buy it? Don’t you remember how happy we were? Honestly, I still sleep with it. It’s comforting. Oh, and this top-” he said enthusiastically.

“Rosa, stop encouraging him! His quirks are bad enough without you making them worse.”

“But Reginald, tops make him so happy.”

“I don’t care, Rosa. If he wants to become a success, he needs to get rid of his quirks. No son of mine will have a reputation as a freak.” Roscoe frowned. Captain Cold was just as into his gimmick as he was into his, and yet no one called him a freak. It was most unfair.

“I am not a freak, father.” His father laughed.

   “Oh, really? The man who runs around the city dressed in yellow and green spandex and using tops to commit crimes isn’t a freak? Why, the only reason I haven’t disowned you is because your activities have been a boon to our finances.” Roscoe sighed.

“I’m sorry that I have disappointed you, father.”

“‘I’m sorry that I have disappointed you, father.’ I don’t want your apologies, you foolish boy,  I want you to be better, to shape up and finally make something of yourself. You’re going to disgrace us if you’re not careful. No son of mine is going to be a failure, even one like you.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Dear, is it really wise to push him like that? He is a supervillain, you know, and can you imagine how the neighbors will react if he does something drastic?” his mother asked.

“Mother, I am not going to do something drastic. Contrary to popular belief, I do have some standards, and keeping my personal and professional lives separate is one of them.” His mother sighed in relief and kissed him on the cheek again, much to his discomfort.

“Thank you, Roscoe. I’m glad you’re willing to be a good little boy while you’re visiting.” Roscoe raised his eyebrow in mild irritation. His mother’s babying was almost worse than his father’s constant nagging.

“Rosa, stop babying the boy. He’s thirty-six years old. If he can’t control himself by now, it’s his own fault.” Then he turned to Roscoe.

“Come with me, and take your briefcase with you.” Roscoe complied, knowing from experience that he was unlikely to hear the end of it if he refused. His father led him into the living room and to the fireplace.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, unsure of why the change in location had been necessary. His father sighed.

“We’re here to do something I should have had you do a long time ago.” He opened Roscoe’s briefcase and stared at his tops.

“You want to talk about my tops with me?” Roscoe asked hopefully. Maybe he had finally managed to please his father after all!

“No, Roscoe. I want you to destroy them. You’ll never get ahead in life if you spend all your time playing with toys.” Roscoe frowned.

“B-but father, I have spent years collecting these tops. They’re the closest thing I have to friends.” His father scowled.

“All the more reason for you to get rid of them. They’re nothing but a crutch that’s holding you back.”

“Father, I cannot get rid of my tops. I just can’t! They’re the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” That was accurate. He was well aware that he had been painfully mediocre in every other area before he had decided to base his criminal career on tops.

“That’s not true. We had you tested, and you’re a genius. The only problem with you is that you’ve got less common sense than those crazy people on the streets! If you wanted to you’d be a billionaire-but maybe you were destined to be nothing more than a failure, a disgrace to the family name.” The words twisted like knives in Roscoe’s gut.

“N-no, Father, I’m not! I’m not a failure! I’m the Top!”

“Then take my advice and destroy your stupid toys.” Roscoe tried not to panic, as his father had placed him in a bit of a Catch-22. If he kept his tops, he was a freak, but if he destroyed them, he would be destroying the only thing that had earned him any respect. However, considering the fact that all his weaponized tops were at home, his desire to please his father outweighed his desire to keep his most precious possessions. Slowly, he started dropping his precious tops into the fire. Once he’d burned his last one, his father smiled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Roscoe glared at him incredulously. He had just destroyed his most precious possessions. How would that ever have been easy?

“Father, may I ask you something?”

“Yes. You may.” Roscoe took a deep breath.

“If, by some cruel twist of fate, I had ended up as a pickpocket or a janitor or at a fast food place, would you be proud of me?”

“Are you joking? I’m not proud of you now, what with how little profit you’ve made in your so-called “job”. If you were in a job like those you mentioned, I wouldn’t let you in the door. No son of mine will ever end up in a dead-end job like that.” Roscoe cringed. He was the Top, Central City’s most dreaded supervillain! Why on Earth had he given up his tops for this man? He thought about dropping a piano on his father’s head, but then the thought of his mother’s horrified and devastated face filled his mind, and he realized that even he couldn’t kill his own father. After all, if he did, he would never be able to prove himself to the man.

“Y-you really think of me that way?”

“Yes. If you want to impress me, you’re going to have to show a lot more success.” Roscoe sighed in exhaustion.

“Noted. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Is it true that you’re dating a woman who grew up in a trailer park?” Roscoe stared at him in surprise. How had he found out about that?

“Yes, it is. Her name is Lisa, and she is a goddess amongst women.” His father frowned.

“Son, a woman like that will never be able to appreciate you. Not only does she lack the intellectual capacity, but she’s probably dated a hundred men already. She’ll never stay faithful to you, and besides, she’s probably just after our fortune. Get rid of her. If you want to be successful, you need to court successful people, not gutter trash.” His father was lucky that Lisa had decided not to come with him, as she would not have reacted well to that.

“Yes, father. I’ll keep that in mind.” As far as Roscoe was concerned, Lisa was not gutter trash, so he wasn’t even lying, not really.

“Good. The last thing you need is more distraction from your work.” The rest of the morning passed rather uneventfully, as Roscoe’s mother had joined them in the living room a few minutes after his father had criticized his beautiful Lisa and changed the subject to less controversial subjects, like stocks and bonds and his father’s business. But then, at 11:45 AM, his mother revealed that they were going to meet some friends of hers at Golden Corral for lunch.

“But mother, I hate eating lunch with people.”

“Nonsense, Roscoe. It will do you good to get out of your own head for once,” his mother said.

“Your mother’s right. You’ll never come out on top until you learn how to deal with people.” Unwilling to anger both his parents, Roscoe capitulated.

“Very well. I will come. But I do hope you warned them about me.” Ten minutes later, he and his parents entered Golden Corral.

“Are your friends here?”

“I’m not sure, dear,” his mother replied. A few seconds later, his father said,

“Oh, there they are.” He pointed to a trio of people standing about fifteen feet away. One was a tall, thin man who resembled a 1940s action hero, one was a woman with black hair that fell to her thighs, and one was-

“Mark? Mark Mardon?” The skinny man’s mouth dropped open.

“Roscoe Dillon?”  The long-haired woman turned to Mark’s look-alike.

“You know the Dillons?” she asked.

“No, I know him. He’s the Top!” he said, confirming Roscoe’s suspicions that he was indeed the Weather Wizard.

“Patricia, you didn’t say you were bringing a guest too!” Roscoe’s mother said.

“That would be because it was an unpleasant surprise. This is our son, Mark,” ‘Patricia’ replied.

“I thought your son’s name was Clyde, and that he was dead,” Roscoe’s father said. ‘Patricia’ sighed.

“This is our younger son, Mark. He’s Clyde’s little brother,” she explained.

“In a just world, he would be the one that was dead,” 1940s action hero added. Mark made a strange strangled noise.

“Why?” Roscoe’s father asked.

“Because he’s a lazy, shiftless, and clumsy thief, that’s why. He doesn’t have even a glimmer of the potential his brother did,” 1940s action hero (Mr. Mardon, Roscoe supposed) said.

“How did your son know who he was? We don’t talk about him,” Patricia asked.

“I know him because we work together. He’s the Weather Wizard. I am the Top.”

“I see,” ‘Patricia’ replied, clearly having been caught off guard by that explanation.

“It’s too bad that you never got to meet our other son. Not that Clyde would have become a thief, of course, but he made much better company than Mike does,” Mr. Mardon said. Mark’s mouth dropped open.

“My name is Mark!”

“That’s what I said,” Mr. Mardon replied awkwardly.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Mark, dear, stop making a fuss. After you stole from your brother’s coffin, you’re lucky to even have a name,” Patricia said.

“I didn’t steal from his coffin, I stole from his lab! I mean, yeah, he was dead, but he didn’t have a funeral until a week after I got arrested by the Flash for the first time, remember?”

“Shut up, Mike,” Mr. Mardon snapped. Before the conversation could continue, a waiter arrived, led them to their table, and then took their drink orders. Roscoe and Mark had ended up across from each other, and as soon as their parents were safely engrossed in their own conversation, Mark said,

“What are the odds?”

“Astronomical. But then, the odds of everything that happens to us are astronomical.”

“So, your folks live in Bridgeville, too, huh? I’m surprised that we never met each other when we were kids, then.”

“My parents did not move here until I went to college. I grew up in North Ridge.”

“Oh. Okay then. What’re your folks like?” Roscoe looked at Mark in confusion.

“You can see them, can you not?”

“No, I mean, how do they act?”

“Then you should have said so. My mother is very touchy-feely, and she seems to believe that I am five years old. My father makes 500,000 dollars a year and is very particular. He, ah, never misses an opportunity to remind me that I have much room to improve.” Mark smiled.

“I guess you already saw what mine were like. I was born eleven months after Clyde, and that messed up my whole life. Clyde was handsome, brilliant, popular, athletic, and gentlemanly, and I was, uh, not. He was on the varsity football, basketball, and track teams, was elected prom king and homecoming king, and graduated as the valedictorian, and I was basically the class joke-not in a good way. I mean, I failed all my classes before I dropped out-even gym class! Basically, since I was about three years old, my parents have thought that my name is “why aren’t you more like Clyde”?”

