#that alfred was a English man created by Americans

[oifaaa]

fuck that tory was not what i was epecting to see next to alfreds name but i almost burst out laughing (bc holy shit he absolutely could be a tory with the military history)

Alfred was part of the British military then mi5 he's a upper-class butler who also likes guns when told he was going to be the primary care taker of a child he decided the best thing to do would be to keep their relationship professional as this child was now his employer - he's not exactly fighting the tory allegations

[lapseinart]

One of my biggest pet peeves in Reverse Robins AUs is when the mantle of Robin is a thing.

THAT WAS MARY GRAYSON’S NAME FOR HER KID!!! DAMIAN WOULD NOT HAVE LET HIMSELF BE CALLED ROBIN IF NOT FOR THE FACT THAT IT HAD BECOME A MANTLE, A POSITION. He could however have transitioned into Nightwing later on if he were to choose to change his hero name because he hears the name from his friendship with Jon and/or due to Superman hanging around depending on whether all the non-first gen heroes are in reverse order

Listen, even if you don’t buy into Robin-is-a-Grayson-thing the other inspiration is supposed to be Robin Hood because Dick liked Robin Hood. Damian would probably not care for the story since he probably didn’t grow up around it much. Like I don’t think Talia would be interesting in reading him or giving him books about 1.) stealing from the rich and giving to the poor 2.) English folklore.

Damian probably called himself… I dunno. Batboy. Batlad. The Shadow bc he’s a pretentious kid that thinks he’s cool and if Duke’s the oldest maybe it’s a riff off of whatever Duke’s light associated name is. The Demon in ref to his grandpa. Demon Child. If we’re sticking with the bird theme he’s gonna want a bird of prey: Kestrel, Raptor. Maybe something from folklore, but he’d want something scary probably, not Robin Hood. If it’s something from British or American folklore, maybe it’s something Bruce and/or Alfred suggest so it’s like a nice bonding moment or something. There’s probably loads of good ideas out there. Also so much potential for an alternate Tim name if he’s a dead Steph’s replacement (would he even involve himself w/o his fascination with Dick Grayson that spawned from watching the Graysons die as a child? He only ID’d the Bats bc of Dick’s quadruple somersault. Something to consider.) (of course it could just be that he becomes fascinated by Duke idk.) bc he is so attached to the legacy. Red Shadow. Red Bat. Black Raptor. Man is incapable of coming up with a good original name.

Dick Grayson comes around and abandons the sense of legacy that any mantle might have created (if there is a mantle at all). He is Robin and he already had a family.

Anyway my other pet peeve is leaving out Steph and Duke.

[autolenaphilia]

Broken Sword: the Shadow of the Templars

Broken Sword: Shadow of the Templars is a point-and-click adventure game by Revolution Software from 1996.

Broken Sword is an attempt to tell a serious conspiracy thriller/mystery story, with a complex plot and intelligent writing. Yet one that isn’t too serious and has plenty of humor and told with colorful visuals reminiscent of 2D animated movies.

It starts with a murder and bombing in Paris that our player character, the american tourist George Stobbart witnesses and narrowly avoids being killed by. And he decides to investigate the mysterious killing. He teams up with french photojournalist Nico Collard, and they soon discover a complex conspiracy involving the Knights Templar and their lost treasure.

Broken Sword is very much an amalgamation of its various influences, with there being clear influences by Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,various stories and myths regarding the Knights Templar, and Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers. Gabriel Knight overall is the most obvious influence, which is not surprising, because it was one of the few prior attempts to create this kind of serious mystery adventure game. The protagonists are even a comedic blonde-haired american man and a dark-haired intelligent woman. Yet it does synthesize its various influences into something that feels fresh.

The story and writing is excellent. It is a story that treats its audience like adults and respects their intelligence. So it isn’t afraid to drop in references to things like Alfred Jarry’s play King Ubu. And the writing carries this learning lightly, with a genuinely witty sense of humor. It’s one of the funniest games I ever played.

And you need the humor, because this kind of conspiracy thriller stuff needs a certain tone to work well. It needs to take itself and its characters seriously enough that there is some genuine tension, yet not take the conspiracy theories too seriously. And Broken Sword manages this balancing act well. The conspiracy theory about the knights templar is used to provide the story with a dramatic weight drawn from history, and combines that with modern paranoia about the chaos caused by global neoliberal capitalism, yet it never takes that stuff too seriously. I like the Eco-inspired reveal that the modern evil conspiracy isn’t actually ancient, it just pretends to be and wants to appropriate the power and prestige of the templars. And the game knows how to keep the conspiracy stuff just fantastical enough to remind us that this is a fantasy, without being too over-the-top for the game���s serious tone.

It’s not the same as Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, where both the author and his most ardent fans took The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail conspiracy theory underlying the novel’s plot as fact. Broken Sword is often suspected of being an influence on The Da Vinci Code, which might be true, but might be a case of similar influences on both works. Broken Sword does reference The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail several times, characters are named Plantard and Lobineau, although the Jesus bloodline idea isn’t part of the actual plot, like it is in Gabriel Knight 3. What I would argue however is that Broken Sword is the kind of intelligently written conspiracy thriller that Dan Brown wants to write, but isn’t capable of writing.

The game is not perfect. The characters in the Syria sections rely on ethnic stereotyping that hasn’t aged well, even if I like the boy who learned english from Jeeves and Wooster tapes. And while George is far more likeable in this regard than Gabriel Knight, his closest predecessor, his infatuation with Nico does go into creep territory at one point very late in the game. These are both things that director Charles Cecil himself regrets. Still, I very much enjoy the writing in this game.

The fairly grounded if humorous tone of the game is reflected in the gameplay too. The game is very standard point-and-click adventure, no surprises here. But the game’s puzzles are largely devoid of the moon logic that could sometimes be a problem for contemporary adventure games, a design decision that reflects Broken Sword’s tone. The puzzle design is fairly simple, but therefore fairly intuitive. And that makes for a rather fun game to play. There are a few dodgy puzzles, but overall this game feels fair.

This is an adventure game where you can die, at multiple points in the story. And this does work to make the gameplay reflect the tension of the game’s thriller plot, by having actual stakes, game-overs, that George can actually die. And true to the game’s tone, they can be funny too. And while your progress can be set back quite a bit by a game-over if your last save was a long time ago, that’s perfectly fine. It has a point in creating tension. And there are no Sierra-esque “dead ends” or unwinnable situations that I could find, of the type “the player missed an item they need to progress, but can’t go back for it, so they are stuck,” so the game doesn’t become too hard. Those are not fine, and they are thankfully not in Broken Sword.

Finally the game’s presentation is top-notch all around. The graphics on a technical level is nothing spectacular by today’s standards, it’s fairly low-res 2D graphics. But by 1996 computer technology had progressed to the point that Revolution could use more detailed and slicker-looking 2D art than the pixelart of many previous point-and-click adventure games, and they took full advantage of that. The art design of this game is excellent. This game looks gorgeous, especially the lovingly-detailed backgrounds. Broken Sword has this warm and colorful cartoon-like look to it, reminding me of traditional 2d animated movies and the Tintin comic books. And the game’s animated cutscenes fit fairly seamlessly with the rest of the game, due to artstyle consistency (not always the case with video games), and help with the animated movie feel.The animated movie feeling is so convincing because Revolution Software hired people with that kind of experience to do the game’s art and animation, such as Eoghan Cahill and Neil Breen who worked for Don Bluth, or Roslind Allen who had actually worked for Disney on the Ducktales movie.

They similarly looked outside the video game industry when it came to the game’s music. The game’s composer Barrington Pheloung had composed music for various theatrical films and television shows, most notably Inspector Morse. And Pheloung composed an excellent soundtrack, that helps with the game’s epic feel, and the music is actually performed by an actual orchestra, instead of just using MIDI as many game soundtracks did at the time.

The game is fully voice-acted, which was becoming standard at the time, but the high quality of the voice acting is anything but common, not even today. The accents are often dodgy, but in a fun way. The standout actor is of course Rolf Saxon as George Stobbart, which would turn into the role of a lifetime for him. He would reprise in all future Broken Sword games and he feels irreplaceable as George.

Broken Sword: the Shadow of the Templars was a huge success, and remains popular and beloved to this day. It spawned a franchise that is still on-going. It feels like a point-and-click adventure game milestone. And this is despite it not being a very innovative game, there is little in the gameplay, story or presentation that we haven’t seen before. As a game, it really doesn’t do much that we haven’t seen in its predecessors in the genre by Lucasarts or Sierra or even Revolution Software’s own previous games, like the excellent Beneath a Steel Sky.

Broken Sword is still an adventure game classic that deserves its accolades. That’s because it does what it does very well, with a minimum of flaws. The game is not all that original in concept, but the execution is of the highest quality. It manages to become a classic milestone game by that alone.

Broken Sword is such an enjoyable experience to play that it feels like a benchmark of quality for point-and-click adventure games, one that is rarely met. In fact, Revolution Software’s Broken Sword sequels haven’t really reached the heights of the original, as much as I like the second and even the third game in the series.

Revolution haven’t even been able to fully recapture the magic in the game’s remaster from 2009, the Director’s Cut, which is overall a weaker version than the 1996 original. It adds puzzles and entire sections of the game where you play as Nico, but they don’t add much to the story. These additions are artificially grafted onto the original and feel like it, as they detract from the pacing. It reveals how tight the original game design and pacing is. The new art is by the great Dave Gibbons, but similarly it clashes with the original art. The new animations are worse too, often looking like a cheaply made motion comic compared to the movie-like original animations. The remaster also removes things, including bizarrely censoring the blood and violence in cutscenes. It’s a weird decision that maybe has to do with the fact that the remaster was created for the DS and Wii consoles, made by the sometimes aggressively family-friendly Nintendo. This also included removing the ability for George to die and get a game-over, removing the tension that created.

However, if you buy the Director’s Cut on GOG, it includes the original MS-DOS version of the game as an extra. And that version is easy to get running on non-dos systems with Scummvm. And this is something I recommend you do, it’s a great game.

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Bill Edward Headcanons

One of the best Glow-Ups in history ! My man ♥

Full Name : Bill Henry Edward

Nickname(s) : Billie/Billy

Age : 38 (during the events of Another Code Two Memories)

40 (during the events of Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories)

Species/Race : Earthling

Human (formerly)

Place of Birth : United States

Birthday : December 31st (born in 1966)

Zodiac Sign : Capricorn

Gender : Born Male ; Gender Neutral

Sexuality : Polyamorous Androgynosexual

Nationality : American / French and English (from his father)

Residence : United States (formerly)

Blood Edward Island, United States

MBTI : ENFJ

Occupation : M.J. Labs Scientist (formerly)

J.C. Valley Scientist

Element of Harmony Bearer (Element of Legacy)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Appearance :

Eyes : Greyish Royal Blue (left eye became lighter after being "linked" with Ryan Gray)

Hair : Light/Platinum Blonde

Skin : Caucasian

Height : 6'4" (193cm)

Weight : 185lbs (84kg)

Special Traits : Slights eyebags

Sutured scar on the right side of their face, from the cheek to above the eye (after the fall)

Missing right arm ; reminiscent of their Grandfather Henry (had to be cut off because of massive infection due to the fall)

Multiple scars, wounds and contusions (after the fall)

Differents types of aches from time to time (after the fall)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Family and Relatives :

Parents : Frannie Edward {Mother} (deceased)

Unnamed Father (presumably deceased)

Siblings : None

Others : Henry Edward {Grandfather} (deceased)

Marie Edward {Grandmother} (deceased)

Thomas Edward {Great Uncle} (deceased)

Jane Edward {Great Aunt} (deceased)

Daniel Edward {Uncle/First Cousin Once Removed} (deceased)

Léonard Edward {Great Grandfather} (deceased)

Sally Edward {Great Grandmother} (deceased)

Lawrence Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Helen Edward {Ancestor} (deceased)

Richard Robbins {Brother-in-Law}

Ashley Mizuki Robbins {Niece-in-Law}

Significant Other(s) : Ryan Gray

Jessica Robbins

Best Friends : Sofia Callaghan (saved a 14 years old Sofia from being r*ped by someone when they were 23 years old, and fought them, leaving both men with bruises and blood on their shirts ; therefore a trusting relationship was created between them (Note : Momma Frannie was at first terrified but quickly became proud of her son for risking their lives to protect someone ♥)

Gets Alongs Well With : Matthew Crusoé (sees them as a "Cool Uncle")

Gina Barnes (They found her funny)

Tommy Harrisson, Elizabeth Alfred and Janet Rice (often accepts to help them train up in their songs and loves to listen to this young generation).

