#reminiscent of that drawing of jonathan i did a while back

[outletcrash]

ive been way too sleepy to draw anything detailed (like humans), so heres a fear toxin hallucination. 

horror art is very vibes-based so its great to just relax and do whatever on the canvas for an hour. 

[cynic-spirit]

Cold Heart Hot Coffee

Jonathan Pine x Reader

Genre : romance fluff

In the dim light of a deserted street, Jonathan Pine strides with a purposeful elegance that commands attention. His presence is magnetic, but there’s a coldness to it, a palpable distance that surrounds him like an impenetrable shield. His face is sharp, chiseled with high cheekbones and an angular jaw, reminiscent of a marble statue—handsome yet aloof. His piercing blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, hold a glacial intensity, reflecting a lifetime of calculated decisions and unspoken regrets. They scan the surroundings with a predatory awareness, missing nothing, but offering nothing in return.

Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugs his frame with an almost cruel precision, Jonathan Pine embodies the epitome of control. The suit is immaculate, devoid of any warmth or color, just like the man himself. A crisp white shirt peeks out from beneath the jacket, the only concession to a life that once knew simplicity. His tie, a deep shade of midnight, is knotted perfectly, as if any deviation would be a sign of weakness.

As he moves toward his sleek, black car parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp, his strides are long, confident, with an air of untouchable authority. Surrounding him are his bodyguards—hulking, silent figures who flank him like shadows. They defer to him in everything, their loyalty unquestioned, but there’s no camaraderie here, no brotherhood. They are tools, extensions of his will, nothing more.

Just before he reaches his car, one of his goons suddenly steps forward, blocking the path of a woman who approaches from the shadows. Jonathan’s sharp eyes narrow as he turns back, his expression hardening. But then, his gaze lands on the woman, and for a moment, something flickers in those cold blue eyes.

She is the most elegant woman he has ever seen. Her long black hair, braided neatly, cascades down to her hips, glistening in the low light. Her presence is striking, almost out of place in this world of shadows and danger. There’s a calm confidence about her, a quiet strength that draws him in.

"I just wanted to return this," she says softly, holding out a small, black wallet. Her voice is smooth, measured, with an undercurrent of sincerity. "You dropped it."

Jonathan Pine’s gaze flicks from her face to the wallet in her hand. For a moment, he hesitates—a rare occurrence for a man so accustomed to control. Slowly, he reaches out, his long fingers brushing against hers as he takes the wallet from her grasp.

"Thank you," he says, his voice low and controlled, yet there’s an edge to it, as if the words carry more weight than they should. He studies her for a second longer, noting the poise in her stance, the calmness in her eyes.

"You’re welcome," she replies, her gaze steady and unflinching. There’s no fear in her eyes, no hesitation, just a quiet understanding that lingers between them for a brief moment.

Jonathan nods curtly, slipping the wallet into his pocket. Without another word, he turns back towards his car, the encounter lingering in his mind longer than it should. The door is opened for him, and he slides into the leather interior, his expression once again a mask of indifference.

As the car pulls away, he glances back through the tinted windows, catching one last glimpse of the woman standing there. For the first time in a long while, something stirs within him—a feeling he quickly pushes aside as the world of shadows, deals, and the cold comfort of solitude pulls him back in.

As the car glides through the darkened streets, Jonathan Pine finds his thoughts drifting back to the woman. She was new—he was sure of it. In his world, everyone knew him, knew what he was capable of, and they acted accordingly. But she was different. The way she smiled at him, the kindness in her gesture when she returned his wallet—it didn’t scream fear, as it usually did with others. Instead, there was something else in her eyes. Concern.

Jonathan shifts in his seat, frowning slightly as he tries to recall the last time someone looked at him like that. Concern. It was an emotion foreign to him now, almost as distant as the idea of love. In his line of work, people feared him, respected him, envied him—but no one ever worried about him. No one ever cared.

He absently fingers the wallet in his pocket, the memory of her touch still lingering on his skin. Who was she? And why did she look at him like that? These thoughts, usually so easy to dismiss, cling to him, refusing to be ignored.

Jonathan Pine, the man who had closed his heart to the world, finds himself curious. For the first time in years, he wonders about someone outside his cold, calculated existence. And that, more than anything, unsettles him.

The following day, Jonathan Pine goes about his work with the same cold efficiency that has always defined him. Deals are made, orders are given, and threats are carried out without a second thought. But beneath the surface, his mind is elsewhere, haunted by the memory of the woman from the night before.

As the day draws to a close, he finds himself back on that same street, a decision made without conscious thought. It’s as if some invisible force has drawn him there, a curiosity he can’t quite shake. He walks with his usual confidence, but there’s a restlessness in his stride, a subtle unease that lingers just beneath the surface.

Eventually, he steps into a small barista tucked away on the corner, the kind of place he would never normally visit. The air inside is warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Jonathan orders a cup, black and bitter, just the way he likes it, and takes a seat by the window.

As he sips the coffee, his eyes scan the street outside, but his mind is elsewhere. He can’t take her face off his mind—the way she looked at him, the concern in her eyes. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in so long that it feels almost foreign, yet strangely comforting.

With each recollection of her face, a sense of peace washes over him, something he hasn’t felt in years. It’s unsettling, this calm, and yet he finds himself wanting more of it, needing it in a way he doesn’t fully understand. For a man who has spent his life shutting the world out, the realization that someone—a complete stranger—could have such an effect on him is both bewildering and undeniable.

As Jonathan Pine sips the last drop of his bitter coffee, the door to the barista swings open, and in walks the same woman from yesterday. His heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar reaction that he can’t quite explain. She doesn’t notice him, her attention fully on the barista behind the counter.

"Good morning!" she says warmly, her voice carrying a brightness that seems to fill the small space. Her smile is genuine, reaching her eyes as she greets the barista, who smiles back.

"Morning! What can I get for you today?" the barista asks, already preparing her usual order.

"Just a coffee to go, please," she replies with a friendly tone. "And one of those blueberry muffins. They smell amazing."

The barista chuckles, nodding as he grabs a muffin from the display. "Fresh out of the oven. You picked the right day."

She laughs softly, a sound that sends a strange, warm feeling through Jonathan’s chest. "Perfect timing, then."

The barista hands her the coffee and muffin, and she thanks him sweetly. "Thanks so much. Have a great day!"

"You too!" the barista responds with a nod as she turns to leave.

Jonathan watches her go, his eyes following her every movement until she’s out of sight. A rare, soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, something almost foreign to him. There’s something about her—something that pulls at him in a way he can’t ignore.

Once she’s gone, Jonathan rises from his seat and approaches the counter. The barista looks up, mildly surprised to see him lingering.

"Excuse me," Jonathan begins, his voice calm and composed, "the woman who just left—do you know anything about her?"

The barista nods, leaning slightly on the counter. "Yeah, she’s new around here. Started coming in every morning recently. She’s a professor at the college nearby, teaches linguistics. Real smart—already has a PhD at 24."

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "That young?"

"Yeah," the barista continues, clearly impressed. "Students love her, too. She’s got this way of connecting with people, you know? Kind of like how she is here—always polite, always kind. Seems like the type who has her life together."

Jonathan absorbs this information, his curiosity deepening. "She’s just recently joined the college?"

"That’s right," the barista confirms. "Only been here a few weeks, I think. But she’s already making a name for herself."

Jonathan nods, thanking the barista with a brief word before turning to leave. As he steps out into the cool air, his mind races. A professor, intelligent, respected, and young. And she has a kindness about her that’s rare in his world.

For the first time in years, Jonathan Pine feels a sense of curiosity and purpose beyond the cold, relentless world he’s known. He still doesn’t know who she is entirely, but now he knows where to find her. And that, more than anything, sparks something new within him—something he’s not sure how to handle but can’t seem to resist.

Jonathan doesn’t press for more information from the barista, deciding to keep his curiosity to himself. But something about the woman lingers in his mind, compelling him to return to the barista every day at the same time. It becomes a ritual, something that both surprises and unsettles him, yet he can’t bring himself to stop.

Each day, she appears with something different—a new book in hand, its cover often worn from use, hinting at her love for reading. Other days, she carries a large stack of papers, meticulously organized, as if she’s grading assignments or preparing lectures. Sometimes, her load is even heavier, with a big bag of books slung over her shoulder, bulging with the weight of knowledge.

Jonathan watches her from a distance, never approaching, always careful to stay unnoticed. She’s oblivious to his presence, her focus entirely on her routine. Occasionally, she makes small talk with the barista, her voice light and friendly, discussing the latest book she’s reading or sharing a brief thought on the weather. Her conversations are short, simple, yet they reveal a warmth and intelligence that only deepen Jonathan’s curiosity.

Despite the passing days, she never seems to notice him, never turns in his direction. Jonathan, for his part, is content to observe, finding an odd sense of peace in this daily routine. He watches her, studying the way she moves, the way she interacts with the world around her. Each day, she becomes a little more fascinating to him, a little more captivating, even as she remains completely unaware of his quiet presence.

It’s another day, and Jonathan Pine is seated at his usual spot in the barista, waiting. The familiarity of this routine has become strangely comforting, though he would never admit it to himself. He’s waiting for her—watching the door, anticipating her arrival.

When she finally enters, he feels a subtle rush of relief. As usual, she carries a book in hand, but today, he can clearly see the title: 1001 Arabian Nights. The sight of it brings a small smile to his lips. There’s something fitting about her reading that particular book—a collection of tales filled with mystery, intrigue, and hidden depths, much like her.

She steps up to the counter to place her order, her focus entirely on the barista. Jonathan watches her closely, every movement, every gesture, ingrained in his memory. He’s learned her habits, her rhythms, how she always tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she speaks, how she always waits patiently for her turn.

But today, something shifts. A man steps into line behind her—a man Jonathan immediately clocks as trouble. His instincts, honed from years of dealing with the worst of humanity, prick at the edges of his awareness. The man’s posture, his eyes, the way he leans in just a little too close—all signs that something is about to happen.

And then it does.

The man’s hand moves, quick and deliberate, touching her in a way that makes Jonathan’s blood boil. His hand grazes her ass in a lewd, possessive gesture, and Jonathan’s angel—because that’s how he’s come to think of her—spins around, her face a mixture of shock and anger.

"Hey!" she yells, her voice sharp, cutting through the air.

The sound of her distress snaps something inside Jonathan. Rage, hot and fierce, floods his veins, and without thinking, he’s on his feet. The world narrows to a single point of focus: the man who dared to touch her. Murderous intent pulses through him, his vision tunneling as he moves with a speed and purpose that leaves no room for hesitation.

This man—this intruder—has made the gravest of mistakes. And Jonathan Pine is about to make sure he never forgets it.

Jonathan gets up without a second thought, his movements swift and decisive. The coffee he’s been nursing is forgotten, left abandoned on the table as he closes the distance between himself and the man who dared to lay a hand on her. His hand shoots out, grabbing the man by the collar, yanking him back with a force that nearly lifts him off the ground.

The man stumbles, his eyes widening in fear as he finds himself face to face with Jonathan Pine. The recognition is instant. The color drains from his face, and any bravado he might have had evaporates in an instant.

"You know me, don’t you?" Jonathan’s voice is low and dangerous, a growl that sends a shiver down the man’s spine.

The man’s eyes dart around, desperate for an escape, but there’s none to be found. He nods frantically, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Y-Yes, Mr. Pine… I-I didn’t know… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Please, I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear!"

Jonathan’s grip tightens on the man’s collar, pulling him closer until their faces are mere inches apart. "You didn’t mean anything by it?" he echoes, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can just put your hands on anyone you like, without consequences?"

The man shakes his head vigorously, his terror palpable. "No, no, I swear, it won’t happen again! Please, forgive me… I didn’t know she was…"

Jonathan cuts him off with a sharp glare. "You didn’t know, and now you do. Pray that I never see your face again."

The man nods, trembling as Jonathan finally releases him, shoving him back with enough force to send him stumbling. He stammers out more apologies, practically tripping over himself as he scrambles to get away.

Jonathan watches him go, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. But as the man disappears from sight, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His gaze shifts to the woman, who’s watching the scene with wide eyes. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Jonathan finds himself wondering if she’ll finally notice him—not as a shadow, but as someone real.

She studies Jonathan for a moment, her brow furrowing as a hint of recognition flickers in her eyes. “You look familiar,” she says slowly, tilting her head slightly. “Do I know you?”

Before he can respond, the barista, who has been quietly observing the exchange, leans in, a nervous look crossing his face. “Uh, don’t you know who he is…?” he starts, glancing between them with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

But Jonathan shoots him a steely gaze that sends a clear message: Shut it. The barista falters, closing his mouth and taking a step back, sensing the tension in the air.

Jonathan’s attention shifts back to the woman standing before him. “You returned my wallet the other day,” he finally says, his voice low and smooth, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Her expression shifts, the recognition deepening. “Oh! That was you?” She seems surprised, her eyes widening. “I didn’t realize. I didnt remember your face clearly… I do now”

Jonathan nods, his gaze unwavering as he studies her reaction. “Most people wouldn’t bother. But you did.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that cuts through the usual bravado he wears like armor.

She blushes slightly, her cheeks tinged with pink as she processes his words. “I just believe in doing the right thing,” she replies, a hint of pride in her voice. “It was an easy decision.”

“Easy for you, maybe,” he counters, his smile fading slightly. “Most wouldn’t have cared.”

She meets his gaze, her expression earnest. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t recognize you,” she says softly. “I’m used to people being… different.”

Jonathan feels a flicker of something in that moment—an understanding that transcends their worlds. “You’re different too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her kindness hanging between them.

“Maybe that’s why we’re having this conversation,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “You’ve got my attention now, Mr. Pine.”

“Jonathan,” he corrects, a slight grin breaking through the intensity of the moment. “Just Jonathan.”

The barista stands awkwardly in the background, sensing that he’s witnessing something significant. Jonathan, for the first time in years, feels seen—not as the feared mobster, but as someone capable of connection, vulnerability, and perhaps, a chance at something more.

“Or how about just ‘John’ or ‘Nathan’?” she teases, a playful smile breaking across her face. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and for a moment, the weight of their surroundings fades away, leaving just the two of them in this shared moment.

Jonathan feels a rush of warmth flush through him—an unfamiliar feeling that he suddenly wonders if it could be love. It has always been MR. Pine or Sir or Boss for him. Rarely even Jonathan and here she was, nicknaming him five minutes into the conversation. He felt like a human again. It’s bewildering and thrilling all at once, an emotion he hasn’t dared to embrace in years.

“Whatever you want to call me, angel,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, a hint of amusement in his tone. The term slips out effortlessly, and he realizes how fitting it feels.

Her laughter dances in the air, light and genuine. “Angel? That’s quite a title you’re giving yourself, don’t you think?”

He smirks, leaning slightly closer, the space between them charged with an electric energy. “I only give titles to those who deserve them. You’ve definitely earned it.”

She blinks, caught off guard by his directness, her expression softening. “Well, thank you, Mr. Pine—or Jonathan—whatever you prefer,” she says, her voice teasing yet sincere.

“Jonathan,” he clarifies again, his heart racing at the way her words seem to wrap around him. “But you can call me John Nathan too if you like.”

“I'll save that for special occassions, for now , Jonathan it is.” She smiles, and in that moment, Jonathan feels a sense of connection that makes the chaotic world outside seem distant and irrelevant.

For a fleeting moment, he lets himself believe that perhaps he can be more than just the monster he’s been painted as. With her laughter ringing in his ears and her warmth igniting something deep within him, Jonathan Pine realizes he’s standing on the precipice of something new—and he’s willing to take the leap.

“I have to leave now; I have a class to teach,” she says, her tone shifting to one of reluctant farewell. There’s a hint of regret in her voice, as if she, too, wishes this moment could last just a little longer.

Jonathan nods, feeling a pang of disappointment. “Of course. Can’t keep your students waiting,” he replies, forcing a casual tone despite the desire to hold on to her presence.

She steps back, looking up at him with a smile that warms his chest. “But I’ll see you around, right?”

“Definitely,” he assures her, a sense of hope sparking within him. “I’ll be here.”

As she turns to leave, Jonathan watches her go, the sound of her footsteps fading into the background noise of the barista. For the first time in ages, he feels something stir inside him—a mix of excitement and anticipation. This chance encounter has shifted something within him, igniting a curiosity he never expected to feel.

“See you soon, angel,” he calls after her, a playful grin on his face, and for a moment, he’s left wondering how someone so ordinary could make him feel so alive.

Throughout the day, Jonathan Pine’s mood was surprisingly good—a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. He moved through the dimly lit offices of his operation with an air of calmness that puzzled his associates. They exchanged glances, unsure of how to interpret this change in him.

“Is he actually smiling?” one of them whispered, disbelief etched across his face.

“I don’t know, but it’s creeping me out,” another replied, glancing at Jonathan, who was poring over paperwork with a focused but relaxed expression.

Typically, Jonathan was a storm—intense, focused, and often simmering with tension. But today, there was a lightness about him, a subtle ease in his posture as he navigated through meetings and discussions, even offering a chuckle at a joke that would usually elicit only a stern glare.

“Hey, boss,” one of his closest associates ventured cautiously, stepping into Jonathan’s office. “Everything okay? You seem… different.”

Jonathan looked up, a genuine smile breaking through. “Everything’s fine. Just a good day,” he replied, surprising himself with the truth of his words.

“Good day? For you?” The associate raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You must’ve hit your head.”

Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. “No, really. I just had a good conversation with someone. That’s all.”

His associate blinked, trying to process this new side of Jonathan. “You’re not talking about…?”

“Yeah, I am,” Jonathan admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. The thought of her made him feel almost buoyant, and he relished the warmth spreading through him.

As the day went on, his associates couldn’t shake their confusion. They watched as Jonathan handled business matters with a surprising lightness, even breaking into a few rare smiles. It was a welcome change, but one they couldn’t quite reconcile with the man they knew—the ruthless mobster who thrived on control and power.

“Something’s definitely off,” one of them muttered, eyeing Jonathan as he left the office, still wearing that enigmatic smile.

But Jonathan didn’t care about their confusion. He felt more at ease than he had in years, and as he went about his day, he realized that this newfound sense of calm was tied to the unexpected connection he had forged. It was a reminder that even in his dark world, a flicker of light could break through, and it made him feel more human than he had in a long time.

The following day, Jonathan finds himself at the barista, his usual spot, eagerly waiting for her. Despite the mountain of contracts piled up on his desk, he couldn’t bear the thought of missing her, even if it’s just for five minutes.

With a file in hand, he sits at a corner table, trying to focus on the documents in front of him. The file is filled with figures and names, transactions information that demand his attention, but his mind keeps drifting back to the door. He glances up, scanning the entrance every few moments, heart racing at the prospect of seeing her again.

As he flips through the pages of the file, he finds himself switching between the work that feels increasingly tedious and the anticipation building inside him. The aroma of coffee fills the air, but it’s her presence he craves more than anything else.

The minutes stretch on, and he can feel the tension in the air—his colleagues would laugh at how anxious he’s become, but he can’t help it. There’s something about her that has seeped into his consciousness, and he’s desperate to experience that connection again.

Just as he begins to lose himself in the paperwork, he’s startled by a cheerful voice breaking through his concentration. “Good morning!”

Jonathan looks up, surprised to find his angel standing near his table, a warm smile lighting up her face. In her hands, she holds a coffee and a muffin, and his heart skips a beat at the sight of her.

“Morning,” he replies, a smile breaking across his face as he sets the file aside. “You’re here!”

“Of course! I couldn’t resist stopping by,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I thought you might like some company. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” he says, feeling a rush of warmth at her thoughtfulness. In that moment, all the stress of his work fades away, replaced by the simple joy of being in her presence.

As she settles into the chair across from him, he realizes that no matter how busy he is, sharing these moments with her makes everything worthwhile.

“Don’t you have a class today?” Jonathan asks, raising an eyebrow as she takes a seat.

She shakes her head, a playful smile on her lips. “No, it’s a little later. I thought I’d talk to my savior for some time.”

“Savior?” he repeats, a chuckle escaping him. “I just stood up for you. I wouldn’t say I’m a savior.”

She leans in, her expression teasing. “Oh, come on! You saved me from that creep yesterday. I think that qualifies.”

Jonathan shrugs, trying to play it cool, but the compliment makes him feel something warm in his chest. “It was nothing, really.”

“Nothing? It was a big deal to me,” she insists, her tone earnest. “You were brave. Not many would have done that.”

“I guess I just couldn’t stand by and let it happen,” he replies, looking into her eyes. “But it’s nice to know it meant something to you.”