“They, ah, played favorites?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. One time, Clyde’s little league meet was on the same day as my birthday, and they didn’t give me a party or a present or anything.” Roscoe raised an eyebrow.

“Why is that bad? Birthday parties are such an irritant. They are loud and annoying and stressful, and usually full of children who make fun of your tops.”

“Because I like spending time with people.”

“I still do not follow.” Mark sighed and paused for a few seconds before saying,

“For me, not having a party would be like you not getting tops for your birthday.” Roscoe winced. His tops…..A full minute passed before he realized that Mark was probably expecting a response of some sort.

“Aah. So you have a reason to feel bitterly towards them.”

“Yep. As far as they’re concerned, I’ll always be a really poor substitute Clyde.” At this point, their drinks arrived, and Roscoe took a sip of his iced tea. It was far from the best iced tea he had ever tasted, but it was at least tolerable, which meant that he wouldn’t raise a fuss about it. Mark tried to copy the gesture, but ended up spilling his Mountain Dew instead. He yelped in surprise and pulled out his weather wand, which he used to create a wind that was strong enough to dry up the spill, only to also knock a stack of plates out of a waitress’ hand with that same wind. Mark flushed and ran over to her.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, lady!” She looked at him in alarm.

“How did that happen?”

“Uh, I think that wind came from a window I opened. Where’s the broom?” She pointed, and he ran off. A minute later, he returned with a broom and a dustpan-and promptly tripped over the dustpan and ended up face down on the floor. Roscoe sighed. One of the many ironies about Mark was that he tended to be as destructive when he tried to help as when he was trying to cause harm, and that was certainly on full display today. The waitress pulled him to his feet and took the broom and dustpan from him.

“I’ll handle this, sir.”

“But it was my fault!”

“Nonsense. You couldn’t have known that a wind would come through that window. Now sit down before you cause a bigger mess or give yourself a concussion.” Mark pulled out his ragged wallet and gave the waitress a fifty dollar bill, then walked back to the table and managed to sit down without incident.

“Mike, did you really have to raise such a scene?” Mr. Mardon asked.

“My name is Mark, and it was an accident! For once.” Patricia sighed.

“See? I told you he was a clumsy idiot.”  Roscoe's father nodded.

“I can’t understand why you even still speak to him. If my son were that much of a fool, I would have disowned him a long time ago.”

“If Clyde hadn’t passed away, we might have, but he’s all we have left now, and we couldn’t bear to lose both our sons.” Roscoe’s mother nodded.

“You poor dear. To have one son dead and the other one a fool must be devastating.” Mark flushed.

“I’m sitting right here!” he said to Roscoe.

“I take it that that is considered rude?” The only social setting Roscoe was familiar with was prison, where talking about people right in front of them was more or less acceptable, but he suspected that in normal society, things might be different.

“Yeah, it’s rude! And they’ve been doing it since I was like five!” Roscoe took another sip of his iced tea.

“That is singularly unfortunate.” Mark sighed.

“You know, just once, I’d like to hear them say that they’re proud of me, or that they love me, or anything other than “our son is such a loser compared to his brother”. Just once!” Much to his surprise, Roscoe felt a pang of sympathy. He didn’t have a brother, of course, but he knew what it was like to hear nothing but criticism from a parent.

“I do not think that my father has ever told me any of those things, either.”

“Really? But you’re so smart! And also terrifying and totally intimidating. But mainly smart! How could anyone ever complain about you? Criminal career aside, I mean.”

“Oh, my father does not care about that. In point of fact, he rather appreciates the money. What he is concerned about is my success rate, and in my father’s eyes, I am not and will never be successful enough to please him. Every time I come to visit, he critiques everything I do-even his compliments have a tendency to be backhanded insults. He makes me feel like a failure, like a freak-and I despise it.” He started rocking and flapping his hands again, trying not to think about all the time his peers had called him a retarded freak behind his back.

“Uh, Roscoe, you’re doing that weird thing again.” Roscoe glared at him.

“I am not weird. It is the rest of the world that is weird.” Mark shrugged.

“Okay, but your dad and my mom are staring at you.” At the mention of his father, Roscoe immediately stopped flapping his hands and slowed his rocking. While this caused his stress level to rise, it was preferable to upsetting his father.

“Is he autistic?” Patricia asked suddenly.

“I’ve feared that he might be for years, but he’s verbal enough that I’m hoping he’s just weird. The Dillon family couldn’t possibly produce a neurologically defective son.”

“But the rocking, the spinning, the top obsession...the way he talks. Even Mark doesn’t act as oddly as he does.” Patricia protested.

“I don’t care. I will not have a retarded son!” Roscoe really wanted to start spinning again, but he resisted the urge. He was not autistic! He was not! Luckily for Roscoe (and Mark), Rosa said,

“Why don’t we go get our lunch?” and the rest concurred, cutting the autism conversation short. Roscoe took a full ten minutes to fill his plate, selecting for only the most flawless pieces of food. Mark took only about a minute to put food on his plate, but he dropped the plate on the way to the table and had to go back to refill the plate (and give another fifty-dollar bill to the long-suffering waitress). Therefore, the two ended up returning to the table at about the same time. Roscoe mechanically cut his fish into slices that were precisely 4 inches each, and then slowly lifted them to his mouth, one piece at a time. After he had finished the fish, he started eating his salad, one without even a hint of the disgusting salad dressing Mr. Mardon had drowned his salad in. Then he carefully buttered his roll with ⅛ an inch of butter and ate that, then took three more sips of his iced tea. Unfortunately for him, he had taken so long to eat this part of his meal in his precise, mechanical nature that the rest of the table had finished their lunches by the time he had gotten to his soup.

“Hurry it up, son. If you want to be successful, you can’t be so particular about everything.” Roscoe sighed. Why was discernment a negative characteristic?

“I apologize, father. I will stop eating if you so desire.”

“I don’t see what you’re complaining about, Reginald. At least your son eats neatly,” Patricia commented. Mark, who had practically inhaled his food and left a huge mess on the table, flushed and looked at the floor.

“She’s right, dear. Things could be much worse,” Roscoe’s mother added.

“Maybe they could be, but your clumsy fool isn’t a Dillon. Roscoe is. The standards for my family are much higher, and therefore my son’s behavior is unacceptable. Roscoe, clean up your plates.” Roscoe complied. When he returned, he was confronted by Mark.

“What gives, man? You never listen to anyone at home! But here, when your pa says jump, you just say “How high?” Why do you let him boss you the way you do?” he whispered.

“The same reason you do not remind your mother and father that you could summon up a tornado if they fail to respect you as you do with everyone else. The same reason you act like a gentleman around them: we want to please them, and quite frankly, we are still afraid of them.” Suddenly, Roscoe’s mother grinned.

“I have a terrific idea, Patricia! Why don’t we go to the park together?”

“That’s a good idea, Rosa. We don’t spend nearly as much time together as we should.”

“But Patricia, darling, what if Mike causes a scene?” Mr. Mardon asked.

“Matthew, he’s enough of an attention seeker to not want to alienate us. He won’t cause trouble while we’re around to disapprove.” Patricia replied.

“Good point. In that case, let’s go. I know how much you and Rosa like to talk.” Mr. Mardon said.

“Besides, we could all use the fresh air.” Roscoe’s mother added.

“But I despise parks. They are so loud and uncomfortable,” Roscoe protested.

“Roscoe, you’ll never be successful until you learn to deal with discomfort. Now stop your whining,” his father snapped.

“Roscoe, dear, I know that you don’t like parks, but your father will be disappointed if you don’t come. Please be a good boy and make him happy, dear,” his mother added.

“Very well, mother. I will go.” Roscoe said. The thought of dropping a piano on his father’s head was becoming increasingly more appealing. Ten minutes later, the Dillons and the Mardons had arrived at one of the banes of Roscoe’s existence (the others were the Flashes, Iron Heights Penitentiary, Captain Cold, and people who chewed with their mouths open).

“So, why do you hate parks?” Mark asked him as soon as they had both left their respective cars.

“Because they are loud, and annoying, and full of small children who make fun of my tops.” The last time he had gone to the park, the whole affair had ended with another boy giving him a bloody nose and calling him a “freaky special ed kid” before absconding with the top he had brought with him, and he had no desire to repeat that experience. (He had subsequently paid the boy back by telekinetically dropping a tree branch on him and breaking his leg, but the memory still stung.)

“Uh, Roscoe, you’re a terrifying grown man. What sort of kid is gonna make fun of you?”

“My parents brought me to parks a total of twenty times during my youth. In all but one of  those times, another child mocked me because I chose to play by myself with my tops rather than with the other children. It was most unfair. Tops are fascinating. I have no desire to be forced to relive my memories of parks,” Roscoe explained.

“Roscoe, if you don’t stop complaining, I will give you something to complain about,” his father snapped. Roscoe sighed.

“I apologize, father. I will attempt to enjoy myself and bring credit to the family name,” he said flatly. The group walked into the park, and Roscoe pulled out a top out of his pocket, sat down, and started spinning it, while Mark seemed to forget that he was no longer a child and made a beeline for the swingset. Unfortunately for Roscoe, before he could start enjoying himself, his father confiscated the top.

“Roscoe, you are an adult, not a child. Get off the ground now and start behaving like a man,” his father said. Then he threw the top into the trash can. In response, and much to his horror, Roscoe started to cry.

“Don’t cry, Roscoe. No one will respect you if you cry, least of all me.” In response, Roscoe tried to stop the tears and succeeded after about a minute.

