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adragonhoardingstories · 4 years

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Of Blood and Bonds - Chapter 4

@mystery-5-5 @synnesstra @thesunanditsangel

@abrx2002 @clumsy-owl-4178 @daminett4life @zalladane

@heaven428 @unmaskedagain

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On that note, this book will contain swearing, mentions of rape and torture. I will try not be explicit but that's really relative. Read at your own risk. There will be warning before if I make a explicit scene so that you can skip it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and don't hunt me down for this.

___________________________________

"Colin this is Marinette, my sister, Marinette this is Colin." Damian introduced the redhead who seemed a bit bewildered but he recovered quickly.

"Pleased to meet you ma'am. I didn't know that Damian had another sibling."

"Well neither did he before yesterday." Marinette laughed good-naturedly. "So you're his best friend."

"Yep!" Damian didn't refute the statement.

"So Miss Marinette where are you from?"

"Just Marinette is fine Colin."

"Bu-"

"Miss makes me feel old, you don't want that now, do you?" The boy looked scandalised. "I'm only about two years older than Damian anyways so if you want to call me by a nickname, that's fine too."

The boy grinned shyly. "Okay Marinette."

Damian looked distinctly surprised. "Well done, he still calls the others Mr, they are going to be annoyed by this development."

"Oh Damian." Marinette turned on her heels and winked at them, eyes full of mischief. "This is nothing. I got Alfred to call me by just my first name?"

Now, both boys looked very impressed but still disbelieving. "I'll believe it when I see it." The redhead claimed. Marinette laughed but said nothing more on the matter.

"So where are you bringing me?"

"The Gotham's Botanical Garden. I think you'll enjoy it. However, I must warn you to stay clear of anything that may anger Poison Ivy. "

She took it in stride. "Of course, I'll ask before I do anything."

"It'll be so fun. People don't talk about it because of Ivy but the gardens are so beautiful." Colin started ranting and Marinette hid a smile at the fond expression on her little brother's face. If one didn't know what to be looking for, they would miss it but Marinette had become very very attuned to emotions, especially after she gained the Miraculous and became Guardian.

"-attract so many different kinds of butterflies."

"Huh." Marinette mused. "It'll be nice seeing some actual butterflies and not akumas for once."

"You mentioned akumas before too." Damian interrupted. "What are they?"

She seemed a little surprised. "Do you - do you really have no idea of what's going on in Paris?"

Both of the boys shook their head. Even Colin looked curious now.

"It's pretty surreal but, when I was twelve, this guy surfaced. He calls himself Hawkmoth. He sends out these magic butterflies called akumas to anyone who's experiencing any negative emotion to possess them. He makes a deal with the victims to give them powers for them to be able to take revenge upon whatever wrong happened to them and return he asks for the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"Who?" Colin interrupted and Marinette blinked. She had sounded so...old, so burdened as she spoke - so different from the bubbly macaroon making girl that Damian had learnt to know.

"Right, context. After his first akuma, two heroes surfaced in Paris too. They're powered by the Miraculous too. Hawkmoth wants Ladybug's earrings and Chat Noir's ring. No one knows why exactly and well we're not interested to find out. More power in that madman's hands can only cause harm."

"You mean to say." Damian's voice was flat. "That there has been a sociopathic terrorist in Paris for five years and no one knows of it. Why didn't the mayor call for the Justice League?"

Marinette's face darkened. It almost made both if the boys shudder and take a step back.

"Oh but we did. More than once, more than ten times in fact. We only stopped whenthe Leaguers asked us to stop wasting their time with pranks."

"What?" Damian exploded. "They just disregarded all the damage that must have been caused, all the phone calls. They didn't even look into it."

Marinette placed a hand in his shoulder, urging her aura to seek his and calm him down. "The thing is one of Ladybug's powers is the Miraculous Cure. It fixes all the damage caused in the midst of battle."

"All the damage?" Even Damian didn't seem to believe it at that point.

"I know it seems too good to be true." She fished out her phone and tried to look for a video. "And we understood that but everyone in Paris is pissed that they didn't even bother come verify our so called claims. I mean for God's sake, they have aliens, shapeshifters, magicians and even guys who are themselves powered by magical jewelry if I'm not wrong."

Marinette huffed as she found a video. It was one of the first ones from the Ladyblog, when Alya was still a reliable reporter. She played the video. It was of The Mime and it showed how he cut the Eiffel Tower in two as well as the Miraculous Cure taking effect.

The boys especially Damian seemed horrified and Marinette felt a little of guilt for subjecting them to that.

But then Damian looked up at her and his lazarus green eyes of reminded her that he probably had seen worse.

"That's…" He didn't seemed to know what to say.

"Terrifying." Colin said. "Are they all really that strong?" Marinette winced, debating whether to tell them the truth of not.

Damian seemed to sense that. "You can tell us." He prompted and she sighed, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"That's actually one of the tamer villians." She admitted. "The Mime appeared during the first year of Hawkmoth's reign of terror. One of the worst akumas back then that come to mind is Syren. She flooded the entirety of Paris, about three quarter of the population died and were brought back by the cure." She took another look at them and decided that she wasn't going to be the cause of their further trauma.

"Hey, this is it, right?" She promptly changed the subject, knowing very well that she hadn't been subtle at all. "Gotham Botanical Gardens." She beamed down at them.

"Wow, it's beautiful." She took a moment to appreciate the sight. "Hey you're right, there's a lot of butterflies. Can we go there first?" She was basically bouncing as she turned to look at her brother and his best friend.

Colin looked gleeful while Damian seemed just amused. "You act like a child." Her brother informed her. She stuck out her tongue at him. "And you speak like an old man but you don't see me complaining."

