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kaiyonohime · 2 years ago

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Sherry Tenney; the saga continues

Pinned post on the topic of Sherry Tenney

On Sunday Sherry Tenney, the fleece scam artist in Pennsylvania, posted a rant threatening to sue me.

Here is the video, but I have pulled the relevant info out into text thanks to a transcriber from the Ravelry group Demon Trolls.

youtube

>He read some stuff that somebody uh posted on Tumblr which is 100% deframation of character and we have to sue them now. Um saying I have diseased animals on my farm and that I’m unhinged and I carry guns to go to Rhinebeck and all that, and he’s decided to go ahead and prosecute them. We’re gonna go ahead and sue. But because of that, we have decided..this piece of SHIT on Tumblr and I have the list, and the stuff that she has said is horrible. We have her name, we’re gonna go ahead and sue, but we are not going to hold a class on the property.

She saw my tumblr! She read multiple of my tumblr posts! I’m just so honored to now have a brief starring role in her insanity! I never thought the likes of Sherry Tenney would even know what tumblr was, let alone leave FaceBook to lurk here and learn how to search and read posts!

There are tears. Honest, happy tears. She’s angry because I’m doing my part to warn others about her scam, and help protect other fiber artists. Because, really, that is my goal. The fiber arts community needs to help one another and be warned about the stinging wasps that sometimes prey upon us.

Now, to address her threatening to sue me: she’s been threatening to sue members of the Demon Trolls group for six months now. Not a single piece of legal paperwork has ever been filed or received. It’s all bark and bluff. And, on top of that, she doesn’t have my legal name or information. Nor does tumblr to give to her. Not that I think for a moment that @staff would give her my information without a court order in the first place.

And, honestly, it’s not defamation of character to speak the truth. There are screenshots to back everything I have posted up. Screenshots, and excel files, and video recordings of her rants! The fine folks at Demon Trolls have been documenting every single move she has made, and everything she has said. I’ve just summarized it and posted it here because I know not everyone goes to Ravelry, and especially not the forums.

If anyone would care to go to Ravelry, they have all the video files and screenshots of every single thing I have posted about this mentally unhinged woman. Because, honestly, when you start writing Supernatural fanfiction of you fighting demons at a gas station and pass it off as real life events on your business FaceBook page as an update of your life, you are clearly a mentally unwell person.

But hopefully Sherry Tenney and Jim Tenney can remember to get the uuuuuurrrrrlllll right when they go to the court to try to sue tumblr.

For those curious about the ‘url’ joke, here’s another hour long video rant of hers showing her mental state. Warning, it’s fairly disturbing, and it does not get better. In fact, partway through the video she starts feeling herself up a touch and seems to get some sort of sexual satisfaction about her violence filled rant.

It is divided up into parts on this Google Drive. Everything on this Google Drive, including a hefty screenshots folder of what Sherry Tenney says on her public business FaceBook account, is posted. Please feel free to watch this video and explore the Google Drive for more evidence about what Sherry Tenney has done, and please warn others.

Link to Google Drive and the video rant

And, as always, Sherry Tenney is to be considered dangerous. DO NOT APPROACH. She is currently advertising in her Etsy store that she is hosting a class. Do NOT sign up for that class as a joke. She is considered to be dangerous at all times and to be avoided in person at all costs! We do not want anyone hurt because of this! The Pennsylvania Attorney General is informed and taking actions against her, although the wheels of justice are much slower than we would like. Please be safe and warn others!

#sherry tenney #sherry vondorp #sherry tenney is a scam artist #warning for violence filled video rant #warning for mentions of animal abuse #warning to the fiber arts community

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her.

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered.

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

#jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader

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ficklefics · 4 years ago

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Who Needs Enemies - Chapter Three: The First Night

It's never easy staying still. But soon enough, boredom will be the least of everyone's worries.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel, Jeremiah Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER TWO

Warnings: Violence

Another month went by with no word from Jerome.

So I let myself relax. I’d done my part, now it’s time to wait.

A hot chocolate, a pile of blankets, Puddin’ by my side, and a dumb movie. A moment to sit back and not worry about the rest of the world for once.

Then the phone begins to ring.

I try to ignore it, letting it ring into silence. Then it starts again. Groaning in annoyance, I pick it up, ready to shout at whoever is disturbing my peace.

“What?” “It’s Jim Gordon.” I sit up, confused. “Hi, Jim. What’s up?” “Where are you?” He sounds panicked. Behind his voice, people are shouting. “At home…” “Jerome has escaped from Arkham.” It’s happening. “He broke out, along with Tetch and Scarecrow and hundreds of others.” “And you think he might come after me.” “Yes. You need to stay in your house.” A car door slams and an engine revs. “Lock the doors and windows, hide.” “Okay, I will.” Not. “Thank you.” “Stay safe.”