“Is that better, father?” Roscoe asked icily.

“Somewhat,” his father replied. Frustrated by his father’s confusing instructions, he walked away from them and sat down on a bench, where he watched a happy-looking family: parents, grandparents, and child-play happily. Their giggles and calls were ear-piercing and irritating, but still, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing. His father had never even tried to play with him like that. He looked over at Mark, who was still swinging, and wondered if he was thinking similarly. Roscoe started to rock again, but that didn’t alleviate the stress, so he began to spin-only to be rocketed to the far end of the park. Before he could work out what, exactly, had happened, he found himself handcuffed to a tree.

“What are you doing here, Roscoe?” a familiar voice asked. Roscoe quickly identified the speaker as Barry Allen, the Flash, and realized with a jolt that he had been the father of the family he had been watching.

“I am here to see my parents. Why are you here?” Roscoe asked, irritated that he was seemingly being arrested for no reason. The Flash was very lucky that he was not in costume right now.

“I was visiting my parents, Nora and Henry Allen, with my wife and son, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” Barry asked. Roscoe scowled.

“No, I did not. I am here because my parents dragged me here, as I already told you, not in an attempt to attack you. Although I am tempted to take advantage of my good fortune, considering your willingness to believe the worst of me.” Barry frowned.

“After your constant attempts to put me out of the way permanently, can you really blame me for suspecting the worst of you?”

“Yes. I am off the clock at the moment, Flash, as are you. To attack you now would be the mark of an amateur, and I am a professional.” Suddenly, Barry was joined by the little boy he had been playing with.

“Dad, what’s happening? Did you stop a bad guy? Awesome! That’s so cool!”

“Bart, get back! The Top is a dangerous criminal, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” Barry yelled. Roscoe sighed.

“I am not going to hurt him, because I did not come here to attack you, your wife, your parents, or your spawn. I am here with my parents, and you can ask them if you don’t believe me. They’re over by the picnic shelter,” he said wearily.

“All right, I will. Bart, go back to your mother,” Barry said. He left, but his son did not, much to Roscoe’s surprise. He would never have disobeyed his father so blatantly.

“Is it true that you tried to make my dad really old so that he would have to retire from crime fighting?” the creature asked him.

“Yes.” Roscoe said flatly.

“And do you really have mental powers?”

“ No , I just pretend I do so that I can be put in a collar every time I am sent to Iron Heights,” Roscoe said sarcastically.

“Really? Then how did you move stolen gold from that train without touching it?”

“I was being sarcastic! Yes, I have mental powers, and no,  I will not tell you how they work. It is too complex for you to understand.”

“And do you really date another supervillain?”

“That is none of your business.”  

“Are you gonna have supervillain babies with her?” Roscoe blushed.

“I just told you that that is none of your business!” Why, oh, why had this had to happen on one of his personal days? Luckily for him, before the questions could continue, the Flash returned.

“Well?” Roscoe asked him.

“I don’t believe this, Roscoe, but your parents confirmed your story. For now, you are free to go.” He uncuffed Roscoe from the tree, and then seemed to notice that his son had not obeyed his orders.

“Bart, why didn’t you leave when I told you to?” he scolded. Roscoe felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. This would be the part where his enemy told the boy how he was a failure, a disgrace to the family name.

“I just wanted to be like you, Dad. You’re so cool!” Roscoe swore inwardly. He didn’t want to feel more sympathy for the child of his enemy, but he couldn’t help feeling another drop of pity for the boy. How many times had he told his father something like that and been rejected?

“Son, I’m flattered that you want to be like me, and I’m very glad that you want to spend time with me. I love you more than you can imagine, and if I could, I would let you stay with me as much as you wanted. But my line of work is very dangerous. The people I fight are usually desperate, and they might try to hurt you to get to me. I wanted you to leave for your own safety.” Roscoe’s mouth dropped open. Where was the anger, the demands for perfection? Where was the reminder that nothing was more important than pleasing his father and being successful?

“Why are you telling him that you love him? Did he not fail?”

“My love for him has nothing to do with what he does or doesn’t do. I love him because he’s my son; because he’s a gift from God, not because he brings me glory or makes me happy.” Roscoe stared at his enemy in shock.

“That is not what my father told me,” he said flatly. The Flash shook his head.

“Allow me to give you some advice: stop tearing other people down to give yourself value and find out where your true value comes from instead. It’ll be a lot better for you, me, and society if you do.” With that, he and his son ran back to the playground, and Mark appeared from behind a tree, evidently having watched most of the exchange.

“Did you see how happy the Allens all were? I mean, I know we all hate the guy on lack of principle, but none of them seemed upset or nervous. What kind of family can just be happy like that? I didn’t hear even one comparison!” Roscoe shrugged.

“I saw. Our foe treats his son almost like an equal and said that he loved him right after the creature disobeyed him. Can it be that some parents do love their children as they are?” Mark shook his head.

“It looked that way to me.” Roscoe sighed bitterly.

“Well, whatever it was, it is something that neither of us will ever have, so we might as well not concern ourselves with it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, all that lovey-dovey stuff’s for sissies,” Mark said, sounding decidedly unconvinced.

“Indeed,” Roscoe said flatly. Despite what he had said, however, Roscoe couldn’t stop thinking about his enemy’s words. Was it possible  that he, as strange as he was, was more than how he performed? And if so, how could he find the thing that would make him believe it the way that his enemy’s son did? He thought for a few seconds, then sat down and pulled out one last top. At the very least, he could finally relax and do something he loved. He smiled, and started to spin the top.

[keziamelody]

Things self-quarantine has taught me

I never thought that I could be in this situation. I hated when coronavirus started to spread all over the world, including my home country, Indonesia, and where I am currently living now, England. Who isn’t annoyed, right?

Back in September 2019, I was very excited to study abroad in the UK to pursue my master’s degree. Besides the study, my purpose in studying abroad is also exploring new things as many as I could. I wanted to see new places, new people, new environment, new cultures, new perspectives, and experience new things. Unfortunately, my study period is only about one year. I don’t have much time. Thus, I want to make the most of it. 

I planned many things in my mind, but this procrastination and anxiety of mine impeded my plans. I was too scared to explore in my first semester in England. I made excuses. I always told myself back then: “Kez, I think for now we just need to learn, observe and adapt to your new surroundings. Then, we can explore and travel in the second semester. I bet you will be much ready at that time.”But I was saying that out of fear and anxiety, not because I can’t. As usual, we tend to assume we have plenty of time, and "later" becomes our favorite word.

Yes, indeed, the time is going nowhere. But now? I am the one who can’t go anywhere. I have to stay at home. My classes had finished earlier before it supposed to be. I am not allowed to go to my uni or the library. I am not allowed to hang out with my friends. I am not allowed to explore.

At first, I was mad at this pandemic situation. But after I reflected on myself during my first week of quarantine, I turned out angry with myself. Why I wasted my six months here by not doing things that I wanted to do? Why don’t I value time? 

Day after day passed, and I am writing this in my fourth week of quarantine. During my time alone, I have been thinking about many things related to this situation and trying to find what’s good behind all this because i believe that difficult times will bring goodness. 

Then I came up with these reflections : 

1. Don’t procrastinate. Value your time. 

I learned that procrastination only led me to regret, and nothing good from procrastination. I remember whenever my friends and i talked about places that we were interested in going, we always said : 

“Let’s go there later”

“Let’s go there next week”

“Let’s go there when the time is perfect”

“Let’s talk about that later” 

And in fact, we didn’t go to those places until today, even though the location is reachable, and to be honest; we were not busy at that time. We just too confident that there will always be another time. 

These days, we are not allowed to go anywhere. In the UK, we are only allowed to go for groceries, health treatment, exercise, and go to work for people who can’t work from home. From this, I realised that we should appreciate the time. We should not waste our time by procrastinating the things we want to do. We have to value our time. So, just go for it. 

2. Gratitude in everyday life

Seeing the news about covid-19 cases, families and friends who lost their loved ones because of the virus, people who lost their jobs, people who lost their income, and living in this challenging situation have taught me a lot about gratitude. 

As simple as waking up in the morning and find myself healthy and being able to breathe without any difficulties, make me feel so grateful. I am blessed that I can still catch up with my family and friends via the online platform, I am grateful for my food, I am grateful that I can have my ‘me-time’ during this pandemic. Even now, just going to the grocery store has been a very exciting thing to do! I am grateful that I can still see blue skies and sunset. 

There are many things that we can be grateful for each day, even in this unpleasant moment. But sometimes, when we were in our normal days before the pandemic, we often forgot to be grateful. So, be grateful, friends! This too shall pass.

3. Be kind to our mother nature

We often forget that the earth is also our responsibility, it is our home. We often ignorant and do not take good care of the environment around us, such as throwing our trash in a place we shouldn’t and excessive use of plastic. We have mistreated our nature. 

I noticed that three weeks after we started the self-quarantine, the skies look clearer and brighter. 

Then, I realised, maybe this is what the mother nature needs for now, which are to heal, rest, and to have its ‘me-time’. Be free from humans for a while. 

After this pandemic is over, let’s treat our nature better and be mindful of our actions, which could affect the environment. 

4. Being more considerate of others

We human beings are social beings. We love interacting with others, meeting and hanging out with our friends and family. But this pandemic situation forces us to stay at home and do physical distancing with other people to prevent virus transmission and keep each other safe. Even though it is hard, but still we have to lower our ego to protect other people and our loved ones. From this situation, I learned to be more considerate of people around me and to control  my ego. 