"Fair enough." He chuckled. "What are you waiting for? Let's go then."

He couldn't help the full-blown smile appearing on his face as both his sister and his best friend literally ran to the butterflies and started gushing together.

He started to make his way to them when someone appeared in front of him blocking his view. His usual scowl and glare were back on his face when he looked up. The boy seemed to recoil slightly at his look but it didn't deter him more that that.

"I don't know who you are." His tone clearly gave away that he felt like he was the one in power here. Damian cursed the time when he used to act like that. He had learnt that lesson the hard way - had learnt not to underestimate an enemy. "But you're gonna stay away from my princess. She doesn't need children like you around."

Damian took a second to analyze him. Blond Hair. Green eyes. He remembered reading those as Marinette's triggers during his research. He had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out to his weapons.

"She can decide that for himself." He said instead and went to walk around him but the boy grabbed his shoulder.

The next thing he knew he was standing behind his sister. "Adrien." She cut in smoothly. "I didn't expect to see you here, especially not without your bodyguard." Damian could see that she was tense, her back muscles were coiled as if she was ready for a fight.

"Princess." He was beaming. "I snuck out." He said almost proudly. "We need to talk."

"Gotham isn't Paris." Her words seemed more like a warning rather than the facts they were which the blond idiot obviously didn't catch on. "And I want nothing to do with you, haven't for three years. I owe you nothing. Give up."

That was a clear dismissal if Damian knew one. "Princess you need to listen to me-" He reached out to grab her hand but was cut off.

The younger boy had seen her lurking but she hadn't seemed a threat so he didn't know whether he was thankful or not that she had jumped in.

Ivy spoke "The girl asked you to go away." Thankful, he finally decided.

The boy looked a little nervous - so he did have some braincells. "Ma'am, respectfully, this does not concern you." Well not enough it seemed.

"Oh well, respectfully." Her plants towered behind them. "I don't give a damn. Stay away from them."

The plants grabbed him and threw him just outside the park boundaries. It seemed a little tame for the likes of Ivy but then again she always did go softer for children even if they were brats.

Damian watched as the boy scrambled back to his feet and glared in their direction before he stomped off.

"Damian." His sister was clearly fretting over him, he would never admit it but it felt good, he felt loved. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I'm alright, I'm alright. I told you, I can take care of myself."

She smiled, soft and relieved. "I don't doubt it but promise me if you see either him or Lila from yesterday, you need go the other way."

"Why?" He frowned. He had a doubt on blondie but what about that Lila girl?

"And by Lila, do you mean the sausage haired girl?"

His sister cracked a grin at that thought she was still serious. "Yeah her."

"Why?" He repeated and she became grim at once. "Because he's sick in the head and she's a psychopath so please, promise me." She met his eyes and really, faced to that did Damian have any other choice but to accept?

She beamed at him as Colin approached them. "That was so cool. Are you okay Dames?" He turned to talk to his best friend and gave him a once over before nodding.

"Thank you for stepping in." He heard his sister and turned around. Ivy may be one of the villains-turned-anti-hero but it didn't mean that people didn't need to be wary around her. What was Marinette thinking?

"Boys like him need to be taught a lesson before it's too late." Damian's mind immediately went to Harley's and Joker's relationship.

"I don't think a lesson would do him any kind of good at this point but thank you."

It was very apparent that her words made Ivy re-evaluate her.

The woman gave a nod. "Don't mention it." She said nothing else but didn't move away.

Marinette smiled. "By the way, I love that flower in your hair. That's a lily right?"

"Yes." She said slowly but the spark in her eye showed that she was now interested. "You know flowers?"

"I have a garden of my own." Marinette revealed. "I tried growing some lilies but they're no where as beautiful as this one." Marinette fished for her phone again and started showing her images. The older woman didn't say anything but Damian could see that she was interested and she seemed almost pleased.

Deeming it safe for now, he slowly turned to Colin who was staring at the scene with amazement.

"Colin." His friend turned to him wide-eyed, "Your sister is amazing."

He couldn't help but feel smug at the words. "Obviously." He said but then lowered his voice. "Tell me, how did she get to me so fast when she was watching butterflies with you."

Colin sobered up at that. "She was talking to me when suddenly she just snapped her head up to look at you. I think that's when the boy came. She told me to stay there and started walking towards you. The thing is when the guy touched you, she was about half-way there, I didn't register but the next thing I knew she was standing between you and the blond." He shook his head. "There's something about her…it's not necessarily bad but she's just...different…special."

"I know what you mean." Damian agreed.

"-and then she spoke with Poison Ivy for one hour straight about plants and gardening. Ivy even gave us a personal tour of the botanical gardens."

"Seriously? She usually takes forever to warm up to someone especially if the other sirens aren't with her."

"Marinette seems to be the exception." The youngest Wayne said as he but into another macaroon. Once again, he had been ambushed on his return home - this time however, it was only his brothers and that had demanded he tell them all about her.

His felt his phone vibrate and knew it was the message he was awaiting. "She's busy during the day." He informed his brothers. "But she invited us for dinner."

His brothers looked at each other and grinned. Tommorow looked promising.

#maribat #platonic daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #torture #mentions of rape #bamf marinette #badass marinette #bruce tries to be a good dad but he doesn't always succeed #lila salt #adrien salt

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365days365movies · 3 years

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

What exactly is a thriller, anyway?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...FUCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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iphoenixrising · 5 years

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For 800 Followers: Tiny!Tim and the Wrong Bus

SO MANY TINY!TIM ASKS. So many. And, ah, I didn’t write any of these suggestions, so I’m sorry babes. But I feel this thing probably happened between the Bats finding Tim alone in his house all sick in Tiny!Tim and the Fever, and before the one where he admits he knows who they are in Tiny!Tim and the Secret. Like, B and J still think they’re keeping it from him, lol.