“It meant a lot,” she says softly, her smile widening. “So, thank you again, Jonathan. I really appreciate it.”

He nods, feeling a rush of happiness at her words. “Anytime, angel. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, her gaze lingering on him. “So, what else have you been up to besides saving damsels in distress?”

“Just the usual—work, paperwork, trying to stay out of trouble,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she laughs lightly. “But I think you need more adventure in your life.”

“Adventure, huh?” he muses, a smirk playing at his lips. “What do you suggest?”

“Maybe you could join me for a book club or something,” she suggests, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “You might learn a thing or two about storytelling.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Book club? I didn’t take you for a book club type.”

She feigns a look of offense. “Hey, I can be fun! Besides, it could be a good distraction from your serious life.”

He laughs, the sound genuine and light. “Alright, I’ll consider it. But only if you promise to tell me all about 1001 Arabian Nights afterward.”

“Deal!” she says, grinning at him. “But only if you promise to read it.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replies, feeling the weight of his work lift just a little in her presence. “Now, how about that muffin?”

“I am willing to share. Do you mind?” she asks, holding out her muffin with a bright smile.

Jonathan is momentarily taken aback, surprise flickering across his face. He hesitates for a moment, struck by the simplicity and sincerity of her offer. How long has it been since anyone ever shared something with him? Even with the most expensive foods and wines he’s indulged in, he never felt such warmth or connection. Here she is, offering her small muffin without a second thought, and it feels like a gesture that transcends the mundane.

The muffin looks soft and inviting, and the thought of her sharing it with him makes something shift within him. It’s not just about the food; it’s the idea that she wants to include him in her moment, to connect over something so simple yet meaningful.

Jonathan swallows hard, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through him, a feeling he can’t quite place. “I’ll get another spoon,” he finally says, a grin breaking through as he rises from his chair. It’s a small concession, but it feels significant—a step towards something more than just casual conversation.

As he walks to the counter, he can’t help but glance back at her, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. Sharing this muffin feels like sharing a piece of their lives, and he finds himself eager to indulge in both the food and the connection that comes with it.

As they dig into the muffin, the atmosphere around them feels relaxed and easy.

“So, how often do you come here?” she asks, taking a bite and savoring the flavor.

“Not too often,” he replies, glancing at her. “Just whenever I need a break from… well, everything.”

She nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you work around here?”

“Yeah, a little ways down the road,” he says casually.

“What do you do?” she inquires, tilting her head slightly. “You seem like a corporate person.”

Jonathan chuckles softly, enjoying the way she’s trying to piece him together. “I’m in business,” he replies, keeping it vague.

“Just ‘in business’?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds a bit mysterious.”

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “I like to keep things interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” she says, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, do you enjoy it? Your work?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, looking down at the muffin crumbs on the table. “But I guess everyone has their days.”

“Fair enough,” she replies, her voice warm and understanding. “It’s nice to have a change of pace now and then, right?”

“Definitely,” Jonathan agrees, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He likes being treated as normal for a change, free from the weight of his usual life. “And talking to you makes it even better.”

She smiles at that, her expression brightening. “I’m glad to hear it. I enjoy our little chats.”

“Me too,” he says, the truth of his words lingering in the air between them.

“Are you new here?” Jonathan asks, curious.

“Yes, I moved in a few weeks ago,” she replies, her tone light. “I’ve made two friends so far.”

“Just two?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, and one of them is you,” she says, pointing her spoon at him with a playful grin.

Jonathan is surprised. How could an angel like her be lonely? “Why just two? What happened?”

She chuckles softly, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “I get nervous easily,” she admits, looking down at her coffee. “Meeting new people can be intimidating for me.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” he replies, genuinely intrigued. “You seem so confident.”

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s all a front, I guess. I try to put myself out there, but it doesn’t always work out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jonathan says, leaning forward slightly. “Everyone has their moments. I can relate more than you might think.”

“Really?” she asks, looking up at him with curiosity.

“Yeah,” he nods, a faint smile on his face. “Even people who seem put together have their struggles. It’s not always easy to be social, especially in a new place.”

“I appreciate that,” she replies, her voice warm. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

“Definitely not,” Jonathan assures her, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them. “You’re not alone in this.”

“Thanks, Jonathan,” she says, her smile genuine. “It really means a lot.”

“Why? How many people do you know, Jonathan?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.

Jonathan pauses for a moment, the question weighing on him. “I know more people than I desire to,” he replies, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

She frowns slightly, sensing the shift in his mood. “What do you mean?”

He leans back in his chair, contemplating how to express what’s been buried inside him for so long. “In my line of work, you meet a lot of people. Some are good, some not so much. But honestly, most of them are just… acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances?” she echoes, tilting her head. “That sounds lonely.”

“It can be,” he admits, looking down at the remnants of the muffin on the table. “It’s like having a lot of connections but not really knowing anyone. It’s all surface-level stuff, you know? Sometimes I wish I had fewer people around but deeper connections.”

She nods, her expression softening. “I get that. It’s hard to find real friendships amidst all the noise.”

“Exactly,” he replies, looking up to meet her gaze. “And that’s why our conversations mean so much to me. It feels… different.”

“Different how?” she asks, her interest genuinely piqued.

“More genuine,” he explains, his voice steady. “I feel like I can actually talk to you without all the pretense. You’re easy to talk to.”

Her smile returns, and it brings a warmth to the air around them. “I feel the same way, Jonathan. It’s refreshing.”

“Good,” he says, a small smile creeping back onto his face. “I was worried I’d scared you off with all the business talk.”

“Not at all! I actually enjoy hearing about it. It gives me a glimpse into your world,” she replies. “And I’m glad you’re opening up to me.”

Jonathan’s heart swells at her words, feeling a connection growing between them that he hadn’t expected. “Thanks for listening. It’s nice to share a bit of what’s on my mind.”

“Anytime,” she says softly, her eyes reflecting a genuine understanding that reassures him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Oh no, it’s time! I have to go to my class,” she says, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Already?” Jonathan replies, trying to hide his disappointment. “I was just starting to enjoy our conversation.”

She laughs lightly, gathering her things. “Me too! But wait, I forgot to pay for this muffin.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jonathan says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll get it.”

“You’re spoiling me, Mr. Pine,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I might just take advantage of you.”

“Believe me, angel,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I wouldn’t mind that even a bit—as long as it’s you.”

A warmth spreads through him as he speaks, and he realizes just how genuine his feelings are. It’s a simple exchange, yet it feels charged with a connection that transcends the ordinary.

She meets his gaze, her smile softening as if she senses the shift in the air. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice sincere. “You’ve brought something into my life that I didn’t know I was missing.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, and Jonathan feels a rush of affection for her, the warmth blooming inside him like a gentle fire. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time, and it fills him with hope.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, her tone playful yet sincere. “And I’ll see you soon?”

“Count on it,” he replies, feeling a mixture of excitement and longing as she stands to leave.

As she walks away, Jonathan can’t help but smile, the warmth of their interaction lingering in his chest. It’s a feeling he never expected to find, and he finds himself looking forward to their next meeting, eager to see where this connection might lead.

The barista watches the interaction between Jonathan and the woman with a mix of awe and curiosity. He can hardly believe his eyes as he observes the warmth and chemistry that crackles between them. It’s an unusual sight to see the usually stoic mobster display such genuine emotion, and he can’t help but wonder what has changed.

As she leaves, Jonathan’s expression shifts, a hint of apprehension clouding his features. The barista notices the way Jonathan’s gaze flickers toward him, almost as if he’s worried the barista might reveal his true identity to the woman. The tension hangs in the air, and the barista swallows thickly, sensing the weight of unspoken secrets lingering between them.

Jonathan gets up, his demeanor shifting from relaxed to alert as he approaches the counter. The barista straightens, feeling a mix of intimidation and curiosity. He can sense that something significant has happened, and he’s unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The barista knows that he’s in the presence of someone powerful, and as Jonathan draws closer, he feels the gravity of the moment pressing down on him.

“You know me, don’t you… Jamie?” Jonathan asks, glancing at the barista's name tag.

Jamie looks up, surprise evident in his eyes. “Uh, yes, Mr. Pine,” he replies, his voice a bit shaky.

Jonathan steps closer, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. “I hope you’re not thinking about sharing anything from today with anyone,” he warns, his tone low but firm.

“No, no, of course not!” Jamie quickly assures him, raising his hands defensively. “I wouldn’t say anything. I promise.”

Jonathan studies him for a moment, assessing the sincerity in Jamie’s eyes. “Good. It’s important to me that my life stays out of the spotlight, especially with… certain people.”

Jamie nods, a nervous tremor in his voice. “I get it Mr Pine Sir, I wont say anything.”

Jonathan's gaze sharpens, his expression unwavering. “I don’t like people meddling and poking their noses where they shouldn’t,” he warns, his voice low and laced with threat.

“Absolutely,” Jamie replies, swallowing hard, fear flickering in his eyes. He can feel the weight of Jonathan’s presence pressing down on him. This was Jonathan Pine—the man behind the myth—and Jamie understands all too well the importance of keeping his mouth shut.

“Good,” Jonathan says, his tone settling slightly but still carrying an edge. “And henceforth, you aren’t charging her for the coffee and muffin—or anything, got it?”

Jamie’s eyes widen, fear mixing with confusion. “Um, yes, of course, Mr. Pine. I won’t charge her for anything. You have my word.”

Jonathan nods, satisfied, but the intensity in his gaze remains. “Make sure it stays that way. I’ll be watching.”

“Absolutely,” Jamie replies quickly, feeling a chill run down his spine as Jonathan turns and strides away, the weight of the encounter lingering in the air.

As the sun begins to set, she walks down the street, her mind drifting back to her earlier conversation with Jonathan. Just then, she spots her sister Maya approaching, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Maya!” she calls out, waving enthusiastically.

“Hey there!” Maya replies, pulling her sister into a quick hug. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but good! I had a really interesting class,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “And I met someone… well, let’s just say he’s not your typical guy.”

“Oh? Do tell!” Maya nudges her playfully. “What’s he like?”

“Umm, he’s a bit mysterious,” she admits, biting her lip as she considers how to describe Jonathan. “But there’s something about him. He’s really different from anyone I’ve met.”

Maya raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Different how? Is he charming? Handsome?”

“Definitely both,” she replies, blushing slightly. “But there’s a depth to him, like he’s got a lot going on beneath the surface.”

Maya nods knowingly. “I get that. You know, it’s hard to find someone who isn’t just about surface-level stuff. But you have to be careful with mysterious types. They can have secrets.”

“I know,” she says, glancing away for a moment. “But I feel like I can trust him. It’s weird.”

“Trust your instincts, sis,” Maya advises, her tone serious. “But I’m really curious to meet this guy. Maybe we can all hang out together sometime?”

“Yeah, that would be fun! I’d like you to meet him,” she replies, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Maya asks, steering the conversation. “I thought we could grab dinner and catch up. I’ve missed our sister time!”

“Sounds perfect!” she exclaims, her heart warming at the idea. “I can’t wait to hear all about your work and your little one.”

“Oh, he’s growing so fast!” Maya says, her eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you some new pictures. But first, let’s find a cozy spot for dinner. I’m starving!”

“Me too! Let’s go,” she replies, linking her arm with Maya’s as they head off, the sisters laughing and chatting as they walk together into the evening.

The two sisters sit outside an ice cream shop, enjoying their treats as the evening sun casts a warm glow around them. “This is the best mint chocolate chip I’ve ever had!” she exclaims, savoring another bite.

“I knew you’d love it!” Maya replies, grinning as she licks her cone. “So, are you going to tell me more about this mysterious guy? Is he really as charming as you say?”

Meanwhile, inside a nearby building, Jonathan sits at a long conference table, surrounded by his associates. His irritation is palpable as he listens to their discussions, his mind wandering far from the meeting. He can’t shake the feeling of missing his angel—the easy laughter, the warmth in her gaze.

As the meeting finally wraps up, Jonathan exhales sharply, relief washing over him. He stands, ready to escape the suffocating atmosphere, and strides to the window. His eyes scan the street below, and suddenly, he spots her.

There she is, sharing a laugh with another woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to her—probably her sister. A smile breaks across Jonathan’s lips, the sight bringing a rush of warmth to his chest. He watches them, the way her face lights up with joy, and he can’t help but feel a sense of peace knowing she’s enjoying herself.

For a moment, the irritation of the meeting fades away, replaced by the simple pleasure of watching his angel revel in the moment, blissfully unaware of the effect she has on him.

As he watches them laugh and enjoy their ice cream, a mix of longing and dread fills him.

part 2

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[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

*

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

*

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

      After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

        "As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

        "What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

        "Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

        Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

        "But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

        Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

        "If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

        "And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

        "Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

        "In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

        Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

        "Promise me."

        It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

        Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

        "You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

        Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

        "Done."

        She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

        Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

        "It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

        "Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

        He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

        Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

        "Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

        "My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal        

         Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

         "When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"        

         "It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"        

         Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.        

         "Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"        

         Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.        

         "I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:       

          'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

        Claire reached for her glass again and drank.        

         "What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida        

         "How did you react to that?"        

         "Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

         Claire paused for a moment, then she went on:                  "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘          I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.”                  Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.        

         "Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."        

         "How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?”          "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it."                   "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?"          "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio         Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.        

         "Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific."          "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research.                  "You did your own research?"                  Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her.          "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week."          She paused for a moment.          "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue."          Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue.          "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials."          A fine smile appeared on Groide's face.          "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes."          Claire took a deep breath.          "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.”          To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels          "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."          Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.          "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."          "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."        

         "Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"          "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.          "Certainly."          He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

PART THREE: REMINISCENCE

Story Summary:  They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they’re reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they’ve both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan’s side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

TW for bullying & choking

Part One / Part Two

Word count: 4427

When her alarm went off the next morning, Elianna awoke with an inspiring vigor for the day, doing her makeup and getting dressed in record time. She was excited actually to start working in a place that needed her; the main reason she had decided to move her career to Gotham—besides Jonathan, of course—was the dire and consistent need of psychiatrists to treat and diagnose the high concentration of criminals with psychological disorders in the city. As crude as it sounded, abnormal psychology had always been her favorite field of study, and this city had the best chance of taking her career where she wanted it to be.

She greeted the parking guard with an excited grin, flashing her new badge, to which he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up and raised the gate to let her in. In a few short minutes, she entered into the lobby of the asylum, picked up her schedule from the friendly secretary, and as she moved toward the stairs, she did a quick scan of the lobby for her friend, and with no sign of him she headed up to her office.

A glance over her itinerary for the week told her that it would be filled with relatively low profile sessions brought to her office for her to speak with. Makes sense; I would probably ease in a new hire too, she thought to herself. However, there was one at the end of the week that caught her attention. A Victor Zsasz, who she would be speaking to in a secure room rather than in her office. A small note next to that slot further stated that there would be two guards accompanying her on the assignment rather than one; she couldn’t be sure if it was that note or something subconscious, but something about that name gave Elianna a sinking feeling of apprehension in her stomach that she found surprisingly liberating.

This sort of high profile patient had been exactly what she had secretly been hoping for in moving to the city. As satisfying as it was to help those in need, such as the people who had come to her office in California, this felt right, and she found herself both terrified and excited for that particular session.

In the meantime, she decided to prepare for the four appointments she had scheduled that day. They were all scheduled for that morning, leaving her afternoon free, presumably for paperwork. In the end, all four seem to go by very quickly, and Elianna easily built a rapport with all of them. Technically speaking, she didn’t truly believe that any of them needed to be in the facility. In this city, having a touch of anxiety was probably better than not. Of course, they wouldn’t have been admitted for illegitimate reasons, so she ultimately decided that she simply didn’t know them well enough to have reached the root of the problem yet.

Looking at the clock, Elianna saw that it was 1 PM and decided to take a break before filling out all of her paperwork to meet a few of her coworkers, and hopefully, finally, see Jonathan.

She found herself chatting with a Doctor Harleen Quinzel, a bubbly blonde with a Jersey accent who insisted that El call her “Harley.” The redhead quickly decided that she liked Doctor Quinzel, even if she seemed a bit quirky.

“I can’t believe they gave you that corner office with the window; it is to die for!” The blonde practically oozed with amicable jealously.

“I didn’t realize it was in such high demand.” El laughed and took a moment to admire her new friend’s good spirit, whose smile suddenly dropped a bit as she caught sight of something over El’s shoulder.

“Oh, act natural, don’t turn around,” Harley said in a hushed voice.

“What?” Elianna was confused and a little concerned. “What’s going on, why shouldn’t I—”

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Doctor Montgomery?” A familiar voice said from behind the woman in question, and she gave a slow smile—finally—to which Harley quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose either of you has seen her around.” El fought the urge to hug Jonathan when she turned around and finally saw his face.

“Jonathan, you jerk, the look on Harley’s face made me think it was someone important.” She teased, and then hugged him anyway, which he returned.

“Glad to see you still think of me as highly as you used to.” He said smugly as they separated; he seemed to have gotten better at handling physical contact, but she didn’t want to push it. Taking him in, she found herself slightly stunned. He looked…good.

“God, look at you, you’re not a stick anymore, you have color in your face and everything!” The redhead found herself smiling, so excited to see Jonathan—her Jonathan—for the first time in years. He returned her smile with a faint one of his own, telling her in its own way that he was also happy to see her, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, you two know each other?” Harley chimed in from behind Elianna, bringing her back to reality.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I’m sure you two already know each other, but we actually went to high school together; we were the only two that weren’t complete assholes.” She explained, still a little giddy from the belated reunion.

“I wouldn’t say that; we just had boundaries,” Jonathan teased under his breath and shook Harley’s hand. “Good to see you again, Doctor Quinzel.”

“Wait, I thought you just moved here?” The blonde inquired to Elianna after giving their colleague a courteous nod.

“I did, we actually come from this tiny hick town in Georgia. Not that you could tell, thank goodness.”

“Aw, that’s fun that you’re both here now! In that case, I’ll leave you to catch up; I have an appointment to get to anyway. You two have fun, I’ll see you later El,” Harley gave her new friend a tight hug and a peck on the cheek before sashaying off to where she needed to be.

“Affectionate girl,” Jonathan quipped amusedly.

“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart.” Elianna smiled. “By the way, what did you do to her? The look on her face when she saw you really had me nervous for a second.”

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I have some antisocial tendencies. As it turns out, it makes people nervous.”

“Yeah, most people. By the way, should we get to the part where you admit that you missed me, or are we just going to skip that altogether?” El teased, and Jonathan stood for a moment just looking at her with the faintest hint of a smile before glancing at his feet, and for that split second, he was that scrawny, awkward kid that she had known before.

“I did miss you,” he admitted quietly and suddenly made direct eye contact, and Elianna’s knees almost went weak. What the hell? Had his eyes always been that blue? Of course, he had never necessarily been unattractive, but it had been so hard to see through all of his misery and standoffishness. Well, she thought to herself, he still seems a bit standoffish, but confidence looks good on him.

“I wasn’t sure if you even knew I was here. I wanted to surprise you, actually.”

“Of course, I knew you were here. Who do you think made Sharpe read that essay you submitted in the first place?” He fired back with a slight smirk, and goddamn where did he learn to do that?

“I don’t know. I just assumed that he would read every submission resume he received. Does he not?” Jonathan shook his head.

“I happened to notice your name on a stack of folders on his desk during a meeting, and I made sure he would read it.”

“Wh- you knew the whole time?” She asked incredulously. “And you didn’t even send me a text or anything, you little rat.” Elianna faked upset, but once she thought about it, it actually made quite a bit of sense. Arkham was rather famous after all, and there were bound to be plenty of doctors as crazy as her applying regularly. And, she hated to think it, but the warden had seemed less than interested in taking a chance on hiring people, given his remark about someone else having quit “luckily for her.”

“Aww, you really did miss me, didn’t you?” She winked at him and nudged him with her elbow.

“Don’t make me repeat it,” he replied in an almost joking tone. “You’re still the only person I can actually tolerate.” He seemed to avoid the rest of that conversation by checking his watch. “And as much as I’d love to catch up some more, I also have an appointment to get to soon. Why don’t you come to my apartment tonight and we can catch up? I’ll text you the address.”

“Oh, sure, that sounds great.” He sent her the information, and they exchanged quick goodbyes, and El went back up to her office to finish her paperwork so that she would be ready to leave on time.

.xXx.

Elianna was still somewhat reeling from her friend’s newfound confidence when she left for the day. The last time that she had seen him, she had come to the city to visit for three days during college, and he couldn’t even ask for help on a report, and now he was able to blurt out “come to my apartment tonight” like it was nothing. All things considered, she was proud of him.