As soon as Jim hangs up the phone is ringing again. This time with a familiar number.

“Jerome!” “The one and only.” A grin bursts onto my face at the sound of his voice. “Where are you?” “About. Look, did you get the address?” “Yeah, hold on.” I scramble up from the sofa and upstairs to the study. There’s a file sitting there with everything I managed to find. “He owns a restaurant in the East Side.” “Perfect.” His smile is audible. “I’m coming to get you – just need to pay dear old Zach a visit.” “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

I’ve been ready for an hour. Puddin’ has plenty of food and water and I have a bag packed with some extra clothes. For once I’m dressed appropriately for going on the run: combat boots, jeans, and a sturdy leather jacket – no more uniforms.

Waiting was torture so I’m pacing up and down the stairs. Every creak of the floorboards makes me jump. I guess I’m a little on edge.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I can’t tell if I’m thrilled or terrified. Maybe both.

“Boo.”

I scream and spin around, striking the figure across the face. Jerome stumbles into the wall and clutches his now-red cheek. “Hello to you too.” His voice is hoarse. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I do genuinely feel bad, but I also can’t help giggling at the offence on his face. Luckily he sees the humour in it too – as always.

But when he stands up, his face entering the light, I gasp. His face and neck are burnt, coated with a sticky substance. Soup.

“I’m guessing that means you saw your uncle?” I try not to overreact. Knowing Jerome, he doesn’t care about the injuries. “Yup. But he was waiting.” “Maybe Jim got in contact – he called me right before you did.” “Oh really?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “What did you tell him?” “That I would lock the doors and hide.” I narrow my eyes back at him. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

At least until he breaks out laughing. “Good for you, Harls. I’ll make a criminal out of you yet.” He steps closer and takes my face in his hands, but before he can lean in I pull back. He pouts, clearly frustrated. “I am not kissing you until you’re fixed up.”

I take his hand and lead the way downstairs to the bathroom, smirking at his childish whine of “Fine.”

After spending hours with the lights off, turning on the light to the bathroom is almost blinding. But it also reveals that Jerome’s burns aren’t as bad as they first appeared. I pull out a first aid kit and look up at him.

“You’re too tall.” “You’re too short.” He counters. “No, I mean… I can’t get a good angle.” “Here.” Without warning, he grabs my waist and swings me round to sit on the counter so we’re almost face to face. “Is that good enough?” “Just about.” I begin cleaning the burns – just like old times. They’ll heal quickly. Jerome stands between my legs, watching me work. “You know, I can treat things other than burns. I wouldn’t mind a bit of variety.” “Am I boring ya’, Harls?” “Not yet.” I wink at him. “But you should be careful.” “Not really my style.” “I noticed. Now, open.” I tap on his chin and he obeys, with a roll of his eyes. The inside of his mouth and throat are red and sore. I grab a spray and use as much as I dare, holding Jerome’s jaw so he can’t squirm away. He tries to speak but it comes out garbled. “What was that?” I tease. He grabs my hand and forces me to release his jaw. “We need to get going. The Hatter got into a bit of trouble.” “Well, you’re all done.” I close the box and slide it away from me. “Let’s go.”

But instead of stepping back, Jerome places his hands either side of me, keeping me on the counter. “I think you promised me something, Harls.” He growls, his eyes dark and a smirk on his face. “I think I might have.” I grin and press my lips to his, revelling in the feeling. His hands grab my neck, holding me close, burning hot against my skin. I let myself fall into the kiss, closing my eyes and forgetting everything else but Jerome. “I thought,” I murmur against him, “I thought we had to go.”

He groans but pulls away, letting me jump down. “Unfortunately, we do. But first,” I raise an eyebrow, “I need a new look.”

We meet Scarecrow at the side of a quiet road that passes under the train tracks. He greets us with a solemn nod, dark eyes examining Jerome and me. To be honest, he freaks me out. His piercing stare sends a shiver down my spine.

“So, what’s the plan?” “Stop the van, get rid of the driver, head to Penguin’s.” Jerome shrugs as though it’s simple. “It’s nice to know your planning skills… remain the same.” I roll my eyes. “Come on, Harls. Three of us versus one cop?” He throws an arm around my shoulder. “What could go wrong?” “Let’s remember that I’m the only one here who hasn’t been arrested.” My eyes shift from Jerome back to Scarecrow. “No offence.” “None taken.” He rasps.

I’m about to respond when Jerome grabs the collar of my jacket and pulls me into the shadow of the buildings. The van is here. It rumbles up the road, jolting and coughing smoke.