Captain Cliff Fox (the dude often came back to see how they handle the mansion as it is now Bill's belonging. You know, INHERITANCE).

Bob Fox (loves his recipes ever since Richard introduced them to their restaurant).

Doesn't Get Along Well With : Rex Alfred ('cuz they killed Sayoko, but they both tried their best to have a better relationship as Rex knows how great they are in their job (knows from Richard when they were working at M.J. Labs together. Because YES, as a sign of redemption, Bill works at J.C. Valley alongside the other (same for Sofia and Ryan who were hired again for the same reasons as Bill).).).

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bill was born in 1966 in an unknown city from North America. They were raised by their mother Frannie far away from Blood Edward Island as she considers it a cursed place since many members of her family had died there. However, Bill was supposed to be born at the beginning of the year 1967, but they end up being born the very last day of 1966.

Despite his descend into depression and madness, Frannie still gave Bill her father's name as a second name because he was an amazing father nonetheless before World War II. Therefore their full name is Bill Henry Edward.

Their father supposedly abandoned them at a very young age, presumably because he wanted to have a girl. When Bill identified themselves as Gender Neutral, they went to see their father, but he rejected his child once more. Bill seemingly never saw their father ever again after that.

They may have not shown it that much, but they loved their mother deeply. Having lost her left them a huge scar on their heart. One of the main reasons why Ryan managed to get them more easily, and manipulate them into murdering Sayoko (their mixed feeling of love and hate towards Sayoko was obviously a great help too).

When they were 18, they wanted to do a gap year abroad, so they go to England (Galar), which is where their father comes from. When their mother died, they went back to the United States, which means they stayed for about 10 years in England.

Someone from England may be related to Bill. Who knows ? (well me I guess...)

Bill always had a crush on Sayoko, and it is highly suspected that they used to sleep together before Sayoko will fall in love with Richard and married him. They loved Sayoko so much that when they pretend to be Richard Robbins, Ashley's father, they got into the game and really believed they were her father for a moment. (Honestly though, they look more like her father than her ACTUAL father OMG !)

Why do I keep on making that xD

The combination of their mother's death and being rejected by Sayoko was the perfect opportunity for Ryan to manipulate them into murdering Sayoko. That wasn't before Bill told Ryan the truth about his past (Judd being his father and erasing his painful memories of his mother, being a test subject, etc...)

Bill trusted the young Ryan and never really considers Ryan as an ennemy and never felt hatred towards him. The main reason is because they never knew Ryan manipulated them before (probably because they were so young back then).

They didn't actually die after falling off in Blood Edward Island, but their body was badly injured. And more importantly, their right arm was pierced by sharp reefs, leaving them in horrible pain and stuck down there.

They will eventually be found by Ryan who was wondering why they didn't came back from the island. He would look everywhere only to find Bill at the bottom of the cliff, unconscious and bleeding out. Their body were in severe hypothermia and they stayed in a coma for around 2 years (the gap between Another Code Two Memories (Trace Memory) and Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories).

Ryan was regretful of his actions towards Bill as he realized he used them as a tool when he was actually in love with him. He didn't realized it before because he couldn't feel any emotions after his father's experiments on him when back when he was a child. He stayed by Bill's side when they were in a coma, praying for them to keep fighting and coming back to him. Ryan wanted to atone for his sins towards the only one that was bold enough to tell him the truth about his past.

However, as Ryan has stated to Ashley back in the small island at Lake Juliet, Ryan will disappear when the water will naturally purify soon enough. Bill, who was barely recovering and did not wanted Ryan to disappear right as they were becoming a couple, decided to find a way to make Ryan stay no matter what. They will eventually find a way to actually make Ryan immortal, but not without having to "rewrite" everything so Ryan could stay forever with them. This "rewritting" ended up linking the two together until the very end, which may never happen as they therefore are both immortals now (at least for aging. Let's make it clear though : they will look "older", but not that much older. And they can still die for multiple reasons). This link with seemingly "liquid memory" made Bill's left turn more bluish. Thankfully though, his "veins" did not turn blue, as they were starting to become when "rewritting" everything.

Ryan will be there for Bill's rehabilitation. They needed a long time to be able to walk again properly and even do any moves at first (the combination of falling and hypothermia is definitely a hard-to-handle situation and a really painful healing process, isn't it ?). However, to be able to move freely, Bill now had to wear orthosis/splints in their legs, otherwise the pain will strike back and it could even paralyze them. Bill and Ryan will eventually end up together and will live together at Blood Edward Island. They will slowly but surely rebuilt the mansion as it was back in the days.

Before the doctors had to remove Bill's right arm, they were sometimes recoiling after they touched some of the furnitures with the golden bird designs, as if they were electrocuted on their arm. It is most likely linked to their grandfather Henry who lost his right arm in World War II.

Jessica will eventually join them, despite Bill having knocked her unconscious and havind drugged her back in the events of Blood Edward Island. She had a crush on Bill ever since they worked together at MJ Labs after all... Perhaps Stockolm Syndrome ?

This is thanks to Jessica that Bill will eventually get along again with Richard. But they will absolutely love to tease Richard from time to time. They will also get along better with Ashley as, deep down, they loved her almost like a daughter.

They are actually a good singer, a great dancer and an amazing cook. They learned all of these from their mother Frannie. They are also playing various music instruments, one of them being their mother's signature instrument : the piano. They are also pretty good at drawing and writing, but mostly drawing. They inherited this talent for their grandfather Henry who was a painter, and from their great uncle Thomas, who was a writer.

After the events of Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories, Bill, alongside Ashley, Jessica and Ryan, will be gifted an Element of Harmony each : Strength, Empathy, Mercy and Alchemy respectively. Bill's Element is a Golden and a Silver Bird (referencing the Edwards' legacy) and is located in his right shoulder when he wears it. As the Element of Strength, this Element gave them a specific arm replacing their lost one, with electricity running through it (another reference), being Golden. Their armor is mostly Golden, Silver and Red.

Before Jessica joined them, Bill and Ryan had a daughter named Harmonia Edward Fitzgerald. She is Bill's precious baby jewel.

When Jessica will join them, they will all together had triplet children, with 2 sons named Crimson Gray Edward and Ayden Edward ("Ay" meaning "Moon" in Turkish, a reference to Sayoko giving "Mizuki" for a second name to Ashley, also meaning "Moon", but in Japanese. Let's not forget that they regret killing Sayoko and still loved her after all), as well as a daughter named Licilla Edward Robbins. Ayden is the older triplet, Crimson in the middle, and Licilla is the youngest.

[idv-news-boi]

Pssst Pins! How did you come up with the idea for Laurence? Was there any goofy previous designs for him?

// How Laurence was Made //

// Aaaahhhh well, it all started with a newspaper of 1920’s that I accidentally bumped into from an American newspaper record book at my U.S. History classroom- (what a coincidence,,,) I liked the vibes and how it somehow brings such an old-fashioned aesthetic,,, plus the vibes from the Roaring Twenties,,, so I included it and mix it with my Dyanthus’ futuristic style… Creating the aesthetic what I come up to be for the silly News Reporter I eventually came up.

// Laurence was originally going to be a newspaper boy with a very humble position,,, but after seeing those many reporters on Tv traveling a lot, even making reports in the middle of a dangerous event or even bloopers occurring at such bizarre scenes,,,, and then there’s Charlie Chaplin behavior/ih. I seem to find the idea of a Dyanthus News Reporter who travels around Dyanthus and even worldwide very appealing! Along with adding a News Department Crew in the world, not just the duo!

// Laurence’s name was definitely based on the capitalized letter abbreviations of LG (a Tv brand). It’s supposed to stand for “Life is Good”, but I humanized the name by making it more common name. “Laurence” is from English-French origin meaning “man from Laurentum” or “bright one, shining one”. Meanwhile, “Godfrey” is from Germanic words meaning “god” and “peace”. (Fun fact// Godfrey is Laurence’s bio father last name, Carmine is the bio mother last name which means “song” of Latin Origin)

// Laurence in Dyanthus,,,, is mostly known as “Lawrence Godfrey Carmine Dyanthus”, include the clan name Dyanthus after his complete name showing that he’s a resident there. His codename is “Journo”, you might expect some sneaky letters and messages that include this name~ ^^

// His color-scheme, I always thought of him to be ravenette with cold blue eyes, but that’s when he was human. In Dyanthus, I decided to make him almost blue that I accidentally make him resemble as Tw1tter’s color scheme,,,, Blue hair, one yellow eye, and one baby blue eye covered by a futuristic visor monocle.

// In his old design he used to have a funny big top hat… I accidentally made him too Mad Hatter British though, it was intended to almost resemble Uncle Sam’s hat,,, showing a bit of Capitalism influence on him/ih

// Hair and eye color, even clothing-accessories style would change depending what world is. In idv, I got a bit inspired by Aph America’s color scheme and the “too much energy” personality it has— but Lau’s glasses are actually purple and the hair has a curved hair strand and the hair structure is,,, yeah much more different than Alfred’s. And Laurence is a bit more patient and less obnoxious like eating food while talking for example,,, hehe/ih

// Once again, I accidentally kinda made him wear an English style suit when I intended to make him look like an American radio host from the 20s— yet I still love this design so I’m still going to keep it that way.

// Picture below is the newest appearance of Laurence in his Dyanthus outfit. I replaced the hat yet barely changed much on the suit and the color scheme. Unlike idv Lau, this one is much more… serious, and a bit different. Still a golden retriever in certain occasions/ih

[thornstocutyouwith]

Name: Gideon Alfred Murray

Meaning of Name: Gideon: Great Warrior. Alfred: Elf, Counsel. Murray: Lord and Master.