5. Learn something new and improve my skills

Thanks to the internet and digital platforms, I could learn new things and level up my skills through online learning during the quarantine. Since I have plenty of time at home, besides doing my assignments from uni, I can catch up on things that I wanted to learn before. I have been learning some courses from LinkedIn Learning and Skill Academy, which help me so much to keep my brain awake and to develop myself. I also started to learn to cook, which is super exciting!

6. Get to know myself

These days, most of us are not as busy as the days before the pandemic. Therefore, I think it is a good time for us to take a moment to get to know ourselves better. Say thanks to yourself, to your body, and to your mind that has been working hard for you all this time. Let’s self-reflect and evaluate ourselves so that we can be a better version of ourselves in the days ahead. 

Lastly, let’s keep support and cheers each other up. Being not fine about this condition is totally okay, take your time. But then, let’s not lose hope. We are stronger together, and I believe this pandemic will end soon. 

Stay strong, everyone! you all are awesome :) 

[sunlitroom]

Gotham – s4e08 – Stop Hitting Yourself

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

 Previously on Gotham:

Sofia manipulated Oswald. Jim and Oswald squabbled. Jim was self-righteous and forgetful. Harvey made a terrible mistake.  Selina, Tabitha and Barbara teamed up. Butch Lee and Ed teamed up.

As always, long post will be long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

The Narrows, Cherry's Place, where Ed is putting on a pre-fight show all about

The most-hated man in Gotham, the Penguin!

Being Ed, it’s screechy and theatrical.  It’s also informed by personal knowledge – zeroing in on Oswald’s emotional neediness. Ed plays to the crowd, referring back to the joint raid on the area – yelling that Oswald underestimated the Narrows.

Lee watches, amused, while drinking pretty heavily.  I’m tee-total and even I would like a drink at this point.

The crowd starts cheering for Butch, who comes into the ring and mock-strangles Ed as Oswald. Finally, the pantomime ends and the lights go down.

(An aside.  I feel like they ‘re not sure what they want me to think about the Narrows. We’ve seen two sides to it.  We saw the ordinary people who were struggling day to day – the residents who were terrorised by HeadHunter last week.  The rest of the time, we see these people – baying for blood. That’s not a unified group.  In fact, in normal versions of places as poor and hard as this, the ordinary people we saw last week are as much at the mercy of these people – their own fellow residents – as they are anyone else.  The idea that this crowd is morally outraged at what happened last week is silly.  Beyond a knee-jerk response to having their toughness challenged - nope)

Cherry introduces main event. Mr Murderface, a misplaced HotCop with a poor sense of self-preservation, is going to fight Butch.

Lee and Ed watch from the balcony. Lee’s pissed that Ed’s whipping up a bloodlust in the crowd with no real sense of responsibility or leadership. Ed doesn’t care, and tells her that the fans are not his problem.  Lee persists, telling him that he can’t do this and then just bail when trouble arrives.  Ed retorts that Lee isn’t willing to step up either, and tells her to lead.  When she looks away, he tells her that seemingly neither of them are willing to put their necks out.

They look back down at the ring.  Costuming-wise, Lee is also in green this week – echoing Ed’s outfit, and reinforcing the sense of some kind of bond.

(An aside – I’m not massively sure what either of them wants the other to do here.  Lee is running a free clinic – what more is Ed looking for? As for Lee – does she think Ed is going to lead some kind of revolution?  If Ed were still working for Oswald, he wouldn’t give a stuff for anything that was going on in the Narrows.  He’s a fundamentally selfish, exploitative creature.  Aside from any of that, the notion that the Narrows’ troubles are all down to Oswald is plain old bizarre.  Go talk to Bruce, or any of the rich, influential people in the city who allowed it to slowly rot.)

The fight takes place. Butch seems to be getting flashbacks of Tabitha when he’s hit hard enough.  The fight continues, and it seems (I missed a lot of because I was covering the screen with my hands) that Butch rips off the other guy’s arm and beats him with it.  The crowd loves this, brainlessly whooping and roaring for more.  They chant stop hitting yourself – as this is clearly some kind of signature move of Butch’s.

(An aside - I hate all these people. Sorry. The part of me that likes all the order and discipline of the bad guys in Star Wars comes to the fore.  The Narrows needs the kind of help Lee offers in the shape of her clinic, but places like this just need swept away)

 Elsewhere in the city, we see a certificate which tells Jim he is now captain, as he is congratulated by the mayor.  Jim seems conflicted about this.  According to the mayor, Harvey lost the rank and file after the Narrows, due to allying with Oswald and falling into Pyg’s trap.  The Mayor calls him a disgrace.

(An aside. Hmmmmm.  Did Barnes lose the rank and file after the Strike Force debacle? After insisting that everyone drop their criminal activities?  I don’t think he did.  I’m not so sure – then – that Harvey would have.  He’s worked there for years.  Unless it’s being ‘one of us’ that’s worked against him this time)

Jim doesn’t like Harvey being called a disgrace, and asks the Mayor what that makes him.  The Major makes oily noises.  Jim then asks what Oswald thinks of this.  The Mayor says he doesn’t know – and says things that make us think that Oswald’s grip on power is loosening.  Jim still looks reluctant, and the Mayor pushes harder by telling him that none of the other candidates would hesitate at working with Oswald. If he just signs on the dotted line, then he’s the new captain.

He leaves Jim sitting alone, staring unhappily.  We hear the string music motif that they use for GCPD moments, but the notes are distorted.

Oswald is trying to adjudicate between a representative of the bikers SBT (it’s faster to give Selina, Babs and Tabs an acronym) robbed last week, and SBT themselves.

(An aside - The whole dispute sounds massively irritating.  Oswald – you must have made a fair amount of money by now, just quit. Go live a stupidly luxurious life somewhere nice.  Get pretty apartments in European cities.   Let them get arrested if they want. Whatever)

As they continue to argue, Mr Penn enters and tells Os in a whisper about the stage act.  Oswald, predictably, loses the plot.  Twitching with rage, he gestures to Mr Penn to tell everyone what has caused him flip out.  Poor Mr Penn explains how the ungrateful Ed is staging a commedia dell’arte.

Os is twitching with rage. Selina doesn't know what a commedia dell'arte is.   I’d like to think that Barbara and Tabitha look less confused, because that would be a nod to their doubtless expensive educations – but I may be deluding myself.  Selina laughs at Oswald’s reaction.  Tabitha nudges her to stop.

Too late, though. Oswald hears, and starts to laugh himself.  The biker totally misjudges the situation, thinks this is sincere, and starts to laugh too – saying that the Riddler doing a Penguin act is pretty funny.

This manages to press several of Oswald’s buttons at once, and he stabs him in a rage.  Babs thanks him for clearing their debt – but he tells them that they now owe him the debt and, since they like a good laugh, they can go to the Narrows see Ed’s act bringing him back by nightfall.

Selina doesn’t like this and tells him that they’re not his toadies, and wants to know what they get in return.  You get the debt cleared, Selina – did you miss that bit?

Barbara seems pleased by Selina’s attitude.  Moving closer, Oswald says he won’t tell every criminal in the city to murder them and rip out their eyes and tongues.  Tabitha shifts a little closer to Selina.  Oswald stares her in the eyes and tells her that is what she gets – if that’s acceptable.

Babs steps forward and tells him this is acceptable. ��Before they leave, Selina smirks at Oswald.  After they’ve gone, Oswald tells Mr Penn to get in touch with his Narrows informer, and liaise with Firefly, who will kill SBT if they’re unsuccessful. Firefly asks Oswald about ripping out their eyes, but he tells her it’s too messy to be practical.

(An aside – I posted about this elsewhere but yes – while Oswald can be funny – the sheer amount of sneering sent his way is disproportionate, and this weird hate-figure everyone has of him makes no sense given their personal histories, in which there are plenty of real antagonists.  

But then, sneeriness is one of the main characteristics of the newly formed Sirens which – I have to confess – leaves me pretty cold.  There’s not much of substance there.  When Tabitha has become the warmest person in the trio – something bad has happened to your other characters.  Selina did used to be selfless, altruistic, warm, annoyed by unfairness – that all seems to have flown out the window in favour of this, which is a pretty poor trade-off, for me.)

In the city, Selina gives Barbara convenient backstory on the Narrows. Tabitha is distracted by the thought of getting her hands on Ed.  Barbara was in league with Ed, but this seems to be OK by Tabitha.  Selina asks whether Ed isn’t supposed to be a genius, but Barbara mentions the rumours about his new state of mind.  They decide to go prepared anyway – if by prepared they meant, just wander in and make no attempt to be inconspicuous.

Nothing, however, could prepare them for Ed’s act.  Babs is open-mouthed while Tabitha just looks revolted.  Her eyes wandering, presumably in a desperate bid not to look at the stage, Barbara spots Lee watching from the upper level. Meantime, Tabitha steps forward when Butch enters the ring.

Butch!

God – another arm is ripped off. Tabitha says his name again and asks Barbara if she knows what this means. Barbara thinks this means she is owed apologies for her electrocution.  Tabitha runs off to try to get to talk to Butch.  Barbara stares up at Lee again, and says that she has to know what is up with this outfit. Selina irritatedly mentions that they do have a job to do.

 GCPD. Harvey looks at bullets in a box.  Jim enters the room.  After last week’s unpleasantness, his tone is casual and friendly – mornin’ Harve.  He apologises for being late, and says he was stuck in traffic.  