When it’s just about to reach us Scarecrow steps forward, a dark silhouette in the centre of the tarmac. The van screeches to a halt mere inches from him. The driver steps out, angry and confused, and is greeted with a spray of gas from Scarecrow’s glove. In an instant, his face is consumed by terror and he runs off screaming. Jerome and I join Scarecrow, rounding the side of the van. The doors swing open to reveal Jervis Tetch wearing a metal mask, his eyes wide with excitement.

Jerome hoists himself up surprisingly gracefully. “How’d you like the new threads?” Stepping forward, he begins to detach the contraption from Jervis’ face. “Aw, speechless, I know.” It pulls away with a hiss. Scarecrow climbs up through the doors and I follow him, trying to suppress the feeling that I am completely out of my depth. As Scarecrow steps around Jerome to speak to Jervis, Jerome turns and winks at me.

Jervis and Scarecrow are speaking to each other. Distracted by Jerome, I only manage to catch the end of Jervis speaking: “I must confess, pure joy in besting Jimmy boy with our ploy!” He giggles as he speaks – Jerome may be insane, but this man is unhinged. “Yeah, yeah, you did a great job keeping Gordon occupied.” Jerome waves a hand at him dismissively. “Meanwhile, Crane got his fear gas, I got my information and my girl.” Jervis and Scarecrow’s eyes both fix on me. Show no fear. “And everything is going according to my plan. But, no time to palaver gentlemen. We have fish to fry.” He does a half turn, then looks back at them. “And, by fish, I mean faces… or feet.” He seems to be thinking long and hard, then waves his arms with a laugh. “Something fun to fry!”

Jumping down, he offers me his hand and I take it – even though the slight jump is nothing – joining him on the ground. “Buckle up.” He slams the doors and leads the way to the front of the van. I sit myself in the driver's seat, ready to go. “Oh, no way. My turn to drive.” I roll my eyes but slide over anyway. “Honestly, you crash a motorbike one time and no one trusts you with a vehicle again.” “Seems reasonable to me.” I shove his shoulder. “All aboard!” The engine rumbles to life and we speed off, Jerome’s gleeful cackling trailing behind us.

We pull up outside of an old building beside a sign reading ‘St Ignatius School for the Gifted’.

“Hang on, I know this place.” I lean out of the passenger side door and look up at the familiar building. “You do?” “Yeah,” I glance back towards Jerome, “I was supposed to be transferring here before we left Gotham.” “You little genius, you.” He ruffles my hair condescendingly. “That means you can give us the tour.” “Why are we here?” “Revenge, Harls. Revenge.”

We leave Scarecrow behind to keep watch while Jerome, Jervis and I sneak through the hallways. Nothing has changed in the six years since I was last here – a few more awards in the display case maybe.

Soft light glows from under the door to the headmaster’s office.

Jerome kicks it open, making the man inside scream. “Please don’t hurt me!” He whimpers, backing into the corner and away from an open filing cabinet. “Oh, hush.” Jerome waves a hand dismissively. “You know why I’m here.” “No, no, I don’t.” He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “Please just leave.” “You’re really making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Jerome pulls out a pistol and spins it by the trigger haphazardly. “Xander Wilde.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” “You know there’s no need for this,” Jervis interjects. “Yeah, but this is the fun way.” Jerome grins as he points the gun at the headmaster’s head, inducing another flood of tears. “Harleen, mind taking a look through that filing cabinet there?” “Sure.” I step forward and begin rifling through the files. “Xander Wilde?” He nods. “And I thought I had the prize for the weirdest name in Gotham.” “It’s a close competition.” Jerome chuckles. I find the file quickly and pull it out. “Good girl.” “Please just leave.” The headmaster begs. “Oh, we’ll be leaving. Just one more thing.” Jerome steps aside to make room for Jervis, who pulls out a pocket watch. As Jerome grabs the file from me and leads the way out, Jervis begins to speak.

“Anything to report?” Jerome calls to Scarecrow who’s skulking beside the van. “Nothing at all. I take it the mission was successful?” Jerome waves the file and winks. “More than. Let’s get going.”

As we get in, Jervis appears, joining Scarecrow in the back. “Are we good?” “He won’t be bothering us.” Jervis smiles through the wire separating us. The van speeds off again, this time in the direction of Penguin’s mansion. I can see the faint glow of dawn in the distance. Jerome tosses the file onto my lap and nods at it. I pick it up. “So who’s Xander Wilde?” “Just read it out.”