Nickname(s):  

Age: 20s (Old Earth)

Birthday: July 15

Species/Nationality:  Mutant, American

Accent: Yes

Language spoken: English, 

Powers:

Mutant Physiology:

Mutated Human Physiology

Reality Mutation

Universal Physiology:

Universal Embodiment (Limited)

Reality Warping

Reality Shifting (Limited)

Chinese Zodiac Monkey: Shapeshifting

Season Manipulation

Planetary System Destruction

Limited Capability Retention

Supreme Mon:

Vikemon:

Weapon Summoning: Viking Style ax + Ax Proficiency

Bazooka Howl

Gaogamon:

Spiral Blow

Super Dash Double Claw

Deino:

Thief

Headbutt

Thunderwave

Messiah:

Salvation

Fire Attacks

Status Buff Removal

Pansear:

Poison Breath

Power Recycling

Numel:

Earth Mimicry

Geokinetic Immunity

Melting

Esoteric Magma Manipulation

Azelf:

Energy Telepathy

Empathic Inundation

Dream Weaponry

Force-Field Telekinesis

Nether Attacks

Weaknesses/Illness/Allergies: Coronary artery disease,  May have unstable DNA, Mutant Slayer, Vulnerable to Universe Destruction, Weak to Fey's, Weak to Ice, Weak to Dark powers, Weak to Stone powers, Weakness to water, Unknown disease, Intermittent explosive disorder, Tic Disorder, Depersonalization-derealization disorder, 

Pet: Porcupine (Juliana, Female), Hedgehog (Raimo, Male), Anteater (Nova, Female), Hamster (, Female), Monkey (Onni, Male), Snake (Leigh, Male), Starfish (Gwenhael, Male), Chameleon (Yancy, Male), 

Occupation: Medical Student, Circus employee, 

Faceclaim: Alexander Pettyfer

Description:  Blond hair, green eyes. Body is covered in scars. When he is transformed from his monster DNA he grows a long black tail with a thin spades like shape at the end of it. He grows black fur with red fur spots on his back. His ears become rounded. His skin is pale, and an unnatural white inhuman color. He has red hair that formed into the shape of a flame. A crown grows around his head with jewels forming in it. Golden tear marks appear stretching beneath his golden eyes. His hands then form claws at the fingertips.

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry: Likes to wear loose comfortable clothing. A Crystal Staff: It was created for typical use and is a legendary weapon. It is 76 inches/1.93m long, octagonal, and made of excellent quality crystal. It is decorated with a tassel at the end. It is heavy, and is best used for blocking. Can be summoned, has the power to help him focus on his powers. Can only be wielded by him.

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 180

Body Build: Lean/Athletic

Backstory/Background:

Gideon is born as the only child of Crispin Murray, the second, and youngest child of the notable and wealthy family of Drakon Murray. Being the grandson of such a man it was to be expected of him to one day be part of the medical franchise the Murray’s had long been a part of. But, this would not be Gideon’s future. One day, not long after his birth, he would be stolen from his family. They would be unable to find the baby. But Gideon would be found in a desert, and then he would be sent to live in an orphanage. 

At this orphanage Gideon would regularly be abused, beaten most of the time, earning many of his scars during these days. He would never get adopted out. As he grew older Gideon would also begin to act out. As a teenager he would start smoking weed and become more rebellious toward the staff at the orphanage. Because of this behavior, those at the orphanage would later accuse him of acting unstable. Ultimately getting him locked up in a psychiatric hospital. For some years after this Gideon would remain in this hospital.

As he had been kept prisoner he would later learn that he was, as many others in the hospital, being experimented on. His genetics would be spliced with many genetics of other creatures, seven other creatures, to be exact. Over these years Gideon and others would be taken advantage of. But one day, as his abilities finally are awakening, both those from his birth and the experiments, he manages to create and escape from the hospital. Taking the chance at freedom Gideon flees the hospital and enters a new world all together, as it has changed a lot since he was locked up.

Also he realizes that he is not only going to be hunted down and potentially returned to the hospital. But as he is trying to escape he learns that the entflee’s, only to find that the hospital is placed on an island. Going to the shore of the island Gideon searches it for a way out, knowing that he will soon be found if he doesn’t get off the island.

As he is searching the shore a man comes to him from the sea, he hands over a crystal staff and claims that it was always meant to be Gideon's. And that it is bound to him to wield. Making him one of those destined for one of the mythical legendary weapons that have been spoken about throughout history. Gideon is informed that with the staff he will help to protect the world. The being then goes on to tell him he has family. But before they can finish helping him, shots are fired in their direction and the being has left. Not having time to think about all of this, Gideon dives into the ocean, swimming from the shore of the island in hopes to remain free. 

Later, washing up on the shore of a New York beach, Gideon wanders into a suburban area where he runs into a recruiter for a circus nearby, looking for freaks and other acts for their circus. He also learns more about the organizations that have been keeping him captive and had been experimenting on him. That they are part of the groups that are also currently fighting the war that is destroying the world. Gideon also comes across, after much pursuit, Raegan, the ringmaster of the circus that keeps bothering him to join them. After a talk with them he agrees to join their circus. There he begins to work and makes a life for himself among the other misfits in the area, finally having a place he feels like he fits in at.

(Work In Progress)

Personality:

Captivating, Painstaking, Well-rounded, Good-Natured, Attractive, Tasteful, Mature, Hardworking, Chummy, Guileless, Strict, Determined, Amusing, Folksy, Rowdy, Provocative, Lazy, Steely, 

Quirks/Savvies/Other: Smokes a lot of weed, Prone to indiscretions, Believes charities are a scam and refuses to donate to any, Prone to vocal fry, Finger taps when he’s nervous, Holds grudges, Races his car on the weekends, Always has good posture, Prone to muttering when he’s bored, Prone to excessive snacking, Always takes the window seat, Takes stupid bets for small amounts of money, Annoyed by dragons, Skills: Fishing, Ballet Dancing, Playing Violin, Camping, Runes, Programming, Great Rubber Band Aim, Smooth Talking, Paper Cutting, Marksmanship, Haggling, Improvision, Time Management, Good at guessing passcodes, Hobbies: Science, Following Celebrities, Gnoming, Weightlifting, Engraving, Playing Chess, Boxing, Trolling on the internet, Gambling, Scrapbooking, Karaoke, Cue Sports, Sudoku, Mini Golf, Parkour, Dice Making, Martial Arts, 

Likes: Going outside, Vinyl Records, Wearing Socks, Death Metal, Stained Glass, Art, Ants, Watching TV, Comedy Podcasts, Sick Skateboard Moves, Music, People Watching, Snow Globes, Drinking, Glam Rock, Strategy Games, Writing Fanfiction, Soundtrack Music, Make-Up, Meditating, Foggy Weather, Making Pottery, Trains, Anime, Action Figures, Online Roleplaying, Mustaches, Crafting, Buddy Cop Movies, Drawing, Waking up Late, Overcast Weather, Umbrellas, 

Dislikes: Fungi, Heights, Blanket Forts, Baseball, Ice Skating, Getting a BJ, Thanksgiving, Books, Fireplaces, Danger, Haunted Houses, The color Brown, The sensation of Heavy Bass, Seashells, Chalk, Practical Jokes, Lost Civilizations, History Documentaries, Running, Vocaloid, Washi Tape, Crescent Moons, Light Snow, Collecting Things, 

Fears: No Fears

Personality Tests:

Other: Cancer,   

Parent(s):

   -> Father: Crispin Murray

   -> Mother:

Sibling(s): None

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                            Alternate Universes

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Top 10 Film Directors I’d Fuck

Werner Herzog is a German film director, screenwriter, author, actor, and opera director, regarded as a pioneer of New German Cinema. His films often feature ambitious protagonists with impossible dreams, people with unique talents in obscure fields, or individuals in conflict with nature. He is known for his unique filmmaking process, such as disregarding storyboards, emphasizing improvisation, and placing the cast and crew into similar situations as characters in his films. Not the handsomest guy on this list, but I still want to fuck him.

Oliver Stone is an American film director, producer, and screenwriter. Stone won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay as writer of Midnight Express and wrote the gangster film remake Scarface. Stone achieved prominence as writer and director of the war drama Platoon, which won Academy Awards for Best Director and Best Picture. Stone looks like he could give a good fuck.

Jim Sheridan is an Irish playwright, screenwriter, film director, and film producer. Between 1989 and 1993, Sheridan directed two critically acclaimed films set in Ireland, My Left Foot and In the Name of the Father, and later directed the films The Boxer and In America. Sheridan has received six Academy Award nominations. Handsome man who fits all my preferences for older, white-haired men types.

David Lynch is an American filmmaker, painter, visual artist, musician, and writer. A recipient of an Academy Honorary Award in 2019, Lynch has received three Academy Award nominations for Best Director, and the César Award for Best Foreign Film twice, as well as the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival and a Golden Lion award for lifetime achievement at the Venice Film Festival. There something about his voice that makes me want to make him moan in pleasure.

Alfred Hitchcock (1899–1980) KBE was an English filmmaker who was one of the most influential figures in the history of cinema. In a career spanning six decades, he directed over 50 feature films, many of which are still widely watched and studied today. Known as the "Master of Suspense", he became as well known as any of his actors thanks to his many interviews, his cameo roles in most of his films, and his hosting and producing the television anthology Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Why wouldn't Hitchcock be on this list.

Orson Welles (1915–1985) was an American director, actor, screenwriter, and producer who is remembered for his innovative work in radio, theatre and film. Welles was huge in physical size as in talent and is considered to be among the greatest and most influential filmmakers of all time. Dare I say, even a young Welles could catch a dick.

George Lucas is an American film director, producer, screenwriter, and entrepreneur. Lucas is best known for creating the Star Wars and Indiana Jones franchises and founding Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm Games, and Industrial Light & Magic. Lucas is considered one of the most significant figures of the 20th-century New Hollywood movement, and a pioneer of the modern blockbuster. As a Star Wars and Indiana Jones fan, you know I'd want to fuck him.

Sir Ridley Scott is an English film director and producer. He has directed, among others, the science fiction films Alien, Blade Runner and The Martian, the road crime film Thelma & Louise, the historical drama film Gladiator, and the war film Black Hawk Down.

Jeroen Krabbé is a Dutch actor and film director who has appeared in more than 60 films since 1963, including Soldaat van Oranje, The Fourth Man, The Living Daylights, The Prince of Tides, The Fugitive and Immortal Beloved. I will always love “Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo” for turning me on to Jeroen.

Martin Scorsese is an American film director, producer, and screenwriter. Scorsese emerged as one of the major figures of the New Hollywood era, and he is widely regarded as one of the greatest and most influential directors in film history. He is the recipient of many accolades, including nine Academy Award nominations for Best Director, four British Academy Film Awards, three Golden Globe Awards, and two Directors Guild of America Awards. I have a thing for short men. He makes me want to pick him up… with my dick.

[inkandpen22]

The Heiress and the Gangster (1/?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Summary: Y/N Adair, an American heiress, is visiting London for the social season with her fiancé Alfred Bamford. Alfie Simmons and Tommy Shelby have formed a plan to kidnap Y/N and hold her for ransom, that is until Tommy changes his mind...

Masterlist

Y/N

The car rolls up to the entrance of the race track. My driver, Mr. Richards, comes to a steady halt and immediately hops out of the car.

"Ready, darling?" Al questions with a grin beside me.

I pull back the velvet curtain covering my window to peer up at the arena. "As I'll ever be."

Mr. Richards opens the door and offers me his glove-covered hand. "Miss Adair."

I step out gracefully, my wide-brim hat blocking the beaming sun from my face. Al crosses behind the car to join me. His head finds its way to my back securely. Robert, my main bodyguard, climbs out of his own car with two more security my father hired. Al escorts me inside the stadium to the boxes. Robert leads the way with his two henchmen behind us. It's like being put into a human box.

When we arrive at our box, we're greeted by our friends in attendance. It's rare that we make it over to England, so when we do it's nice to see everyone. Al and I perform our social duties, making small talk and asking about everyone's families as though we all didn't have dinner together last night. It's the same couples in different settings for the entire month we're here.