Harvey tells him that these are the bullets taken from the wounded cops.  Jim tells him that he’s not responsible for that.  Pyg is the one who set the trap, and they need to move on and find him before he can hurt anyone else.

Harvey nods, seemingly grateful for the support.  Lucius walks in.  Jim asks him what the word is.

 The word, as it turns out, is ‘absence’, as in – there’s a lack of any useful physical evidence from the crime scenes.  Harvey says that Pyg is a crafty loony.  Jim and Lucius walk off to discuss the case more.  Harvey calls after Jim, and tells him he’d appreciate it if he’d be at the Bullethole Club with him today.  Jim tells him of course, and Harvey thanks him for having his back – calling him partner.

Lucius asks what this club is, and Jim explains that when officers shot in the line of duty come back they’re given the bullets that wounded them.  Lucius eyes widen, as he realises that Harvey will have to give bullets to the officer he shot, and comments that it’s no wonder Harvey wants a friend there.

 At the Orphanage, Oswald is ranting to a busy Sofia about Ed turning his idiocy into a way of taunting Oswald.  He says that no-one appreciates how hard it is to be a crimelord.  Sofia comments that she understands, since she grew up with one. Oswald smiles tightly, and asks if she’d like to go to lunch and

talk over the vagaries of this capricious calling

Unfortunately, Sofia has to see the caterer for a fundraiser.  Oswald is irritated and disappointed, and – grimacing - says of course he can't expect her to be at his beck and call.  Sofia gets up her chair and, as she walks closer to him, strokes his arm briefly, telling him that he needs a different source of relaxation. Oswald flusters for a moment before Sofia tells him he needs chickens.  

Oswald blinks at the sudden shift in tone.  Sofia continues, and Oswald tells her than he does remember the Don’s predilection for chickens.  She tells him life can’t just be about business, and when her father was stressed, he spent time with his birds.

Oswald seems puzzled until Sofia clarifies that he needs some kind of interest outside the business. She smiles and tells him to give it some thought, and they’ll talk when she gets back.  Oswald smiles incredulously as she leaves, repeating chickens to himself.  

He wanders over to the window and watches as a small boy is bullied in the playground by a much larger boy and girl.  After they finish with him, the small boy walks away with some purpose.  Oswald watches him frowning and then wide-eyed as he sees him with a can of kerosene (where the fuck did he get that?) and matches. He calls out the window.

Boy - come here this instant

When Oswald asks him what he was going to do, the boy – seemingly mute – draws a fire on a notepad he keeps round his neck.  Oswald tells him he cannot do things like that. The boy looks serious, and then Oswald follows up with your enemies will know that it was you, and then he looks happier – albeit sinister.

(An aside – there’s quite a lot here.  First of all, a small point, but Oswald’s got a huge vocabulary – he’s pretty wordy later, too.  I always headcanon that he skipped a lot of school due to bullying, but that Gertrud probably had a lot of old books lying around.  Oswald’s vocab at points throughout this episode has that feel to it.

Next up.  Oswald is openly confiding in Sofia here, and seeking out her company.  I think it’s worth noting that given the change in mood later in the episode which, to me, feels very abrupt.

Again with Sofia there’s the combination of sincerity with manipulation.  From what she’ll say to Jim later, she’s still plotting Oswald’s downfall – if, indeed, she’s being sincere with Jim.  In the meantime, though, the observation that Oswald needs some other interest to provide relaxation seemed a genuine one, and she’s not wrong.

The moment with her hand on his arm was brief, but it was there.  Oswald, for a split second, thought she was going to suggest something romantic/sexual – otherwise the chicken comment wouldn’t have confused him so much, and he wouldn’t have been so flustered.  It’s interesting to wonder whether Sofia still has that option on the table in the event that she feels it would be useful.  I’m also not entirely sure how Oswald, as we see him in this scene, would have reacted.  I’ve never really felt that Oswald has demonstrated any physical attraction towards women at any point on the show.  However, while he was presented as flustered, we were not shown him recoiling, or stepping away.  I don’t know whether they’ll follow this up, although it would be pretty twisted, given – as we’ll see later – that he starts to get suspicious of her.)

Backstage at the Narrows, Tabitha hugs a confused Butch, and then frowns when she realises that there’s something very wrong with him

On the gallery, Lee is looking out when Barbara covers her eyes and gives a

Guess who?

Psycho killer stalker

Lee is aiming a gun, but Barbara says if she was going to shoot her she’d have done it by now.  Lee backhands her instead, commenting that it felt good.  Barbara regroups quickly, and literally turns the other cheek – but Lee seemingly only wanted one slap.  She tells Barbara that this seems like a low rent neighbourhood for her, and on hearing that she’s working, tells her that being Penguin's flunkey suits her. Barbara has a jab at her own life choices.  Lee tells her that some people make decisions not just for themselves but for others.

(An aside.  Lee talked earlier about her guilt over stopping Jim from preventing the release of the virus, although she did mention being infected. I’m not sure if I’m to assume here that she’s also feeling guilty about the selfishness of infecting herself in the first place?  If not, she’s a bit hypocritical.  That was as self-indulgent as it gets).

Barbara comments that she’s sexy and self-righteous now, and asks what Jim makes of this.  Lee offers a flat Jim who? – before swigging back more booze.  Barbara smiles.  She tells her it’s been interesting, but she has to get back to her kidnapping.  Lee takes a minute to put two and two together, and rushes after her.

 Ed is tying up his laces and fails to twig that the little girl voice congratulating him is a ruse. Selina kicks him hard in the face, and – unimpressed – comments that she though he was supposed to be smart.

Jim and Sofia walking together.  She’s telling him to relax – that she has Oswald wrapped around her finger.  Jim brandishes the certificate and asks her to explain this, if she has such a good grip on him.  She tells him that wasn’t Oswald – and that the mayor and commissioner presumably just feel the wind changing.

Light dawns for Jim.

it was you.  You must have made a hell of a contribution

She makes a deprecating face and says no – it was just the Falcone name.  Jim says he won’t do it – not like this, at Harvey’s expense.  Sofia impatiently tells him Harvey is weak, and asks when he’ll stop propping him up, and how many cops have to die due to his incompetence.

Turning to face him, looking displeased, she tells him he needs to stop pretending that he’s not taking the job.  Jim protests, but she said if that were the case, then he’d have thrown the contract away. Walking away from him, she tells him to visit after he takes command, and that they’ll celebrate.

(An aside – Jim is not bright.  Not only did he think Oswald might be behind that promotion, he seemed surprised to hear that it was Sofia.  He then had the nerve to be affronted by her methods, when they met while he was begging her gangster father for a favour.  I just…. what?)

Oswald and Martin are in the office.  Oswald is telling him that revenge can’t just be tit for tat.  It has to be specific.  He asks Martin what he imagines revenge to be, and he draws his enemies dead with knives in their eyes.  Oswald feels this is a little overly ambitions, and tells him to be crafty. Oswald’s hair is deliberately styled in this scene to look like a devil’s horns.

He tells Martin that friendship itself can be a deadly tactic, and asks him how he might use it. Martin writes that his enemies are failing maths.  Oswald guesses that Martin is very good at maths, and asks him to tell him more.

 We see Martin enact his revenge.  He makes a friend of one bully by letting her copy his maths test.  Out in the playground, he then pretends that the other bully hit him.  His new-found friend is outraged, and his enemies end up fighting each other.

He smiles and makes his way to Oswald, who praises him and tells him

See? Minions are so much better than friends

Martin frowns and writes on his pad.

But I'm YOUR friend

He smiles.  Oswald tears the page out in a temper.  He tells Martin the greatest friend he had became his worst enemy.  Friendship should be shunned.  They’re better than friends.  They’re conspirators.

He shakes hands with Martin. Martin looks back at his still fighting classmates, smiles, and walks off.  Oswald watches him go, smiling.  He then glances back at the page and looks pained.  He closes his eyes for a moment before leaving himself.

(An aside.  Oh Oswald….

In a slightly longer aside, Oswald’s state of mind is not good.  I mean, it’s never good – but his response to Martin’s assertion of friendship is painful.  He’s on the edge of what looks a lot like a breakdown a couple of times in this episode.  

It’s also a little confusing.  Yes – Ed’s stageshow has reopened old wounds – although Oswald conveniently glosses over the fact that he murdered Ed’s girlfriend.  However, his recent interaction with Sofia – so we’ve been led to believe – has encouraged him to believe in the idea of friendship again, their scene where he tells her that it’s hard for him to trust, even earlier – when he genuinely wants to have lunch with her.  Yet here he’s violently anti-friendship again?)

 In the Narrows, there’s a messy scene I’ll tie up fast.  Selina has Ed tied up – which pleases Babs.  Tabitha is trying to get through to Butch, showing him her scar – but just as he’s getting somewhere, Butch says Ed restrained and flips out.  Tabitha tries to convince him that Ed’s not his friend, while Ed tells Butch to rip them all to pieces.

(Just an aside – in an episode where Oswald is apparently the lowest of the low, we know that Butch could actually physically do this)

Lee appears on the scene, and says that they’re not taking Ed anywhere.  Barbara dismissively calls her a bleeding heart.  As everyone squabbles more – Selina calls on some law of the Narrows: they settle this in the ring.

 Nighttime in the Narrows, and this pantomime again.  Fuck off with this, Ed.

Cherry watches alongside Lee.  Ed announces that the winner tonight takes…. him.  Not even for free, Ed.