I flick it open. The first page holds all the basic information. Name, date of birth, parents, and so on. The space where there would normally be a photo is blank. “Xander Wilde, 24 years old. Started at the school fourteen years ago and graduated valedictorian. GPA of -” My eyes widen at the number. “- Oh shit. Wow.” “Keep going.” “Top of all his classes, teachers thought the world of him. Quiet, studious, perfect student by all accounts.” I make a face. “Can’t relate.” Jerome gives me a look which I return. “Don’t look at me like that; I was smart, not a good student.” “Sure.” He doesn’t sound like he believes me. “Where is he now?” “Ummm…” I rifle through the pages of reports, of straight A’s, of extracurriculars. “He went to college, graduated and now… He’s working for an engineering company, Meyer and Hayes.” I drop the file and frown at Jerome. “Who is this guy?” “Let’s just say he betrayed me.” He refuses to make eye contact with me. “And he’s going to regret that.” “Okay.” I shrug – there’s no point interrogating him. If it’s to do with his uncle, it must be something big. Realising how tired I actually am, I suppress a yawn. My eyelids begin to drop, and despite my struggles to stay alert, I find myself falling asleep.

The world around me is burning.

I’m trapped in a room with no doors or windows, surrounded by flame. As I spin round, panicking, looking for a way to escape, the walls start closing in. Slowly at first, but as they get closer they speed up.

“Help!” I scream. But there’s no one to hear. “Please!” I fall to the ground, my knees knocking against the floor. “I don’t want to die!”

“Harleen!” My head flies up at the somewhat familiar voice. “Hello?” “It’s me!” A figure in front of me. He’s silhouetted by the fire. “Please help me!” It doesn’t matter who it is. I need to survive.

He kneels down and his face is hit by light: Bruce. At the sight of him, I feel myself ache with guilt. Why is he helping me? Why is he so good?

“Come on.” He offers me his hand.

I reach out to take it, but before I can make contact a splitting pain shoots through me. It’s as though I’m being pulled apart.

“Bruce!” “Harleen!” This time it’s Jerome’s voice coming from Bruce’s mouth. The pain only gets worse. I fall to the floor, writhing in agony. “Harleen!” His voice is far away, and yet right beside me at the same time.

“Harleen!”

Someone is shaking me. My eyes snap open and I lash out. Jerome is prepared for the attack this time, grabbing my hand before it can make contact with his face. “We’re here.”

I look around, seeing that the sun has almost risen and we’re parked outside of the mansion. “Oh.” I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, but I’m still exhausted. “Did I snore?” “Only a bit.” Jerome chuckles. “What about talking?” Hopefully, my dream stayed inside my subconscious. I don’t want to explain that to Jerome. “Nothing really.” He frowns, almost worried, but I smile, trying to convince us both that everything is fine. “Cool. Let’s go.” I slide out of the van and stride into the mansion. It doesn’t take Jerome long to catch up. “Where did the others go?” He shrugs. “They’re about.” A tall man is standing waiting for us. “Mr Cobblepot has instructed me to show you to your rooms.” He’s stiff, clearly anxious in Jerome’s presence. “Look, you go ahead.” He squeezes my shoulders and pushes me forward slightly. “I need to talk to Penguin.” “But I want to help.” I protest – even though I know he’s right. “You’re no help if you’re snoring.” “Fine. Don’t get killed again.” “No promises.” I glare at him over my shoulder as I follow the man up the stairs until Jerome is out of sight.

When we get to the room, I say thank you and immediately lock the door.

Next, the curtains. No light allowed.

I dump my bag on the bed and pull out a top, changing quickly and collapsing into bed, letting sleep overwhelm me.

CHAPTER FOUR

#jerome valeska #jeremiah valeska #harleen quinzel #gotham #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #jeremiah valeska x harleen quinzel #joker #the joker #harley quinn

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sevendeadlyseans · 8 years ago

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10 (or 11) Movies Released Last Year That I Really Liked, 2016 Edition

Before I get to my “official” Top 10, one title has been excluded for consideration due to conflict of interest, but would otherwise top my list.

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Darling

Mickey Keating’s 3rd feature (produced by the fabulous Jenn Wexler, a.k.a. my girlfriend) is, of course, my favorite film of the year. I’ve seen it three times in theaters—twice in 2015 on the festival circuit, and again last April on opening night—and still keep finding new, subtle things about it to love.

The story: a young woman is paid to housesit a glorious old building while its eccentric owner is away. Is the house haunted? Is she unhinged? Maybe both? Star Lauren Ashley Carter—rightly recognized as “the Audrey Hepburn of indie horror” by The Austin Chronicle, is in almost every frame of the film and is never short of mesmerizing, whether answering the telephone, putting on make-up or getting her hands dirty by...well, let’s not give away the fun.

The black and white cinematography is gorgeous, the score crawls under your skin and the editing is legit terrifying. Watch with the lights out.

And now back to our official, less personally biased top 10, in order...

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Moonlight

Without question, the most accomplished, most moving film of 2016.