Just a note: I was really freaked out about this one and tbh, I was going to just wipe it out and try something different. A very cool babe, @ishouldprobablyworkoutmore gave me some terribly helpful perspective on what I originally had. @satire-please and @miss-choco-chips let me cry a little as per usual. I’m a little better now, so to all those Asks hoping for more Tiny!Tim, you can thank my babes for it :D

Mister Alfred is going to be real mad, little Timmy Drake thinks, dazed as he looks around, because the bus can’t make it to my house if the side is torn out.

The initial hit knocked the bus completely on the side, knocking him into the window where he hit his head pretty hard. For a few minutes after the screaming stopped and everything was still, he thought he might throw-up because it hurt. Finally righting himself, the pain in his head subsides as his heart starts pounding so so so fast, making it taste gross in the back of his mouth.

Someone is groaning close to him and someone else is crying. It smells like important things are burning.

Miss May, his first grade teacher, had already covered what to do in case of a villain attack at school. Mr. Mike, the bus driver, had shown them all the emergency exits, where the first-aid kit is, and how to use the extinguisher at the beginning of the year.

None of it helps his shaky, stinging hands, and it’s hard to get to the front when fear is chasing him in the panicked scramble over the seats and broken glass since the bus is on it’s side in the middle of the street in downtown Gotham.

Some of the glass cuts into his knees and hands, but–but he can’t stop! He’s got to think like (Robin) Jay and get to supplies, put the fire out before it can get to the gas tank. If he doesn’t, the whole bus could explode, and all the kids are still on the bus, whimpering and scared. Even the older kids. None of them are moving, none of them know what to do.

So. So, he needs a plan!

He needs to put out the fire and get everyone off the bus!

His fingers scrabble with the latches, and he’s perched precariously with one foot on the big steering wheel and the other on the dashboard. The big storage space in the front of the bus, above the jagged windshield finally gives with a metal groan and Tim blinks tears out of his eyes, bites down on his lower lip, and tries, tries so hard, to stop shaking enough that he can get the fire extinguisher out without falling over Mr. Mike’s body sprawled on the steps below him.

He’s trying to concentrate, trying to think past the twisted metal of what used to be his ride, trying to think about Mister Alfred in the front seat of the big, shiny car with Jay souched in the back, picked up from big school already, just waiting for him since he goes to Wayne Manor on days when Mrs. Mac isn’t scheduled to come.

It’s been almost a year now since they’d found him sick and achy during a bad storm when Mrs. Mac couldn’t make it out. Since then, he’s been meeting a sleek car parked by the bus stop so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. On days Mrs. Mac wouldn’t be coming, it was a given he’d be eating dinner and doing his homework at Wayne Manor. Most times, he’d be directed to a room upstairs when it was late. Mr. Wayne would tell him he might as well stay the night, and let Alfred drop him off at the bus stop in the morning.

On the usual day, Jay and Alfred would talk to him about school during the ride, make him warm when he’s included in the conversation and questions are asked about his assignments. During dinner Mister Wayne (“Just Bruce is okay, Tim.” “Okay, Mr. Bruce.” “Well. That’s better than nothing.”) would be there coming back from his office with that scrunchy line between his eyebrows.

(Timmy thinks it’s really the Batman trying to get out. It might be silly, but he imagines it kind of like Sailor Moon. Mr. Bruce holds up his utility belt or a special Batarang, and then transforms into the Batman!)

Today, he isn’t going to meet that car to tell Jay and Alfred about school.

Instead, he’s going to use both hands to squeeze the difficult trigger on the fire extinguisher, get bopped by it before white foam coats the flames, and other kids are peeking over the seats at him and the smouldering fire.

Instead, he holds on to it desperately with both arms once the fire is out and makes himself think about how Batman sounds when he tells the bad guys to let the hostages go, give up or else. Thinking about Batman gives Timmy enough strength to turn on all those terrified expressions and grit his teeth before he opens his mouth to start yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, for everyone to get out the emergency door in the back.

“Get out right now! Get out or else I’m gonna tell. I’m gonna tell all your moms and dads! And you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

That really does the trick and heads pop up immediately at the mention of trouble.

Little Timmy points at the only accessible exit, the big door at the back of the overturned bus since one emergency window is literally blocked by the street and the other is over their heads. The front entrance is blocked by Mr. Mike, so there’s no way they’re getting out there either. The only way to go is out the back, and he starts shoving kids that way while brandishing the fire extinguisher and yelling even more.

He struggles to get over the seats again, trying to push the bigger kids to the back, away from the ripped metal and broken glass. Once the bigger ones start moving, getting the younger ones up and over the seats, Timmy goes back to pull at Mr. Mike still lying halfway down the steps where he landed when the bazooka Two-Face was holding exploded into rush hour traffic.

Tim is really, really relieved Mr. Mike’s eyes are open this time, and the adult is struggling to stand up, eyes dazedly looking around for the other kids he’s in charge of seeing home safely.

Timmy grabs his hand when his legs seem kind of wobbly and walks him to the back of the broken bus, assuring the driver he’s already gotten most of the kids out the back because at least he was paying attention when they were going over emergency procedures. He’s sure Mr. Mike will be super proud when his head isn’t bleeding anymore.

The other kids are huddled around a Fire and Rescue Squad already on site, and Mr. Mike leans on him a little the whole time they cross the chaotic streets.

Automatic gunfire rips through the daytime scramble of screaming civilians, fire and rescue trying to put out flames and pry people out of their cars, trying to contain the madness.