On the way to her car, Elianna found herself wondering if Jonathan had really changed that much in such a short amount of time. When she first met him, she had almost thought he was a ghost; he was so reserved. In fact, if she really thought about it, she could recall every detail of that day.

It had been her first day at Arlen High since moving to the town with her mother. Her parents had just been divorced, and her mother had thought that a small town would be a good change to the chaos of the city they had lived in, and Elianna could hardly believe that the spit of  road could be considered “civilization.”  As much as she enjoyed the spacious old home they had been able to afford, she wasn’t looking forward to the surely boring life they would lead there.

She had walked to school, and the whole time she couldn’t stop looking forward to finally being able to drive herself places. ‘Only a few months away.’ She had been immediately pegged as the new girl—unsurprising given the small student body—and had been swooped up by the popular crowd, one Sherry Squires, to be exact. She seemed horribly dull and shallow, but Elianna decided that letting Squires have her way would be the easiest way to make friends and survive the next few years.

However, the skinny, quiet boy with whom she had shared several classes had somehow caught her attention. Very unusual, given that he didn’t seem to speak to anyone and quietly did his work the whole time. Maybe it was the bitterness rolling off of him, or maybe that the lack of socialization in a room full of obnoxious teenagers, but something about him was just…distinctly different.

During the last passing period of the day, while expressing idle interest in whatever the hell Sherry was jabbering about, she had noticed that same boy shuffling through the hall on his own. Before El could ask Squires what his deal was, Bo Griggs, your stereotypical dumb jock, had schlepped over to him and shoulder checked him into the wall, his books tumbling to the floor while Sherry snickered.

“Looks like Ichabod is in for a pounding,” she sounded maliciously gleeful of that fact, and her arms cattily crossed over her chest only highlighted that fact.

“Ichabod?” Like the Sleepy Hollow character? It was a weird name, but alright.

“Oh, his real name is Jonathan, but nobody cares about that,” Sherry had explained dismissively. “His last name is Crane, like the character from that book or whatever, but he’s just so scrawny and weird, we all just call him Ichabod or Scarecrow.” El had nodded in understanding and watched with conflicted emotions as Jonathan did his best to ignore the taunting and shoving directed at him. However, her mind was made up when a particularly nasty push sent the boy to the floor, hitting his head on the wall as he fell.

“Okay, no! That’s enough,” she had spoken up before she even realized what she was doing. Sherry and Bo both seemed equally shocked as they looked at her in confusion, Bo actually stepping away from his quarry. “What the hell is your problem?” Bo’s face had turned red.

“It’s about to be you, new bitch.” He had snarled and took a few steps toward her.

“Sure, I get that, you’re intimidated by my brain cell count, but seriously, is that what the big deal is? You couldn’t find anyone more stupid and pathetic than you, so you take out our insecurities on him? Grow up; I think more people here relate to that than you think.” She snapped with a pointed look at Sherry, who gaped at El as she brushed past Bo like it was nothing. Wasting no time, she gathered Jonathan’s books in a pile with her own and hauled him up by the arm, dragging him down the hall and away from the crowd. If this was to be the only class they didn’t share, she would be very embarrassed.

“Is your head alright?” She had asked the boy—'Jonathan, his name is Jonathan'—as she handed back his books.

“It’s fine.” Hm. Not talkative. Shocker.

“It looked like you hit pretty hard from where I was standing, are you sure?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, not surprised, given that bunch.” She had turned to look at him as she spoke; he seemed to have been distancing himself as much as he could without being rude. “I’m Elianna, by the way.”

“I know. You and your mother moved into the house next to ours. And you just ruined any chance you had of fitting in here.” She had shrugged, already knowing the second part.

“So what, I’m used to that. Besides, why would I want to fit in with those guys?” The corner of Jonathan’s mouth had twitched up in some facsimile of a smile.

“Hell if I know.” He had muttered. “But either way, it’ll just get worse if you hang around me, you might want to keep your distance.” He added flatly, all traces of any kind of personality from a second before gone.

Look, I believe you, but I’d rather not. I doubt I can get any standing back now, and you seem much more interesting anyway.“ She had shrugged, to which Jonathan shook his head.

"I mean it. Keep your distance.” He had repeated and sped up, leaving her behind in the hallway with his much longer legs. It had been awkward that period when the teacher had assigned her to sit in the empty seat next to him.

Looking back, it hadn’t altogether been a bad day. She had quickly established herself as someone not to be taken lightly, which had subsequently gotten her into some tight spots with the “popular” crowd. Besides that, even if it took a few extra weeks after Jonathan had realized that she wasn’t going to leave him alone, she had finally gotten him to open up a bit to her. It was strange to think about how far they had come.

Even more so when she pulled up outside of Jonathan’s apartment building, from what she could tell on the outside, each unit was fairly spacious; it seemed that he had done well for himself, although he hadn’t been very picky about his living spaces for the most part. Unsurprising, given the conditions that his grandmother had kept him in. He had dragged himself out of the pits of hell into a (presumably) swanky apartment and a fairly prestigious job; she couldn’t help but be impressed.

It didn’t take her long to find a spot in guest parking, take the elevator up seven floors and knock on his door. When Jonathan answered the door, he was still in his work clothes minus the suit jacket, indicating that he had only barely gotten home himself.

“Hello, love,” El greeted him with a quick hug before stepping inside and slipping her shoes off. She took a moment to take in the living area. It was furnished with that type of sturdy yet elegant old furniture, which suited him well. She had been right; it was a good size on the inside, just enough room for him and his stacks of research books and papers to be somewhat scattered around. Altogether, it built that sort of rustic studious aesthetic that she had always associated with him. “Very nice,” she commented approvingly.

“It’s certainly a few steps up from granny’s,” He agreed as he closed the door behind her.

“Yeah, quite a few,” El agreed. She had only been inside of his childhood home once, and only for a minute or two at Jonathan’s behest; he had been afraid that the old woman would wake up and catch him speaking to someone. “I see you still never learned to clean up after yourself, though.” She teased with a passing glance at a sheet of notes on a patient with severe agoraphobia.

“Please, I was there when you rearranged your room, don’t try to pretend I’m any worse than you are.” He shot back good-naturedly as they sat on the couch.

“At least none of that stuff was important,” she protested, gesturing to the stack of notes and diagnoses she had just looked at. “And is my mind playing tricks on me, or did your handwriting somehow get worse?”

“You hush,” he said, settling into the cushion next to her, resting a hand on her knee when she leaned against the armrest and draped her legs over his lap, both of them acting as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and for them it was. “How was California? Did it meet your expectations?”

“Yeah, for a while, eventually, I just got bored. What about Gotham?”

“Fine. Better than Arlen anyway. A fresh start can be useful, I suppose.” El nodded understandingly. Georgia really had been horrible to him. She supposed that she could attribute Gotham to his success and growth. She laid her head back against the armrest, thinking. “How did we let it get this long since we’ve talked?” She asked and rolled her head to the side to look at him. He’d let his head fall on the back of the couch and was staring at the ceiling as he shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly and turned his head to the side without lifting it to look back at her. El found herself rememorizing everything about his face. He had changed so much. Again, it wasn’t as though he had ever been bad to look at, she mused to herself. A little skinny, maybe, but now that his face had filled out to match his cheekbones and could afford to eat regularly, he looked healthier. Even his hair was thicker, and maybe even a little bit darker, which made the blue of his eyes stand out shockingly. She could easily see how his maintained eye contact would be unsettling to someone who didn’t know him as well as she did.

In fact, the only thing about him that had stayed entirely unchanged was the subtle darkness that sat just behind the surface of those piercing eyes, and she knew exactly why.

“Have you been able to keep him under control?” She couldn’t help the soft question that came out. Over the silence of the apartment, her quiet voice sounded like a sin.

“For the most part,” Jonathan replied equally quietly. “There have been some…incidents few and far between, but other than that fine.” He blinked, and after a beat, he confessed, “He wants to talk to you.”

Elianna’s heart sunk to the floor, and she shook her head. The man sitting before her was her friend, but the Scarecrow terrified her. He was unpredictable and sadistic, and he turned Jonathan into something disturbing. “You know I wouldn’t let him,” he reassured El. “I won’t let him slip around you again.” El shivered involuntarily as she remembered what he meant.

It had been during that time that she had visited him during college. She had only been in one class that semester, and the professor had given everyone a week off while the air conditioning duct in his classroom needed to be repaired. Jonathan had seemed stressed during their weekly phone call, and she had some money saved up, so she had taken advantage of this opportunity to fly to Gotham and visit Jonathan for a few days.

As a rule, he didn’t like surprises, but Elianna had been able to tell that he was relieved to see her. He had even hugged her as she arrived and seemed glad to have her staying with him in his campus apartment for a few days.

On her first night there, they had taken a walk around campus after dark, and her suspicion that something was wrong was confirmed when his usual silence was strained, as were his short replies to her questions.

“Maybe we should go back; you clearly aren’t doing alright.” She had suggested gently, laying her hand on his arm, to which he had nodded slowly and taken a shaky breath.

“He’s trying to get out,” El had immediately known who he was talking about, even if she had never technically seen Scarecrow before. “Classes are really taking a lot out of me, and I don’t know if I can-” There had been a brief moment of dissociation, and when Jonathan’s eyes came back into focus, it wasn’t him.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet,” Scarecrow had started. “But you know I’ve been here longer than you have.” He finished smugly. The voice was Jonathan’s but rougher, and his eyes were filled with a sudden life at the prospect of whatever Scarecrow had in mind for her.

“Where is Jonathan?” She had barely been able to ask the question; something about the way he was looking at her made her horribly uneasy.

“Aw, what? You don’t like me?” Scarecrow had asked mockingly, stepping closer when she didn’t answer. She was frozen to the spot. “Do I scare you?” He continued, and her continued silence was the exact answer he had been looking for. “Good.”

Without any warning, after a moment of stillness, he had lunged for her, and somehow Elianna had managed to duck out of the way just in time and took off in the other direction with Scarecrow in close pursuit. She was looking for a place she might be able to hide, but her unfamiliarity with the campus had betrayed her, and just as she thought that she had lost him, he suddenly rounded the corner in front of her.

Her scream had been cut short when he had pinned her against the nearby wall with his forearm across her throat. He looked like he was saying something to her, but she couldn’t focus on what it was over the rushing blood in her ears. However, she could see with her fading vision Scarecrow using Jonathan’s body to laugh at her. She was going fuzzy around the edges, and the only thought that she had been able to manage was that she would die there.

Just as the last of her vision was beginning to fade and her lungs were screaming for air, the horrible grin had vanished, and she could see the difference as Jonathan had regained control with a panicked look on his face. The next thing El knew, he was helping her off the ground; she must have fallen when he removed his arm from her neck. Despite the knowledge that Scarecrow was gone, she had pulled herself out of his grip, opting to use the wall for support instead. The back of her head ached, and she had coughed hard, still struggling for breath and rubbing the growing bruise on her neck.

She had never seen anyone look so terrified and apologetic as Jonathan’s mouth silently opened and closed, fumbling for words. It wasn’t until his eyes fell to her throat that he stilled, sucking in a deep breath. The traces of tears in his eyes told El everything that she needed to know, and without another second of hesitation, she had thrown her arms around him in a tight embrace. She could remember how he had squeezed her back, and they stood there like that for a few minutes, both trembling from the close call. Finally, they had walked back to his apartment in silence and hadn’t even mentioned it since.

Until now.

El took a deep breath before finally asking, “Can you promise me that you have him under control?” He nodded silently in response.

“Never again, El. I promise.” He added a few seconds later. His answer seemed to satisfy the redhead, and she let herself relax again.

They stayed like that for a few more hours, sometimes talking and sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. When she left, Elianna managed to coax another hug out of him on her way out the door and stretched up to kiss his cheek, not an unusual thing for her to do, but he blushed faintly just like he always did at the affection. She smiled to herself on her way back to her car. He really wasn’t that different from the timid boy she had taken under her wing all those years ago, a soothing thought to send her home.

[clericbyers]

Can season 4 starts with Will making out with a guy in his bedroom (kind of like the mileven one) but they don't show us his face and then Joyce knocks at the door and Will starts panicking and shoves the guy into the closet. After a brief conversation with Joyce, Will close the door and opens the closet and there he is, Mike Wheeler smiling, with messy black hair, pink cheeks and puffy red lips waiting for Will to take him by the shirt and start kissing him again.

ooh mygodd OH MYGODDD

okay so like, episode starts off with landscape shots of the Byers’ new town, maybe the “Welcome to ___” sign is included as a parallel to show that this is very much not Hawkins. The sign isn’t spray painted, it looks clean and new, and this town is vibrant yet calm in a way Hawkins never was and never could be. The shot pans to a mailbox much like we had in 1x01 with the Wheelers and the mailbox reads “The Byers Residence.” Inside, we see El and Jonathan in the living room listening to music together as they sit on the floor and lean their backs against the couch. Jonathan is chatting about the song playing and El cocks her head but watches his hands and nods along before sifting through more of his records. She picks up a sleeve with bright colors and shows it to Jonathan, who perks and then starts laughing but we never know what about exactly as the camera moves on to where Joyce is setting up the dining table. There’s five forks in her hand despite the Byers family being four people and she’s humming lightly to herself as she starts platting the table with her freshly cooked meal. Joyce looks happier, less stressed with a healthier flush to her face as she moves about the room. She’s dancing a little to the music Jonathan is playing for El, mouthing some of the lyrics as she places the fifth plate down. Joyce scans her handiwork and then steps into the living room, watching Jonathan and El with a warm smile.

“Dinner is ready,” she interrupts with a softness, “is Will still in his room?”

El nods distractedly, still searching through Jonathan’s record collection. “He’s been in there all day.”

“I can go get him,” starts Jonathan but Joyce waves him off with a shake of her head.

“You two clean up a little and then sit yourselves for dinner; I’ll get him.”

El and Jonathan start cleaning up, still talking about music together, and Joyce takes a moment to take in their closeness, which allows the camera to off the trio to the hallway for a hallway shot. There’s music coming from this direction too, similar to classic rock Jonathan was sharing with El. Will’s muffled voice carries through the hallway and the camera switches to inside his room, where he’s rolling his eyes, obviously facing someone but the camera only shows Will’s face. His cheeks are flushed, hair ruffled and messy but in a way reminiscent of purposeful mishandling rather than just-woke-up bedhead. Will’s eyes flutter shut and he leans in while grabbing at someone’s face, murmuring something unintelligible that makes the other person laugh. His hand blocks enough view of the face of whoever he’s kissing (and the person’s hoodie is doing a good job covering the rest), but it’s Will’s left hand at that, the one with the calculator watch on his wrist.

A larger hand overlays Will’s and he kinda steps back from where they were standing in the middle of the room until his back hits his desk and then he pulls himself up so the angle is more straight ahead. The other person is muttering something between kisses and it makes Will pull him in closer by the collar of his hoodie and then suddenly the sound of knocking echoes through the room. With a quickness, Will shoves at the other person, clambers off the desk, yells, “give me a sec, Mom!”, and then scrambles to stuff the guy into his closet with a hushed apology.

Will straightens his clothes and hair as best he can and then opens the door trying to look like he hadn’t just had his tongue down someone’s throat ten seconds ago. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Dinner’s done; Jonathan and El are just waiting up on you.” Joyce takes in Will’s appearance and frowns. “Were you sleeping?”

“Huh?” Will rubs at his neck. “No. No, I was up. I was drawing.” He motions vaguely to his desk where papers are scattered from when he scrambled off the surface. “I’ll be there in a minute then.”

Joyce smiles and starts to walk away, but then quickly turns back to Will. “I forgot to double check if one of your school friends is coming over. I thought you said you’d have a guest over tonight. I already prepared a plate if so.”

Will shrugs, rubbing at his arms as he crosses them. He looks distracted, brows furrowed as if contemplating what he should say next. Joyce cocks her head. “Is that a no? I’m sure Jonathan wouldn’t mind splitting the plate.”

“No! I mean, yeah, I have a school friend. He’s in the bathroom right now. Probably will be out in a second.” Will smiles as innocently as he can without it seeming like too much of a cover up. “I’ll wait for him so he isn’t all confused and we’ll make our way over, yeah?”

“Okay then.”

When Joyce leaves, Will closes his door and leans against it with a heavy sigh, rubbing his hands down his face as he groans. He perks when he remembers he had stuffed that dude in his closest and rushes over to open the door, raising his eyebrows as he spots someone half-tangled in his hoodie, arms raised and crossed in the sleeves of the garment as he struggles to take it off.

“What are you doing?” Will reaches out to help peel off the hoodie, which leaves an argyle sweater underneath. “I still don’t know why you wanted to wear a hoodie over your sweater. It’s winter, yeah, but we have heaters in this house, you know.”

The guy shakes his head and hangs his head down as he starts rearranging his floppy hair. A calculator watch rests on his right wrist. The camera pans to Will, who is watching with amusement and fondness written all over his face. He reaches out and then the camera switches to Will’s hand reaching up to cup a pink flushed freckled cheek.

“Yeah,” a familiar voice starts and the camera pans up until Mike Wheeler’s face is shown in full, “but the hoodie makes me feel like you’re hugging me and I like that. Keeps me extra wam.” Mike bites his bottom lip and then ducks down to steal a kiss which Will accepts easily. “Didn’t your mom say something about a school friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I meet them?”

Will pulls away and tosses his hoodie toward his bed. “It’s you, doofus. You’re technically a school friend.”

“You could have just told Mrs. Byers I snuck in and stayed over all day.”

“First, you did not ‘sneak’ in; El invited you in while Mom was out.” Will plays with the collar of Mike’s sweater. “Second, I panicked a bit, alright? She would have been asking so many questions about why she didn’t know you were visiting all day, asking if everything was okay with you and Nancy and Mrs. Wheeler, or even me at that.”

“You say that like she’s still not gonna ask when she sees me at your side in a couple minutes.”

Will leans up to press a kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Yeah, but at least at dinner I’ll have you, El, and Jonathan as means to move the conversation.”

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of February 26th, 2020

Best of this Week: Avengers #31 (Legacy #731) - Jason Aaron, Various Artists, Rachelle Rosenberg and Joe Caramagna 

Tony Stark is Iron Man.

What makes him Iron Man isn't just the suits, but the brilliant mind capable of forging them. Tony’s been flung a million years into the past and, lacking the proper equipment to either build a new suit or time machine, has to fend for himself until he finds a way back home or dies. Along the way, he staves off both his past and futures as madness and hopelessness begin to seep into his mind, but being the resilient bastard that he is, we all know that he can do it.

The issue begins with a flashback sequence to Tony using one of his first inventions, some X-Ray contacts, to spy on a seedy meeting that his adoptive father, Howard Stark, holds with some horrifying implications. Howard’s “goodness” in the Marvel Universe has flip flopped many a time throughout the years with the most recent being a swing towards good through Jonathan Hickman’s S.H.I.E.L.D., but this flashback peels back some layers on what Howard’s always been about. Through Geraldo Borges, we get a scene similar to Eyes Wide Shut and Rachelle Rosenberg contrasts the light that Tony thought his father was, with his immense darkness.

We then cut to the future...or the past rather, with Tony sitting in the same cave that he and T’Challa found the calcified remains of Tony’s armor a millennia later and he’s grown a sick beard and wears the pelts of various things he’s killed while trying to preserve his vibranium energy. Gerardo Zaffino takes over the art for this section and, per his amazing issues of Conan, continues to do an amazing job in portraying the wilderness as dark, cold and ravenous. There’s a black madness behind Tony’s eyes after being stuck for so long.

Soon after Aaron Zaffino, and Rosenberg show us just how Tony wound up in the predicament that he’s in with only half functioning armor. Zaffino shows The Ghost Rider, Starbrand, Odin and Phoenix of the era fighting the metal man from the future. It’s intense as he staves off the intense, orange fire from the Rider’s mammoth, takes a brutal shot on the chin from the Hulk-Brand, stops the buzzing blue lightning from Odin wielding Mjolnir and tries to reason with the Phoenix before she shoots him back to the ground. Her colors are striking with intense particle effects as she tells him to “Remember the face of the Devil.”

Throughout the issue, we get Tony’s narration of the whole situation and he’s so very hopeful in the beginning up until the offerings start coming in. It starts off with just one woman bringing him some cave grog and then more and more start pouring in. Aaron starts spreading the seeds of temptation as Tony bemoans the nights getting “lonelier and thirstier” and Zaffino shows these busty cave babes kneeling with their grog skins towards Tony. As time goes on, the men of the cave come with clubs and grogs in an attempt to force Tony to drink and Tony is forced to drive them away again and again.