James Joyce once noted, “In the particular is the universal.” Moonlight is atop my list in no small part because it’s so breathtaking in its particular intimacies.

Moonlight is like Boyhood on a budget: it drops us into three important periods in the life of a boy who becomes a teen who becomes a man—at first bullied and confused, increasingly neglected by his crack-addicted mother and influenced by a kind-hearted, drug-dealing surrogate father. We see him harden, over time, under the pressure of a world with no use for softness, and then, perhaps, reconnecting with a lost bit of himself, at long last.

Writing that synopsis, it strikes me how easily such a story could have tipped into cliché and melodrama. Perhaps because writer/director Barry Jenkins and playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney are both from the Liberty City projects themselves. their knowledge—coupled with a great cast, an impeccable soundtrack, a deft use of color and Jenkins’ masterful control of tone—l gives Moonlight specificity, and that makes it universal.

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Jackie

Tone is a theme for the first three films on my 2016 list—four if you count Darling, and you most definitely should. Pablo Larrain’s Jackie puts us inside the experience of First Lady Jackie Kennedy in the aftermath of JFK’s assassination, in a way I never thought I could experience:

Your husband was just murdered; his blood is on your dress. Your life is cracked, and even if you put the pieces back together, nothing will ever be the same. Oh, and he’s the president—was the president—so your country is broken, too. History has its eye on you, so while the crushing weight of grief bears down, try to look good for the cameras. It’s only his legacy at stake.

It seems ludicrous to say that Oscar-nominated Natalie Portman is underrated, but somehow she is—and I adored her in Black Swan. In Jackie, she’s working at another level. Open and wounded when no one but us can see, calculating and brittle and angry before an eager reporter. I am excited to see Portman does next.

Special mention to Mica Levi’s score, her second feature after 2013′s Under the Skin. Can’t wait to hear what she does next, too.

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The Witch

Someone had the terrible idea to market The Witch as “the year’s scariest movie.” It’s not, nor is it trying to be. It is, however, among the most unsettling films of this year or any other. (Again: tone.)

The story: it’s 17th century New England. William, his wife Katherine, and their five children have been kicked out of the settlement being too religious (it seems, or perhaps just too self-righteous) and must find a way to survive on their own on the fringes of the deep, dark wood.

Before you have time to wonder if the titular witch might be metaphoric, she shows up and does something unspeakable to William and Katherine’s newborn son. Things go downhill from there, exacerbated by both outside, malevolent forces and unacknowledged tensions within the family unit.

The Witch looks gorgeous, as well it should. First-time director Robert Eggers made his bones as a production and costume designer, and reportedly built an actual, mostly working 17th century farm for the film. Even the dialogue itself was built out of scraps of things people wrote and said back then. You can feel the authenticity, which makes the family’s isolation feel that much more acute and dangerous.

O.J.: Made in America

Bob Dylan never asked “How many minutes does a film have to be, before we can call it TV?” but the answer, my friend, is probably not much more than the 467 minute runtime of Ezra Edelman’s O.J.: Made in America. (For comparison, that’s almost 3 hours longer than a full season of HBO’s Veep.)

It doesn’t help that it was produced by ESPN, or that it aired on that cable network less than a month after it’s Oscar-qualifying theatrical run. And yet...it was my favorite documentary in a year of many great docs (more on that later), so if wants to call itself a movie, I’ll roll with it.

2014 marked the 20th anniversary of the murders. The revived attention around the so-called “trial of the century” led to two great works of art, Edelman’s doc and FX’s American Crime Story: The People vs. O.J. Simpson. (One can only wonder how our present political moment will be filtered through the culture of 2018).

Rather than produce O.J. overload, the two projects complement one another—the dramatic series taking us inside the lives and hearts of key figures on both legal teams, while the doc simultaneously expands the scope and deepens the focus—showing us more about who O.J. was before, during and after, and what America was and still is, especially but not only in Los Angeles, but also in Ferguson, on Staten Island, everywhere. If it takes Edelman 8 hours to set up all details to knock us down with his larger point, well, that’s 8 hours well spent.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrB3rOcrJxg&list

The Lobster

Yorgos Lanthimos’ Dogtooth was one of my favorite movies of 2010. He’s back on the list with a film that’s just as strange but far more accessible.

I love absurdism, deadpan humor, magical realism and dystopian fantasy, but I can’t recall a film that manages the trick of juggling all three at once as The Lobster does—with an honest-to-goodness love story right there in the middle.

I’ll skip the premise—if you don’t know it, watch the trailer.

The cast is great, and Colin Farrell is a revelation, topping my previous Farrell favorite, the criminally under seen In Bruges. Lanthimos packs the film with small details that make the surreal world of The Lobster believable. The first shot packs an entire story of love, betrayal and murder (which is never revisited) into a single, long take. And its final, wrenching moments will stay with me forever.