_________________________________

Tommy

I watch from one of the pub tables at the top of the box with John as posh folks shuffle in to find their spots. When news broke that Y/N Adair would be visiting London for a month, both American and England were over the moon. The youngest child and only daughter of William Vincent Adair, the richest banker in America. She will inherit a third of his multi-million dollar fortune. It's a known fact amongst the public that's she's the favorite child so the percentage may be greater than just a third. My boys and Alfie's team are banking on that rumor. If she were to be kidnapped and held for ransom by a couple of English gangsters, it's certain her father will pay a hefty sum for her safe return to The States.

John nudges me subtly to avoid attention. "There she is!"

My eyes flicker away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd toward the entrance of the box. A young woman in an all-white lace dress crosses our path. A gentle smile rests across her lips as the Viscount and Viscountess Furness approach her, each greeting her with an embrace. Her Y/H/C hair peeks through beneath her lavish matching hat. For a moment, I experience hesitation. She's not what I expected at all.

John nudges my arm with a snicker. “You alright, Tom? Look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” 

I shake my head, taking a smoke from my cigarette. "No, that can't be her. She's far too young."

"Of course it is!" John argues.

A young gentleman in a brand new navy suit follows close beside her, keeping a protective hand pressed to her back. He shakes hands with his peers, charming his audience as he and Miss Adair are greeted with cheers.

"And her arrogant playboy fiancé, Alfred Bamford." My brother scoffs. "His family owns more railways in the U.S. than any company in the entire world!"

As my brother babbles, I watch closely as Y/N stands beside Alfred with a restrained, but convincing, smile. As he gloats and encourages banter with their fellow posh folk, she's quiet and glancing about the arena.

"Their marriage will create a media frenzy!" John describes in my ear. "Adair Banks and Bamford Rails, it's a match made in posh people heaven. Shame she'll never live to see it," he snickers.

I press my cigarette into the ashtray and turn my body toward my brother. "As soon as the gun fires that's when Alfie's man takes the shot.” I check my watch. “He'll be here in five minutes. That's when you leave and fetch the car. Understood?"

He nods sharply, "right, Tom. Got it."

___________________________________

Y/N

Anticipating the race, Al and I stand right against the rail with our dainty gold binoculars, searching for my family's horse.

"I need Olympus to win," I worry outwardly. "I need to prove to my father that this trip was worth it."

"I’m certain William will be pleased no matter the outcome."

"You don't know my father then," I chuckle.

"Excuse me!" A voice announces over the chatter of the box.

I glance over my shoulder as a well-dressed middle-aged man hurries up to my security. His brow is sweaty and his white suit wrinkled. He rushes out words to Robert before being escorted over to me.

"Welcome to Ascot, Madam," he welcomes, gesturing to the large building. "I'm John Wilkson and I'm a partner at the track. May I get you anything before the festivities?" He rubs his hands in circles nervously.

I offer John my hand with a warm smile. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. If possible, I would like a pot of Earl Grey."

"Oh yes! Yes, definitely!" The man gushes as Robert leads him toward the door. "Right away, Madam!"

"Thank you!" I nod, maintaining my smile until he's out of view.

Al chuckles beside me at the man’s expense as he rubs his palm up and down my spine. "How are you enjoying it so far, My Dear?"

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," I remark. " It doesn't appear any more luxurious than Arlington Park."

"You are far too difficult to please, darling," he teases, scooping up my glove-covered hand and planting a kiss to the back of it.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to today's festivities..." the announcer begins, causing widespread cheering across the crowd.

Al and I clap our hands along with our friends.

"Your tea, Miss Adair, a young waiter informs me as he sets down the set on a side table by our chairs.

I thank him quietly before he dismisses himself.

"Don't forget, tonight is the dinner with Prince Albert and Lady Elizabeth," Al reminds me.

"Aw yes, thank you!" I express with relief as I step back to pick up my teacup and return to my spot beside him. "They're quite lovely, aren't they? Their engagement is such delightful news." I bring my cup to my lips for a sip.

"I'm certainly looking forward to the wedding, it'll be a spectacle." He smirks. “Another excuse to return in the spring.”

I narrow my eyes mischievously, sharing the same agenda as him. "They can be the social event of the season in England, but we shall claim America."

Tommy

Two of Miss Adair’s men are positioned outside while his Head stands against the far wall, just a few feet from her. Alfie's hitman enters the tent without suspicion, dressed like a posh race-goer and his gun well concealed. He glances in my direction, giving me the signal to release my brother. I give John a brief nod and he disappears through the opening in the curtain.

"Jockeys! Prepare your horses!" The announcer declares, marking the start of the races.

I clap along with the crowd. Everyone in the box is zoned in on the gates where the jockeys are mounting their horses. Alfie's man claps as well, keeping his eyes on the horses to blend in as he continues toward Miss Adair and Mr. Bamford. He stops in the second row, just behind the couple.

My eyes flicker to Y/N. A glowing smile forms across her face as she switches her sight away from the gates toward her fiancé. Her eyes glimmering with optimism and excitement. There’s a youthfulness in her I haven’t seen in anyone since the war. She has no idea that the man behind her has been sent to point a gun at her head and kidnap her. Her attention travels about the box, at her friends and peers. Her eyes glance in my direction, her soft Y/E/C eyes meet mine. Her radiating smile softens as her hands slows to a steady halt. Then, something in me just... snaps.

My attention changes to the man on the field lifts his gun into the air. At the same moment, Alfie's man reaches into his coat pocket.

"No! Wait!" I shout, knocking the table out of the way. "Everyone down!"

I leap over the chairs and tackle Alfie's man. He sets off the gun as we stumble to the floor, chairs flying all about. Screams ensue as we wrestle on the floor. A man I recognize as the Head of Y/N's security steps on Alfie's man's hand. With a hiss, he releases his fist around the gun and the security knocks it away. I rush to my feet to inspect the damages, to see if Y/N was hurt, but I see no sign of her. Where did the bullet hit? A hanging bit of cloth that was once the awning answers my question. The arena is in chaos as people travel upstream toward the exists. People are being trampled and pushing each other about.

I work against the traffic down toward the railing to where I last saw Y/N. I shove people out of my way in a hurry. Then, that's when I spot her hat, squashed flat on the floor. I lean down to pick it up and that's when I finally find her resting against the wood base of the rail, holding her head with a bloody hand.

Y/N

I remove my hand from my stinging forehead to see my once white-glove soaked in blood. One minute I was scanning the reaction of the crowd behind me, then there was a shout. The shot for the race to begin rang and I was knocked forward. My head hit the metal railing and I fell to the floor. My forehead was stinging and I realized I was bleeding. Then, I swear I heard another gunshot. I've tried to stand up, but everyone’s scrambling to get out. Plus, my head is throbbing

Suddenly, a man appears hovering above me. He stares down at me with a clenched jaw and a look of determination. He leans down, scoops up my unscathed hand. Before I utter a word, he begins to usher me through the chaos. My feet shuffle across the floor briskly to keep up as he grips my hand tightly. People continue to shout and scream for their loved ones, frightened.

"Who are you?" I ask loudly over the noise.

He ignores me, guiding the way through the arena. People rush down the closest stairs, eager to reach one of the main exits. This man, however, avoids all the staircases and remains on the walkway of the top floor. I sense he's leading me to the furthermost end and hopefully to an emergency exit.

"Answer me this instant!" I demand, attempting to yank my hand free. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, Miss Adair, I do!" He finally answers and whips his head around to meet my gaze. "Now, if you wish to not get shot, I suggest you follow me!"

I check over my shoulder for Al. "But my fiancé-"

"They're not after him," he states turning his attention back ahead.

My stomach drops. "You mean you know who's behind this?"

"I know enough..." His answer is vague and it worries me.

"Why do they wish to hurt me?"

"Your family is the wealthiest in the United States! You should really travel with more security," he suggests over his shoulder.

My prediction was correct, the man takes me to the furthest end of the platform to a fire escape of sorts behind a curtain. It's much less hectic than the main stairwells other than some workers attempting to escape. The man never releases my hand as he leads the swift way down the metal stairs. Once we're on solid ground, we weave through various parts of the arena. Booths and vendors scatter the area. The man seems to know this well, making a bee-line for a large white tent tucked away near the main staircase where Al and I first entered the race track.

When we rush into the tent, I first note a series of telephone booths, the dirt floor, and the absence of any of else. The man releases my hand and starts marching around. I assume checking to make sure we're alone. I spin around, checking my surroundings, frightened that one of these men this stranger speaks of will attack me suddenly.

My head is pounding and I can feel the warm blood twinkle down my cheek. My hair must look a fright. Who am I kidding, my white dress is covered in blood and dirt, every part of me is messy.

Tommy

Y/N and I both struggle to catch our breath. I double-check that neither Alfie nor any of his men are hiding out in here. "We should be safe in here," I announce.

"Don't you think we should fetch a car or something!" She rushes out worriedly. “My car is parked just-”

I shake my head, moving back toward her. "No, not yet. They'll be expecting that."

Now that her hand is away from her head, I can inspect her injury properly. A minor gash above her brow. It doesn't appear awful, won't need stitches, but she has significant amounts of blood down the side of her face and cheek.

Y/N

"Here." The man reaches into his pocket square and pulls out his handkerchief. He brings one hand behind my head and the other presses the fabric to my forehead. "We'll have someone look at this once everything is settled."

I nod, still a tad dazed to say the least. "Thank you," I mumble as my eyes fall to his tie directly ahead of me.

For a moment, despite the chaos outside the tent, there's a sense of peacefulness as the stranger pats my cut.

"So, you know my name, what's yours?" I ask. Considering he saved my life, I don't think we should be strangers anymore. “Since we were in the same box, I suspect you’re friends with the Bowes-Lyons.”

"Thomas, Thomas Shelby," he answers directly without much emotion.

"Well, despite the circumstance, it's pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. I'm surprised we've never met before considering we share friends."

A faint snicker escapes him as a smirk creeps onto the edge of his lips.

I grin. "What's so funny?"

"An heiress calling me "sir," he chuckles, glancing down from my forehead to meet my gaze. "It's not exactly something I thought I'd ever hear."

My brows scrunch together in confusion. “But aren’t you-”

"Tommy!" A voice calls from behind me.

Frightened, I rush to stand behind Mr. Shelby. My hands wrap around his bicep as I peek around his shoulder. His arm reaches around to keep me close to his back.

"In here Arthur!" He hollers.

Wait, he knows the person?

Suddenly, a lengthy man with a mustache marches into the tent. When his eyes land on us, his brows scrunch together. "What's this? What happened to-"

"Change of plans," Mr. Shelby states, physically relaxing at the sight of him.

The man switches his sight between me and Mr. Shelby. He rocks on his heels nervously. He steps to the side to get a better view of me. "Oh uh... hello then... Miss Adair. Nice to meet ya," he greets.

"And he's a friend?" I ask Mr. Shelby quietly.

He chuckles. "Yes, he's my brother. He's safe."

I step out from behind him hesitantly. I redirect my attention to Arthur and remove my glove to offer him my hand slowly. "Pleasure to meet you as well."

His brows rise at the sight of my hand, but he shakes it nonetheless. He chuckles. "She's awfully friendly," he tells his brother.

"Did you happen to see my fiancé? Alfred Bamford," I ask, growing worried that Al may have been hurt.

"He was escorted to your car I believe by one of your security."

"And the others?" I press urgently. “Are my friends alright? What about Lord and Lady Elphinstone?”

His features fall. "I lost them in the crowd, Miss..."

My eyes grow wide. "I should go find them!"

I go to head back outside, but Mr. Shelby grabs my wrist and steps to block my path.

"The men trying to harm you may still be out there," he warns.

"But my friends! Alfred!” I argue. “They’re probably worried sick! I’ll find my car and have them take me back to the hotel!”