Two-Face is standing up out of the sunroof of his getaway car, Tommy gun going off in rapid bursts while he laughs and laughs and laughs.

“It’s a good day for a trip to downtown! Love ya, Gotham!”

And someone... someone has to do something!

(Maybe be can follow and-and try to keep them from getting away until Bruce and Jay– no, Batman and Robin–can get here!)

He still has the fire extinguisher held tightly in one arm while he slips his hand out of Mr. Mike’s when the paramedics grab the injured bus driver and herd the other kids inside Gotham Water Works to get the civilians away from the rampaging villain, standard protocol really.

But Timmy is so small, and he can fit in some of the best places. He can dart to the side and hide in the right ways so nobody even sees him.

It’s easy to slip away from the group, leaving the fire extinguisher in his place to scramble up the pipe drain to the fire escape where he can see better.

He still has his backpack, so he has pepper spray, his homework, and something he might have accidentally taken from one of the crime scenes in Gotham when he was out on his own.

(Jay never has to know it’s one of Robin’s. None of them ever have to know he figured it out.)

He huffs as he climbs up the fire escape with shaky arms and sweaty hands, his knees trembly and his belly fluttering. He thinks about just reaching up to grab the next rung, to keep stepping up, tries to keep his mind on the next step up instead of getting scared at how high he’s climbing. He thinks about how Robin had to have been scared his first time on the rooftops too, how scared Batman must have been back when he’d first started out.

It’s the strength he imagines they must have had to overcome their fears and still leap out into the night, how terrified they must have been against some of the worst criminals the first time, how they didn’t ever stop when people were in danger. It’s really their strength that gets him up to the first floor on wobbly legs. It’s their strength that makes him breathe, keeps him from running away when people on the street could be in trouble.

He runs across to look down over the other side, watches as the madman laughs more and fires his guns in the air, screaming at Gotham because “here’s your downtown beautification!”

Timmy gasps for breath, ducks down when he hears the soft metallic pings all around him.

In the alley next to where Two-Face’s goons are moving toward Gotham Bank & Trust, going to scare the patrons and get the room ready for the big boss’s dramatic entrance, the little boy flings his backpack off and digs around inside.

The bottom has a little lose thread, something he’d noticed keeps the two pieces of canvas sewn together. Once it started unravelling, he could fit his finger into a nice little pocket he’d made–

–for the thing he’s going to need if he’s going to try keeping Two-Face from getting away until Batman and Robin come to their rescue. Dangerous-looking and heavy, the Batarang is heavy in his hand when it’s folded closed.

In his own room, after Mrs. Mac left for the night and he was all by himself, he’d flip it around, flip it open, pretend he was standing by Batman and Robin, fighting the good fight with them! The plastic black mask from last year’s Zorro costume and the blanket off his bed tied around his neck, all of it made him feel real.

But this...this is more real than that, more important.

He needs to help them, he needs to stop the bad guy from getting away to hurt more people. He needs to–

(be a hero)

–have a plan.

Luckily, the cheap mask is in the hidden pocket along with the Batarang, but putting it on out here with one of the Rogue Gallery’s fearsome bad guys right below him makes it so much more important than when he was playing at being a hero in his room. The mask is more than plastic and string, more than playing.

He feels taller, stronger, like he can do what he needs to do, like he’s wearing a cape and gloves and gauntlets. Like he’s standing between the people of Gotham and those Tommy guns.

(I have to keep Two-Face from getting away. Just until Batman and Robin can get here. I have to be brave, I have to do this!)

His jaw clenches tight, and little Timmy Drake puts his backpack back on quickly, slides the Batarang in the back of his jeans so it’s easy to reach, and throws himself on the ladder going back down to street level.

He drops the last two or so feet and manages not to fall too hard or draw attention to himself, keeps his eye on the car that has screeched to a halt right by bank. Two-Face has stopped shooting, is reloading the Tommy gun while he steps out of the car, and looks like he’s about to make a grand entrance.

With his heart beating in his throat, wishing he hadn’t lost his cellphone when the bus was hit, Timmy peeks around the wall of the alleyway, watches everyone pile out of the car and move to the front doors. His mouth is dry, his knees are a little wobbly still, but it’s going to be okay.

Batman and Robin have to be on the way.

Two-Face’s goons throw the door to the bank open wide for him, and all of them walk inside.

It’s the chance he needs to sneak out of the alley to the getaway car, fighting down the panic and bitter taste of bile in the back of his mouth.

The soft sigh when he flips open the Batarang gives him courage, reminds him that he can do this. He has to do this.

Crouching down, he uses both hands to drive the Batarang into the back tire as hard as he can, grunting with the effort to get it through to puncture.

The scratches in his palms hurt because he’s gripping the Batarang so hard, but he’s helping Batman and Robin, so it’ll all be okay.

For good measure he moves to the front and does the same, straining with the effort, eyes watery because his hands hurt more now, but he makes himself sniffle softly and blink rapidly while the air hisses out.

He flips the Batarang closed and turns to run back to his alley before the bad guys come out and catch him. He thinks he’s home free, the car is disabled, and there’s no one out on the street to get shot at.

He did it!

Timmy gets one foot out to run, grinning below the mask and his heart pounding in his chest, happy that he actually helped.

...until a hand snatches his backpack and pulls him right off his feet, dangling him from an angry grip.

“Why you little!”

His heart slams against his rib cage, breath choking him for an important second.

Caught!

“Lemme go!” while he kicks his feet uselessly, throws his arms out, trying to get down, get away before Two-Face comes out of that bank.