He’s starting to lose things and get angry before a silver tongued snake appears in his helmet with Joe Caramagna giving him a voice through familiar red lettering and bubbles. The snake mentions Howard’s name, saying that his adoptive father paid some sort of price and Tony lifts his helmet, thinking to slam it down on the snake before realizing it’s just another temptation. It’s almost horrific and really sells just how much this time period and everything is getting to him.

At the same time, the Devil doesn’t like being denied, so it sends a monster after Tony, the Gorilla wielding the Power Stone from Avengers #13! It’s a short and one sided fight as Szymon Kudranski steps in and shows the Gorilla savagely beating Tony. Rosenberg’s purple background and debris signals us to the Power (wink wink) of the stone and the intensity of the splash page itself is immense as the Gorilla whips Tony around, smashing rocks and Tony's bones while he’s powerless to do anything except yell and think. It’s not long before it leaves Iron Man for dead and allows him time to form a plan.

Tony does his best when he’s trying to not die, in his words, so the wheels of his mind begin turning as he sets traps outside of his cave as various snakes begin to appear outside and are skewered by his spikes. Oscar Bazaldua does an AMAZING job as he introduces us to his “Ice Age Man” design with Tony wearing a suit made out of hardened ice and powered by the last of his Vibranium energy. It’s very reminiscent of his Mk. I Armor and even has blades similar to Baraka from Mortal Kombat coming out of its forearms.

I love this design because it’s gaudy, retro and bulky all at once and made even better by the stark white, the fur on Tony’s neck and the stippling shading that I do love so much. Bazaldua even gives Tony the classic pose as he confronts the Devil at his door. It turns out that the figure is… *gasp* Howard Stark in the red cloak from Tony’s initial flashback. Tony knew that the man behind the Devil Mask was his father in that cult meeting because of the X-Ray contacts and had been scared since.

Aaron portrays him as an evil bastard that wants to have Tony cast away his future and rule the world as Father and son, only for Tony to send a spike through his head, “killing him.” Unfortunately for him, the body rises and reveals himself to be MEPHISTO and he absolutely launches himself at Tony and uppercuts the hell out of him. Robert Gill takes over the art here and shows parts of Tony’s being smashed off before Mephisto hammer fists Iron Man in the chest. It’s fast and intense to a point where the speed lines are almost nauseating.

The Avengers One Million look on at the fight and ponder if Tony’s strong enough to hold out against Mephisto alone. It’s a tough fight because Tony’s running out of energy, his suit is melting and the Devil has far more power than he can handle, so he makes one final hail mary upon seeing that Mephisto has the Time Stone. As he denies the offers Mephisto makes, one last time, and blasts the stone full of his last reserves of energy.

It’s a beautiful set of shots with Gill giving Tony a dynamic pose as the armor cracks off of him, shattering into pieces as he expels a beautiful beam of blue and white light thanks to Rachelle Rosenberg. Tony’s unkempt hair flies out and looks amazing as it flows out of the cracked half of the helmet and the wires dangle back. Mephisto lets the energy hit the stone and looks on with his evil grin and blasts Tony back with Time energy.

Throughout the book, Joe Caramagna has been providing excellent lettering and placement, filling the empty space and hinting at the villain throughout. He does this to great effect when Tony is flung back to his normal future, but has to witness other possible futures. Caramagna spaces each of the thought bubbles, grouping them based on the image in the background and spacing them out as to draw attention to Tony words and the corresponding panel of horror.

The question is, what was this experience meant to teach? 

In many ways, it could be seen as a way to strengthen him against the coming threats that Mephisto has coming and that’s doubly true since Arno Stark has resurrected his father in the pages of Iron Man 2020 and he could be used against Tony again. On the other hand, as Mephisto says in the final pages by Mattia de Iulis, he’s sown fear and doubt in the heart of Tony. Tony does some pretty dumb things when he’s afraid and wh’s to say that this won’t create a new ripple among the Avengers becaue of it?

Overall, I enjoyed this issue! While not all of the artists were to my liking, the story made up for the pages that I wasn’t enamored with. I really enjoyed seeing how Tony would find a way out of the mess and I do enjoy when Mephisto is being used well. Jason Aaron is doing his best to pace out the story and weave pieces into place for the Mephisto Event that we’ve been waiting for since it was revealed that he was the Avenger’s true threat.

The various artists did well, of course there were a few that I didn’t enjoy as much as others, but everyone has their tastes. Rachelle Rosenberg stunned with her amazing colors on every page and Joe Caramagna made it all possible through his lettering. This book was cohesive and a lot of fun throughout, but the price and the fact that this was more of an annual kinda story drags it down just a bit. 

For the most part, however, it’s a high recommend.

Also, support me on Patreon: patreon.com/TyTalksComics

[girlactionfigure]

He was drafted into the Army in 1943. His fellow recruits remembered him as "simple, bland, unassuming." He described himself as a "nothing, a nobody." No one, including the young man, knew what life had in store for him.

In the Army, he served as a staff sergeant in the 20th Armored Division. Elements of his division participated in the liberation of Dachau concentration camp - Although his unit was near, they did not actually enter the camp.

Although he was proud of his service, he remembered that time as very painful for him - he not only witnessed the horrors of war, but it was also the same time his mother passed away.

His father, a barber, was born in Germany, and his mother was of Norwegian heritage.

He was born on this day, November 26, 1922 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Being the only child, he was very shy. His uncle gave him the nickname, "Sparky" after the horse "Spark Plug" from the Barney Google comic strip.

His mother was bedridden during his high school years, and the young man often heard her cries of pain. Her illness was identified as cancer in November 1942, the same month he was drafted. On February 28, 1943, he used a day pass to visit his mother one last time. He got to say goodbye to her that day, but he said, "I'll never get over that scene as long as I live."

He would also regret the fact that his mother would never see what he would become.

After returning from the war in the fall of 1945, he sold his first cartoons to his local newspaper.

"The first Peanuts strip appeared on October 2, 1950, in seven newspapers nationwide. Although being a professional cartoonist was [Charles] Schulz’s life-long dream, at 27-years old, he never could have foreseen the longevity and global impact of his seemingly-simple four-panel creation," according to the Charles M. Schulz Museum.

In the summer of 1968, after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and after corresponding with teacher Harriet Glickman, Schulz made a bold decision, introducing a character named "Franklin" to his Peanuts comic strip. As told in the July post on the Peace Page celebrating Franklin's 50th birthday, Schulz by that time was already a very popular comic strip artist and did not have to acknowledge the school teacher's request to introduce a black character in order to bring the country together and show people of color that they are not excluded from American society.

Schulz carefully thought about it, knowing that his career could be in jeopardy, as other cartoonists had politely declined Glickman's request. But, he corresponded with Glickman's black friends to ensure that he would present Franklin in the best light, smart as Linus and not condescending, even to the point where some would joke that Franklin was too boring and "normal" compared to the other Peanuts characters.

He also received backlash as some newspapers threatened to cut his strip if he showed Franklin in the same classroom as other Peanut characters. He courageously ignored the threats, sitting Franklin in front of Peppermint Patty at school and playing center field on her baseball team. He even told the president of the comic's distribution company that "Either you print it just the way I draw it or I quit."

According to The New Yorker, Schulz always worried about the portrayl of Franklin. "He needn’t have worried, though, because Franklin felt real — or at least felt respected — as a kind kid on the beach with whom Charlie Brown plays in the sand. (“Whites Only” pools were not uncommon in 1968.) Though Schulz may have lived a quiet, remote life in his California studio, he was woke enough to realize that all one had to do was care enough about a character for he or she to 'work,' even if the shell of the character wasn’t his own."

Schulz later introduced another black character, Milo, as well as semi-Latino Jose Peterson, one of the first characters of Hispanic descent in U.S. comics. He also gave voice to women in sports in the strip after he became friends with tennis star Billie Jean King, leading to a lifelong interest in the fair treatment of women athletes and a seat on the board of the Women’s Sports Foundation that King founded.

Today, the work of Charles Schulz is still very popular, even though recently the Peanuts' animated Thanksgiving special is embroiled in some undeserved social media controversy designed to divide fans who may not be aware of how Franklin was originally introduced.

In an article in Snopes, Nat Gertler, author of a book about Peanuts, wrote:

That even though the animated cartoon was in a completely different media than Schulz' newspapers, there is an "assumption that Charles Schulz himself planned the admittedly awkward shot being referenced [of Franklin sitting alone on one side of the picnic table]. While Schulz definitely kept a hand in the animated work, by 1973 when the Thanksgiving special aired, the Peanuts characters were starring in not only a steady stream of TV specials, but also a series of animated feature films. Schulz certainly wasn’t laying out every shot himself — he had a day job to take care of, writing and drawing the most popular comic strip going, as well as creating original books, handling licensing materials, and so on. A talented team of animation folks were doing their job on this."

Schulz critics also like to ask why Franklin was drawn to look "dirty" in the first early panels, not realizing that back then every newspaper comic strip was printed in black and white with no option for shading other than drawing lines to depict shades.

Gertler would conclude, "Schulz stuck his neck out introducing Franklin." Others have pointed out that the network which produced the original Peanuts Thanksgiving special is also responsible for cancelling The Smothers Brothers show for being critical of the Vietnam War and the political mainstream. It should also be noted that it was only recently in 2015 that the television academy recognized a black woman, Viola Davis, for best actress in a drama, the first time that award has gone to a black woman in nearly 70 years of award-giving, shedding some light on how ground-breaking the introduction of Franklin was in 1968.

"Despite the over-all racial imbalance of the “Peanuts” cast, this caring is really the secret, mysterious power of Schulz’s entire strip. Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus, Snoopy, Schroeder, Franklin, and everyone else came alive on that page because of Charles Schulz’s ability to make you care about and feel for — and, in Charlie Brown’s case, at least, feel through — nearly every one of them," according to The New Yorker.

Schulz died on February 12, 2000. By the time he retired in "December 1999, the Peanuts comic strip was syndicated in over 2,600 newspapers worldwide, with book collections translated in over 25 languages," according to the Charles M. Schulz Museum.

The Museum also says of Schulz, "The continuing popular appeal of Peanuts stems, in large part, from Schulz’s ability to portray his observations and connect to his audience in ways that many other strips cannot."

"The thoughtful pacing in 'Peanuts' is reminiscent of that of 'Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.' The two also share a rejection of the violence and manic energy that characterize other children’s media of the time", according to the New Yorker.

“Schulz wasn’t an artist because he suffered. He suffered because he was an artist," said writer Jonathan Franzen in the Press Democrat. "To keep choosing art over the comforts of life — to grind out a strip every day for 50 years, to pay the very deep psychic price for this — is the opposite of damaged. It’s sort of choice only a tower and strength and sanity can make.”

Bruce Handy in The Atlantic wrote:

"So if I were asked to pick the character most likely to find happiness if he or she ever grew up . . . I wouldn’t hesitate to pick Charlie Brown. Maybe he does find a form of redemption in his suffering? He feels his failures deeply, he suffers profoundly, and yet he remains ever willing to take another run at kicking the football or trying to get his kite aloft or pitching the next game or hoping this year, finally, to receive a valentine. If he is a blockhead, it is in part because he cares so much; diffidence doesn’t merit the insult. Like his creator, he has passion and persistence. If he were real, I like to tell myself, Charlie Brown would be fine."

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[smolbeandrabbles]

Out of Nowhere Girl Pt.2 - Director Keller / Talos (Captain Marvel)

Part 1

Author’s Note: Did anyone else temporarily forget what this was supposed to be? Because I did. Short. Was the answer. What has developed in my head is a LOT longer. So, I hope you enjoy the ride with Mr.Keller this time around... Pretty much had a brain explosion over the last week due to those deleted scenes and then everyone throwing GIFs around. So here we are!  This is also the first time I really get to introduce you to my Keller. As he’s almost entirely a blank slate... I hope you like him! We are following 3 Time Stamps: 1993-1995, allowing us to focus on Keller/Maliyah’s relationship. 1995, in the aftermath of the events of Captain Marvel Present/10 Years Later (c.2005, I suppose), To follow the real story line.

I hope this doesn’t get confusing as hell... Disclaimer: MCU Characters not mine. I stick by Jonathan Richard Keller. No “Canon” is changing that. I’m certainly NOT sorry.

#ComicCanon Premise: Keller had always wondered what was out in space. Naturally he never expected the answer to be ‘the girl of his dreams’; and now he has to let her go...? Talos and Maliyah figure out where they need to get - and it ain’t all good...  Words: 3877 Warnings: Zip!

                                                    ____________

There were no stars in sight Then the planets all aligned When I saw her eyes One look that's all it took To send me to another galaxy She said, she was on her way to Mars Then she ran into a star and she fell into my arms Thank you gravity, never let her go I'll hide her U.F.O., she'll never have to know She's my space girl and she's outta this world ...She looked kinda bored Said she'd seen it all before Made me wonder even more Which universe was hers? What galaxy did she call home? Like a meteor I'm fallin’ From the first time I saw her It was heaven on earth

--- Circa 1993 Getting called to any incident was likely a bad thing. Except this one. This one, Keller couldn't refuse. The course, rough, ugly streaks through the salt left harsh black scars where the ship had hit before coming to a complete stop. Keller tried to stop himself from getting too giddy. He'd long been a geek when it came to space - if you got him started on science and astronomy, he was off like a proverbial rocket. (To be honest, any flying craft was likely to get him talking like that; as the model planes in his offices and his apartment would prove… But space was his real muse.) And this didn't look like it had come from Earth. Which is of course, why Keller and his S.H.I.E.L.D agents had been called in. He had to be professional about this situation though. He had a team of good, good people. And he couldn't risk their lives. He was the leader and he had a responsibility. Even if he was slightly freaking out about the prospect of meeting an alien life form. "Sir, have you ever seen anything like this?" Keller shook his head. Not as an agent, nor director had he ever been called to a UFO sighting or similar. He'd dreamed it, plenty of times. But he'd never actually been. "No..." he was quiet, but his voice no less authoritative. When he spoke, they listened. No questions. "Team, proceed with caution. We don't know what we're dealing with..." The structure of the ship was weird in itself. The blue and yellow painted metal twisted, but not completely broken. It was shaped a little bit like an 8 point star - or would have been - there was definitely nothing like that on Earth. Keller’s heart jumped in his chest and he had to check himself a few times. "Life signs?" "Negative, sir." He wasn’t disappointed, that didn't mean there weren't any. "Keep on your toes. All your wits about you, we are a little out of our depth here..." and Keller couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched either.  As his crew searched amongst the wreckage Keller surveyed the scene again. He'd have to call it in. Of course, he would. But what do you even write on a report like this? No doubt the board - the creators of S.H.I.E.L.D themselves - would want this as down low and classified as possible. And these marks all over Utah’s salt flats would need to be explained away somehow. Now he had to think on a cover story AND get this ship out of here without Joe public finding out a thing. He'd done similar before. He wasn't worried. That was when he spotted her. Standing a little way away but not trying to look inconspicuous. Keller visibly startled and his heart leapt again. He looked back to his preoccupied team and then touched his right side. His pistol was there. Keller was a quick draw... He proceeded. She didn't, almost like she was waiting for him to come to her. But she eyed the team around the ship with some interest. Keller all at once realised he didn't know what he was going to say. This was his first ever in counter with an alien lifeform and he couldn't screw it up! But what to say!? She was silent herself and looked relaxed about the situation. Dressed in black flight pants and a black-and-tan vest top that cut just above her stomach, what looked like a weapon on her right hip, where her hands sat relaxed (should he ask her to remove her weapon? Was that a dumb thing to ask?), her clothing was a little ripped and charred but, she looked miraculously intact. The star shaped necklace that hung from her neck on a fine chain was eerily reminiscent of the ship now buried in the dried-up lake behind them. Her shoulder length hair ran pink and purple and she almost looked human. But he was transfixed by her eyes. Deep blue, purple. No they were certainly purple. And they looked like they held stars - cosmic. Keller felt lightheaded. Have mercy-! He took a deep breath; "Is the ship yours?" Dumb-! Dumb, Keller-! That's your first sentence!?! Really!?! You've dreamed of this moment since you were about 3 and that's the first thing you say!?! She gave a smile, then a slight laugh. "Yeah." then with a raised eyebrow; "What are you doing to it?" English. She spoke English. And her voice... Good lord. Keller found he had to check himself AGAIN. "Guess I'm on Earth." She kept talking "You’re human. Obviously." He had a nice accent. It was different to Peter’s, for sure, the twang, but... American. Had she landed in America? Maliyah Saal couldn’t keep the smile from her face; it was nice to be around a human again even if accidentally. She could feel his emotion so clearly; the internal fighting with himself was like reading a book. A very interesting book, mind you. How he seemed to switch between excitement and fear. Constantly. How she could feel him fighting to choose every word he said. She was positive that she was the first extra terrestrial race he’d ever encountered. "We were sent to investigate the crash. Yeah, you're... On Earth... Utah." She didn't need to know that. Why was he saying this!? Was he nervous? Was he babbling because he was nervous!?! "Where are you from...?" She tipped her head, trying to decide if she trusted him or not. But Maliyah decided she did; "I came from Xandar. But... I'm from Aauraa. That's my race. Auron.” That's two places that had life out there. Now he was certain there were many more. He held out his hand, she didn't seem dangerous. Hell. She seemed like everything he'd ever wanted. Think of what she could tell him. "I'm Jonathan Keller. I'm the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." he had a warm smile and she liked that "I guess I'm between LA and Atlanta..." He didn't know why he was telling her about two places she didn't know. But he'd been raised right, and he politely matched the information she was giving him.  Jonathan, she almost had to laugh again. Jonathan Keller and Peter Quill... Two human males that clearly couldn't be further apart. For one, the male in front of her was a lot older; a man and not a boy. He was wearing a suit that edged professional, but she was willing to bet, from the fact he was here, it was not a kind of... Corporate role. The team was significant. And she had observed enough to know that he was both the leader and had their respect and trust. That was important. His hair was once dark but had faded to grey overtime. Still, the black that showed up in places let her know Keller was not nearly as old as it made him look. And his eyes. She'd not seen a blue quite that spectacular in all her years of travel. And she'd been more than her fair share of places. He watched as she backed up slightly, eyes wide and turned to his team. All at once they had noticed what was going on, stood in a neat row that flanked him. They all had their guns drawn, but all were pointed to the ground. Good. He didn’t want to screw this one up. They were a good team. They probably knew he wasn’t in trouble, but they were ready to spring into action if she tried anything. He motioned for them to lower their weapons; “It’s Okay…” Keller’s voice was suddenly vastly different from how he was speaking to her. And she noticed it instantly. How calm he was. “…She’s Okay… It’s alright…” This was a man who had been in charge a long time. Who had seen a lot. And knew exactly how to handle a situation. These other humans were not loyal to him because of his title. They were loyal to him because he had earned it. Jonathan Keller had proven he was worthy of it. And that made Maliyah smile even more, she knew that ship would be out of action for a while until she fixed it. And if she had to find and trust someone on this planet… there wouldn’t have been a better man to encounter than him. Keller turned back to her as his agents did as he asked. Her eyes were trained on his face, and her lips were slightly parted. He wanted to call it awe. But that was impossible. Why would something so beautiful be in awe of him? When she had come from way out there in the stars? He inhaled, and then exhaled – and this time it worked. And they both felt the way his nerves calmed – though he didn’t know it. He extended his hand to her; a customary professional Earth greeting when meeting for the first time; “Is this.. your first time on earth?" Maliyah reached out and took his hand and he felt himself go lightheaded again. Gosh-! Now he was touching her..?!! He wondered if she knew how excited he was. That this was possibly better than every alien encounter dream he'd ever had. He hoped his professionalism was intact. "Maliyah, Saal. Treasure hunter... Member of the Nova Corp." Director sounded important. She wanted to match that herself "And yes." He had to smile then, properly. Maliyah Saal sounded like she came from the stars. "Well..." Keller glanced around him and then met those eyes again; "Welcome to Earth."