At the ringside, Tabitha is confident Butch loves her too much to hurt her.  Barbara tells her she loves her faith – but wants her to take a large club.

Lee and Cherry are still watching.  Lee is worried that Butch will throw the fight because of his relationship with Tabitha – but Cherry says it doesn’t matter: Ed will be taken to Oswald anyway.

In the ring, Tabitha keeps trying to get Butch to remember her.  Butch hits her very hard in the face.  Tabitha falls to the floor, and Selina and Babs urge her to get up. Butch grabs her by the leg, but Tabitha grabs the club and hits him in the face with it.  Butch starts flashing back to moments with Tabitha.  He blinks round at the crowd, and then at her, and manages a Tabby?  This – however – coincided with Tabitha taking another swing, and he drops.  Tabitha drops to her knees beside him.

 At the bar where the bullet ceremony will take place, Harvey hasn’t shown up.  A disappointed Jim hands out the bullets in his stead. Officer Patel attends in a wheelchair. Jim squeezes her hand lightly when he gives her the bullets.  She nods in response to his salute, and he swallows.

 Back at the Narrows the crowd is screaming as Tabitha tries to wake Butch.  Babs tries to leave with Ed, but the crowd won't let them leave.  Firefly arrives, she tells everyone – in the name of Penguin – to back off, and tells an incredulous Selina and Barbara that they missed the deadline.

Ed is now trying to wake Butch up.  He’s confused and angry – but very scared of fire too.  This amuses Brigit.  Selina calls up to her, and tells her she’s from the Narrows.  Brigit says that this is true – and she couldn’t wait to escape. She also says she agrees with Oswald – the place is a sewer.  She’s going to burn it down.

Lee approaches her on the stairs.  She tells Firefly she's the only thing that stinks here and shoots a gas canister on her back, knocking her out.  Ed laughs maniacally, while Barbara stares.

An irate Cherry tells Lee Firefly is Oswald’s enforcer.  Lee – in turn – tells the whole crowd that Cherry works with Oswald.  Cherry tells the jeering crowd to shut up – this is her club, her turf, and they’re all scum.  She points at SBT and tells the mob that they’re the problem – they work for Oswald.

Babs sees this means death at the hands of an angry mob and shoots Cherry.  The crowd is silent.  Barbara announces that they no longer work for Oswald.  The crowd cheers.

Barbara – all the while retreating – tells Selina that they sure love their coldblooded murder down here. Meantime, Ed is trying to encourage Butch up from the ground, telling him that the fire lady can’t hurt him, while Tabitha promises she’ll come back for him.

Barbara glances up at Lee and makes good her escape.  Lee smiles down at her, satisfied.  The power has shifted in their interactions – and Lee is now the one to be feared, not Barbara.

(An aside – Cherry’s death seemed rather wasteful.  She was a very striking character – what was the point of ditching her so easily?)  

GCPD, where Harvey drinks alone at his desk.  A sad-eyed Jim enters the room and asks Harvey where he was.  A drunk Harvey tells him he was having a little drink and invites him to join.  Jim shakes his head.  Harvey tells him not to be like that and fixes him one anyway.

Jim tells him those cops were waiting for him.  Harvey bitterly says only because they wanted to spit in his face.  Jim says yes – if that’s what they wanted to do.  He owed it to them to look them in the eye, and if he’d done that, then he’d have got their respect.

A bleary-eyed Harvey glares at Jim like he’s stupid and tells him that he doesn’t deserve their respect.  How could he have possibly looked Patel in the eye.  Jim tells him that’s the job – taking responsibility for what happens to his cops.  Harvey angrily asks if he’s telling him what the job is.  Jim simply answers yes.

Well today, Jim - I just couldn’t do the job - so I sent you because I knew you could

Jim tells him that’s not good enough, not today.  They needed him.  Harvey tells him that there’s nothing he can do about it now.

Rising, Jim asks Harvey for a pen.  Damn, Jim – this is cold.  He signs the contract and shows him it – telling him that he’s relieved from duty. Harvey looks pained and bitter.

Well well - look who finally got what he always wanted.  But what did you have to do to get it?

Jim sanctimoniously remarks that all he did with his job.  Jim’s job description apparently specified collusion with the mafia.  

Harvey narrows his eyes. He comments that

Nothing in Gotham is free, Captain Gordon

Taking his hat and bottle, he shambles out.

As he’s about to leave, he turns and tells Jim

You just better hope you can pay up when the bills due - and it'll come, too.

Jim is left alone. Interestingly – we leave him facing the empty chair.  This role doesn’t yet truly belong to Jim.

 Night-time in the office at the Orphanage.   We hear cricket noises

(An aside – crickets? Is Gotham warm enough?)

Oswald is teaching Martin how to stab someone in the heart.

Sofia enters, momentarily pleased that Oswald has met Martin – less so when she sees what they’re doing. A twitchy Mr Penn interrupts to tell Oswald of the comprehensive failure of the night.  Oswald yells.  Interestingly, we see Sofia jump.  She’s usually fairly smooth with just about everything – but if this episode has tried to remind us of anything, it’s that Oswald has a hair-trigger temper.

He adds that Jim was promoted.  We see Sofia look shiftily back at Oswald.  Martin steps forward, seemingly because he can see that Oswald is upset.  Oswald however, coughs and seemingly manages to control himself, remarking that

That is quite a lot to go awry in one day

A relieved Mr Penn leaves. A smiling Sofia turns to Oswald and tells him.

You see, Oswald - business is not the end of life.  There are other rewards: companionship, peace of mind, friendship

She hugs him.  Oswald’s face over her shoulder has about 10 different emotions shifting over it.  

She invites him to dinner back at her house (did she forget she invited Jim?), but Oswald says Martin needs more training.

As she leaves, a strained Oswald passes his hand over his face.  Turning to Martin, he says

Martin - remind me: what did we learn today about friendship?

Martin draws a picture of people stabbing each other in the back.  Oswald smiles.

Yes.   If you’re not careful, friendship can blind you to what is staring you in the face.

Turning, he walks to the window and watches Sofia leave.  His jaw clenches. Behind him, Martin watches.

Lee examines Butch, calling him ‘big guy’ with some degree of fondness.  In the background, Ed is admiringly mimicking what she said to Firefly.  Lee better hope Ed doesn’t go wig-shopping, or she’ll be the latest character in his show.

Lee brushes it off, and tells him that she gets melodramatic under pressure, asking Butch how he is.  Butch tells her that he’s confused.  Ed looks round the crowd – quiet for once.  Lee asks what’s going on with them.  Ed says that they’re acknowledging their new leader.   Lee rolls her eyes and asys that they do love him.  Ed comments that he thought he was supposed to be the dumb one, and points out that she is the new leader.  She heals their children and their warriors – vanquished a fire-breathing monster, killed the queen.

He then uses the same line as the mayor used on Jim.  If she doesn’t do it, someone else will – likely someone worse than Cherry.  A nervous Lee looks rounds and asks where she should start.  Ed tells her to do something to make them happy.  Lee thinks for a moment before calling drinks on the house!  Ed tells her that was a good move, and Lee smiles – enjoying her new position.

 Outside Sofia’s house, Jim is waiting on the steps.  She smiles as she gets out the car, commenting that he came to celebrate after all. Seeing his face, though, she asks what’s wrong – she made him captain, after all.  

Jim stares and echoes you made me.  Yes, Jim – this is why you turned Falcone down way back when you arrived in town.  You knew how hollow it would be to know that he owned you – so quite why you were so willing to go ahead with this is a mystery.  He bitterly tells her that she can toy with Penguin all she wants (er – no she can’t, Jim.  Oswald has caught on faster than you, even though you knew the score from the beginning) - but he’s not her puppet.

She retorts that he’s not her puppet, he’s her partner.  Jim sneers at her.  He tells her he just stuck a knife in his partner’s back.  Sofia tells him coldly that was a mercy killing, and that he needs to grow up.  He wanted a gangster to help get rid of Oswald, and this is what that help looks like.  Harvey had to go.

Jim – now showing an eye-watering lack of awareness – tells her that he doesn’t need her help anymore, and that it’s time she left Gotham.  Did Jim honestly think she’d just go because he said so?  Wow.  Sofia smiles, and tells him that she’s not going anywhere. She came here to restore the Falcone name.  Standing in the doorway, she asks him again to come in and celebrate.  Jim answers that he’d rather stay out here where he can breathe.

(An aside – the wounded self-righteousness after you’ve got what you wanted - a destabilised Oswald and more power – doesn’t count for much, Jim)

He turns and walks away. Sofia watches, obviously displeased, the wobble to her jaw similar to Oswald’s anger earlier.

 General Observations

Remind me, what did we learn today about friendship?

To Oswald, friendship is a double-edged sword.  He’s desperate to be loved – hence Ed’s harping on that point in his show.  He’s also pretty desperate to give love, but we often see this impulse stymied, or twisted into different shapes – like his mentoring of Martin.  He’s decided now – apparently – that the whole venture leaves you too vulnerable to hurt, instead talking about conspirators, minions – anything to avoid the word he used to use so often.

All that said, he seems to have had the wool pulled over his eyes by Sofia.  His relationship with her has seemed to jump about here – and I felt that some more ‘show your working’ would have been nice in this episode.  He goes from being apparently clueless that he’s being manipulated to all out suspicion.  The hug seems to have been the moment this happened – but it’s hard to exactly say why.