“D’ ya have any idea what he’s gonna do ta ya when he sees this?” The angry adult yells in his face. The small boy gasps at the sour smell of the masked man’s breath, hands rough and bruising, shaking him hard, snapping his head back on his fragile neck. “He’s gonna make an example outta ya, kid.”

The mask on his face almost falls off with the shaking, and fear leaps into his mouth again, coppery for real because he’s bitten his tongue.

His legs are wobbly when the goon pretty much drops him back to the ground, shoves him around the car with a hand on the back of his neck, holding him there for the terrifying gangster about to come out of the bank they’ve robbed and see what’s done to their getaway car.

The sneer on the good half of the villain’s face is terrifying, but Timmy forces his legs to hold him up, even with the other thug’s hand on the back of his neck pushing him down.

“Looks like we got us a hero, boys. Another fucking mask.”

A masked goon to the gangster’s right hand, steps up, gun pointed at the sky. His eyes shift from Two-Face to the kid, a bag of money in his other hand.

“Looks like he’s just a kid, boss. They recruiting from kindergarten now?”

Timmy presses his lips together to keep from snapping back because he’s in first grade you jerk! Instead, he has to make them underestimate him, not make them mad enough to hurt him or use him as a hostage when Batman and Robin appear.

The sharp lapels on Two-Face’s suit are crisp and clean over the holster Tim can see underneath when the villain leans down to put them face-to-face, the distorted eye somehow still seeing him, staring him down, looking at him like he isn’t even wearing a mask.

“I’ve got to tell you, squirt, mask isn’t a good look for you. That is just going to get you in trouble.” A finger pokes into his chest to emphasize the point, and he can’t recoil from the touch because the other goon behind him grips the back of his neck harder in warning.

Even if his mouth dry, the little boy still sucks in a deep breath, still tries to be strong, keep everyone busy until the heroes get here without getting himself deeper into hot water. “Y-you’re stealing! And-and people need their money! They might lose their houses if you take it!”

The laugh is twisted and wrong, making his knees shake, and his instincts screaming at him to runrunrun!

But he can’t, the hand on the back of his neck is holding him in place, and he’s surrounded.

“Kid...you need to learn how the world really works,” and the villain straightens up, mouth twisting up in a grotesque half smile. A hand disappears in his pocket, comes out with–

–the coin.

Tim’s eyes are drawn to the metal slipping over Two-Face’s fingers, the movement hypnotic in the middle of a deserted Gotham street.

(Please, please, please hurry. Please hurry.)

But he’s not tossing the coin yet, so-so it could still be okay!

“You look around this city, and what do you see? All those criminals locked up? For what, a few weeks? And then they’re out, playing the same old game. Just like us,” and the coin pauses between two fingers. “And the regular people, just like you and your precious little family, are scurrying like cockroaches between bombs and muggings and toxic gas, trying to make it through another day.”

Two-Face is getting angrier and meaner, his snarling lip and shark-like smile, the coin balanced precariously between his fingers.

“And all of it? All of it is just about chance, kid.”

Timmy swallows when expert fingers nudge the coin flat on top of the thumb, and his stomach abruptly drops.

“It’s 50/50 all around. Whether the next bomb gets you, the next prison break, the next car crash, the next robbery. It’s all a matter of chance.”

The coin trembles in Timmy’s peripheral, and he’s holding on to the folded Batarang tucked into his sleeve so hard his hand is starting to hurt.

(He doesn’t want to use it. He doesn’t want to shove it in Two-Face’s knee to give himself enough time to run. He won’t have to use it because Batman and Robin are going to save him.)

But Two-Face is half smiling again, reaching in his jacket for the gun in his holster, ignoring the scream of sirens in the air. One of his henchmen utter a soft, desperate “boss?” that’s met with a quirked brow before the thug goes silent again.

“So, I’m going to give you a chance, kiddo, and I’m going to be real fair about it, see?” The half smile is anything but nice, is scary enough to make his knees weak again because he really doesn’t believe that.

“I’m going to flip this coin.”

And the scratched side glints in the sun between the gangster’s fingers.

“If it lands on heads, then I’m going to shoot you in the head, clean and quick. You won’t even feel it. But if it lands on tails, then I’m going to shoot you in the stomach. And that, kid, is gonna hurt real bad. You’re going to die slow and painful.”

The manic grin widens as Two-Face drops the bag of money and reaches into his two-tone jacket to pull the handgun out of the holster, the barrel long and shiny as it emerges.

Timmy’s eyes go wide when the barrel is levelled with his forehead, feels the sob trapped somewhere in chest, feels his hands shaking with the Batarang in his sleeve, feels his eyes get wet behind the mask.

“Good luck,” is from the thug still holding him.

But Timmy doesn’t hear it, can only hope he’s strong enough, fast enough to flip the Batarang out and stab Two-Face in the hand or thigh, can only hope he’s brave enough to save himself.

He can only hope Batman and Robin will get there in time.

His pulse beats in the back of his mouth when the resounding ting is the coin being flipped up in the air.

They’re going to save the city. They’re going to save me.

Because he believes in them.

He believes.

Little Timmy Drake, clenches the Batarang, hiding behind his mask, squinches his eyes closed, bites down on his lip–

–and he believes.

It’s a breath, a gasp, a moment when the coin is knocked out of the air in mid-flip by a Batarang with a crazy arc and a whole lot of practice.

Timmy hears Two-Face yelling in rage that the coin was knocked off course, but all of it is drowned out as vigilantes leap down from the sky like avenging angels in a rare, daytime appearance.

The Batman lands it right next to the villain and thug holding a little boy in the mask while Robin unfailingly rolls behind the line of thugs and takes most of the out with sheer momentum.

The other two get taken out with a combination of punches and kicks, making Timmy’s mouth drop open in sheer awe.