She inclined her head in thanks. But Keller needed to think quick. It wasn’t just a girl he was dealing with. But that ship too. Maliyah let his hand go, because it was clear he wasn’t going to do the same. She was glad that her skin would only ignite if they were together. Not that she would dwell on that, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be here and that Earth was about the one place in the galaxy that didn’t know about the races that lived in the rest. She would not stay long enough to form any kind of friendship with him, simply an arrangement of coincidence. Still – when his skin touched hers, she couldn’t help but feel all his emotion. She wanted desperately to calm him down – to tell him not to be as terrified as he was. Because there was no denying under his exterior he WAS. But she couldn’t reveal exactly what she was just yet – which meant she couldn’t exert influence on him either. At least not here. “…Maliyah, I’m afraid we will have to move your ship. As you may well imagine we are not used to coming into contact with…” He hesitated, aliens? Could he say that to her? Was that offensive..? “…Other races.” “I understand.” Although she couldn’t see his teeth she could tell they were sinking into his bottom lip – solemn “…I also need to ask you to come with me.” He didn’t want to say it. Keller didn’t want to sound like he would have to take her by force – but knew he would if necessary. She understood that too; but was curious enough; “Where?” “There is a facility not too far from here.” The lip bite turned into a smile, it was a warm smile. He was smiling at her because he wanted to, not because he had to. It had nothing to do with reassurance, “I promise you, you will be safe there.” ** 1995

 The drive to Utah was long, slow and quiet. In fact, Keller thought that if he didn't turn the radio up he would go insane. It had taken another couple of months for him to convince her to even get in his car to go and he knew that she would not want to fix her ship in a hurry. He'd taken the liberty of getting a close-knit band of engineer's together to give himself a head start. She'd probably get mad about that. But he knew what he was doing was for the best. Maliyah would come ‘round to that. She'd got in the car, hadn't she?

He looked across to her, the road was empty and seemed to stretch endlessly. Mile markers aside he felt he was a million lightyears from Utah.

Today she was wearing biker boots and slim fit jeans, shirt over figure hugging vest top she actually looked human. But, far from happy. Arms crossed, looking out the window, feet up on his dash, legs crossed. Even though he'd told her multiple times to take them down. She was pouty too, which was unfortunate because it just made her look cute. The only thing about her that was inhuman was the vibrant colours (because she'd damn well let her emotions show at this point!!) that streaked across her arms. This time they reminded him of the warning lights of deep-sea creatures. She was just mad... And dealing with a lot she didn't understand: or pretended she didn't understand. Jonathan knew he could never fathom which. For all she had opened up to him, he knew there were still many secrets she held back.

“Maliyah…” She shifted in her seat but said nothing “Maliyah look at me…” She heard it in his voice – he was hurting because she was intent on ignoring him, he was hurting because he felt he had to let her go, he was hurting because she was hurting him. “Supernova... Please...” She would have looked to him anyway, but that nickname... he’d use that nickname. So she turned. “Jonathan, I… Don’t want to talk about it.” “…But you know we have to get you off planet… Right? I couldn’t bare to think about whatever these Skrulls might have got out of my head. And now that more people know about what’s really out there, your file will not stay lock-and-key classified for long I can assure you…” Keller put his eyes back on the road, because they smarted when they were locked on hers. Pushing the rolled-up sleeves of his light-blue-purple checked shirt up even further. He noticed her eyes follow the motions and land on his wrist watch with its too many dials. She remembered the inscription on the back and the NASA symbol. NASA – yet another organisation that should know about her and didn’t. Yet another ode to his great love for the stars. Keller knew already how many times he would have to testify on her presence on Earth. Luckily, as his first report had been straight to the board of S.H.I.E.L.D he wouldn’t lose his job for keeping Maliyah to himself – but he might be heavily reprimanded once all the advisory boards and committees started popping up. She finally answered him, also looking ahead, “I do… But I am worried about leaving you.” “I can take care of myself.” “I know you can. But you don’t think I will be worried every time I feel pain?” He tipped his head with a hmm to dodge the question. But realised he couldn’t swerve it like it was a pot-hole in this endless stretch of highway; “…If I make my desk job a desk job, would that make you happier?” “…You tried that already.” “What if I really did it this time?” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t make YOU happy. And I care about that more.” He removed his right hand from a wheel and held it out for her to take. She did, between both of hers. At once her skin ignited; but the colours were soft. She pressed her lips into his palm and he felt that rush of joy, not too much – it was kept toned down. She was doing it again – picking him up. He encased one of her hands in his. It said all he needed too. Though sometimes when she did this Keller couldn’t help but wonder exactly what else Maliyah could influence on a person. She used it for good things… But he had always been fairly positive that if she wanted to see the world in despair, she could do that without a second thought. She was incredible. She would be incredible without being with him; the fact that she was still sometimes made him feel like he was dreaming. …Could he really let her go? For her own good. To protect her. I would do anything…

The reason he had even mentioned keeping himself at his desk was if he got hit too hard (it had to be pretty hard. If she didn’t know anything about his escapade with the shapeshifters), if he bled at all; be it a papercut or a medical check-up pinprick, she would feel that too. Some things Keller just wouldn’t be able to protect her from. He wasn’t always willing to accept this. But she had bonded with him and it had been her choice. Her acknowledgement of the consequences of their union showed nothing but how much she loved him. And God, if he didn’t love her just as much. ** He took his foot off the gas and the car ticked up another mile as a crop of buildings began to creep up on the horizon line. It was all too much too soon. And even her happy influence couldn’t stop him from biting his lip so hard. It was all he could do to stem any tears he could feel coming. No matter how long it took Maliyah to get her ship into order, she wouldn’t leave this facility now until she was ready to break Earth’s atmosphere. His hand shook as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose – don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry… God. Jonathan Richard Keller be STRONG for her. He couldn’t. And he let out a sob; he was shocked that he had, and instantly covered his mouth. She was looking at him now with wide eyes, her lips parted for words she couldn’t say. She knew. Maliyah could feel his sorrow bubbling up inside him but it still shocked her when it broke the surface. Her eyes flicked to the buildings, enlarging by the second, and back to him. They were still a few miles away. But to Keller, it would never be far enough. And he’d insisted on this. He squinted slightly – he could hold those tears back all he wanted; she knew emotionally they were already flowing down his face “I’m sorry…” It was muffled by his hand. “I’m so sorry.” 15 minutes and no tears later he rolled the car to the security gates. He hesitated as his hand hovered over his pass. He had until the guard strolled over to change his mind. To take her back home, because she belonged here with him and he knew that. But how long would that last? How big of a risk was it to keep her here? It wouldn’t just be her home that were looking for her in reality, or the Skrulls if that was even something they would do, but the home she had left. Her older brother, her adoptive parents. Keller knew all about them, and if he was any of those three, he’d want her back. He’d be worried about her. Even that didn’t stop him from wanting to turn back. Maliyah placed her hand gently over his, she may not know his exact thoughts, but she knew how to read his face. She swallowed; it was time for her to be the strong one. “We can do this.” He glanced across to her as she pushed his hand down to enclose around his S.H.I.E.L.D ID card. She was smiling. And this was one of reassurance. “Together. We can do this.” ***

Present 

 “How exactly do you propose we find them?” Talos looked around, it was built small for a Ravager vessel; he knew that by the fire like emblem emblazoned on the wing of the ship. Inside it was decked out for no more than one or two people; But the tech, all of it new and polished, Talos guessed must have been Xandarian. “…This isn’t just any Milano.” Maliyah indicated to what he had already noticed, “The amount of tinkering I’ve done to this thing over the years… Doesn’t even bare thinking about. The computer system can do just about anything. There’s tech from my home world, tech I’ve lifted with the help of, or from, Ravagers. Earth – obviously! - things I’ve transferred from the Nova Corps vessels, my own crews’ Vessels - They’re pretty much grounded until further notice - But, It’s a Xandarian system. I’m connected to all databases I can get my hands on, most of them I have actual access to – a bit of hacking never hurt anyone…” She sat on the arm of her pilots’ seat and tapped a few things into her computer “…Essentially, every race has a different kind of ship and different fuel elements for each ship. These are good indicators of the who and where, the ship gives out a lot of different signatures of its own, but the fuel particles. That’s what we’re gonna go follow. I don’t always trust ship radars bouncing off of things in space… Very sketchy at times.” “How do you know how to do half these things?” The computer set to work, so she slid into the seat and indicated to a chair; “Buckle up-!” Igniting the fuel of her own ship, the Milano hummed into life. “That human you simed.” She turned to him with a grin “He’s a lot damn smarter than me. I have the tech, I can engineer the tech. He is every single piece of code and every mathematical algorithm behind that tech.” 

The Milano’s ship computer beeped enthusiastically as it located the trail left by the Kree ship – running its own diagnostic it came up with a probable location. Making Maliyah grimace; “UGH!”  “What?” Talos tilted his head and squinted at the flashing coordinates and corresponding planet name - he didn’t recognize either. “We don’t want to go THERE. Geez, that’s like, half way over the other-other side of the Kree’s sector of the Galaxy…”  “…Meaning what?” He turned to her, but Maliyah had that determined look on her face he almost couldn’t help but smile at. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll get you there. It’s once we’re there… I’ll just need some crew back up.” “…Thought you just said your crew was grounded.” She shrugged “Pfft! They were a bunch of trigger-happy treasure hunters before I got them organised into an efficient crew. They’ll just be doing that again-! I’m not dumb enough to think they’d actually listen to a WORD I said.” She pulled another smile and lightly punched the top of his arm; “You’re gonna be glad for that when we get over there.”  “Trigger happy sounds just what we need.” It was clear sarcasm.  Maliyah grinned, she liked him already. This was going to work out; hell it had to work out. “That planet is deceptively tricky. They’re not going to like me very much, they’re CERTAINLY not gonna like you.” 

---

I’m not partial to believing Keller fell in love with her at first sight. But it IS possible that he has a crush on a girl that comes from Space. 

GIF Credit: @winterswake @dennismitchell  - Omgosh, I have a brain like a sive! But I remembered to tag you this time, sweetie! 😘😘 @morganadarkladyofall 

[studentsofshield]

A Rambling Chronicle of Marvel’s Western Comics

By Vincent Faust - November 27, 2018

Marvel Comics is the most prolific comic book publisher of the Western genre. Despite their near ubiquity in today’s culture with billion dollar box office receipts, even their diehard fans may not know this part of their past.

I may be missing a few scattered things, but by my count Marvel has published 1,192 issues of Western comics through their history. Marvel had published Western stories from their very beginnings with the Masked Raider in 1939′s Marvel (Mystery) Comics 1-12. Though the genre didn't explode until the late 1940s following the war, while superheroes were declining. Timely (Marvel’s name at the time) launched 7 western titles in 1948. 

The "Big Three" of Marvel westerns are Kid Colt Outlaw, Rawhide Kid, and Two-Gun Kid. Each lasting an impressive 229, 151, and 136 issues respectively. 

The star artist of Kid Colt was Jack Keller. Who drew most of the character's stories from 1953-1967. An impressive run. Some have argued he has the honor of drawing the most individual stories for one specific Marvel character. Many of these books had 3-5 short stories per issue, so I wouldn't argue against that. If we only count full issue stories, I'm not sure who would take that title. Probably Mark Bagley for Spider-Man, combining his lengthy 1990s run on Amazing and his history making 2000s run with Bendis on Ultimate.

In 1960, right before the Fantastic Four, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby reinvented Rawhide Kid. After a publishing hiatus the title was brought back with issue 17. The character was now Jonathan Clay and his costume changed. Over two and a half years, their run was revered as the cream of the crop in a waning genre as their own superheroes began to explode. 

As Kirby was needed more and more on the superhero titles selling like hotcakes, a tiny run by Jack Davis followed. Davis was an EC Comics legend who took a pit stop at Marvel before becoming even more of a legend at Mad Magazine. Unfortunately, practically the only classic Marvel Westerns to be reprinted in collections is this span of Rawhide Kid. With issues 17-35 reprinted across two hardcover Marvel Masterworks.

Here is Stan Lee talking to Jack Davis and fellow EC/Mad/minor Marvel contributor Harvey Kurtzman. For Marvel, the legendary Kurtzman did 150 episodes of a one-page filler strip titled Hey Look! from 1946 to 1949. 

Especially as Marvel was finally able to publish more titles, Stan Lee's efforts were being stretched too thin as well. So, Rawhide Kid was handed over to his younger brother Larry Lieber to write and draw. Which he did for almost a decade, to minor acclaim from genre fans. Sounds very reminiscent of the hidden gem Gary Friedrich/Dick Ayers/John Severin run on Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos.

"I don't remember why I wanted to do it, particularly. I think I wanted a little more freedom. I didn't do enough of the superheroes to know whether I'd like them. What I didn't prefer was the style that was developing. It didn't appeal to me. Maybe there was just too much humor in it, or too much something. I remember, at the time, I wanted to make everything serious. I didn't want to give a light tone to it. When I did Rawhide Kid, I wanted people to cry as if they were watching High Noon or something." - Larry Lieber

Lee and Kirby also reinvented Two-Gun Kid for the early 60s, but didn't stick around as long on that one.

Other artists who made a mark on Marvel's western titles include Fred Kida, a notable Golden Age Japanese-American artist known primarily for Airboy. Also Russ Heath, who passed away only recently, and the frequent collaborators John Severin and Dick Ayers. Most of these artists were also prolific in the war genre. The genre is also to thank for the introduction of Herb Trimpe, who would go on to become the definitive Hulk artist.

The true star of the show though was one Joe Maneely. Who Stan considered his best artist before Jack Kirby returned in 1958. The Philadelphia native was skilled and fast, pumping out tons of westerns as well as the Black Knight and Yellow Claw titles, which retroactively tie his work to Marvel continuity. Unlike Kirby, Keller, and Lieber he was not particularly linked to one western title, but his most consistent would be Ringo Kid.

Meanwhile, outside of the genre one of Stan Lee's other top artists was Matt Baker. Considered to be the first African American professional in the field. Also there are reliable reports from friends and family that Baker may have been a gay man. He was one of the primary innovators of the "good girl" art style on Fox Feature Syndicate’s Phantom Lady and countless romance titles. Another milestone was drawing arguably the first graphic novel - It Rhymes with Lust.

Due to some business factors in and out of publisher Martin Goodman’s control, Marvel (at this point known as Atlas Comics) nearly imploded in 1957. The bullpen was completely disbanded, leaving Stan Lee in an empty office. They went from regularly publishing almost 70 titles to only 16. Many of which were filled with inventory stories and reprints as long as Stan could manage not paying freelancers. This situation was further complicated by their new distributor having way too close of a relationship with market share leader National (now DC Comics).

Joe Maneely stepped in front of a train in 1958 at only the age of 32. It may have been a suicide. Matt Baker died of a heart attack in 1959 at 37. As stated above, Jack Kirby comes back to Marvel right around that time and Steve Ditko was quickly growing as an artist. It's tragic how close these two masters were to being on the ground floor of the Marvel Universe as we know it today. What heroes could Maneely and Baker have drawn or created?

The 1970s sees lots of reprints of classic genre comics. An exception is the original title Gunhawks (though an unrelated The Gunhawk title predated it). Though only lasting seven issues, Gunhawks has an interesting distinction. Originally starring Kid Cassidy and Reno Jones, a good ol’ plantation boy and his buddy slave. Who fought willingly for the Confederacy because some Yankees kidnapped his girlfriend. That makes sense... In the sixth issue, Cassidy is shot and killed. The finale was technically retitled to Reno Jones, Gunhawk. Making that 1973 comic book only the second at Marvel to be named after a Black protagonist, following Luke Cage. Black Panther had ongoing adventures, but had taken over the anthology title Jungle Action and wouldn’t get his own series until later. DC lagged behind Marvel in this regard.

In 1979 the western genre at Marvel was basically declared dead, with Rawhide Kid and Kid Colt finally canceled. The latter after over 30 years of continuous publication. Two Gun Kid had been canceled two years earlier. Though for a few years already, almost all of Marvel's westerns (and war books) had been turned into reprint titles.

Of those aforementioned 1,192 issues, 1,146 of them are from 1979 or earlier. Leaving less than 50 across the last 40 years.

A 1980 tryout issue with a new character (and a Frank Miller cover) goes nowhere.

A 1985 miniseries by genre veterans Trimpe and Severin depicts the Rawhide Kid now as a middle aged man, as the West is in its final days. It is kind of depressing.

Backpedaling a bit. As the Marvel superheroes dominate, the western heroes occasionally make crazy guest appearances through the means of time travel. Most notably the Two-Gun Kid becomes an all-but-official member of the Avengers and a close friend of Hawkeye. He gets tied up with time travel generally for years to follow. Later becoming a She-Hulk supporting character and Avengers Initiative leader circa Civil War

With that cover, let's now take another aside to untangle Ghost Rider. Ghost Rider is not originally a Marvel property. The vigilante was created by Gardner Fox (Justice League of America) and Dick Ayers for Magazine Enterprises in 1949 as a horror themed western character. The feature spent time as a backup in Tim Holt and eventually broke out into its own short lived title.

Magazine Enterprises went kapoof alongside the slump in the industry around the implementation of the Comics Code Authority in 1954. The regulation agency set up by industry leaders to avoid government intrusion following moral panic. The over-cautious guidelines severely neutered the crime and horror genres, while superheroes were already dormant, gutting many publishers. The Ghost Rider trademark expired. Marvel picked it up in 1967 for a series drawn by original creator Dick Ayers. Motivated in equal toxic parts by Martin Goodman's obsession with securing trademarks (practically every character Stan Lee created can be traced to an earlier one) and then rising writer Roy Thomas's history nerd leanings.

Obviously the name would be repurposed for the more recognizable Johnny Blaze in 1972. Marvel retroactively renamed Carter Slade as the Phantom Rider. The modern demonic versions of Ghost Rider do rarely touch on western themes. Johnny spent some time as a nomad and Garth Ennis brought in some western connections to expand the GR lore.

The western genre is basically passed over through the whole 1990s.

In 2000, John Ostrander and Leonardo Manco come around for a miniseries integrating all the Marvel western heroes together. Followed by a 2002 sequel. With revelations and deaths. The kind of lore retconning series that tickles the fancy of comic history nerds like yours truly. Ostrander also did Justice League: Incarnations around this time, tracing through the history of the JLA.

2003 comes around and it all that heavy lifting revitalization goes in the toilet. Ron Zimmerman writes a Marvel Max Rawhide Kid series. Zimmerman is some kind of comedy writer and Howard Stern regular. Well, within comics he wrote this and the god awful Ultimate Adventures - the only wholly original Ultimate Universe book, a Batman and Robin parody that was part of the U-Decide bet with Marville and PAD's Captain Marvel.

Marvel Max was a new imprint established in the early 2000s to break away from the aforementioned Comics Code and tell more daring, mature stories. Occasionally this resulted in gold like Jessica Jones. However, most of the time it was cringe inducing dreck.

So what's so bad about Rawhide Kid Max? He's now gay. Umm...OK, as long as it's handled well, maybe? Nope, constant cringey sexual innuendos which border on the protagonist coming off as a sexual predator. Some idiot gave it a sequel years later too.

Since then, we've gotten a bunch of one-shots in 2006, a weird Andy Diggle miniseries in 2012, and then the surprisingly great Marvel 1872 from Gerry Duggan during the patchwork reality crossover event Secret Wars. Which set up the Red Wolf series which was doomed by bad optics surrounding the writer and Marvel's spaghetti on the wall strategy of the time.

One of those 2006 one-shots ended up being legend Marshall Rogers's final published work. He and longtime collaborator Steve Englehart did it while waiting for DC to greenlight Dark Detective III, the second spiritual sequel to their influential 1970s run on Batman.

Here’s hoping we get to see some of these legendary heroes on the trail once more. At the very least we will get another tiny snippet in 2019 with a Gunhawks one-shot being brought back in celebration of Marvel’s 80th anniversary. Written by crime comics duo David and Maria Lapham.

This concludes a rambling chronicle of Marvel's history with the western genre and considerable tangents touching more generally on the history of Marvel and the comic book industry.

[thesinglesjukebox]

LAURA JEAN - GIRLS ON THE TV [8.27] Melbourne singer goes back to high school, discovers synths...