Film critic Britt Hayes got to the heart of the filmmaker’s uncanny alchemy when she noted “Lanthimos doesn’t heighten reality to an absurd degree; he heightens the absurdity of our existing reality.” Or put another way, he doesn’t add absurdity, he just turns the heat up on reality and our own absurdity bubbles to the surface.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTNZmOJxuAc

Hail, Caesar!

There’s this other movie that’s sort of a throwback to old Hollywood, with some singing and dancing in it. That movie’s fine, but don’t hold your breath, it didn’t make my list. For my money, the real love letter to Hollywood—and why the movie industry matters—came from the Coen Brothers.

Now, it wouldn’t be a Coens movie if that tender heart weren’t covered under many layers of arch cynicism, stylized reference bordering on “acting” “in” “quotation” “marks” and the occasional silliness. But you don’t have to peel much of it away to see the real love they have for not just the magic of movies but also the joy in so many abandoned film genres that once ruled the box office—be they Gene Kelly musicals, Gene Autry oaters or C.B. DeMille bible epics, to name but a few recreated here.

For me, Hail, Caesar! sits perfectly between the sour cynicism of the Hollywood in Woody Allen’s misanthropic Cafe Society and the false romanticism of the ambition-for-ambition’s sake “dreamers" of La La Land who prize the warmth of the spotlight over any real human affection.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1NYpz_j3e38

13th

Ava DuVernay’s 13th is a civics lesson for a country in dire need of one. With a controlled but searing ferocity, the documentary lays out the case that the 13th amendment allowed the continuation of a system of oppression and control not all that from slavery: the criminal justice system. If you haven’t read your Constitution lately, here’s a refresher on the 13th, the amendment that ostensibly ended slavery:

“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”

This one, terrible clause not just perpetuated slavery under another name but incentivized an expansion of the definition of criminality, in order to profit from the subjugation of mostly brown and black bodies, which has led to an explosion in America’s incarcerated population. In effect, through laws designed to maintain segregation, blackness itself has been criminalized.

With Jim Crow, redlining, lynching (terrorism by another name) and the like, the 13th has led to a more unequal society—and, indirectly, to leaders who lie and stoke racial, as well as religions and ethnic, divisions in order to maintain the ever-growing class divide from which they profit.

This poor summation doesn’t do justice to the full weight of the case DuVernay and her experts make, or how well they make it. 13th should be required viewing by everyone, but most of all by those who hold the power to make and enforce the law.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V66F3WU2CKk

The Love Witch

Let’s start with the obvious: Anna Biller’s The Love Witch is a gorgeous film. Turn the sound off, re-order the scenes at random and you still can’t take your eyes off what looks like a lost Technicolor American Giallo from 1972. Biller not only wrote, edited and directed the film but also handled production design, art direction, set decoration and costuming, almost single-handedly crafting one of the best looking films of 2016.

Beneath that dazzling frosting is a rich, feminist layer cake. Elaine is a witch specializing in sex magic, who believes her path to happiness lies in finding the right man, seducing him and pleasing him in every way. On paper, she’s a patriarchy’s dream come true. But when these lustful men inevitably fall short—as they all must, as patriarchy itself is built on a lie—she gets rid of them, permanently. Poor, unfulfilled Elaine.

The Love Witch is Biller’s own magic trick, casting its spell over us with its color, its throwback ‘70s sexploitation vibe and its razor-sharp message we don’t notice until the blade has slid, quietly, between our ribs and stabbed us in the heart. Metaphorically.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXjDEDYlu7c

I, Daniel Blake

Daniel Blake has spent a lifetime working with his hands, supporting a modest but pleasant life for himself and his late wife. After a heart attack, his doctors tell him he’s not fit to return to work—yet with a simple questionnaire (and absent any input from his doctors), the government’s welfare bureau deems him too fit to qualify for disability.

He can apply for unemployment benefits, but only if he’s actively seeking work—work which, according to his doctors, he can’t accept. Caught in a catch-22, he must appeal to an unreachable “decision-maker” for relief—provided he can find a way, without income or assistance, to get by while he waits. Then Daniel meets a single mother in stuck in a similar situation and does his best to help her struggling family, even as his own situation grows worse.

Ken Loach’s drama won the Palm D’Or at Cannes but has received not much notice since then, at least outside the UK, perhaps because of the specific criticism of the British welfare bureaucracy at the heart of the story. But you don’t need much imagination to see how things can be as bad or worse for the many Daniel Blakes of this country.