"They'll be searching for you there! I'm sure they already have it staked out."

I huff. "Then where do you suggest I go?"

His eyes flicker to his brother and it's evident a thought has crossed his mind.

"I have an idea..." he states vaguely.

Oh no...

_______________________

Masterlist

[justforbooks]

François Roland Truffaut was born on February 6, 1932. He was a French film director, screenwriter, producer, actor, and film critic. He is widely regarded as one of the founders of the French New Wave. In a career lasting over a quarter of a century, he remains an icon of the French film industry, having worked on over 25 films. Truffaut's film The 400 Blows is a defining film of the French New Wave movement, and has four sequels, Antoine et Colette, Stolen Kisses, Bed and Board, and Love on the Run, between 1958 and 1979.

Truffaut's 1973 film Day for Night earned him critical acclaim and several accolades, including the BAFTA Award for Best Film and the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. His other notable films include Shoot the Piano Player (1960), Jules and Jim (1961), The Soft Skin (1964), The Wild Child (1970), Two English Girls (1971), The Last Metro (1980), and The Woman Next Door (1981).

Truffaut also wrote the notable book Hitchcock/Truffaut (1966) which detailed his interviews with film director Alfred Hitchcock during the 1960s. Truffaut expressed his admiration for filmmakers such as Luis Buñuel, Ingmar Bergman, Robert Bresson, Roberto Rossellini, and Alfred Hitchcock.

On Jean Renoir, he said: "I think Renoir is the only filmmaker who's practically infallible, who has never made a mistake on film. And I think if he never made mistakes, it's because he always found solutions based on simplicity—human solutions. He's one film director who never pretended. He never tried to have a style, and if you know his work—which is very comprehensive, since he dealt with all sorts of subjects—when you get stuck, especially as a young filmmaker, you can think of how Renoir would have handled the situation, and you generally find a solution".

Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard, his colleague from Cahiers de Cinema, worked together closely during their start as film directors although they had different working methods. Tensions came to the surface after May 68: Godard wanted a more political, specifically Marxist cinema, Truffaut was critical of creating films for primarily political purposes. In 1973, Godard accused Truffaut of making a movie that was a "lie" (Day For Night), and Truffaut replied with a 20-page letter in which he accused Godard of being a radical-chic hypocrite, a man who believed everyone to be "equal" in theory only. "The Ursula Andress of militancy—like Brando—a piece of shit on a pedestal." The two never spoke or saw each other again. But Godard tried to reconcile with Truffaut later on, and after his death wrote the introduction to a collection of his letters and a long tribute in his film Histoire(s) du cinéma.

Truffaut was married to Madeleine Morgenstern from 1957 to 1965, and they had two daughters, Laura (born 1959) and Eva (born 1961). Madeleine was the daughter of Ignace Morgenstern, managing director of one of France's largest film distribution companies, and was largely responsible for securing funding for Truffaut's first films.

Truffaut was an inveterate womanizer and had affairs with many of his leading ladies, including Marie-France Pisier (Antoine and Colette, Love on the Run), Jeanne Moreau (Jules and Jim, The Bride Wore Black), Françoise Dorléac (The Soft Skin), Julie Christie (Fahrenheit 451), Catherine Deneuve (Mississippi Mermaid, The Last Metro), and Jacqueline Bisset (Day for Night). Truffaut also fell for Isabelle Adjani during the filming of The Story of Adele H. but his advances were rebuffed.

In 1968 Truffaut was engaged to actress Claude Jade (Stolen Kisses, Bed and Board, Love on the Run); he and Fanny Ardant (The Woman Next Door, Confidentially Yours) lived together from 1981 to 1984 and had a daughter, Joséphine Truffaut (born 28 September 1983).

Truffaut was an atheist, but had great respect for the Catholic Church and requested a mass for his funeral.

In July 1983, Truffaut rented France Gall's and Michel Berger's house outside Honfleur, Normandy (composing for Philippe Labro's film Rive droite, rive gauche) when he had his first stroke and was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He was expected to attend his friend Miloš Forman's Amadeus premiere when he died on 21 October 1984, aged 52, at the American Hospital in Neuilly-sur-Seine in France.

At the time of his death, he had numerous films in preparation. He had intended to make 30 films and then retire to write books for the remainder of his life. He was five films short of that aim. He is buried in Montmartre Cemetery.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[handeaux]

17 Curious Facts About Cincinnati’s Ravenous Appetite For Oysters

Cincinnati Ate A Lot Of Oysters

In the 1800s, Cincinnati diners consumed something 200,000 gallons of fresh oysters every season, shipped in the shell on ice from the east coast. That works out to something like 2.5 million oysters per year. The volume is remarkably consistent between reports in 1852 and 1888. In the 1880s, 30 Cincinnati businesses either packed or served oysters.

Oysters Inspired Better Transportation

As early as the 1810s, Cincinnatians consumed oysters, pickled or spiced, shipped in hermetically sealed canisters. By the 1830s, entrepreneurs had worked out a system of speedy wagons to get fresh oysters from Baltimore to Wheeling, where steamboats could haul the tasty molluscan cargo to Cincinnati. From Chesapeake Bay to the Public Landing, the entire trip took just five days, with new ice added along the way to keep the oysters in prime condition. Within a few years, railroads shortened that run to just hours.

Mrs. Trollope Was Appalled

Pretty much everything about Cincinnati disturbed Frances “Fanny” Trollope. The acerbic British lady vented her displeasure in her 1832 best-selling “Domestic Manners of the Americans,” where she whined about Cincinnatians: “In eating, they mix things together with the strangest incongruity imaginable. I have seen eggs and oysters eaten together; the sempiternal ham with apple-sauce; beefsteak with stewed peaches; and salt fish with onions.”

Oysters Delayed The Mail

Mail runs were profitable for stagecoach lines, but not as profitable as oysters, and barrels of iced blue points were shoved into every available space on wagons departing Baltimore. The Daily Gazette [5 February 1846] reported that mail deliveries to Cincinnati were arriving late because the postal coach had broken down from being overloaded with oysters.

Oysters As You Like Them

How did Cincinnatians eat their oysters? An 1859 menu preserved by the Gibson House offers a single course at an elaborate dinner consisting of Oysters Baked in Shells, Escallops of Oysters, Oysters Baked with Fine Herbs, Small Oyster Pies, Raw Oysters, Oysters Baked in a Form, Oysters Stewed with Champagne, Oysters Baked with Cheese, Fried Oysters and Pickled Oysters. A later course included Aspics of Oysters in a Form of Jelly.

Heaven To A P.O.W.

S.B. Nelson’s 1894 History of Hamilton County recounts the tale of Columbus Bennett, a school teacher in Anderson Township who enlisted early in the Civil War. He served with distinction for several years until captured by the Confederates. Eventually paroled, on reaching Union territory the famished prisoner consumed his “first square meal in eight long months, consisting of thirteen dozen raw oysters.” He survived to teach another 30 years.

Romance On The Half-Shell

The Enquirer [2 December 1874] recounts local speculation about William “Billy” Stolpp, the keeper of an oyster house at 159 West Fourth Street, and his extended trip to Baltimore. His friends and customers assumed his long absence involved acquiring a stock of fresh bivalves for his shop. In fact, Billy soon returned to Cincinnati with his new bride, the former Miss Lizzie Evans, of Baltimore, whom he had wed in that city.

Six Words And $700 Created A Legend

James A. “Jimmy” Shevlin was no dummy. He was working as a bank teller when he noticed the substantial and regular deposits from the Central Oyster House on Sixth Street. “There’s money in that game,” he said and borrowed $700 to open his own oyster house on the same block. Jimmy’s advertising slogan was, “If it swims, I have it,” and Shevlin’s Oyster & Chop House became a hangout for Democratic politicians and celebrities of the baseball, boxing and horse-racing worlds.

Oysters Paved Cincinnati Roads

The WPA “Guide to Cincinnati” reports that, in the 1880s, Boudinot and Wardall avenues in Westwood were part of what was known as Shell Road. “The story goes that one winter a landowner sent his hired man almost daily to Cincinnati hotels and restaurants – to obtain wagon loads of oyster shells. These shells were then scattered over the roadway. Horses’ hoofs ground them fine and created a shining white roadbed.”

Pushcart Deliveries

If Cincinnatians didn’t feel like taking a streetcar to their favorite restaurant or walking to the local fishmonger, they could just wait until the oyster hawker pushed his wagon past their residence. In the 1880s and 1890s, Cincinnati streets were crowded with pushcart merchants offering to mend umbrellas, sharpen knives and scissors, grind some fresh mustard, slice watermelon, shovel coal and, yes, shuck a dozen oysters from an ice-laden cart.

Queen City Condiments

No matter how Cincinnati diners ordered their oysters, whether fresh out of the shell, or steamed, or breaded and fried, they usually added some sort of flavoring. If the condiment of choice was a hot sauce, odds are it was brewed right here in the Queen City. Two brands of locally concocted chili sauce in particular, Snider’s (1900) and later Frank’s (1918) had wide distribution outside the Tri-State region.

The Pig Is Still King In Porkopolis

A 1905 “Dictionary Of Slang And Colloquial English” by John Farmer and William Henely defined “Cincinnati Oyster” as “a pig’s trotter,” in other words, a pig’s foot. The prevalence of pigs in the Queen City inspired many saloons to offer pigs feet as a regular component of their free lunch buffets.

Blame The Kaiser

World War I did nothing to abate Cincinnati’s hunger for oysters, even though wartime conditions hiked the cost of their favorite bivalve. In 1917, most Cincinnati oyster houses raised the price of oyster stew from 20 cents a bowl to 25 cents. Restaurateurs blamed the war and the customers blamed the Kaiser for starting the conflict.

Oysters For The Jury

Among the most sensational trials in Cincinnati history was the land-scam scandal of Roy Van Tress. At the conclusion of the court proceedings, resulting in Van Tress being sentenced to federal prison, the court received a bill of $848.46 from the Havlin Hotel for housing the jury, and a bill for $1383.75 from Shevlin’s Oyster House for feeding them. At that time, an oyster dinner with all the trimmings cost about 35 cents. That’s a lot of oysters!

Free Oysters For Life (Version 1)

In addition to newspaper reports, there are witnesses who attest that William Whipple Symmes, great-grand-nephew of John Cleves Symmes and prominent Cincinnati attorney, earned free oysters for life at the Central Oyster House. In one version, reported by Alfred Segal in the Cincinnati Post [22 June 1946], Jacob Rosenfield, the proprietor, realized that Symmes had been a regular customer for 30 years and presented him with a free pass for the remainder of his days.

Free Oysters For Life (Version 2)

Another Post columnist, Si Cornell, reported [16 March 1971] a different rationale for the free oysters, and cited W.W. Symmes’ law partner, William Busch, as the source. According to Busch, Symmes heard that Cincinnati was paralyzed by an “oyster scare” – rumors that oysters “weren’t much good and maybe worse.” Symmes contacted the Central Oyster House and offered to sit in the front window, eating Jacob Rosenfield’s oysters for everyone to see. Business picked up and the proprietor repaid his customer with “on-the-house” oysters ever after.

Still A Lot Of Oysters

Jacob Rosenfield’s old Central Oyster House was demolished in 1958 to make way for the new Federal Building on Government Square. The owner at the time, Rosenfield’s grandnephew Jake Spicer, proclaimed that the Central Oyster House would reopen nearby. Business was too good to close – averaging 4,000 hungry customers a day. One of Spicer’s employees calculated that she had served 32,260,000 breaded and fried oysters during her 40 years at the restaurant.