The Batman doesn’t even look at the thug holding him. One second the Dark Knight lands it, the next his arm is just somehow extended and the man that was holding Timmy is suddenly laying on the ground against the getaway car with his eyes lolling in the back of his head.

The sudden lack of support makes little Timmy fall down on his butt, legs still quivery with fear, watching with wide eyes as the frightening vigilante raises a gauntleted forearm, the spikes on it gleaming dangerously.

“Causing trouble again, Harvey?” Darkly growled low, the form in the Batsuit just as imposing, just as terrifying in person as in some of his blurry pictures against the dark Gotham night.

Subtle but pointed, the vigilante puts himself in front of the little boy that has slumped to the ground, a flip of the cape hides him from sight, gives him a moment to shake, and make sure his mask is still in place.

The villain’s laugh is terrifying, in the same way he said shoot you in the head without even pausing.

“You know us, Bats. We like to stay front and center!”

He loses the banter while the other thugs go down and the fight between Batman and Two-Face starts with the gun knocked away in the first sweeping backhand. He doesn’t notice when Robin leaps up on the trunk of the getaway car because he’s trying to gasp in a shaky breaths, watching the Batman move on the offense, punches emphasized with meaty sounds as they land on the villain’s face.

Robin is in front of him so fast, grabbing him up in both arms like a baby, and sprinting away from the scene to duck them back in the alley to be away from the ensuing fight.

“Kid, kid,” shakes him because even with the tunic and boots, the mask and utility belt, he knows. “Ya hurt? Two-Face rough ya up?”

Robin is putting him down in the alley, quickly checking him for injuries, winces at the cuts on his palms from the broken glass and sharp metal on his overturned bus. Still in Timmy’s other hand is the folded Batarang, and Timmy doesn��t need to see the raised eyebrow obscured by the mask to know it’s there.

“I-I needed it. The Batarang. The tires– I...I couldn’t let them get away until you got here.” And now that the gun isn’t pointed at his head, his eyes get hot and wet, his lower lip trembling at the fear and adrenaline still coursing through him.

When Robin just blinks down at him, he expects the Batarang to get taken away and maybe a quick, stern lecture about stealing.

But Robin just shakes his head a little and a crooked smile cuts across his face, a low chuckle when he replies, “I might know something about that. All right, stay here. I’ll come getcha after he’s down fer the count. Looks like Batman needs Robin right about now,” and the Boy Wonder salutes him with two fingers (like a hero) and takes off out of the alley to rejoin the fight.

Once he feels like he can stand without falling over, little Timmy peeks from around the corner, his heart pounding as he watches the way they work together, the way Robin uses Batman’s back to propel him into giving Two-Face an amazingly effective punch! Right to the distorted side of his face!

And when Two-Face picks up the Tommy gun again to try for another shot, Robin is the one throwing a Batarang to knock the gun away, back-to-back with the Batman while smoke pellets hit the ground at the feet of the thugs trying to get back up.

Batman doesn’t waste a second, turning with Robin to face the gangster again and deliver a vicious uppercut with a follow-up punch to the solar plexus. At the same time, Robin jumps up, both feet knocking two thugs out colder than the pellets.

(Batman needs Robin…)

It’s so amazing to watch, his mouth dropping open in wonder as the Caped Crusaders move like water and wind, in perfect sync, ducking and dodging around one another like they’ve always worked together, like they’re a team, and it makes his chest feel tight, so tight, but not in a bad way when things are terrifying and there’s nowhere safe–

(except for Wayne Manor)

–when living in Gotham is always, always so dangerous. But watching them, biting down on his lip, he forgets about how much his hands hurt, how scared he’d been when Two-Face was going to shoot him. He gets to be relieved enough for his knees to wobble, for his eyes to get hot and spill over just a little.

The crime fighters effortlessly put Two-Face and his goons down on the ground just as the GCPD’s mobile unit hit the scene to surround the perimeter.

Little Timmy pulls the mask off, wiping at his wet eyes as Commissioner Gordon approaches the downed villain and victorious vigilantes first, flanked by his team who are already fanning out to start rounding up the bad guys.

Robin glances over, looking for him, and Timmy shrinks back a little when Robin goes still. The Boy Wonder straightens up and subtly tugs on the side of Batman’s cape.

The cowl turns, and then follows Robin’s line of sight to the little boy standing in the alley that had been in the middle of the fray, that could have been seriously hurt by Two-Face...

Batman doesn’t make even a tic but a gloved hand squeezes Robin’s wrist as he turns back to Gordon to finish the details, fast and efficient.

(Faster than he had before he’d seen Tim Drake in the mouth of the alley, realized their favorite neighbor had been facing down on of Gotham’s worst criminals. It’s their little Tim and no way can he explain to Jim, the police, or anyone else why Batman would be carrying a small boy with him to fly through Gotham. He’d need his daytime identity. Fast.)

Before Timmy can try to scramble back up the fire escape, two uniformed police officers stumble upon him and immediately start yelling for medics.

Uh-oh.

The bang is grapples firing and the Dynamic Duo taking to the rooftops, leaving Gotham’s finest to clean up the mess and latch on to the young boy in the alley, pulling him toward the emergency crews setting up just outside the perimeter.

(He’s feeling a little woozy, his legs only half-working, so maybe...maybe it’s a good idea to see the paramedics after all.)

And even with all the yelling and scrambling movement, Timmy is a little dazed, watching Batman and Robin take to the rooftops, his heart in his wet eyes.

The detectives that get him to an ambulance are nice, and so is the medic that looks at the scratches, some with glass that needs to come out.