Jonathan Bradley: Laura Jean's self-titled album, her fourth -- it is now four years old -- is a skeletal folk record: it sounds like an Australia I don't often hear in pop song or mass media. It draws wintry charcoal sketches of Melbourne city parks and lonely stretches of national highways. The gothic domesticity acted like blotting paper, pressing against the natural rhythms of life and recording them in irrupted detail. Against this backdrop, "Girls on the TV" is a new single awash with astonishing colour: pastel synth swirls and a disco bass pulse pushing through the mix. Removed from context, this pop impulse might not be so unexpected, but I hear in Jean's airy, wavering tones an artist reinventing herself as the introspective rejoinder to the vivant throwback fervor of Betty Who or Catcall. And yet even in this new guise, Jean's bleak folk endures, with an anecdotal lyric that carefully and precisely narrates the drawn-out process of a girlhood destroyed. Ricky, who can "dance like the girls on the TV," is a childhood friend whose joy in the physical possibilities of her body is commodified and contaminated: by demanding teachers who ask her to perform feats she cannot, by cruel classmates who tease her for her weight, and by adult men who make sexual demands upon her. "Girls on the TV" is a sad song of youth that is made sadder by how keenly aware it is of the libertine and evanescent possibilities of the pop it embraces. [9]

Rebecca A. Gowns: "Girls on the TV" falls into that tricky vein of narrative pop songs; telling a full story can be hard to pull off without coming across as maudlin or pretentious or just clunky, but Laura Jean executes it perfectly. It's a story about a woman extending compassion to her sister -- or friend, or possibly even an old lover/crush -- but it tugs at me the most when I think of them as siblings. It's got to be, right? This kind of bittersweet, constant reminiscing reminds me of the pangs I get when I think about my little brother. We grew up so close. We're so different today. We keep reaching out to each other, grasping each other's hands through gaps in a wall that keeps building then falling down then building up again. But every time I see him, no matter the year, no matter the occasion, I'll think of the way we danced when we were kids, singing along to music videos, pulling faces, promising each other we'd be in a band together someday. "Someday" -- and then time flies, and people change -- but the memory remains. This is that feeling in a crystal bottle. [10]

Will Adams: "Girls on the TV" plays like a memory you visit while idly passing the time. The vault you access in your mind safe and warm, bordered by storybook clouds and soundtracked by dreamy synthpop. But, as always, the details that pierce through the most are the ones you want to remember the least: authority figures pressuring you to overexert yourself; peers excavating your every flaw and parading them about; parents imposing their austere lifestyle on you; abusers reducing you to a vessel for their pleasure; the eventual realization that everyone around you has moved forward, gotten hitched, settled down, while you remain stuck in place, feet swamped with the mud of an unkind youth. But those dancing girls are still there, as is the lingering promise that, one day, you could be one of them too. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: A tale of dashed female friendship akin to Who Will Run the Frog Hospital or Cat's Eye; what it loses in prose it gains in a kaleidoscopic, wistful arrangement. It fills its six minutes well; like memory itself, it's alternatingly immediate and almost photorealistic (that one deep synth around 0:30), then languid and ungraspable. [9]

Alfred Soto: The rare single whose insistence on taking its time pays off, "Girls on the TV" sparkles like distant stars, its synthesizers a platform instead of hoping to get noticed. The pace and arrangement suits Laura Jean's remarkable performance: a damaged meditation on loving someone you can see and hear but can't touch and all the better for it -- "Space Age Love Song" and "TVC 15" without the spritz. "She could always dance better than me," Jean repeats: a statement of fact, mild complaint, and prayer. [9]

Vikram Joseph: A languorously paced, well-written coming-of-age story about female friendship and crushed dreams. The airy, breathy pre-chorus is a particularly good showcase for Laura Jean's vocals. It's unlikely to get the blood racing -- sonically, it's undeniably a bit adult contemporary -- but it owns the middle of the road better than 95 per cent of the stuff you'd hear on drive-time radio. [7]

Julian Axelrod: An immersive, deeply felt meditation on ambition and destiny, sung with the resignation of a woman long since disillusioned with both. The longer I sit with it, the more its faults feel like strengths: Its leisurely runtime reflects time's slow and relentless march, while its dourness finds balance in its faint glimmers of hope. After living within it for a week, it already feels like I've carried this story with me my entire life. [9]

Peter Ryan: The languid quality is perfect misdirection, masking what's going on until the chords break open at the chorus. What emerges is an unflinching sketch of a web connecting childhood pain, coping attempts, and "contemporary adult life." There's no glib gesturing toward resilience, and instead of pity or judgment I hear an indictment of actual and would-be tormentors. Laura Jean brings a sibling's testimony, one that doesn't seek to bridge the gulf between shared upbringing and shared experience, and is all the more potent for it. The wrapping is more chiffon than velvet, but underneath is still an iron fist. [9]

Jonathan Bogart: A folkie's idea of dance music, muted and unflustered, with warm electric bass and polyrhythms played by actual hands rather than programming. Sweet, certainly, and the lyrics' sketch of childhood and adolescent friendship are well-observed and touching without being sentimental. Which is the trouble: the whole production is an exercise in keeping vulgarity, of which sentimentality is one expression, and actual dance music that makes you sweat another, at arm's length. [6]

Alex Clifton: Like if Belle & Sebastian's "Expectations" was twice as long with more disco. Laura Jean has the same gifts for both character and melody Stuart Murdoch has. The dreamy backing helps it go by as quickly as my teenage years did, and her falsetto for the chorus haunts the rest of the song like a memory. It's steeped in nostalgia, but is there any other way to write about adolescence? [7]

William John: Like half the Internet, I've been preoccupied with Hannah Gadsby's Nanette for the past few weeks: a subversive, quasi-TED Talk comedy special that blew my mind when I first saw it in a theatre late last year. Now on Netflix, Nanette is hard to distill succinctly, but central to its significance is its blunt presentation of the devastation rapacious men can effect on others. That devastation lingers in those victims and continues to humiliate them for years -- decades, even -- afterward. In "Girls on the TV", fellow Australian woman Laura Jean presents an unvarnished picture of friend Ricky, a bullied, vulnerable, talented tap dancer, and reminisces wistfully upon the relationship they formed as members of the high school concert band. In the fourth verse, a new character is introduced -- Jean's mother's boyfriend, a violent, young, and predatory 21 year old. In a line excised from the video edit of the song, Jean notes that after Ricky's encounter with this man, she felt like she "didn't know her, or how she got that way"; there is no explicit cause-and-effect drawn, but the implication for the listener is that this incident had extensive ramifications for Ricky, that included cocaine addiction and relationships with married men. It's a sad story that demonstrates the way the action of a third party can destabilise and dismantle a friendship, but it's told with a compelling breathiness by Jean that seems to gather more and more momentum with each passing second. I'm unaccustomed to hearing such brusque, direct, and yet tender third-person storytelling in modern synth-pop. The importance of storytelling is central to Gadsby's Nanette -- stories "hold our cure," she says, and have the power to forge connection. Jean's memories of sitting in front of rage on a Saturday morning when young serve as an access point into an important story that deserved to be recounted. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[sunlitroom]

Merry Christmas :) I absolutely love reading your metas and I am a bit anxious about Gotham's season 4. I was wondering if you consider Sofia a villain? Everything she did, she did for the family and the only person who was probably close to her was her brother. I find it quite sad that so many people hate her since she's a great addiction to the show.

Merry Christmas to you too, Anon, and thank-you - I’m gladyou enjoy my metas :)

That’s a tough question.  Like you, I think she’s a great addition to the show.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that Sofia is maybe the mostcomplex and nuanced female character the show has offered us.  She wanted her father’s love and respect, buthated him enough to kill him.  She chosea completely different life to her brother, but loved him deeply enough toexact revenge in his name.  

On top of that, she’s consistent.  I don’t think anything she did seemedparticularly out of character at any point - which is a common problem for Gotham.  Her actions made sense, and were believablein the context of what we know about her, which made her seem real.

I’ve not seen any hate for her - but I tend to stay out of the tags.  

As regards whether she’s an outright villain or not, theshow was very careful in the beginning to make her very hard to read.  In the scene where Carmine’s old capos wereshot, for example, it was difficult to tell whether her tears were entirelyfalse, or whether she was genuinely saddened, even though she had engineeredthe whole situation.

The waters were muddied further in her relationship withOswald.  Even from the beginning, whenJim goes to Carmine – parallels were drawn between them. They’re both presented in an oddly childishlight due to strong parental relationships, and how they’re perceived: Fishcalls Oswald her ‘boy’.  Carmine dismissesSofia’s offer to go to Gotham.  Oswaldfumes, Sofia sulks.  They even wear verysimilar neckties – Sofia’s little bow in her riding outfit is very reminiscent of Oswald’s s1 continental cross.

When the two finally met, it was equally difficult to tellwhether her actions were entirely manipulative, or she was forging some kind ofodd bond with him.   Given that Oswald isgenerally portrayed very sympathetically, the nature of her relationship withhim would be very likely to sway the audience one way or another.

I found her relationship with Jim a lot less engaging, to behonest, but I think that’s more to do with Jim.  He spent most of his time giving hermistrustful, judgmental looks before sex. Still, though, there was enoughnuance from her to make it hard to draw any conclusions on how she felt abouthim.

However, in the last couple of episodes the show pretty muchtipped its hand and seemingly decided to push her into the outright villaincategory.  Probably the following werethe definitive moments:

Telling Jim that Harvey was incompetent and weak, and thathe only held him back.

Engineering the Pyg situation, which led to the slow deathsof several cops, and Harvey’s public humiliation.

Revealing to Oswald that all the moments they had shared(particularly the business with his mother, and him allowing her to see hisleg) were insincere.

Opening an orphanage with the sole long-term goal of using achild to manipulate Oswald.

Using Martin to get to Oswald, and putting him in danger’sway.  Showing no emotional engagement with Martin.

Murdering her father.

I’m guessing stitching Jim up is also supposed to be seen asvillainous, but given Jim’s raging hypocrisy in going to a gangster for helpwhile spouting law and order, I think this one falls down.  Jim just looks like he got what he deserved.

Possibly duping Zsasz, I suppose? This is just about the only time we’ve seen him display emotion, which she exploited.

On top of that, she’s also now massively powerful, much likeTheo Galavan, who managed to be both virtually untouchable and incredibly destructive.  The show spun that storyline out until theaudience was just about tearing its hair out waiting to see his comeuppance.  They’ve not been quite so obvious from the outset with Sofia –but they’re likewise setting her up for an almighty fall.

We’ve also seen from upcoming promos that she seems to be indirect conflict with Lee.  That’s anotherflag that she’s definitely to be classed as a villain.  Lee, even as the new darker Lee, is stillpresented as the stereotypically ‘good’ woman: nurturing, altruistic,protective.  Look too at the scene we got– Sofia’s face is completely impassive (incidentally, I think that CR’s abilityto use mannerisms to seem realistically like Carmine’s daughter is tremendous),Lee is trembling with emotion.  The oppositionis already being set up, and not in her favour. Cold emotional blankness vs warm emotionality. 

(It’s also occurred to me that while Jim and Sofia were shown to be engaging in what was a pretty sordid affair, Lee’s seemingly not been with anyone in the meantime.  Now you’ve definitely got the old Madonna/whore dichotemy set up) 

Your question made me think, too, about why some villainsget a lot of sympathy and others get none. Like you say – Sofia wants revenge for her dead brother, seemingly theonly family member she was close to.  You’dthink that would warrant more sympathy.  CRhas also given a brilliantly nuanced performance.  But we’ve just not really been given anyopportunities to sympathise/empathise with her.

For example, we get loads of sympathetic moments with – say Oswaldand Edward.  We see Oswald tearful when hismother asks if he’s done anything he shouldn’t. We also see him physically vulnerable – especially in season one – wherethey apparently needed multiple suits per episode because Oswald got roughed upso much :) We see him mocked, needy for friendship.  That’s not even counting the angst avalanchethat fell on him in later seasons.  Mostrecently, we see him develop a relationship with a child.

Crucially, he’san outsider.  An underdog.  There’s a lot of ‘other’ about him – and soit’s incredibly easy to sympathise for him, root for him, and identify with him

Ed, too.  Season 1 Ed wasirritating, and pestered Kristin incessantly – but Harvey was often downrightcruel to him.  The scene, too, where he findsall the cops laughing over his poem to Kristin is pretty painful – Ed just hasno clue what to do in this social situation, and flounders badly.  He’s belittled and bullied by his own darkerself.

Again – like Oswald – he’s despised, excluded, unsure of himself.  As such, again, it’s easy to have sympathisedwith him at some point in his storyline, even if it was only fleeting.

The show deliberately doesn’t really give us moments likethat with Sofia. There’s no evidence ofany bond with Martin, for example.  The moment whereCarmine hits her could/should havedone this – but he’s murdered moments later. That doesn’t – of course – remotely negate what he did, but the balanceof power is back in her favour so fast that she barely gets a moment to bevulnerable.  It would have been theeasiest thing ever, when she confronted Jim at the end, for her voice to havebroken when talking about Mario – to have been given some emotional littledetail about how he was always there for her/her only friend, but they didn’tgive us anything.  

In direct opposition to the likes of Oswald and Ed, asdiscussed, and probably Jonathan and Jerome, (and Barbara too, actually) she’spretty much solidly presented as privileged, powerful, and controlling.   She’s wealthy, beautiful, socially able, anddeferred to by anyone she encounters. That’s a tougher sell if she’s to be sympathetic.  They’d have to have let us see hervulnerable, or unhappy, or caring about someone else – and they just didn’t.

So - do I find her a villain? Yes – but I think she’s a good one, and just about all of my favouritecharacters are ‘villains’, anyway :)  She’s easilythe strongest female character on the show. I’d have preferred it if theycould have retained the earlier ambiguity, but who knows what they’ll do forthe rest of season 4? 

 I don’t know ifshe’ll get to stick around.  If she triesto take over the Narrows, then she’s going to have pissed off virtually everymain character.  Hunting her down islikely what will make everyone reconcile their differences.  I don’t see her staying in place as the mafia kingpin.  As a more freakish character, that’s apossibility.  I’m not familiar with comiccanon – but depending on how people take revenge, and whether guilt overCarmine’s death has an impact on her – maybe there’s potential for her to takeon a different persona?

Thanks for asking – anon! I’d love to hear what you think. :)

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 3x04 recap

Aka ‘You probably should have just watched 3x03 again, Laura’

Okay, clearly I don’t do well with deadlines. Despite having 2 weeks to do it, I’m still doing this last minute, so it’s gonna be a fairly short one. Not to mention that this wasn’t exactly my favourite episode, so I may have fewer thoughts about it than others... but there’s definitely a few thoughts I do wanna share, so here goes. 

At first I thought that little girl was Alice but then realised all the many reasons why that made no sense. Instead we get introduced to a bomber guy who is clearly gonna be relevant to the ep despite just seemingly blowing himself up...

Oooh Jane came out with the truth about Roman calling her. Nice, honey. I’m proud of your openness. I wonder if Weller noticed she was acting weird last night, since it’s morning now? Also dude she gave him yet another perfect opening to tell her about Berlin and he didn’t take it!!!! Literally no matter what happened in Berlin, his staying silent about it is bad enough in itself. Dude you are setting yourself up for a big fall here!

Naww I love that Zapata is always checking in on Patterson. Ugh, these sisters. And instead of forcing her to take a break, like all the others would have tried to do, she just asks how she can help. I just love these two. I love that Zapata helps her see things from a different angle and gives her a plan to follow. Poor Patterson is so determined to make it up to Stuart and she needs all the help she can get

God I love Hirst’s accent. But dude what is happening with this scene. How have she and Reade been on such close terms that they had a bet that involved potentially shaving her head?? That’s the kind of thing you agree on whilst drunk. Have these two gotten drunk together?? What is going on. Also she legit takes the ugly jumper thing and agrees to wear it to a meeting?? At work, at the FBI?? With executive people?? That just feels very unlikely. Also dude she basically just said ‘hey Reade if you’ve done any shady shit make sure it’s buried deep because we’re gonna have people looking into us’. Wow.

Anyway my lil genius has cracked a tatt, which relates to the bomber guy we just saw before. Lol the guy’s ex wife nailed him by recognising his handwriting and tipping off the cops. You go, girl. Now though Patterson’s smarts they’ve found a van in some particular car park in Brooklyn, and lol Weller’s doing the bombsquad thing for some unknown reason. All that’s in the van is a letter though-- to the bomber’s daughter, from the bomber. He’s not really dead. Dun dun dunnnnnnn (lol get it bc his last name is Dunn haha)

Oh boy we’re actually seeing the wedding video. I don’t know whether to roll my eyes or melt into a puddle, but tbh I’m a little more leaning towards the eye rolling. I like that Zapata and Reade are doing theirs together, because I imagine they were both like ‘you go first, no you go  first, no you go I don’t know what to say’ so they just went in together. And lol ‘what do you even do in Colorado’ (right tho??) and ugh they’re so looking forward to being part of Jeller’s future and Reade even tells them he loves them (sidenote I like his earrings) and they say ‘don’t screw this up’ which kinda just hurts to hear because man did they screw it up real bad. Also Patterson ‘videobombing’ is the best lol. But I wanna know what happens in between the cuts! Where’s the director’s cut of this vid? haha

Lol Zapata giving Weller shit about the bombsquad thing (right tho????) and then also giving Jane shit, saying that she was surprised she didn’t squeeze into the suit and go with him. Ugh Zapata is so great this season already, can she just be like this forever? I’m still confused about Hirst’s ugly sweater sitch and why this is even being included. Is it to show her bond with Reade/the team? To show she’s a good sport?? Why Gero what are you trying to sayyy. Also they found the bomber’s daughter (who has had some trouble with the law herself) and they’re gonna bring her in to try find the bomber or whatever

Roman is looking dapper and heads into some fancy event as his new Tom persona. And then he meets Blake, the gorgeous hostess of the event, and who was also another former ‘LA Complex’ character-- fun fact she played the long-lost sister of Jonathan Patrick Moore’s character, so technically her and Roman’s siblings kind of dated. Ish. But ugh he’s being all cute and charming and weirdly Australian and she’s clearly liking it. She has such a great smile, it lights up her whole face. Aaaand the moment she walks away he’s off doing something sneaky, bc of course he is.

The bomber’s daughter is being recalcitrant, naturally. Goes with the territory. Weller and Reade are interrogating together which is nice, I like my good boys playing together. Glad to see Weller isn’t being such a butt. Anyway turns out her dad doesn’t drop the letters himself but has someone do it for him, and there’s an emergency signal for if she needs help. So they go to the park and they’re so cute all loitering about ‘undercover’. And I like that Jane can tell from across the park that Weller isn’t happy with the situation. Naww, so married.  Based on Weller’s gut they all move out, looking for the drop guy. Of course it’s Jane that spots him-- and does he spot the daughter, or Jane?? I can’t tell which he’s looking at. She loses him momentarily and then next thing he’s got a gun on her-- only he recognises her, his tone surprised but not hostile when he says ‘Remi?’ So they knew each other in the Sandstorm days?? He’s definitely not pleased to see her working with the cops though…

Oh boy. Now Weller is on the wedding vid and okay it’s pretty damn cute. And ugh he said the thing about her being his starting point AND end point and ughhh how many of us included a line like that in our fics?? But ugh he loves her so muuuch and he’s so emotional and amazed and happy to be marrying her ugh

Okay after that brief interlude we’re back to the suspect guy. What has this guy been in? I recognise him. And he seems to actually like Remi/Jane, which is why I think she is able to get the jump on him. I always love Jane being a badass. I wanna know what happens right after this tho-- like does she radio/call the team and be like ‘hey guys come to the house across the street I’ve incapacitated our suspect’ and Weller is all like ‘are you okay?????’ while the Reade is hoping that she managed to do it without drawing attention or injuring him too badly, and Zapata’s just miffed bc she didn’t get to kick any butt lol. Back at the lab Patterson fills them in-- he’s a dude that’s wanted in like seven countries for “like, all of the crimes” hahahaha. I love the way she said that. Zapata’s kinda impressed with him since according to the CIA he’s the go-to guy for forged documents. Then Reade sends Jeller in to do the interrogation and tbh I’m kinda getting used to Reade giving the orders. It’s pretty much like hearing Weller’s voice come out of his mouth lol. And then aw their suspect is kinda sad that Jane doesn’t remember him, bc he was like an uncle to her? And then omg he says “that summer, in Kalispell, up on Flathead lake” and dude I was literally just there in July??? My friend has friends like an hour from Kalispell and we all went rafting together at Flathead. Yayyy Montana. I love when slightly more obscure places I’ve been get mentioned haha. Jane tries to get him back on track and he just keeps reminiscing. Clearly he knew them when they were pretty young-- he says he did her adoption, so however old they were when Shepherd took them in I guess? Sounds like he wasn’t a huge fan of Shepherd tho which I approve of haha. Too bad he won’t tell them anything about the bomber guy.