Loach has been making socially conscious films about the struggles of the working and lower classes for longer than I’ve been alive. As with Jenkins and Moonlight, it’s clear Loach knows this world, these people and their struggles, and knows how to tell their particular stories in a simple yet powerful, moving and universal way.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4KbJLpu7yo

The Handmaiden

Apologies if you’re getting whiplash. I went from a highly stylized Love Witch to a pared-down I, Daniel Blake. Now I’m going to swing back the other way with Park Chan-Wook’s sensual, sensuous The Handmaiden.

As has been the case in years prior, the 10th (really, 11th) and final spot on my list could have gone to a number of worthy films, and almost did—I began writing up another film here before realizing there’s no way I could round out 2016 without giving The Handmaiden its due. (Sorry, Elle!)

The story of The Handmaiden is...too complex to go into here, frankly. There’s a con man and his female accomplice. There’s a rich heiress and her controlling uncle. Some of them are Japanese occupiers; others native Koreans. Oh, ands there’s a library of dirty, dirty books.

Cons are conned, crosses are doubled, no one is quite who they pretend to be and everyone is up to something. In the end, something real is found and, through it, freedom is won.

The Handmaiden is a thriller as elegant as it is perverse. Every change in perspective brings new meaning to all that’s come before. Every twist revealed is a delight. Park Chan-Wook is at the top of his game.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4Z5jfjxdvQ

Honorable Mentions & More

Wait, don’t get up. There’s more!

First, let’s start with honorable mentions that you already know are great:

Paul Verhoeven’s psychological thriller Elle, which features Isabelle Huppert in one of my favorite performances of the year, or maybe ever.

Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival, which goes on my list of essential smart science fiction, along with Gattaca, Ex Machina, Primer and Under the Skin, to name a few.

Sing Street, one of the most joyful films of the year. A misfit ‘80s Irish teen starts a band so he can cast the girl he likes in their highly creative music videos. From John Carney, the filmmaker behind the equally charming Once.

Nicolas Winding Refn’s mad look at fashion, envy and unchecked ambition (kind of the anti-La La Land?), The Neon Demon.

Next, films that might have been off your radar but are well worth seeking out:

Benjamin Dickinson’s Creative Control, a very-near-future sci-fi film about augmented reality, and the augmented lives we all want to pretend we’re living (at least on Instagram). A must-see for all my friends in media, marketing or technology.

Elizabeth Wood’s directorial debut, White Girl, in which a New York City undergrad moves to Queens, dates her local corner drug dealer and learns first hand the limits of her privilege in both their lives.

Taika Waititi’s The Hunt for the Wilderpeople, a reluctant buddy comedy/coming-of-age film that’s way more fun than it has any right to be.

Todd Solondz’s Weiner-Dog, a dark, dark comedy stringing together four tales of unhappy people, all of whom at one point own the same sad canine. Or, for you hard-core cineastes: Au Hasard Dachshund.

American Honey, Andrea Arnold’s sprawling tale of wayward youth living for the moment across a vast swath of America, high and low.

The animated documentaries Tower, which looks back on America’s first campus mass shooting in a surprisingly moving way, and Nuts!, which is the rare doc with an unreliable narrator, which fits the unreliable (Trump-like) conman at the center of its story.

Julian Rosefeldt’s Manifesto, which I was fortunate enough to experience as a multi-screen installation at the Park Avenue Armory but has been adapted (rather successfully, it seems) as a traditional film. Either way, Cate Blanchett takes on a dozen different guises in a sequence of stunning short films, the text of each comprised of bits of famous manifestos, from Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto to Jim Jarmusch’s Golden Rules of Filmmaking.

And last, because the horror genre in near and dear to my heart, here’s #4-#10 on my year’s best horror list. (The top 3 being Darling, The Witch and The Love Witch.)

The Invitation

Green Room

Demon

Under the Shadow

Train to Busan

10 Cloverfield Lane

Southbound

Honorable mention: the “Happy Father’s Day” segment of Holidays

Past years: 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008

#movies bestof2016 #darling #moonlight #jackie #oj made in america #the witch #the love witch #the lobster #hail caesar #13th #i daniel blake #the handmaiden

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mcnieves · 8 years ago

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Bates Motel Season 5 Episode 2

“The Convergence of the Twain” (SPOILER ALERT) Norman Bates driving to prison to confront Alex Romero after the revelation that he sent Jim Blackwell to kill him. Let’s just say it’s not a pleasant conversation. Romero wants Norman dead. Norman wants Romero dead. A five-year stint for perjury is the only thing that’s stopping one of them from killing the other one. Romero threatens him directly, saying, “I’m coming for you when you least expect it. So don’t get too cozy up in that house all by yourself.” I kind of love Angry Romero, a man willing to do anything to avenge the death of his soulmate, who’s getting even harder in prison while he plans his revenge.