The burn cream hurts, like really hurts, and now that Batman and Robin are gone, he can let himself flinch a little. When she asks, he tells her the bus number a few streets over and how he’s glad everyone made it out okay. He just happened to get lost when everyone scrambled from it before it, you know, blew up or something.

He knows she’s not going to ask too many questions when she smiles gently down at him and bandages his hands. So, instead of asking to call a parent or guardian, she can drop him off to the Fire and Rescue Squad, and maybe he can slip away to catch a ride home without anyone asking being the wiser–

–which fails pretty epically when a disheveled Bruce Wayne comes straight at him through the crowd, Jason right on his heels.

(Mr. Bruce’s waist is lumpy under his shirt. He must not have taken off the utility belt.)

“Tim!” Mr. Bruce pushes to one side of the gurney he’s sitting on, and Jay pushes to the other, a hand just suddenly on the wrist the EMT isn’t wrapping up. But it’s nice when the hand is heavy on his shoulder instead of the back of his neck, pulling him against a broad chest.

(He can almost feel the yellow oval against his cheek)

“Tim! Alfred said your bus was attacked! I’m so glad I found you–”

“We, B,” Jason reminds him idly, looking down at Timmy with the exact same smile–

(Really is my Robin, Timmy thinks now that he can relax a little, thinks it’s funny how Batman and Robin are going to save him again.)

“Of course, Jay, we found you!”

“It’s...it’s okay,” he says lamely, one hand already worrying at the hem of Mr. Bruce’s wrinkled jacket, relaxing in the strong hold, trying to hide the fact he’s tearing up because now his hand and arms hurt. “Everyone got out, and Mr. Mike is going to be okay and Two-Face is going to Arkham and–”

“What’s ‘bout ya, Timmers?” Jay interrupts, staring down the EMT winding a final bandage around Tim’s hand, “lookit! Ya got hurt, didn’t ya? B, we gotta get ‘im home, you feel me? Looks like our guy needs some cookies n’ milk n’ a movie ta calm ‘im down.”

“We absolutely will, Jay. Alfred will be so relieved.” And Mr. Bruce’s hand in his hair is making him so sleepy, the nails scratching gently along his scalp so nice. “On the way home, you can call Dick, let him know what happened and Tim is okay.”

That makes Timmy smile because Dick likes to cuddle him, and he won’t even mind if he’s laying on his hurt arm because Dick’s cuddles are the best.

“Mr. Wayne,” one of the EMTs begins hesitantly, “this boy–”

“Is our neighbor. He’s staying with us while his parents are out of the country.” Mr. Bruce doesn’t miss a beat, already sliding an arm under Timmy’s knees. “We’re responsible for him.”

“Okay, well, here’s some extra bandages for his hands. All of his vitals are good and he’s not exhibiting signs of shock or further distress. Keep an eye on him anyway, just in case.”

“We certainly will. Thank-you for taking care of him,” and Bruce doesn’t hesitate to lift, pull Timmy against a broad, powerful chest while he’s talking, letting the little boy rest limply against him. Jay snags his backpack where he’d stashed his mask and Batarang, wondering if both would be gone by the time they got to the Manor.

It’s a credit as to how awful Mr. Bruce is playing Brucie Wayne because he avoids the media instead of acting like he’s silly, another way of hiding the Batman away.

Jay paces beside them as they cut through a back alley to get out of the war zone caused by Two-Face’s impromptu bank visit.

With the gentle swaying and immeasurable strength holding him, Tim sinks further down into Mr. Bruce’s strength, not really hearing the low talk between them as they walk.

The Rolls is there between one blink and the next, Mr. Alfred ruffling his hair as he opens the back door.

“He got a little banged up in the scuffle today, Alfred. I think he’s more than deserved dessert.”

“You say that based merely for injuries sake, Master Bruce. I shall be the judge after we see how Master Timothy did on his spelling homework.”

“Ssorry, Mr. Alfred,” the little boy slurs, eyes-half mast, “the bus was late.”

Jay laughs a little and lays a warm palm on Timmy’s forehead, “Yeah, yeah. S’okay, Timmers. Long as yer in one piece, I’d say it’s been a good day.”

“Not mad?” But his eyes are fluttering closed already, and his little chest lifts in a sigh.

“At you, dear boy? Never,” and Mr. Alfred opens the back door with a small smile and fond eyes. Mr. Bruce is easy when he chuckles low and ducks down into the Rolls with Tim on his lap and Jay nudged up against his side.

The car moves slowly through the wrecked part of the city until they’re on the highway, heading to Wayne Manor, and the motion of the car lulls him closer and closer to sleep. His hands resting palm up on his legs, and Mr. Bruce a mass of strength around him.

“S’all good,Timmy,” and even though he’s starting to drift, he still hears Jay mutter, “don’t cha take on anymore baddies. Gonna gimmie a heart attack, you feel me?”

B’s voice is soft when he murmurs back, “what was he doing there?”

“Takin’ out Harv’s tires if ya can believe it.”

“Somehow, I’m not really surprised.” Is less Mr. Bruce and more Batman.

“Ya know, B. It’s been a year. Maybe it’s time ta–”

“No. I mean, not yet, Jay. The longer he doesn’t know, the easier it will be to keep him safe.”

“Pfft. Whatevah ya say, Boss. Eventually, I ain’t gonna fit in the shorts no more. Then who’s gonna watch yer ass?”

“That’s not happening anytime soon. For the moment, we try to keep him away from escaped members of the Rogue Gallery.”

“I believe that is the most sound plan, Master Bruce.”

“Thank-you, Alfred. Maybe we can order some pizza for him tonight. What do you think?”

“Aw, c’mon, Alf! We gotta injured bird here.”