[nicklloydnow]

“In the case of Afghanistan, America’s refusal to countenance the return of Zahir Shah may well have proved to be their greatest failure of imagination yet.

(…)

We were ushered into the garden room, there, on cane furniture, sat two old men. One, slightly-sunken of face but alert and with a smile waltzing over his lips, the other of a more military bearing. Dust eddied in the shafts of light as we passed, then settled as we did. We were visiting the 86 year old Zahir Shah, King of Afghanistan for 40 years between 1933 and 1973. With him was Lieutenant-General Sardar Abdul Wali Khan, who acted as an interpreter, it was entirely unnecessary as the King would answer in accurate though halting English.

We were there to discover if the old man was interested, or even able, to take up the reins again. His time as monarch (ended in a palace coup by his cousin, Mohamed Daud) had been one of unprecedented peace and prosperity for the mountain kingdom. In the late 1960s he introduced a new democratic constitution. Amongst other things, it guaranteed women’s rights and elections. He was also someone who was able to garner loyalty not just from his native Pashtun people, but from the Hazara, Tajik and Uzbeck minorities and the confidence of many of the regional powers.

The exiled king spoke of his visceral love for the country. That and his deep sadness. How, from his Roman exile he had seen his land first became a dictatorship after a palace coup, then a Soviet satellite state, ending in a Soviet inspired coup, the Soviet invasion of 1979 and the civil war that saw the death of 400,000 of its citizens between 1979 and the fall of the Taliban. Estimates suggest upwards of 10 per cent of the entire population were killed during that period, a salutary realisation that even 20 years ago Afghanistan had been a killing field for the previous 20 years.

(…)

These events had not dimmed the king’s desire to do what he could for the nation. He had told us he would do anything to secure peace. As he went on to do. Within a week of our meeting, he had made an informal agreement with the anti-Taliban Mujahedeen of the Northern Alliance.

(…)

At this point things were looking promising for a return of the king. But Pakistani Intelligence, the ISI, was uncomfortable with the prospect of a moderate in power in Afghanistan, and was even less happy by the combination of a Pashtun king, with the support of the Tajik, Uzbek and Hazara dominated Northern Alliance having political power.

Zahir at no time demanded the throne — indeed the Tajik, former President and leader of the Jamiat-e Islami rejected the idea out of hand — his offer was to convene a Loya Jorga, a gathering of all the tribal notables to create a new constitution. In November of that year the Bonn conference, which included all Afghan factions barring the Taliban, supported him as the interim leader.

And yet, by the time Zahir returned to Kabul with Hamed Karzi, the US had gone completely cold on the idea. Now their chosen man was Karzai, soon after American-led forces had driven the Taliban out of Kabul in 2002. It is clear that the US’s retreat from supporting the monarchical option was in part driven by their ties with the Pakistani ISI, for years they had starved the moderate Afghan nationalist Haq of support whilst feeding the Islamist factions of the Northern alliance.

(…)

The US, though it was aware of the possibilities of an Afghan solution to an Afghan problem, and a solution that could have utilised the residual loyalty of the Afghan peoples, decided against. The rest is dour, bloody history.”

“All empires die. The end is usually unpleasant. The American empire, humiliated in Afghanistan, as it was in Syria, Iraq, and Libya, as it was at the Bay of Pigs and in Vietnam, is blind to its own declining strength, ineptitude, and savagery. Its entire economy, a “military Keynesianism,” revolves around the war industry. Military spending and war are the engine behind the nation’s economic survival and identity. It does not matter that with each new debacle the United States turns larger and larger parts of the globe against it and all it claims to represent. It has no mechanism to stop itself, despite its numerous defeats, fiascos, blunders and diminishing power, from striking out irrationally like a wounded animal. The mandarins who oversee our collective suicide, despite repeated failure, doggedly insist we can reshape the world in our own image. This myopia creates the very conditions that accelerate the empire’s demise.

The Soviet Union collapsed, like all empires, because of its ossified, out-of-touch rulers, its imperial overreach, and its inability to critique and reform itself. We are not immune from these fatal diseases. We silence our most prescient critics of empire, such as Noam Chomsky, Angela Davis, Andrew Bacevich, Alfred McCoy, and Ralph Nader, and persecute those who expose the truths about empire, including Julian Assange, Edward Snowden, Daniel Hale, and John Kiriakou. At the same time a bankrupt media, whether on MSNBC, CNN or FOX, lionizes and amplifies the voices of the inept and corrupt political, military and intelligence class including John Bolton, Leon Panetta, Karl Rove, H.R. McMaster and David Petraeus, which blindly drives the nation into the morass.

Chalmers Johnson in his trilogy on the fall of the American empire – “Blowback,” “The Sorrows of Empire” and “Nemesis” – reminds readers that the Greek goddess Nemesis is “the spirit of retribution, a corrective to the greed and stupidity that sometimes governs relations among people.” She stands for “righteous anger,” a deity who “punishes human transgression of the natural, right order of things and the arrogance that causes it.” He warns that if we continue to cling to our empire, as the Roman Republic did, “we will certainly lose our democracy and grimly await the eventual blowback that imperialism generates.”

“I believe that to maintain our empire abroad requires resources and commitments that will inevitably undercut our domestic democracy and, in the end, produce a military dictatorship or its civilian equivalent,” Johnson writes. “The founders of our nation understood this well and tried to create a form of government – a republic – that would prevent this from occurring. But the combination of huge standing armies, almost continuous wars, military Keynesianism, and ruinous military expenses have destroyed our republican structure in favor of an imperial presidency. We are on the cusp of losing our democracy for the sake of keeping our empire. Once a nation is started down that path, the dynamics that apply to all empires come into play – isolation, overstretch, the uniting of forces opposed to imperialism, and bankruptcy. Nemesis stalks our life as a free nation.”

If the empire was capable of introspection and forgiveness, it could free itself from its death spiral. If the empire disbanded, much as the British empire did, and retreated to focus on the ills that beset the United States it could free itself from its death spiral. But those who manipulate the levers of empire are unaccountable. They are hidden from public view and beyond public scrutiny. They are determined to keep playing the great game, rolling the dice with lives and national treasure. They will, I expect, preside gleefully over the deaths of even more Afghans, assuring themselves it is worth it, without realizing that the gallows they erect are for themselves.”

“We waged war in Afghanistan - twenty years of war, thousands of American lives lost, tens of thousands of Afghan lives lost, over 2 trillion dollars spent - but we did not wage peace. We went, we fought, we supported a corrupt Afghan government almost as abusive to the people there as the Taliban had been, we droned, we bombed, we tried to build an army of some of the historically best fighters in the world in the image of the American armed forces (so arrogant are we), we tried to build an Afghanistan in the image of our own country (so delusional are we) - and yeah, we did some good things too. In the end, we aren’t just the last in a long line of empires defeated in Afghanistan. Even worse, we’re the last in a long line of empires that raped and plundered it before we left.

God help us, if we don’t learn from this.”

[margridarnauds]

Topic - English language productions of German language musicals (should they happen? Why don’t they? Just how bad was DotV?)

To quote a friend: OhOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO. 

Personally, I feel like, at this point, the era for German language musicals to be translated is long since gone. It isn’t that I’m THRILLED for this, because I think there’s potential, but I feel like the time that it REALLY could have worked would have been in the 80s-90s. But, since that time, the era of the megamusical....it’s gone. It was gone with Lestat, it was gone with Tanz, and it was one of the reasons why The Pirate Queen....sank (though I have further Thoughts on the Pirate Queen that would require a different post entirely.) These days, musicals tend to be....well. Pop-y. Not as many big-budget historical musicals that rely a lot on spectacle. Taking something like Elisabeth or Tanz to the stage now....it would be totally out of touch with the current mood on Broadway, unless you decided to dip dye the Sternenkleid pink. HAD Rebecca not been subjected to....That™, it might have had a chance, since it, at least, has source material that American audiences are more likely to be familiar with, but, in all honesty, I still think it would have died a fiery death. Broadway, in general, doesn’t have much of a taste for the gothic (Hadestown is probably the closest, off the top of my head. Phantom’s still kicking, but people go to see Phantom by virtue of it being PHANTOM ) It tends to play things relatively safe and, for the most part, most of the musicals that seem to REALLY do well are the ones that will appeal to the tourists. 

Now. As for personal taste. It isn’t something I talk about TOO often, but I obviously love gothic spectacles and, therefore, haven’t really been feeling at home with the Broadway crowd since....well. 2016. That’s partially why I left Broadway and decided to stick to Europe, Japan, and Korea, because there IS a market for gothic spectacles there, it’s...homier, in a sense. (And we get regular productions of Dracula.) I do feel there’s something OFF about the fact that just about every single major musical market in the world can handle these but not American/English audiences but....well. I don’t know HOW the American market would react to something that didn’t come from there, at the risk of sounding condescending to our shared country..............they don’t really like to step out of their comfort zone. 

I honestly don’t believe DOTV was as bad as the fandom generally makes it out to be. I DO think the humor, including the opening scene, can be.....wie sagt man.....cringe. It was too self aware, tried to parody itself TOO HARD, to the extent that the emotional scenes just didn’t hit right. (How can you take Confessions of a Vampire seriously when, ten seconds ago, they were making dick jokes? “Your banana is peeling” is seared into my brain forever.) Herbert, while always an offensive predatory gay stereotype, is somehow taken to new heights here. But, then again, some extreme fan reactions make it sound like humor, including cringey humor NEVER existed in Tanz before then, and I’m just like “I’m so glad you were able to exorcize the Magda Boob Staking Scene from your mind, because I can’t.” I feel like a lot of the issues with Dance were there in the source material to begin with, in all honesty, not the least because our source material here is a Roman Polanski movie. 

While it has its flaws, I believe, firmly, that it made the RIGHT decision in making Sarah the indisputable protagonist of the piece. I don’t care what Michael Kunze says (honestly, keeping Kunze as far away from the Broadway production as possible might have been the best possible decision, because the man must have sold his soul to write women well in one musical and was never able to repeat the trick)- Sarah should always have been the protagonist to begin with; the gothic genre has, traditionally, centered women and their journeys at the centre of it, and, anyway, Sarah’s arc about choosing to be a vampire over the abusive family structure she grew up in is much more interesting to me, personally, than.....whatever Alfred has. Alfred, as a character, is rather cardboard to me, I’m ngl, and has the unfortunate, fatal flaw of being written by Roman Polanski as a self insert on top of that. His general existence has always kind of been the evidence, for me, that this show was very, very much written by men. His arc has always seemed....Nice Guy-ish™. Not in the sense of him actually BEING a Nice Guy, but in the sense that the message that it sends is somewhere along the lines of “She doesn’t REALLY know what she wants. One day, if you keep trying hard enough, that hot girl will leave her douchebag vampire boyfriend and be with you.” Now, EVERY iteration of Dance has that, to some extent, but I feel like centering Sarah at least mitigates it to some extent, especially since Mandy Gonzales did a really, really vibrant, very ALIVE Sarah who took life by the reins every step of the way. Dance also, in my opinion, handles the Magda and Rebecca situation better. Not WELL, because you would have to create an entirely different show for that, but BETTER. 

That being said....really? Killing Krolock? Really? Come on. 

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Friday, May 28th, the 148th day of 2021. There are 217 days left in the year.

Today’s Highlight in History:

1403: German university masters attack John Wycliffe’s doctrines which had spread to their nation by way of Jan Hus and others.

1663: Joseph Alleine, Puritan author of An Alarm to the Unconverted, is thrown into Lichester prison because he does not comply with England’s Act of Uniformity.