Again Patterson and Zapata are having one of their little vibing moments and they realise the suspect must have had a ‘go bag’ somewhere. And Zapata being the kickass FBI and CIA trained badass that she is, realises that it’s hidden in the seat of his car. Lol she even uses the CIA lingo. And then omg Patterson just whips out a butterfly knife from her pocket?? Lord that is so damn cool. I wish I could be cool like her and carry one of those around but alas carrying knives is illegal in my country. Ugh then they find his stuff and high five over it and I just love them so much

Hirst is arguing with some bigwig guy who wants to take away their suspect bc of his other crimes and ugh I could listen to her talk all day. I’m proud of her for saying ‘you all’ and not ‘y’all’ to him haha. Lol Weller tries to tell the dude he can’t take them and errrr Weller I think he’s a little above you on the foodchain, buddy. Anyway Patterson calls them into the lab-- they stuff they found includes a coded ‘black book’ of his transactions. I love that she calls Zapata ‘00Z’ haha. And then they figure out from the cypher thing that the bomber is in Ithaca, bc Patterson is a genius, of course

Uh oh. They’ve arrived at the place in Ithaca and the local fuzz are all over it instead of keeping the perimeter-- they apparently found a bomb which has also supposedly already been disarmed. Well that was quick. Also omg the guy calls Tasha darling and her face is all ‘bitch please’ and Weller shoots her a look like ‘please don’t kill him, please don’t kill him’ lol. And Reade puts a hand out to settle her lol. They get in and it’s a pretty basic bomb, then as the dudes go to lift it Weller realises it’s a decoy and yells for everyone to get out--  and good thing it’s a room with a lot of exits bc Weller and the main cop go through one, Zapata pushes another cop through another, and Reade and Jane go through another. Not sure about the last cop, but he’s probably fine bc ~magic~

Oh now it’s Jane’s turn for the vid. And omg she immediately makes a sex/dirtytalk joke??? Wow girl, you’re really opening up, aren’t you? But ugh she never thought she would have this and she’s so emotional about it and she’s like halfway through a sentence when Weller walks in?? And I know this should be adorable and all but I’m kinda mad about it? Like he already had his chance to share everything he felt without being interrupted, but now whatever she was gonna say is lost bc he felt that he was entitled to butt in?? And then she jokes that he thought she’d run away and he said he’d never let that happen bc he’d ‘never let her out of his sight’ which tbh I do not like??? Firstly it hurts bc she DOES leave, but also it feels kinda weird and possessive and like a ‘you will never be free of me’ kinda thing? Feels more stifling than romantic. But whatevs just gonna let that one slide right on past

Back at the bomb house, Weller is immediately searching for Jane, and belatedly remembering to check on everyone else haha. Zapata emerges, lookin kinda fine with all those soot stains, then a cop stumbles past  and Reade stands up. Assuming the other cop who was saved by Zapata gets out fine, then that just leaves Jane. Who is unmoving on the floor, and ugh Weller’s voice gets all small and wobbly and he’s all ‘no, no’ and goddammit writers can you not? Then she miraculously regains consciousness under his touch and he cups her face in his hands as she tells him she’s okay and then he hugs her to his chest and nope I do not need this in my life please stop

Why do these guys all look so great covered in dirt and soot?? They’re back to the NYO with the news that their bomber guy has a bunch of bomb stuff (surprise!) and is likely planning an attack. They split up and Weller finds Jane in the locker room icing her bruised ribs, and he knows right away that it’s not the injury that’s bothering her-- it’s Roman. Nice hubby senses, Weller. Ooh interesting she says that she doesn't care  about her past bc she finds nothing but pain in it, which makes me feel like this Rossi guy is going to reveal something big and kinda positive to her about her past. And then ugh she says that right now, them, is what she cares about and ughhhh why they gotta be so cute? Tho again I take issue with Weller-- this time with calling her perfect. Jane knows she’s not perfect, so why not say that he loves her as she is, imperfections and all? But whatevs. He promises her a lifetime full of perfect moments though and okay that’s pretty sweet with the heart eyes and the hand kissing and ugh he loves her so much and yet he’s STILL lying about Berlin and I haaaaate it

Oooh we’re back at Roman’s charity event. And ugh Blake is so cute and she’s a good auctioneer and she auctions off a little bracelet and she clearly knows the little girl who made it quite well, and cared about her particularly, I think? And her jokes are so sweet and I love that she gets them to start bidding and then bam here’s ‘Tom’ with a $20,000 bid and says that he ‘likes wishes’ so cutely and omg the way she’s looking at him rn is just so-- Oh no I ship it. Why do I ship this I mean it’s like a terrible idea but wow I do. Oh noooooooooo

Patterson called Zapata to the lab even though their tests re the bomber are still ‘marinating’, because she wants to talk to her about Operation Cuttlefish (aka their investigation into Stuart’s murder) and lol she tries to give a nerdy explanation of cuttlefish’s camouflage ability but Zapata is like ‘good lord just show me’ lol. Turns out a bunch of things have been meddled with and now they both wonder whether there could be another leak in their taskforce. Man, this office is leakier than a damn sieve….

What, Hirst even made a video entry? Really? Ok, I guess. I do love listening to her talk. And lol she says ‘y’all’ this time. Patterson again videobombs with shots and also to inform everyone that she met a guy named Jonathan Walker Blue and that they’re in love and I was literally about to make a comment about how that’s a weird name and that I wanted to hear more about this guy, when I suddenly realised that I’m an idiot and she was referring to Johnnie Walker Blue. The whiskey. Lord that went right over my head the first time haha. Then Hirst goes on to say that they’re an amazing team and even though they’re gonna have hard times, they’ll lean on each other. “To the good times and the bad, may love rule mightily over both” and lbr that’s totally gonna be a theme for the season (and the show as a whole) isn’t it

So they’ve discovered that the bomber is planning to bomb a university in the city within the next hour, and while they were about to waste a lot of time evacuating all the campuses, Patterson discovers that the colours on the materials that the bomber had on his workbench were the same as the colours for the metro university so he must have been making an ID badge for there, giving them their target. And lol Weller is giving all the orders and then is just like ‘okay you heard the boss’ (meaning Reade) and it’s like well I think we all know who is really running the show here…

Aaaaahhh Blake comes to deliver the bracelet personally to Tom bc she has the epic hots for him and omg THIS FLIRTING IS SO FREAKIN SMOOTH I CAN’T. And then she gets all earnest and is trying to ~understand~ him (because she liiiiiiiiiikes him) and ugh they move in closer and there’s more flirting and then he tells her about Tom’s backstory of fighting in Afghanistan and inheriting money from a friend who died and wanting to use it for a good cause and oh god she’s falling like a rock for him and I DIG IT. FOR STUPID MASOCHISTIC REASONS. Seriously gimme more of this, Gero. (Ship name: Take?? Blam?? lol). And then ugh he asks her how the wish bracelet works and then when she explains he ties it on HER wrist and tells her she deserves the wish more than he does and I’m????? So into this???? Which is ridiculous bc it’s all a total lie but damn it’s just so cute and she’s basically swooning and then she offers to buy him a drink and they joke about the open bar and ughhhhhhhhh why. Why must I want this. And then he says he can’t because (sadly) he has a plane to catch and ughhh I’m bummed about it. But then again, the old ‘leave em wanting more’ thing does have merit, so maybe we’ll see…. Oh aaaaand he’s tracking her with a GPS he planted in the bracelet bc the whole thing was a ruse. Of course. Dammit, Roman, why you gotta crush all my dreams

Back at the lab, Patterson realises that Roman gave them the clue to crack the bomber’s manifesto, because all the older manifestos use the same code. Also literally how was anyone meant to crack that code without that very random and specific picture?? But eh. So now they know that the bomb is under the medical building at the university and man that’s just mean. You know how hard it is to evacuate a hospital??? That crap takes forever. But anyway damn Zapata and Reade are looking like a really badass team rn. Zapata gets slammed into the wall by the bomber guy (rude) but Reade shoots him just before he can shoot her. Phew. Unfortunately now this means that Jane and Weller are disarming the bomb on their own….

Lol it’s finally time for drunk!Patterson to get to have her say on the video, and of course she mentions D&D. Apparently Jane is an elf paladin and Weller is a dwarf monk. What’s the bet that Ashley herself chose those characters?  I kinda wanna look up their abilities and characteristics now. And ugh she just loves them and believes they can do anything and she’s just the sweetestttttt

And now Jeller have 80 seconds to disarm the bomb, which has an anti tamper device which requires them to work as a perfect team in order not to set it off haha. Symbolism, symbolism everywhere. Also lol Weller, saying ‘steady’ over and over doesn’t really help buddy. And then they pull each of their wires (as advised by Patterson, bc no one would get through anything without her) at the exact same time, staring at each other as the timer hits zero. Sidenote but anyone here used to watch Castle?? Can’t help but  think of the scene in S3 where Caskett hold hands in front of the bomb and then Castle disarms it by yanking out all the wires. Anyway, different OTP, different time. Then Jane is giving Weller a look and tells him that disarming the bomb with him was kinda hot and he pulls her into his arms and lol they’re getting off on this and Patterson is like ‘Mom! Dad! Stop, I can hear you!’ hahaha. But they don’t care bc they’re already making out haha.

Ooooh the fancy schmancy dude from the other organisation is back to tell them that Rossi escaped from his custody, which they’re all pissed at him for, bc now they have to help fix his screw up. But I only care about Patterson not-very-subtly pulling Zapata away from the bullpen mouthing ‘CUTTLEFISH’ lol. And lolll Zapata's like ‘god I’m the only adult in this place’ haha. Patterson has discovered that the anonymous tip from their last case (the one from Karen about the train crash, I assume, not Rich’s sneaky fake tip lol) was wrongfully marked as low priority on the database-- so someone in the FBI is doing this tampering? Idk I don’t think I’m following along very well lol

Ugh I’m actually mad at Weller for fast forwarding through Patterson’s message on their wedding video??? Like clearly he’s watched it before (probably many times, whilst drunk, and always laughing bitterly at the part where he tells her he won’t let her out of his sight, and ouch I made myself sad) but Jane clearly hasn’t seen it since she asks how long it goes on for. And then they basically ignore the rest of what Patterson’s saying anyway in favour of having a little chit chat. Sigh so rude. It is cute though how Jane is teasing Weller about not ever saying lovely things like in the video. And dude clearly I am wired a little bit oddly but for the split second when he moved fast I almost thought he was going to hit her, which makes no sense at all and once that tiny fraction of a second passed I was like ‘aww he’s playing around with her and being cute and silly, how adorable’ and then I’m sure he was gonna say some more sweet things and then demand apology kisses, but instead suddenly there’s Roman on the screen. And mmmmmm isn’t it symbolic that the two of them, having been all tangled up in each other, suddenly separate when Roman appears?? I see what you did there, Gero. But okay I literally cannot get over Roman’s little decorating effort. Like I know this is supposed to be a grim moment but I am almost wheezing over his lil fairy lights and flowers and handwritten sign?? He could have just appeared in front of a blank wall but nope he is just that Extra. I love him.  Not cool of him to tell Jane she’s broken and tell Weller that their relationship is built on lies, though. But omg he literally toasts them with what I assume is champagne and lol this is hilarious. Err, I mean, it’s terrible, sorry Jeller….

Oooh Zapata wants to hang with Reade for drinks but he tells her he’s already home-- only for her to see him a moment later with fancy schmancy dude from before, and immediately gets all suspicious. My head says we’re supposed to suspect there’s dirty dealings going on but my heart says ‘gay love affair’. Though lbr there could be some dirty dealings involved in that, too lol

A mysterious envelope has been slipped under the Jeller's door. And Jane, seasoned FBI consultant and ninja warrior, just goes right ahead and picks it up with her bare hands. Really? No thought for fingerprints or anthrax or anything? Fine, whatevs. But hold up, it’s from Rossi, about some secret that he thinks she deserves to know.  Weller comes over just as she pulls out some birth records-- and BAM, turns out Rossi organised the adoption not of Remi and Roman, but of Remi’s daughter, 18 years ago. Ohhhhhhh boy. I feel like Gero is actually literally Oprah rn-- you get a daughter! And YOU get a daughter! Daughters for everybody!!!! And as legitimately terrible as this plot decision is, I hate it somewhat less given that Weller’s spawn also exists. I mean, at least instead of just one of them having a child outside the relationship, then now both do, which balances things out a bit? I literally can’t believe I even am in the situation of having to write that sentence but this is where we are now. This is what you did to me, Gero. Ugh.

Well. Interested to see tonight’s ep. Here’s some spoilers you might not have caught yet: Reade’s estranged twin, Duane, comes demanding that Reade donate him his kidney or he’ll die; Zapata falls into a brief coma after a rollerblading accident and awakens only able to speak German; Patterson turns out to be a chihuahua piloting a very convincing android; and Hirst admits that she is actually Canadian and not from the South at all, eh. Can’t wait!

[cemeterygatesmedia]

Stranger Things 2: An Entertaining, Soft-Remake of the Original?

The first portion of this review contains no major spoilers, while my comments on the individual episodes in the second half, will. 

The first two episodes, or ‘chapters,’ of Stranger Things 2 unequivocally reminds us that we identify ourselves by the media we choose to consume. When the characters are reintroduced we’re practically nostalgic for the first run of the series, which only aired a little over a year ago. The first series created an environment reminiscent of many of our childhood brushes with pop-culture, adventure, the awkwardness of navigating puberty etc. The second run practically doubles-down on recreating that environment from the get-go, and then as the series progresses the Duffer Brothers deftly ease off that particular pedal, and let us settle back into the day-to-day troubles of Hawkins without the distraction of a constant barrage of ancient product labels, toys, fashion, and music to take note of.

Stranger Things 2 is a grander remake of the first series. Our heroes reemerge to once again take on the government lab baddies and its out-of-control science experiment, although this time the threat looms even larger over Hawkins. One would assume that replaying the same plot points might mark this series as stale, from the third or so chapter on, but the characters do grow, and there are enough mini-arcs involving our favorite returning heroes to maintain interest. For me, the first run of Stranger Things often dragged, while the characters did keep me watching, Stranger Things 2 certainly kept up the pace of the story, and only hit a road bump with Eleven’s side-story in the big city. 

Speaking of which, I do have to address the opening chase scene, with the cast of characters we’ll only come to again in Chapter 7. There seems to be no purpose for introducing these folks here. The van chase should probably begin the fifth chapter, where the lead, Kali, is hinted at in a flashback. For me, Kali and her gang is the one glaring misstep of Stranger Things 2. Her Eleven-like powers are introduced in the first few minutes of the series, and the viewer is left waiting for some sort of explanation, or purpose for her in the story arc, yet the distraction has little to no payoff.

Before I get to comments on individual chapters, I must say that Stranger Things 2 is well done, a superior product to the original, if you don’t detest, or fixate on, the fact that this second series is nearly a soft remake. I’d recommend Stranger Things 2 to anyone who broadly enjoys sci-fi or horror.

The following portion has spoilers and should serve as a brief episode guide, so here’s your warning if you haven’t seen the complete series.

Chapter 1: Madmax (Rating: 4/5)

Max is a redheaded girl who is always at the arcade, the boys are instantly enamored of her and stalk her. Her older brother, Billy, quickly becomes the new, even more narcissistic and nasty version of series 1 Steve, now that Steve is a sweetheart, older brother archetype to the boys.

Barb’s family has hired a private investigator and are selling their house to pay for it, although Nancy and Steve know she’s dead, but won’t say. It’s a real moral dilemma for Nancy, as it should be. We figure out quickly that most of the characters have kept quiet about what occurred at Hawkins National Lab. 

Paul Reiser is Will’s psychiatrist, Dr. Owens. Dr. Owens is the a more sympathetic version of Dr. Brenner, although he still represents faceless, uncaring bureaucracy that manufactures horrible weapons and wants to treat special kids like guinea pigs.

Eleven is living with Hopper in a cabin deep in the woods.

Chapter 2: Trick or Treat, Freak (4/5)

Eleven is still having visions, mainly to let the viewer in on the fallout from the previous season.

Hopper begins investigating poison pumpkins and vegetation. First major, “Come on, dude” moment. Hopper is only a year away from dealing with plant issues. The first thing he should think when he sees a field full of rotted vegetation is Inter-dimensional Plant Monster.

The boys go trick or treating with Max and have a great time until Will has a vision of a menacing behemoth in the sky. This is such a rich, nostalgic episode, although it doesn’t quite have enough trick or treating scenes as one might hope.

Chapter 3: The Pollywog (3/5)

Dusty finds creature in trash can outside his house. The creature transforms and Dusty is a dummy who will smack himself (again) when he sees Life (2017).

El wants to leave cabin and see Mike, but Hopper wants to keep her his secret. This was probably a missed opportunity to have an ultimate Halloween episode with Mike and El’s reunion. She already had the ghost sheet made, there’s no real reason why she can’t just interact with Mike and have him keep her secret.

Steve’s hair is out of control. It’s distracting by this point.

Hopper figures out the lab is the cause of the plant decaying poison…duh.

Joyce finally gets back to her paranormal investigating and uses camcorder footage from Halloween Night to see Will’s behemoth in the sky.

El goes to the middle school just to knock Max off her skateboard out of jealousy. It’s not a good look, nor a good scene.

Will stands his ground against the behemoth, taking Bob’s advice to heart, after he’s thrust back into the Upside Down, and gets consumed by the monster.

Chapter 4: Will the Wise (4/5)

They find will nearly catatonic in the parking lot of school. Will is now possessed by the entity from his visions and begins coloring a ton of pictures.

El returns home and has teen tantrum, destroys the cabin and Hopper leaves. She then finds a box with Hopper’s notes on Hawkin’s Lab under cabin and gets ideas.

Joyce and Hopper put Will’s picture together and decide they represent destroying vines.

Nancy records Dr. Owens admitting to Barb’s death. She and Steve want to burn the lab to ground, which is silly at the point, because they already knew Hawkins National Lab was most responsible for Barb’s death.

Dusty’s creature has escaped, and is found eating his cat. The creature now looks like the monster from the first season.

Hopper discovers the vast root system and tunnels under the poisoned fields.

Chapter 5: Dig Dug (4/5)

Hopper is investigating underground and gets blasted in face by sporing vine, and is trapped. Will has visions of Hopper in trouble.

Nancy and Jonathan meet up with conspiracy nut/the private investigator who was investigating Barb’s death and let him listen to Dr. Owens’ confession.

Bob walks in and solves Will’s drawings, deciphering them as a map of Hawkins, almost instantly.

El communicates with her Mom, finds out her Mom went into Hawkins Lab to try and rescue El aka Jane, and another girl, whom we can assume is the chick from first episode. El/Jane’s mom is caught, and Dr. Brenner fries her brain with some intense ECT.

Joyce and Bob manage to find, and free, Hopper. Hawkins Lab people also discover the underground tunnel system and they torch the labyrinths, which makes Will freaks out.

Chapter 6: The Spy (4/5)

Dusty and Steve discover that the creature has escaped from Dusty’s bomb shelter.

Will gets amnesia, and the episode begins feeling like It (2017) with the way everything leads back to one, evil wellspring which must be approached underground and conquered.

At this point the show begins feeling more like a horror movie than a sci-fi adventure. The kids battle monsters in a blockaded bus, while Hawkins Lab is overrun by the demadogs and the adults must fight their way out of the building.

Chapter 7: The Lost Sister (2/5)

Eleven finds Kali, her lost ‘sister’ from Hawkins lab, in Chicago. They share information and decide they’re going to track bad guys. Their first target states that Dr. Brenner is still alive, Kali seems to believe him. This bit of incredibly important information is quickly forgotten.

Cops bust Kali’s gang, while El has a vision of Mike in trouble, and parts ways with Kali and her gang. There was no reason that Eleven had to meet Kali or take part in any of Kali’s vendettas. It cheapened the overall story and was a distracting element from the first episode onward.

Chapter 8: The Mind Flayer (4/5)

The adults are still trying to escape Hawkins Lab, which is overrun by monsters. Bob’s going to reprogram some computers on the fly and save everyone.

This is the episode where we go full horror movie, fun clichés spawning left and right. Bob dies, brutally to save Joyce and the others.

The group plan to kill the underground behemoth, in order to destroy the hivemind, it generates.

They need to get information out of Will, but he’s possessed by the behemoth. Will’s friends and family tell him loving stories and anecdotes, and he ultimately gives them no new information.

El returns in time to save everyone from demadogs at Joyce’s house. She took a bus home using the money which she and Kali’s gang stole, apparently.

Chapter 9: The Gate (5/5)

Comedy finally returns to the series in the beginning of this episode! Yes, levity gives perspective, and character, to heavy drama.

The group separates to burn the entity that has possessed Will, and to take on the behemoth underground.

“I shouldn’t have left.” - Eleven. Exactly, she shouldn’t have had a side story about meeting her mom and sister, as they ultimately told her nothing about herself or gave her meaningful direction to overcome her demons.