Somewhat ironically, Sofia is currently probably closer to Oswald than she is Jim.  She’s hard to read – but some of her advice to Oswald seems pretty sincere.  That’s not to say she probably wouldn’t be able to knife him in the back – Oswald, too, can profess fondness for someone and still want them dead, but it’ll be interesting to see where things go.

Lee and Ed are forming a strange little partnership.  I’m not massively sure why – aside from the money – Lee prevented him from being kidnapped, but we’ll see if Ed can manage some gratitude.

Jim and Harvey’s friendship is disintegrating.  This whole ‘Harvey is weak and incompetent’ feels too sudden and contrived to me, to be honest.  We’ve had seasons of Harvey pretty deftly treading the line between managing Jim and the rest of GCPD, covering for Jim on several occasions, and sitting down and actually using his brain when Jim just wanted to speed ahead.  For him to be over on the basis of one bad decision seems strange, and – to be honest – the decision itself was OOC.

As for Jim – Harvey is his closest confidante and best friend.  He can feel disappointed by his failure to show up at the bullet club – but his total condemnation was cold.  It was also utterly hypocritical.  Jim might be the hero right now, but he’s going to topple from that pedestal fast when everyone finds out he’s been colluding with the mob. Also – am I ever going to find out why Harvey is in such dire financial straits? No?

Lots of power shifts too. in this episode, some less evident than others, and some only superficial.

At first glance, power has moved in Jim’s direction.  He’s been given the captaincy over Harvey.  We know, however, what Harvey can only suspect: Jim is not his own creature. He’s not earned this.  Sofia used the fear and power of the Falcone name to obtain it.  Jim’s essentially meekly taken what Falcone dangled in front of him way back in season one. Sofia says they’re partners – but the truth stings for Jim: he’s her puppet.

Power is slipping away from Oswald, which is intolerable for him – because Oswald has learned that the only way to guarantee yourself respect and safety is through power. When you lose it, you’re at the mercy of others – and that’s not a safe place to be in Gotham.  

He has - though – regained some personal power in the shape of his new-found suspicion of Sofia.  He’s not quite as meek and clueless as she thinks – which could lead to very unpleasant time for her later.

As for Sofia – she’s seemingly on top, but wobbling more than we’ve seen.  Jim’s suspicion has blossomed into outright rejection.  She can’t very well rescind the captaincy now, either – not without looking indecisive.  We now know that Oswald is suspicious.  Martin is an unknown quantity, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he ferried information to Oswald.

Lee unexpectedly found herself with power and seems to like it.  That was a very amused smile she sent Barbara’s way as she scurried quickly home.  How she’ll run the Narrows remains to be seen, as does the possible role Ed might play by her side.

Randomly thinking of Carmine – he’s very quiet.  He’s not remotely suspicious that Sofia left town almost immediately after Jim’s visit? Surely he’d have people still in Gotham reporting back to him?

Lastly – the title – stop hitting yourself.  Harvey doesn’t think he deserves respect or forgiveness, and is drinking self-destructively.    Oswald losing his temper resulted in strategic losses at the Narrows, and his angry shunning of the friendship Martin offered seemed to physically pain him.  Jim put the cherry on his self-destructive cake by taking the captaincy obtained through mafia interference, and stabbing his friend in the back.

Thoughts?

[theflufffactor]

Changing your worst behaviors to motivate yourself for 2020

Bad habits die hard!

Or do they? Do they have to die hard, or can we make a clean break without just sheer willpower? How do we change our worst behaviors? More importantly, how do we motivate ourselves to make and keep our resolutions? It's the beginning of a New Year. When we all make New Year's Resolutions. I don't make resolutions, but that's not to say I don't want to change bad habits. Especially things like sitting for hours and hours a day. If you want to look more into this, especially if you also sit a lot, check out Sitting is the New Smoking. Where they say: Sitting is more dangerous than smoking, kills more people than HIV, and is more treacherous than parachuting. We are sitting ourselves to death." Sounds crazy right!? While I don't want to believe it, it doesn't seem like sitting is making me a healthier person. So I got a treadmill for Christmas. Even funnier, it was a Peloton, so that Peloton commercial just cracks me up. I'll post it below. But, I really am excited about the treadmill because I know I am not going to go out to walk. I'm not going to use a gym because gym membership is ridiculously expensive and the gym is 20 minutes away. An incentive for me, is to have a treadmill easily accessible. As in, in my own home. Where I can see it daily.

Just being in my home isn't enough though. I used my last treadmill to hold my laundry. I do tend to take off overcoats and sweaters and drop them over the handles! It's so convenient. What we need is this type of convenience to help change our bad habits and motivate us for better habits. But, there are many things that are motivating us to stay in our circumstances. Like the gym being 20 minutes away. Also, when told that something negative is going to happen, like gaining weight or doing something that causes cancer, we have no reason in our now to listen. There's also the fact that, if you're trying hard to not think about something, you're inevitably going to think about it. Like a pink giraffe, but in this case it's whatever habit you're trying to kick. We can focus and focus and focus and our mind is going to drift back to whatever we're trying to get away from. If you go to Wiki it says you can replace a bad habit with a good one, or add something unpleasant to the habit! And of course, we've all heard of getting rid of temptation. That does not stop my craving for Pepsi, I can tell you right now! And that's just how habits work. If I instead decide to drink sweet tea, I may not completely stop my craving, but my mind is taken off of the craving just enough that I can move on with my life without killing someone just because I didn't get some Pepsi.

Good News versus Bad News

Does bad news motivate? The short answer... we see what we want to see. So, when trying to motivate yourself to quit smoking because it can cause cancer, you may read a study that says the cancer rates are lower in your age group. It's natural to want to grab onto that information and hold it dear and say that it and only it applies to your situation and to negate anything that is more negative, and maybe more true. We all do this naturally, but this happens more when we're younger, balances a bit as we age, but then we decide again as we get older that bad news isn't important and we steer towards the positive. Meaning that any negativity you hear is not going to motivate you. It may actually make you dig your heels in more and become even more stubborn with whatever stance you originally took! I want to highlight a wonderful Tedx talk that I watched recently by Dr. Tali Sharot, How to motivate yourself to change your behavior. She explains three things that help with motivation.

Social Incentives

The first is social incentives. Having an incentive is fabulous! If you're talking to your kids, or even yourself and you're yelling because you didn't get on the treadmill today, (oh that's me and this is supposed to be hypothetical right?) Well, it's true, I do yell at myself when I don't have the willpower to exercise. What incentive can I give myself to motivate me more? This year I came up with a brilliant plan that works for mine and my hubby's lives. But first let's talk about what social incentives are and how they help. A social incentive in the APA Dictionary of Psychology states: an inducement to behave in particular approved ways, involving the offer of such interpersonal rewards as acceptance, approval, inclusion, or status. From the time we're born we want to fit in. Social Incentives help us feel like we're part of a group. We're getting something that our friends have, even if it's just a smiley face on a coloring paper. That smiley face is going to give us the reward we needed emotionally. As adults, social incentives work the same way. For instance, I don't run a lot, but I did just get a treadmill specifically for this purpose. I talked a few friends into joining a 2020 run where we all try to walk or run as much as we can in 2020 up to 2020 miles. We follow each other in the tracker and out of 8 people I'm right in the middle.

That doesn't disappoint me though because I'm tracking each mile. I can see my progress within the group and by myself. Also Run the Event does a great job of giving stickers! You get a sticker for each milestone you cross. The first was the commitment, so you had to walk your first mile to get that sticker. And now, I have to walk/run 100 miles for the next. Sounds like a lot, but I'm already at 14 miles for this year (as of Jan 5th) and there are 2020 miles, so if we got rewards too soon or too often it would be minimize the motivation. Sure I'll also lose weight down the road (ha, pun but not a pun because I'm on a treadmill), but that's not a huge motivation right now. We all need motivational input TODAY, not in two or three weeks, or even two months. The stickers help motivate but seeing the social interaction between us is an incentive in itself. We all cheer each other on, and even those not doing the challenge are supporting us! Response to opinion of others that leads to change - Edelson, Sharot, Dolan & Dudai, 2011 - Science One of our good friends had a heart attack. The one doctors call the widow maker. He was very lucky to get out of it alive. His doctors told him that he had to make a change. He volunteered to do the 2020 walk before he even looked it up. Although his health issue is a negative warning for all of us, having a close friend almost die is a shocker. His willingness to keep himself motivated for his family is motivation in itself and a social incentive to all of our friends to become healthier, especially since we're all gamers.

Immediate Reward

She also discusses immediate rewards. We love immediate rewards. Losing weight is very difficult because the reward takes such a long time to reach. That immediate reward is far reaching, and something that makes us want to quit when we don't get it. When we do get an immediate reward, like someone liking a Facebook post, little happy chemicals in your brain dance around. It makes us happy! Which is why when we don't get them we get less motivated and may quit altogether. It even works when it's about something we don't want to do. Adding rewards increasing the enjoyability of a task. Even in the workplace, studies have shown that rewards given throughout instead of just at the end of a task, increased the interest. Phys.org explains: immediate rewards can actually increase intrinsic motivation, compared with delayed or no rewards. Rewarding yourself with smaller, more frequent bonuses could prove helpful in keeping yourself motivated. Especially when trying to change a bad habit. You want to keep your response to stopping that habit as positive as possible. Dr. Segar explains that even immediate rewards such as more energy, a better mood, less stress, and more opportunity to connect with friends and family - nytimes.com will offer more results than people that want to lose weight for health reasons or just for the sake of losing weight. Those goals are not enough of an incentive to keep someone motivated. And the negative reasoning makes us feel more negative about the entire situation and habit in the first place. Instead of being motivational, negative reasoning just demotivates.