1685: James Renwick and about 200 men meet in Sanquhar, Scotland, where they will draft the Second Sanquhar Declaration which claims that King James II of England (VII of Scotland) is a murderer and an idolater and that acts of Parliament and Scottish church law make him ineligible to hold the kingship because he is a Catholic.

1843: Death at Newhaven, Connecticut, of Noah Webster, author of an American speller and other works, including a dictionary, that distinguished American English from British. He had been a conservative in politics and religion.

1909: Samuel Clement Perry joins the Church of God, Cleveland, where he will do notable work before his exclusion.

1924: Death at Bangassou, Africa, of Baptist missionary William Haas from a fever. He and his wife had done much to create Baptist Mid-Missions, recruit personnel, and establish the station at Bangassou.

1937: Death in Aberdeen, Scotland, of Alfred Adler, a Jewish convert to Christianity who had gained fame as a neurologist and psychiatrist. He considered man’s “will to power” a primary motivator in human behavior and also addressed the role of inferiority feelings.

1938: John and Isobel Kuhn with Charles Paterson open their first rainy season Bible school, geared to teach the gospel during a season when fewer pursuits are open to the Lisu people of Thailand.

1940: Death in Sydney, Australia, of missionary leader, Florence Selina Harriett Young.

1949: A communist party congress in Czechoslavkia declares its right to educate children in atheistic Leninism without regard for their parents’ religious values.

1987: Wu Weizun, a staunch Christian, who has suffered severely for his faith in Chinese prisons and camps, is formally released from prison. Because of his persistence in faith and refusal to pretend he has accepted the communist line, the authorities decide to take care of him, giving him a hut, official registration, and a monthly allowance.

2011: Release of US Citizen Eddie Jun Yong-Su, who had been arrested while attempting Christian work in North Korea. He had been beaten so severely he can scarcely walk without help

[weswritescomics]

Character descriptions:

Bruce Wayne: Italian-American 30 years old. 6’3, slick black hair, darker blue eyes, usual darkened lining around eyelids, fit build. Not as stocky, more slender psychic, but still muscular. Five o’clock shadow, always.

The Batman: Dark blue shading to his costume, stitched leather cape, shorter ears on the cowl, cowl a darker blue than the cape. Doesn’t look like armor, more fabric, woven with kevlar. Lenses are white as snow, reflect light and shine in the dark, not animatic however, still and shaped.

Alfred Pennyworth: 63 years old, balding head, full beard of grey and white, 5’9. Stocky build, English, war veteran.

Detective James Gordon: 40 years old. African American, 6’2. Firm build, rougher mustache, balding hair, new hire at GCPD, transfer from Metropolis.

Detective Harvey Bullock: 37 years old. Caucasian, 5’9, heavy set, longer orange tinted beard, always wearing a classic hat. Thinks of himself as a real hot shot.

J𝗨𝗦𝗧𝖨𝗖𝗘 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗚𝗨𝗘.

𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗛 - 60.

Chapter One.

The Night Cometh.

Gotham City, August, 1962.

Rain is the constant in Gotham. Pelting rays of ice cold water that hit window shields at a rapid pace. Across the open yard of Wayne Manor, through long strands of untamed grass, and leafless trees, sit two grave stones. Each of them a mark of the past that holds him. Each of them carved with the singular word.

𝗪𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲.

“Master Bruce?” The butlers tinted voice breaks his train of thought, standing at the window, with hands clasped behind his back — is Bruce Wayne. The last heir of the Wayne fortune, and The Prince of Gotham, “Alfred, in here.” His voice is lower, rougher than that of the past. A child, who was once full of life and optimism, was now a man heavy with dread.

“Sir.” Alfred stands in the doorway of the room they both share, the old master bed room of Martha and Thomas Wayne. He holds in his hands, a silver tray, accompanied with a small cup of coffee, fresh with the trail of heated steam — and next to it, a blueberry muffin, “You don’t usually come in here, I wasn’t sure where you were. Large house and all.” Alfred moves across the open space, placing said tray of assorted goods on the edge of the bed, “I thought it was time.” Wayne responds, however, his eyes keep outward, looking towards the gravestones that stare right back at him, “I owe them that much.” Pennyworth let’s out a sigh, his white gloved hands find themselves intertwining. He rocks on the back of his heals, with a small clearing of his throat.

“Master Bruce, I think it’s time you let go of the ghost in the backyard, and comeback to the land of the living.” Bruce doesn’t answer. “You’ve been back in Gotham for a whole year now, and you’ve barley seen the city for what it is now.” “I have.” Wayne turns finally, his eyes rage with pain, with lack of sleep — and vengeance. “Running around at night does 𝗻𝗼𝘁 count. Allowing yourself to feel the pain, to move on, and to run your fathers company 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀.”

Bruce takes small steps toward Alfred, the space between the two closes, “Alfred.” He starts, “We’ve seen this city for what it truly is, it showed us long ago the violence it can produce. The only way to fix that, is to bring it down, from its core. Gotham can’t rebuild, until the infestation — the 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝘂𝘀 — that crime is, is ridden of.” The two lock eyes now, a father made of grief, an arrogant son full of pain, their words aren’t spoken here — how much they truly need one another. Instead, it is met with another sigh, as Alfred takes the tray from the bed, turning and heading for the door, “We’ll then, a late dinner it is.”

GCPD Precinct, August, 1962.

The precinct buzzes with the usual morning crew of Gotham’s finest. Each of them in their own world of steady cases and rising efforts for the fight against crime. Or so, this is what James Gordon would’ve like to think they were doing. In reality it was 15% working against crime, and 85% working 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 crime. But he knew this before he even moved his family here, before he and his pregnant wife Barbara, took the plunge into the crime capital of the world. He, saw it as a way to do right by his father. Metropolis was dangerous, sure, but compared to Gotham, it was a shiny utopia. His father, then officer Gordon, always told him one thing — you do right not by the actions you 𝗱𝗼, but by the people you 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽.

And those words stuck with him ever since, which is what brought him here. The GCPD was failing, the criminal underground was boiling over into the ordinary world, dirty cops helped push that quota into reality, hate crimes continued to soar, even within the GCPD — and yet he still felt like there was good in this city. An ability, if it were to try, if it were to be given even an ounce of a chance, to shine — if not 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿 — than Metropolis. Barbara didn’t think so, she didn’t like the move, but how could she. The only silver lining she saw in this city was the chance of real and meaningful social work. Something that Metropolis barely offered. Again, a utopia to Gotham.

“Gordon!” Bullocks voice comes across the room, a gentle motion for Gordon to come closer, a waiting look on Harvey’s face, behind him in the meeting office was current Commissioner Harlen. James fixed his tie as he walked forth, bumping shoulders with busy bodies, and gaining 𝗴𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 from those who’d wish for his downfall. Since his arrival, Gordon had done nothing but make enemies, other then Harvey — most of The GCPD had already told their assorted crime bosses about Gotham’s new hotshot. And how he was 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 to save the city from its internal bleeding.

“You’re late.” Bullock snorts, he combs out the side collar of Gordon’s coat, “I had —“ marriage troubles, “—to take the trash out. Got in a fight with a raccoon before I could claim my territory.” Both men let out a gentle laugh, before Harvey motions inside with his head, “C’mon.”

The room sits idle with one singular table, three chairs — two on one side, one lone on the other. The white board behind the single chair is covered with photo evidence, four separate crime scenes, each of them murders of four wealthy Gotham elites. All of them, with two common factors, the fact that each man used his wealth — his power — to influence The GCPD, the political world of Gotham, and to fund The Falcone mob family. The second thing they had in common; the large lipstick like star marked across the face. And the burning white eyes, void of emotion.

“Gordon..” Harlen begins, “Sorry.” James responds, he takes a seat, as does Harvey. “Four new cases boys, each of them on the same path you’ve been following —“ “Christ.” Harvey lets out under his breath, “—each of them as proper as the first three. Our perp, whoever it is, is one for the thematic and the dramatic.” Gordon digs into his coat pocket, pulling out a small notepad, “I was able to get in touch with forensics on the last hit, sent them a sample of whatever that green shit was — turns out it’s the same chemicals produced at ACE.” Harvey learns forward, “As in ACE chemicals?” James nods. “You too go there yet?” The commissioner leans forward, hands placing on the top of the table, a shift in the weight he holds, “No. No not yet.” Harvey responds, he takes his hat off for a second, running his hands through curly uncut hair.

“Then you go there next.” Harlen sits up now, hands resting on his belt buckle, “We’re on it.” Gordon responds, Harvey shoots him a look. They were friends, yes, too an extent. Gordon knew of Harvey’s deals, the backwater jobs he took in his earlier days of GCPD, he knew he was out — but he knew he still had ties. It was the only reason he never turned Harvey in, he was out, and trying to stay out. Trying to be clean, trying to be a better cop. That’s all any of them could do, try.

ACE Chemicals, August, 1962.

The old squad car rolls alongside echoing gravel, Gotham had just been covered in rain, verified by the shine left on the rocks and stone buildings that await them. A warrant for a search hides away in the glovebox, the car itself comes to a stop, just outside the gates — the lights turn off — as well as the engine. Out steps the two detectives, each of them in long coats. One, Gordon, with a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips, the other — Harvey — with a small flask held in his hands.

“Hate this place.” Bullock states, closing the squad car door behind him, “Scared?” Gordon muses, mouth slightly muffled by the stick, “Of radiation? Yea, sure. Also — the fact that only low life pieces of garbage hang at these parts. Talkin the worst of the worst out here Jim.” “James.” “What?” “Don’t call me Jim, man. That’s my dads name. I’m James Gordon, he’s Jim.” Harvey waves him off, taking one last swig, “When you pay my bills, I’ll call you whatever you want me to. Hell, maybe even president Gordon someday.” James shakes his head, placing the remaining cigarette on the ground, and stomping it out, it sizzles as it’s smushed between heel and wet gravel. The two set forth, walking through the now opened metal gate, the chain links rattle and ache as they push past. Each of them holding a flashlight in hand, “What did forensics say exactly?”

“They told me —“ Gordon takes out another cigarette, lighting it, the red end illuminates the inner palms of his hands. And then, a gentle puff of smoke. “That this chemical was created here, it was initially a military grade weapon — meant to be used in Germany. But, it was deemed too violent — er — powerful as they put it. Was scrapped, at least it was suppose to be.” “So how the hell is it on Gotham streets?” “That’s why we’re here. Aren’t we?” ACE chemicals spirals into a kingdom of cone like buildings, each of them painted with the same three letter word — ACE, ACE, ACE. And each cone, a spewing mountain of smoke. As each man continues their walk, they stride in silence, each of them in their own thought — focused on the task at hand. Gordon, thought back to Barbara, the conversation they had before he left this morning. It wasn’t pretty.

In the first year, they were better — they were still whole. That was until 𝗵𝗲 came along. A figure of the night, a myth that soon became reality — a man built of darkness and mystery. The Batman. He came to Gordon, he didn’t know why then, or at least he thought he didn’t. But he understood now, a year later, why Batman came to him. They were honest, mask and all, they knew one another — what this city meant, and how to save it. But this, this devotion that came with this relationship — ruined his real one. Days, weeks, months, spending late nights at GCPD. Working alongside The Batman, taking down the man they now call The Riddler. He laughs, an audible one, one that catches Harvey’s attention.