El and Hopper go into lab and run into Dr. Owens, who’s given a tourniquet and pistol by Hopper. No real reason for this run-in to occur here.

Entity/behemoth ultimately leaves Will when Steve and his gang of kids start fire in the underground hub. While El defeats the behemoth and pushes it back through the gate.

Epilogue: There’s justice for Barb and Hawkins Lab gets shut down for good. Which is really a no-brainer as the entire structure and everyone in it got destroyed.

Hopper gets Eleven/Jane’s birth certificate from Dr. Owens, and she is now his daughter. The kids have a winter dance and hook up with each other. Final moments show Hawkins Middle School in the Upside Down.

-Joe Sullivan

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part Eleven: Exacting Revenge

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten

Word count: 2606

Trigger warnings: Needles, drowning

I know that I've written Arkham in this story is very different from the movie; it's part of the AU. It's mostly for atmosphere and aesthetic. Sorry if it's confusing, I like the thought of them sneaking around; it's kinda cute, isn't it? Sneaky little monsters? Plus, like, in the movie, they just go through a door, and the whole setup is just...there???? Where anyone with a key could just stroll in? That makes no sense to me; I had to change it for my own edification.

The trick to staving off impatience is to make yourself forget about whatever you're waiting for. Or at least, that was what got Elianna through the week. She had pushed the plan so far to the corners of her mind that the day of, she had forgotten that it had finally arrived.

Of course, once it did resurface on her radar, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Paperwork finished, and nothing left to do but wait, Elianna found herself bored, playing the pre-programmed solitaire on her desktop office computer. No one else was left in the facility besides the night orderlies, security, and the inmates, so when Jonathan knocked on the door, she buzzed him in without question, eyes still focused on the screen in front of her.

He came in, closing the door behind him, and when she didn't greet him straight away, he walked around to her side of the desk to see what she was looking at. She just needed a place for the three of spades, and everything else would fall into place, but she was about to give up on it when Jonathan reached over and took the mouse from her, finishing the board in a few clicks.

"I hate you." El put her face in her hands, annoyed at having missed the clear space for the card.

"Thank you. Are you ready?" She nodded and shut off the dinosaur of a computer and gathered her things.

"Is there anything I should know before we do this? Anything you need from me?"

"No, all you need to do is watch, but you can administer the serum if you'd like." He pushed his glasses up his nose as they stepped into the hallway.

"I think I'd rather watch you do it the first time, just to get an idea of what to expect. Where are we going?"

"Service elevator goes to the basement. And that's fine, just don't report me."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me." El pushed on the door to ensure that it was locked, a habit she had developed to make sure that Zsasz couldn't be waiting in her office for her when she returned.

"Damn," Jonathan replied with dry sarcasm before, "ow," when she smacked him on the arm as they started walking for the service elevator. "If you're going to hit me, can't you at least pretend that you don't want to hurt me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll be your bodyguard when people show up outside your apartment with pitchforks and torches."

"I'll hold you to that." He pressed the 'down' button to call the elevator and, once inside, produced a key to allow them access to the basement. "That woman from the DA's office, Rachel Dawes, seems to think I'm up to something; maybe you should track her down."

"You are up to something." El reminded him as the elevator began its descent.

"She doesn't know that. She just happens to be right." Elianna laughed softly and followed him into the dingy hallway when the doors reopened. He led her into the third closet on the left and shut the door behind them.

"Hey, this reminds me." She chimed up, and Jonathan squinted at her through the darkness. "If we don't start having sex, Harley is going to be really disappointed in us."

"Oh my God," he muttered, and she laughed as she followed him to the back of the closet.

"Yeah, that's basically what I said. I just thought it was funny. What are you doing?" Jonathan was pushing aside a stack of mattresses leaned against the wall, revealing a loose panel, which he removed and gestured for her to step in first. "Seriously?" He gave her a confused look, to which she sighed in conceit and walked through to the other side of the wall, muttering something about cliches. "Why is this even here?"

Well," Jonathan cleared his throat and stepped through after her, replacing the panel. "This place has been around for a couple of hundred years, and as you know, asylums used to be a place to shove people that society didn't want to deal with. They renovated a few decades ago but never actually got rid of these old chambers, just walled them off. In fact, they even had it soundproofed. I haven't been able to figure out why, but it's convenient. Believe it or not, I'm not the first doctor with cause to mistreat patients; I think whoever was in charge during that renovation probably wasn't the best person either." El nodded in understanding, and they went down a short flight of iron stairs, which took them around one last corner.

Elianna slowed at the tableau before her. Zsasz was strapped to an old transport dolly by the neck, abdomen, wrists, and ankles, clearly agitated by how he squirmed.

"How...how did you get him down here?"

"Well, those guards that were in the room with you that day felt bad about what happened and took the opportunity to make it up to you."

"The stairs?" She turned around and looked at them, then back at Zsasz.

"He was moved here on the dolly. It's my understanding that he didn't particularly enjoy being wheeled down the stairs." Jonathan put his hand on El's back and guided her all the way into the spacious...What would you even call this? A torture chamber?

When they came all the way into view, Zsasz finally noticed them. The way his voice washed over Elianna was all too familiar and reminiscent of something cold and scaley, like a dead fish, but this time she was able to brush off the sensation. She held the power here.

"Doctor Montgomery! Have you come to conduct our next session? I think we're really starting to make progress." The deranged man laughed as he struggled harder against the leather cuffs; as they approached, El could see that they were reinforced.

"Mister Zsasz, you'll be helping me with an experiment tonight. Doctor Montgomery is here as a witness, and I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from speaking to her." Jonathan interjected before El could say anything.

***

For the first time, Zsasz seemed uneasy, and his eyes followed Jonathan's briefcase as he set it on a nearby table, unlatched it, and then revealed a false bottom. "I do hope that you aren't uncomfortable with needles," he continued as he produced a syringe and a vial of stale-looking, yellowish liquid. "Usually, I would prefer to use a gaseous form of this compound, but I'm afraid I only have one gas mask with me, and Doctor Montgomery and I are both very interested in seeing the results of this experiment." Jonathan monologued as he prepared the syringe.

El moved to sit on the table next to the briefcase setup, and Zsasz made sharp eye contact with her, and she felt a chill run down her spine for the first time in days. She found that she had almost missed the feeling as she held his glassy stare with one of her own. A vision of him in a few minutes writhing against his restraints, screaming until his lungs filled with blood suddenly appeared in her mind, and the thought made her smile involuntarily.

Zsasz, on the other hand, hadn't been expecting for her to smile and frowned uneasily, making a more desperate attempt to wriggle out of the restraints as he returned his attention to what Jonathan was doing, which was to take a voice recorder out of his case, switch it on and begin speaking into it.

"Serum fifteen, experiment one. Subject name: Victor Zsasz," he spoke into the receiver before setting on the table and advancing on Zsasz, not bothering to sterilize the injection site. El leaned forward to watch the injection, fascinated to see what would happen next.  

Jonathan stepped away from the dolly, and already Zsasz was visibly shuddering and straining against the cuffs holding him in place. El got to her feet and slowly moved closer to examine the effects.

"How does it work?" She asked, observing the way Zsasz's eyes flitted about the room as his breathing intensified. Behind her, Jonathan smiled at her curiosity before explaining.

"The serum introduces higher glucose levels in the bloodstream. Once it reaches the brain,  the compound amps up the output of cortisol, glutamate, and adrenaline to the amygdala. In addition to that, the flower I told you about naturally produces a high concentration of a powerful hallucinogenic compound. Altogether, it causes the brain to go into a state of terror and hallucinate things they fear. The aerosolized version works faster, but you don't have a mask, so it should kick in any time now."

Just as Jonathan finished his explanation, Zsasz began screaming. Closer to howling actually, a haunting, inhuman sound that made Elianna furrow her brow as Jonathan spoke quietly into his voice recorder. El leaned closer to Zsasz's face to further assess his experience. His eyes shifted to her face with dilated pupils, and a look of horror overtook his face, all the while screaming and pulling at his cuffs so hard that she was surprised that he hadn't dislocated anything yet.

"What is he seeing?" El inquired, pulling away from the screaming, terrified maniac before her. Jonathan brought the voice recorder closer, now standing next to her.

"Mr. Zsasz, would you mind telling us what you see?" The howling and thrashing gave way to paranoid muttering and sudden, jerking movements as if he could catch the restraints off guard and trick them into releasing him.

"Get it out, get it out of here," Zsasz demanded in a desperate voice through gritted teeth, repeating it over and over. Jonathan frowned slightly, retreating to his briefcase and removing a burlap mask, at which Elianna couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Was that Scarecrow, or do you still have a fixation on the one that was out on your property?"

"Where do you think Scarecrow came from, El?" He retorted distractedly as he removed his glasses and put on the mask, crossing back over to Zsasz. "Tell me what you see, Victor." He ordered again, looming over the scarred man.

"Get it out!" Zsasz screamed again in response.

"I can't take it away unless you tell me what it is," Jonathan's voice had become low and impatient; he must be trying really hard to keep Scarecrow back since I'm here. Zsasz looked Jonathan, or rather the mask, in the eyes—eyeholes?—and his breathing grew even louder as he ground his teeth.

"Don't you see it? The water! It's rising so quickly; you have to get it out if here, or we'll all drown!" The thought of drowning causes Zsasz to begin hyperventilating.

"Aquaphobia," El mused, leaning back in. "Does that stem from your parents' accident, Victor? They died on a boat if I'm not mistaken." The desperate screaming resumed, and El observed as it was interrupted by a coughing sputter, as though he were trying not to drown. That's interesting. Zsasz's mind had produced such a life-like delusion of rising water that his body was reacting as though it were really there, and all the while, Jonathan had taken the mask off and was speaking quickly and quietly into his recording device.

After only a few more minutes, Zsasz's gasping breaths and twitching slowed and eventually stopped as his head lolled to the side. Jonathan checked his pulse to assess whether or not he was dead.

***

"Subject has fallen unconscious at," Jonathan took a moment from his notes to check his watch, "twenty-five minutes." He switched off the device and turned to replace all of his equipment into his case, returning his glasses to his face.

"Twenty-five? Really?" Elianna took one last look at Zsasz's unconscious, vulnerable face. "Didn't feel that long."

"No, because you enjoyed it, you should have seen your face," Jonathan informed in a light voice as he relatched his case and tilted his head for her to walk with him back up the stairs. "Eyes all lit up-"

"Look who's talking. What's with that mask?"

"Some subjects react more strongly to it. It makes them more likely to cooperate."

"I guess that makes sense...hey, are we just leaving him down here?"

"The guards will take him back up when they see us leave; no one else will ever know." He reassured her and went first through the panel, pushing the spare mattresses back over it once they were both out. "Are you hungry? We can pick up something to eat on the way home." El hummed in response.

They emerged from the bowels of Arkham and were approaching the car when a sudden thought struck her. "Are you afraid of anything?" Jonathan looked down at her, face impassive, and opened the passenger door for her, moving to the driver's side once she was in.

"Just Granny," he finally replied after closing and locking the door.

"That's it?" She got a nod in response.

"In the early stages of the project, I hadn't figured out the system for test subjects yet, so I had to test it on myself. I had to learn to push down many things to record the results reliably, and eventually, I had done it so much that none of the other things even made an appearance anymore. I still get hallucinations of things that are traditionally 'scary,' but I get none of the accompanying physical symptoms."

"So, controlled, repeated exposure to the toxin can slowly start to eliminate your fear response?"

"It's either that, or it's possible to build up somewhat of an immunity to the toxin, which I think is more likely," Jonathan commented and finally started the car. They drove in silence for a few minutes, and Elianna found herself once again trying to make a life-changing decision.

"Do you think it would work on me?" The question catches Jonathan off-guard enough to tear his eyes away from the road for a moment to give her a look of surprise.

"Are you asking me to dose you?"

"I think I am, as long as you think it's safe." He sucked in a deep breath, his face stern, and Elianna fell silent to let him think.

"It could work, but we'll use the original formula just in case. It's the one I've tested the most, so there's less of a risk."

"Then let's do it." She said without hesitation. If there was one thing she had learned over the last week, it was that there was no use in resisting her impulses. Jonathan nodded slowly. Every day was becoming more interesting than the last with her around again, and he had the feeling that that wouldn't change any time soon.

[dont-doubt-dopple]

Crush Unlocked - Ohmwrecker

A/N: Heads up, some of the dialogue at the beginning is from taken straight from one of Ohm’s videos. It’s called EVEN THE MIGHTY FALL, HEART OF THE CARDS! | Uno with Friends #6 ft. Bryce, Delirious, Cartoonz. Sorry if some of it is not exact. It’s sometimes hard to hear with all the guys taking all at once, especially at the end where I take this scene from. I’ll leave a link below if you want to check it out. The part used starts at about 31:30

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

While he made fun of Delirious for doing it over Evan, Ohm found his mind more often than not drifting to the topic of Bryce McQuaid. He thinks – no, he knows – that he shouldn’t have these feeling towards one of his best friends. It was wrong, and it could practically change their friendship forever.

His nightmares were often that very scenario. Bryce talking but with his back to Ryan. Bryce purposely not making his baby blue eyes look in his directions. Bryce making sure either Luke or Jon was with them to diffuse any tension. Bryce getting a girlfriend and spending all his time with her. Bryce becoming a stranger to him, so much so that he wasn’t apart of his life anymore. It scared Ryan more than anything else.

His mind had drifted again to the blond as he waited for Delirious to play his card. It was him and Bryce vs. Jon and Luke, and both him and CaRtOoNz had Uno. It was on the right color for Ohm to win, and based on what the others were saying, it looked like they were going to win regardless. Luke thought Ohm only changed the color because he didn’t have red, which he didn’t. But Ryan did.

“Should I go heart of the cards or ..” Delirious asked him.

“No no no no. Because what if you draw something amazing and you can’t play it?” Luke interrupted.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“You could get a wild though.” Bryce argued, knowing the chances were slim. “You could get a wild card.”

“Or I could get a double.” Jon added, rolling with Bryce’s train of thought. Ohm instinctively sighed, wanting to win already. But he trusted Bryce enough not to fuck him over in the end. They only needed 37 more points to win.

“You could get a double.” Bryce repeated. “You could get really good cards, Delirious.”

“Fuck it, we’re giving him low cards.” He finally decided, throwing forward a red two. Delirious snickered, and Ohm finally peeked up a little.

“Oh ho ho.” He said, the others probably now seeing that they lost. He couldn’t tell though, as they were in their separate houses playing online.

“Good call, good call.” Bryce added.

“We’ve got it!” Ryan shouted. He threw down his red three, this ending the round and the game, effectively.

“Fuck.” Delirious sighed.

“Yay!” Bryce cheered, and Ohm could only imagine the smile on his face. “Was that 37?”

“That was it, that was it. That was 41.” Ryan assured him, as they the 41 points they earned boost their overall total to 204, a little more than they needed to win.

“Fuck!” Both Cartoonz and Delirious shouted, as Bryce began celebrating. Delirious started complained on how he should have tried because he didn’t realize they needed it, while CaRtOoNz simply said wow. Ohm could just imagine the sparkle in Bryce’s eyes, the one he always got when he was excited. He could just see picture his smile and almost every detail on his face.

“We playing another round?” Bryce asked, and Ryan could almost hear the tiredness in his voice.

“I’m done.” He answered, although he personally wanted to go at it again. “It’s getting late and I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

“We all do, Ohm.” CaRtOoNz reminded him. “But I am getting pretty tired, now that you mentioned it.” Bryce and Jon both agreed, and the boys shared their respective goodbyes. It hadn’t even been a minute from when he logged off until his phone vibrated.

Jonathan

From: You like Bryce, don’t you?

Ryan sighed. Of course of all people to notice it, it was someone as dense as Delirious. He wasn’t as dense as Nogla, but still pretty dense at times. But if Jon was able to pick it up, was Bryce?

To: On a scale of 1 to big glowing neon sign, how obvious am I?

From: Nanners in Hide and Seek Obvious.

To: That’s he’s cheating obvious or where the fuck is he obvious?

From: Look, the only reason I know is that’s how I sometimes act around Evan. Like it’s my job to make him happy and light up his face on the other side of that screen.

From: Plus CaRtOoNz pointed it out to me. Once I know what’s I’m looking for, it’s pretty obvious.

Ryan laughed at Delirious’ bad grammar, but didn’t respond. Luke was always someone who picked up on things very quickly, and of course he told his best friend about it. Finally gave them something to tease about together.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Bryce finding out just yet.

~•~

“Ryan, did you invite Bryce over?”

Ohm froze where he stood in the doorway. The answer to his mom’s question was No, he didn’t. But Bryce was a good kid, and he would never just show up at someone’s house without informing first them and their legal guardian a full 24 hours in advance. This was weird for him, and Ryan assumed the only reason he did this was because it was an emergency.

“Yeah Mom.” He lied, hoping she wouldn’t press him about it now. “Is he my room?”

“Yes, he is.” She said, and Ryan started to make his way toward the stairs. His mom grabbed his wrist first, making him stop and look at her. “Is he ok?” She whispered. “He isn’t usually like this. You aren’t usually like this.”

Ryan hesitated for a moment. “I had the same thoughts.” He admitted. “Let me just … It’s obviously an emergency if he came to me without warning. Let me help him.” His mom nodded, and released her grip. “I’ll tell you everything later. After he leaves.”

Ryan turned, than practically ran up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He opened to the door slowly to reveal Bryce sitting on his bed. The reddish blond was teary eyed and red faced with his hair all disheveled. He didn’t seem to notice Ryan as he entered the room.

“Bryce?” The words barely escaped Ohm’s lips before Bryce was hugging him, which was slightly awkward since Ryan was shorter and wasn’t expecting it. “Um … Bryce?”

“Give me a second.” He replied, and indeed he released Ohm after a second. Bryce grabbed Ryan’s wrist, and slowly pulled him toward the bed. Ohm blinked at his friend’s strange actions but didn’t speak.

“What’s wrong, Bryce?” He finally asked. “This is … just so unlike you.” Bryce took a deep breath, squeezing Ohm’s hand as he did so.

“Do …” He but his lip, almost not continuing with his thought.

“Go on.”

“Do you remember when you came out to your mom?”

Ryan nodded. “Very clearly.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, for one thing I was extremely scared. My mom was, and still is, a devout Catholic. I was nervous about telling her because the religious community isn’t exactly the most … accepting of the LBGT+ community, with all the stereotypes of hating the gays and stuff. But she was very understanding. She said, and I quote, that maybe the Bible isn’t entirely true. Gays can’t be evil when I raised an angel of a son.” Ryan reminisced, before addressing the elephant in the room. “Stop beating around the bush, Bryce. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I … I came out to my parents.” He spit out, so quickly in fact that Ohm needed a second to simply process those words.

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“Nobody but my brothers did before now. I still don’t know how they managed to get it out of me, but they were very understanding, both with my feelings and my decision not to tell my parents. But I felt like, as I was growing older, I needed to be open with them. So, tonight, I told them finally.

“My dad was very accepting. Told me he was proud that I had the courage to come out. He even texted me later saying that’s he’s not straight, but bisexual and he understood what I was going though. My mom wasn’t … as understanding as yours. She yelled profanities at me, saying she didn’t raise her son to be this way. She told me I was a disease that this world didn’t need. I even heard her say that she’d knew at least one of her sons was a mistake on my way out.”

“Oh god, Bryce, I’m sorry.” Ryan apologized. He felt Bryce rest his head on the his shoulder, and Ohm used his free hand to run his fingers through Bryce’s hair.

“I was so scared.” Bryce continued. “I … I had never seen this side of her before. So I ran to the one person I’d knew would understand.”

“It’s okay, Brycey.” Ohm spoke softly, not wanting to frighten the blue-eyed boy any more than he was. “I’ve got you, it’s okay. And if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.” Ryan didn’t need to look as he felt Bryce move his head from Ohm’s shoulder to his lap.

“I’m scared to come out to Jon and Luke now.” Bryce admitted.

“You shouldn’t be scared. There’s a 50% chance CaRtOoNz already knows and Delirious is too scared to come out of the closet himself.” Bryce laughed a little, and it put a smile on Ryan’s face that he had helped the former smile just a little.

The silence settled over the two, so much so that Bryce fell asleep. When Ohm was certain of his, he carefully maneuvered himself so that he could get out from under without waking the other. Once successful, he made his way over to the door so he could tell his mother all that had happened. Ryan glanced at his sleeping friend, a single lingering thought reaching the front of his mind as he closed the door.

Maybe I had more of a chance than I thought.