We get a very brief moment with Dylan (Max Thieriot) and Emma this week, enough just to remind us that Caleb is on his way to White Pine Bay, looking for Norma. It will be interesting to see how Dylan and Emma work back into the narrative, but that will have to wait for another episode. This one is about Caleb finding out his sister is dead, then discovering the shocking truth about her remains. His first hint, after breaking into the house, is finding a book called The Lost Art of Mummification. Not your average coffee table book.

While Caleb’s world is on the verge of falling apart, Norman is having a cup of coffee and stalking his new object of affection, Madeleine Loomis. Director Sarah Boyd and company do a wonderful job of the across-the-street shot here, allowing us to further realize how much Madeleine looks like Norma from a distance. She comes over to get some java and runs into Norman. Unexpectedly, she asks if she can set him up with a friend. “You’re really cute and nice,” she says. If she only knew his secrets.

We learn here that Madeleine’s husband is “David Davidson,” the gentleman from last week’s episode who was looking for a room at the Bates Motel to use by the hour. And we learn that his real name is Sam Loomis, a.k.a. the classic character from Psycho, a.k.a. the boyfriend to Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane. In Bates Motel, he’s reimagined as a philandering new resident who might as well have a tattoo that says “Marked For Death” on his forehead. It’s interesting to consider that Sam, being who he is in this world, makes Madeleine more attractive to Norman. He’s always had a savior complex, and so he’ll want to rescue Madeleine from her cheating husband.

In our first sighting of Norma, she’s studying French. Does this mean Norman will learn French subconsciously? It’s fascinating to consider what’s actually happening in every scene in which Norman and Norma “talk.” She questions where he was all morning, which means Norman himself is having doubts about his aggro conversation with Romero. Perhaps more crucially, he’s wondering about his own feelings for Romero and those of his dead mother, interrogating her about them.

They’re interrupted by Chick, who can hear Norman talking to himself through the front door. (Farmiga gets a great line in response: “Pretending to be dead isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be!”) Meanwhile, Chick looks like unhinged wearing something that resembles fur shoulder pads and a homemade hat. He’d be fired from a renaissance fair for being too eccentric. Fashion choices aside, he has a business proposition for Norman: He’ll bring him animal corpses to mummify and they’ll split the profits from selling them. What could possibly go wrong?

While Caleb learns about his sister’s death from a hotel clerk, Sam arrives to have a man-to-man conversation with Norman before their double date. He needs to “see what kind of a man you are.” We learn exactly what kind of a man Sam is, as he threatens to kick Norman’s ass if he drops a dime on him. What a charmer. He has no idea he’s talking to a serial killer — and his chances of surviving the season just dropped to zero.

Before the big date, Norman has a few great moments with Norma, who’s taken up smoking and answering her son’s protestations with her best line of the week: “I’m dead. I’m bored. It’s not like it’s going to kill me.” He lies to Norma, telling her that he’s going to a meeting that night, and heads on his big date.

The date itself goes surprisingly well. One of the brilliant aspects of Highmore’s performance is how he can play the charming side of Norman as well, not turning him into the caricature of a serial killer that he could have easily become. Madeleine clearly likes Norman, smiling at him enough that he soon “encounters” his mother in the bathroom. They fight, and, again, it’s important to consider the mental aspects of what’s happening here. Norman is attracted to Madeleine, so Norman manifests Norma to protect himself from the emotions and sexual attraction flooding in. But he can’t. Norma berates him further: “She’s like me, but ten years younger. Are you gonna be one of those guys?” He essentially breaks himself, switching over to the Norma side of his personality.

That’s who walks into a bar at the end of the episode — “Norma.” Sure, it looks to everyone else like Norman, but Highmore’s slightly feminine body language is the first hint that he’s “switched.” Then we see Norma in the mirror and she tells the bartender, “I’m a caretaker for a mentally-ill person.”

While “Norma” has a drink, Chick runs into Caleb in a bar. They fight and Chick realizes that Caleb just found out about his sister, and that Caleb knows Norma wouldn’t kill herself. He knows that Norman was responsible. Caleb rushes to Norma’s house, breaking in and screaming Norman’s name. He eventually makes it downstairs, where he stumbles upon a horrible sight: Norma’s mummified corpse propped up in a chair. Norman comes up behind him and knocks him out. Chick comes around the corner to see it all, including Norman in a wig. “Well, now you know, Chick. “I’m still alive.” The Convergence of the Twain

#batesmotel #a&e #theconvergenceofthetwain #psychologicalthriller #freediehighmore #normanbates #psycho #verafarmiga #normabates #alfredhitchcock #batesmotela&e #batesmotelfinalseason

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