The Riddler. How funny it was, it use to be gangsters, both street and professional level men. Then, it became all about costumes. The red blur in Central City, who took down the man who called himself Captain Cold. The Amazon in Washington, fought a living tiger like woman. It was all, truly? Insane. And somehow, someway, they — these normal men — were soon intertwined in it all. 𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗛! A scream breaks him, cigarette dropping from parted lips. “Shit — was that?” “Go!” Their guns are removed from their holsters, their feet dig into the ground, pushing them into a run, “Go! Go! Go!” James repeats — one step ahead of the larger Bullock.

They almost slide taking a corner, the damp gravel giving way to their fastening pace. Until, they come into clear view of the scene ahead, hanging from the roof of a taller, shackle like building, is a lone man. His foot, wrapped in a thin line of wiring — one that can only be seen when it catches the small light of the moon, “Awe hell.” Harvey lets out, his gun lowering, his feet stopping. Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon sees it. The small shimmer of white, that pierces through the dark of Gotham — that lets him know their not alone here. The Batman, “Harvey, go get him down, cuff him. I think I see something...” Detective Gordon moves off to the side, as Detective Bullock goes forward.

Gordon shuts off his flashlight, waiting for a minute, as the space between him and Harvey is at a good distance.

“Jim.” The Batman begins, voice at almost a whisper, “Batman.” Gordon responds, his gun now being placed back in its holster, “What happened here.” The Batman sits on a rail, a few feet off the ground, not even James athletic background could get him up there. The wind pulls gently at the edge of his cape, it flutters in noticeable flaps, his short ears make out the remainder of his cowl — the white eyes peer back down on Gordon. Never looking away, “Those cases you’re on now — I’ve already been working them.” “Of course.” “I tracked the chemical to here, as did you. They call it chemical - x. That man —“ The head of the bat shifts, in a pointing direction, “Was here to get more.” “Why?” “You know why.” “To do more.” “Yes.”

Gordon rubs at his neck, “I don’t know, this is all, well this feels like Riddler — again. This feels like someone is playing games, trying to stir up Gotham.” “Not someone, Jim. Something.” “What?” “The man, his tattoos tell a story. On the back of his neck, look there. His friends will have the same signal — this is something, Jim. Bigger than Riddler.” Gordon looks back to Harvey, who had just gotten the man down, his eyes look back to — nothing. The Bat was gone, leaving nothing but the gust of wind.

The two men walk silently back, guiding the arrested man to the back of the squad car. Gordon opens the back door, almost stuffing the suspect in the back, as he does, he reaches forward, pulling back the hoodie over his head — moving long locks of hair from his neck. What he sees is a symbol, or rather a character — a creature. Shaped like a starfish, with a human eye at its middle, colored purple — the eye red as fire. As violence.

Bigger than Riddler. He thought. Sitting back into the driver seat.

What the hell did that mean?

[thiscrimsonsoul]

››  random  mun facts  you surely want to know

repost, not reblog !

name : Silence Leaflin (pen name) nationality : American favorite fruit : Orange favorite season : Fall favorite scents : tea, vanilla, coconut, peppermint, citrus, honeysuckle, rose favorite color(s) : black, purple, blue, silver favorite animals :  cat, hamster, rabbit, iguana tea , coffee , hot cocoa :  tea and hot choccy average hours of sleep : 3-4 when my blog was created : May 12, 2019 # of followers : 297 random fact :  favorite food(s) : pizza, sushi, burritos favorite t.v. show(s) : Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Firefly, Covert Affairs, Farscape, Dr. Pimple Popper, Snapped, Forensic Files favorite movie(s) : (oh man, way too many... gonna list some off the top of my head) Labyrinth, Legend, Ladyhawke, Gremlins, The Gate, Kaze no tani no Naushika, Scrooged, Ghostbusters, The Last Unicorn, the Resident Evil live action movies, Priest, The Mummy, The Mummy Returns, The Fifth Element, Puppet Master favorite vine(s) : I’ve honestly never used that platform... I’ve seen some I like but I don’t have any favorites. sexuality : Heterosexual pronouns : She/her favorite book series(s) : Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, The Lone Wolf Series, The Bridge of D’Arnath favorite video game(s) : Minecraft, NieR, Final Fantasy XII, Resident Evil 3: Nemesis, Silent Hill 3, Metal Gear Solid 4, Way of the Samurai, Disgaea, Fatal Frame, Haunting Ground, inFamous, Tsugunai, Pixel Junk Monsters. favorite subject(s) : science, English guys or girls : Girls last time i cried : Last week what i should be doing :  writing, baking, doing laundry favorite fandom(s) : Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Priest if it had a fandom at all, The Mummy/Mummy Returns

tagged by : I stole it! XD  tagging : Anyone who wants to do this! ^_^

[blackevermore]

x Within the Days The Bombs stood still [Au Lore/Plot]

x Whaaat another god damn au? Yes...Yes....Because my mafia au and historical lady in waiting au isn’t enough for me. I love making aus, it’s my drug honestly

What’s this one about Cev?

x Cold war era, androids, falling in love with the wrong person, trying to stay alive, and a bittersweet ending! Is it all historically accounted for? Nah. But It’s a funny little idea.

Sit back, relax and get ready for this. It’s gonna be good.

x Okay so while watching an ASMR where the listener was a robot and the YT was repairing them I had the idea of what if I/my sona was an android created by the Americans during the end of ww2 but wasn’t activated during the 70s in the middle of the cold war between America and USSR.

x America was working on a a big top secret that only England knew about to basically create the perfect robots to air drop into the USSR in case there was something going on and they needed to basically blow up the nation before the USSR blew them up. Or simply to have them be spies they send over that could automatically report back to them.

x Alfred, one of the lead sophomore scientist of the project R.A.B (Radioed Automatic Bombers) was in charge of programming and designing the human covers for each robot. Against the orders he was given Alfred too the creative freedom of tweaking each bot into having it’s own made up personality and back stories. He believed that if this robots were going to pretend to be human then they needed to fit the bill. He was stumped on what to do for one of the bots so he used inspo of the female black mathematicians he met at NASA that past summer and created M.E.L (Multipurpose Electronic Locator)

x Luckily for Alfred most of the bots were going to stay in the states to catch any Russian spies that happen to slip in. So creating M.E.L wasn’t that big of an issues considering who he based her after. Alfred had the idea of keeping two of the bots to himself for assistance anyway.

x But was put on a halt when a couple of KGB manage to break into Alfred’s unit and destroyed some of the robots and stole most of the documentation. M.E.L wasn’t completely finished like the other bots and she was going to end up like the rest until one of the spies said they should take one and send it back home to be studied so the Russian would have a lead in whatever the American's were doing. And that became the fate of M.E.L

x When M.E.L arrived in Russia (imma flip back and forth between Rus and Ussr bare with me) the scientist try to take her apart for the information but then its noted in a stolen document that Alfred in coded all his secrets into a trust data base. In order for them to get anything they would have to turn her on and "befriend" her. Only then if they ask her something top secret would she automatically give them what they wanted.

x At first they weren't going to put up with it and destroy her but the junior lead scientists Ivan saw it as a challenge and told them he would deal with her.  And in due time Ivan puts M.E.L back together, puts her human covering on and turns her on and M.E.L boots up, what they forgot to look for was to see if she spoke computer or human. So when M.E.L powered on she only responded in English and it seemed that she had a mind of her own instead of being programed to do as she was told. Ivan had more work on his hands than he was expecting. 

x Ivan had to rewire her so that she understood and spoke back in Russian. When he was successful that's when things got tricky. M.E.L didn’t see the world in 1s and 0s she saw the world as if she was a real human who happen to take a nap in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ivan being the blunt person he is constantly reminded her that was false and that just made things harder.

x Ivan wasn't dealing with an robot, he was dealing with an android that thought it was human. M.E.L wanted to go home, she wanted to see her "family" but she was stuck in Russia. So Ivan lied to her and said the American left her there and that he was a simple scientist who wouldn’t mind helping her get back home as long as she followed his rules.

x M.E.L didn't like the sound of this but she had no choice but to give in and work with Ivan to get back home. And thus Ivan's rules were simple: 1) No going outside without him 2) She wasn't allowed to wonder each and anywhere in his house 3) if she didn't mind, having something to eat ready by the time he got home and 4) no asking him questions about what he did at work.

x At first M.E.L hated it, and she broke the second rule very offend when he wasn't around. So much in fact Ivan would turn her off before he left the house and have a timer to turn her back on an hour and a half before he was suppose to be home. M.E.L would ask him questions about the difference in American teach and Russian teach and Ivan had to turn her off and reprogram her to be unable to ask those questions. It was a lot of fucking work but eventually they came to an understanding and found an easy way of life to the point Ivan was happy to come home to company.

x But then Ivan started getting to comfortable and failed to report in sometimes. He started seeing M.E.L less of a robot and more of an actual person. The only thing that made it noticable M.E.L wasn’t human was the barcode on the back of her neck and the few times she would glitch out and fall to the ground. Alfred did an amazing job putting her together and if someday Ivan met the man he would taken him in secret.

x That's when things start to take a turn, Ivan isn't reporting as much information about M.E.L and it's been six months. The government starts to think Ivan is actually an American based spy trying to hide the secrets so they start investigating him and spying on him. Ivan isn't dumb and he knows they are and he is trying to cover his footsteps as best as possible.

x This even happens when Ivan is sent on a month mission to Ukraine to overlook the construction and stability of the new power planet that’s being built. He powers off M.E.L and very carefully dis mantels her to store her somewhere safe while he is away.

x But a few weeks after he returns from Ukraine he slips up one night while drinking and he kisses Mel and confesses he might actually be in love with her. And the spies catches that and the next morning Ivan's house is raided, lucky for Mel, Ivan had a feeling something was going to happen and relocated them to the other side of the house near the back where in case of anything they could escape.

x It's honestly a fight for their lives and Mel gets hurt and so does Ivan but they make it out and have to figure out how to get out of Russia and get into Ukraine then down into Poland and over into Eastern Germany. They can’t take public transport like a plane while still in soviet areas because they would be easily captured. Ivan was now an enemy of his country. It takes a year of having to hide, lie, steal and cheat to get all the way to Eastern Germany. But when they make it Ivan can no longer walk and Mel pushes him around in a wheelchair. They make it to safety and Ivan turns himself in to the Americans and Brits that have control over the Western side of Germany. Mel stays with him the whole time when it’s revealed she's an American product.

x Of course wind word catches wind and the American government is contacted and Ivan and Mel are taken back to the states where Alfred finally gets to meet his creation after two years of thinking only of his bots (Matt) survived. He tells her she’s even more human than he ever imagine her to turn out. That’s when it finally dons on Mel that Ivan wasn’t lying she really wasn’t human.  Alfred reinsures her that as long as she's willing to help her country he can push some documents to have her a real identity made. Mel accepts as long as she can stay with Ivan.

x But even that was tricky bc now the government is holding Ivan under wraps from both the public and the USSR for questioning. Ivan is really good at giving very little and taking a lot. He told them a few hints of information but not enough to truly do any damage. Eventually the Americans allows him to live in the public but he is under watch. Ivan doesn’t care as long as he can live an honest life with Mel. 

x Come to find out Alfred knew all about Ivan since he started his job, Ivan was the one who was always deflecting the American messages in American air space and Alfred had to change the messages to something stupid to throw them off. Alfred offers Ivan a job at the company and they become friends (even with their constant bickering). 

x In the end Ivan and Mel stay in America for the rest of Ivan's life, even getting married (that was a weird one for Al but he keeps his mouth shut)

x Ivan ends up dying of old age and Mel doesn't wish to live on without him so she goes to Alfred who is also a very old man and ask him to finally turn her off for good. He asks her if she sure and she tells him to make sure where Ivan is buried she is buried right next to him.