Progress Monitoring

In the case with the Peloton, the progress is seeing how the miles stack up. I did three miles the other day. I'm not used to walking much but watching the miles tick by (s l o w l y, I might add) was helpful. I knew where my goal was and I hit it by listening to great music and watching that counter. I finished on time at three miles! I was so excited and honestly proud of myself. I can see how this is already improving my life. I get up and I exercise right away! I can see the other people pulling ahead in their miles and I want to stay near them.

So the incentive I'm getting is knowing that each mile counts towards the goal and towards the friendly competition. Warning: do not insta demotivate yourself by comparing yourself with others. Full disclosure, it took me an hour to hit that three miles. The worst way to motivate yourself and the best way to demotivate yourself, is to start thinking of what other people do or do not do. You can only judge your own progress by your previous progress. I am currently hitting 7k steps a day and hoping to up that to 10k in a bout two weeks. If I start thinking how great my husband walks, or how much some of my friends walk, I will demotivate myself and feel bad about my progress. You want to do the exact opposite. Feel good about what you are doing. Give yourself credit and keep on keeping on! Remind yourself that you got this. When you do see someone doing better than you, congratulate them and don't forget to congratulate yourself too! Monitoring your progress is motivational because you are going to continue doing better. On a diet and you don't eat any sugar (which I honestly couldn't imagine), good on you! Walking like I am and you did three miles today, YES! Whatever YOUR goal is watch your progress, congratulate yourself, and keep on it! If you want to read more, here's a review on The Science of Motivation by Brian Tracy.

Just for fun, the Peloton Commercial

What did you think of the commercial? Did it bother you like it did so many others? Read the full article

[whyareyouyellingatme]

A post I deleted in the end

Here's one of the most personal/long things I've ever posted, and if you hate me you'll probably have a field day laughing at this one. I don't know how long it'll take before I maybe...delete it. I don't want anyone to respond with likes or comments. If you have something to say you can pm me, but I don't enjoy talking about it outside of one ong rant. I rant like this so I can jot it all down for records / evidence I'm not irrational, and then move on.

Here's the TL;DR: Rick Ranquist - 40+ years old, lives in Utah possibly Michael Aigner - mid 20's, probably lives in Bellingham by the pool Cooper Texeira - My age, lives in Seattle and goes to my school

All these men are white sexual offenders that did not get a punishment for their crimes.

When I was seven my 20+ year old babysitter did stuff with me that I did not understand, and I don't properly remember a lot of it. I thought it was a game, but it was actually doing sexual favors for a pedophile. I read a line in "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" about a man trying so hard to forget something unpleasant that he eventually succeeds in forgetting it. I tried to do that with the memory, and it sort of worked until I heard his name, Ricky. My brother said, "Remember when Ricky----" and that's all I heard before I started dissociating and everything was like someone was smothering me with a pillow.

His sister called me a liar when I said "your brother does weird stuff with me and plays games I don't understand". I decided if she didn't believe me, nobody would, because she was my neighbor and my friend. She still doesn't know today I was telling the truth.

I got raped when I was 19 by a 23 year old that had been grooming me since I was 16. I tried reporting it to the police and they laughed at me, nearly hanging up on me. I went to the ER, got a cervical exam while a doctor ogled my vagina with awe (because my relatively young genitals excited him, how professional). The taxi driver saw me crying and said "you put him on a list! Get him on a list!" and nope, he didn't get put on any kind of list. That fucked me up for a long time. I was numb for a long time. I just watched non stop television and didn't think. I can remember the exact outfit I put in a brown paper evidence bag, and I can remember the exact outfit I wore for days afterwards. I really changed as a person after that. Being isolated from all your friends and spending 3 years dedicating all your time to a shitty abusive man that made you think everything was your fault. Not fun.

Weirdly enough, a man who's in my family pushed me not to report the rape or try pushing for anything else from the police, because he thought it would traumatize me further. I gave up. I didn't want to see Michael, he made me sick. I was partially relieved I got out of the cycle of abuse, but I held on to a rage for a while . I still feel it if I think too much about it. I get really angry but it helps nothing because what can I do ? I'd imagine scenarios where I got to kill him as revenge.

It looked really cute on the surface! It looked like I was having a good time. But I was having panic attacks every week trying to make him happy, despite the beatings, despite the yelling (bc that's normal in my household so I thought it was normal in relationships) until the day that he went way too far.

I really thought it was my fault and that I deserved it for being stupid or not good enough. I was too focused on a very heavy school schedule and an eating disorder/self harm problem to realize I could do better for myself. Of course all of his friends saw me as a "crazy bitch" as he was beating me, real nice. His family was really racist and he broadcasted all of our arguments to them. His sister threatened to hit me with a wrench, not knowing/caring that her brother was already beating me. All of them just kind of watched whenever I broke down crying in front of them. His dad said "women get like this", I'm not...a woman. Not for someone like you dude.

Michael showed up at my house a couple days after it happened too. He stalked me for a while. I still get freaked out being alone sometimes. I have a knife collection and pepper spray, and even guns, but none of them make me feel as safe as a genuine friend does. I'm easily startled and for a while I had really horrible nightmares and panic attacks in public. It got a little better with time, but I still have really bad days. It's still difficult going anywhere near medical centers or dealing with cervical exams.

(I tried speaking with a nurse about the possibility that I have PTSD from that event, and she brushed me off with a "Women used to get raped all the time and they would have to just deal with it. You should lose some weight." Which started up my eating disorder again...horribly enough, people have been so cruel to me but I still care so much what they think.)

I tried faking confidence and happiness in college. I don't have a supportive healthy family, I just have me and whoever decides to be my friend. I made a friend group and went to parties with them. That was fun until a person I trusted grabbed at me when I was incredibly drunk. He led me to his room where I passed out. I wasn't sober enough to understand what was going on or even walk properly, and he texted people things from my phone saying that I was okay. It was all just kind of stupid honestly.

I woke up the next day in my room, on the floor, feeling kind of gross and even more gross as I try to figure out what happened the night before. He shows up at my work wanting me to serve him ice cream. I go in to report him because he did end up grabbing me without consent.

I lost my friend group. And after describing him grabbing my chest and ass in a disgusting amount of detail to a man that said "I remember being a young man and partying in college" with a cheerful nostalgia, I lost the case too. He didn't get anything. At this point I was kind of used to being treated like a piece of meat, so I was just mad he didn't learn anything. In fact, he has been checking up on me online to find dirt on me and report ME to the school for talking shit. His girlfriend has been doing the same, angry because she thinks he was trying to cheat with me. Cheating is consensual.

People just don't learn sometimes. I'm not a thing. I'm an nb lesbian though, and the guy that tried stuff with me when I was drunk knew that. He thought he could convert me.

I've been going through all of this without therapy, trying to just go to school. I tried telling a counselor about my situation and he said "those are long term problems that the university cannot handle".

Maybe I seem quiet and aloof, maybe I'm annoying to you, maybe you think I'm a liar or something stupid like that. But god damn it, I am a human being. I've been through some gross shit. I'm tired of people touching me and trying to invade my space. I'm tired of creepy ass college professors comparing me to their girlfriends and saying shit like "things aren't going so well with her". It's never a compliment you're just fuckin weird dude.

I'm super disconnected from reality even now (sometimes) because I don't like thinking about any of this. I stayed silent about it for quite a while because of all the people who probably wouldn't believe me. But uhhhh fuck you guys I know who I am.

This is a really personal story, especially very personal to be posting on facebook. It makes me feel super vulnerable, but not as much as having the memories bouncing around in my head nonstop makes me feel. I have a girlfriend now and I'm living in a pretty safe place at the moment. There's a lot of other shit happening in my life, my PTSD dog (one of my only sources of comfort in a bad time) got hit by a car and died. :( You all probs know about that, I just miss her when I think about the past. So I've just been trying to figure out how to help myself, you know?

This post got really fucking long and I don't feel like editing it. If you ever think I'm quiet, it's because I'm tired of explaining myself. I want to be my usual joke-y self but sometimes that feel really fake. I don't like thinking about all of this, but I think someone should know.

I wanted to write this post when I was sure I could finish it without crying. It has been a while since something super bad has happened to me, and that distance between the event and reality really helps muffle the emotional response.

Cheers to the survivors that aren't "good" survivors that react a specific way. Cheers to those of you that aren't comfortable sharing your story because it's really not anybody's business unless you want to say something.

I don't know, I still try and have fun, pretending nothing happened. I hate this crap. I hate the emotional baggage. Wish I could chuck it, but my brain has a different plan.

Like, all of this shit happened on TOP of me living in an extremely abusive home so you can imagine I tried to kill myself.

I'm a human being. Stop treating me like shit. I'm tired of it. I'm also not as mean as I look, I don't bite. I'm here for you as a friend if you need it. I just couldn't sleep tonight because of all this crap.

Please don't react to this I'm just babbling. I don't want to deal with people that have no empathy for my long ass story just because it's long / badly written. I'm just tired. I'm soooooo fucking tired.

Edit: I'm trying to reread this just once, but I can't even do it. Like not because it's hard, I literally just look at the words and they mean nothing. My brain basically put up a firewall against upsetting shit so I lose touch with reality whenever I get near it for too long. It's hard describing dissociation but if you would like to know more u should google it. A weird time. Anyway gn I'm alright I just needed to fucking let it out.