“Well. As much as I detest such ready-made slop, I supposed I shall allow it this time. As our young charge certainly deserves a reward for aiding Batman and Robin.”

The soft shifting is Mr. Bruce laughing and as he drifts off, Timmy smiles to himself again.

He can already smell the pizza.

#tiny!Tim #winter answers #800 followers #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #robin!jay #dc comics #my drab #my writing #i have feels #about young hero timmy #pre-robin

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uncommon-etc · 5 years

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5 Ways in which bad writing was the real villain of GOT 8x05

I know tempers are running high right now but after lying awake for hours being angry about the way this season is going I’ve decided to try and rationalize just what it was about this episode that left such a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths. Did I think there were obvious elements of misogyny and racism at play? Definitely. But pointing that out without concrete proof isn’t going to win any arguments and none of it would have happened if it weren’t for a total disregard for the basic principles of good storytelling so let’s dig in:

1. Hitchcock’s Law of Suspense? What’s that?

In creating his high-intensity thrillers (on very limited budgets and with minimal special effects compared to today’s media) Alfred Hitchcock often referenced a scene in which a bomb goes off under a table while two characters are talking. He said it was better to get 15 minutes of suspense rather than 15 seconds of surprise so rather than simply let the bomb explode for shock value why not show the bomb being planted, allow the characters to carry on with their conversation as the audience is literally yelling at them that a bomb is about to go off then you could have someone defuse it at the last minute.

8x05 threw this out of the window in multiple ways but if you want an example of a time when Game of thrones used it to amazing effect look no further than season 6 and the blowing up of the great sept of Baelor. The music was textbook suspense building, the reactions of the characters to Cersei not being present at her trial are a genius way of building tension, the futility of lancel’s attempt to stop the wildfire exploding and then the actual climax of the scene make it one of the most memorable uses of suspense in modern television. Did we get that in this episode? Nope, we got lots of people being burned alive needlessly, several huge anti-climaxes and an over-use if CGI.

On a lesser not Jaime’s decision to return to King’s Landing was a major wasted opportunity in the suspense stakes, had he made his motives less clear and allowed the audience to wonder whether he was returning to King’s Landing to kill Cersei or save her his final scenes would have been much more compelling.

2. Show, don’t tell.

Part of the reason everyone seemed so out-of-character this episode was because the writers seem to have forgotten the basic principle that instead of going round telling everyone that a character has certain qualities/motivations you should demonstrate said qualities to the viewer to win them around to to that character’s perspective here are a few examples:

When Tyrion is initially named hand of the king the writers want you to think he’s the cleverest character so rather than have other characters be like “he’s the cleverest character” they have him outsmart the likes of varys, littlefinger and maester pycelle to find out which one of them was informing on him to Cersei, it was a brilliantly well-executed scene and set him up as one of the smartest characters on the show. A+

When Tyrion is named hand of the queen he makes a lot of stupid decisions, we’re told that a lot of this stems from underestimating his own family yet previous seasons establish he and Cersei as having one of the most intriguing complex sibling relationships on the show by allowing the events of the plot to foster constant mistrust between them. We’re constantly told Tyrion is still one of the cleverest characters but without a hidden agenda none of his current actions make any sense in relation to those qualities. D-

3. Proper Characterization is a marathon, not a sprint.

The last thing viewers/readers who have spent years with a character, understanding their motivations, qualities and back-story should feel is that the writer’s weren’t sure what to do with that character half way through the episode but that’s exactly how many viewers felt upon watching Jon and Danaerys’ arcs unfold in 8x05. Neither were given any build-up or foreshadowing to the decisions they made and it Simultaneously ruined the 7-season character arcs of two fan-favorites.

Jon’s been stripped of many of his more interesting qualities as a leader this season and in attempts to make him look like a loyal, brave hero all the writers have done is make him look weak. If they were setting him up to have to kill Danaerys and save the realm next episode they did an extremely poor job of it, mainly because the one scene they shared together this episode was such a confused mess.

If the writers’ wanted Jon to be a cold and calculating political leader he occasionally appears in the books they could have made him work a lot harder at convincing Danaerys that he loves her and would do anything for her, probably going a lot further than one kind of awkward kiss.

And if they wanted to show him genuinely being in love with her and retaining some semblance of humanity his response should have been more like “Yes I love you but we’re related and it’s weird and I’m still coming to terms with the fact my entire identity for 7 seasons has been a lie so could you maybe give me some space to process that.”

Somehow the destruction of Danaerys entire arc managed to be even worse as they’ve spent all this time building her up as a protector of the innocent and a fair ruler. They abandoned the kind of nuanced and considered writing that found her struggling to rule in Mereen (which happened to be one of her most interesting story-lines) in favor of pure shock-tactics.

There were many better ways in which the destruction of king’s landing could have played out with very similar consequences. The bell-ringing could have been a ploy to put her armies at ease before more Lannister soldiers appeared from out of nowhere and start slaughtering them so she has no choice but to attack, the wildfire could have been a major plot-device rather than an afterthought and the burning of the red-keep could have triggered much larger explosions all over the city. So it wasn’t only out-of-character, it was badly timed and made no actual sense in relation to the plot.

4. Don’t invalidate your own work

As a writer the last thing you should to is completely go back on your own plot developments but when a lot of viewers are asking “So why didn’t Danaerys just take Olenna’s advice and burn King’s Landing in season 7, then she’d still have three dragons and most of her army” then you’ve messed up big-time.

Killing off fan-favorites, sending characters down dark paths, regressing on certain aspects of character-development and reminding people of the horrors of being a civilian caught up in a conflict are all valid means of storytelling and can be used very effectively given the proper time and foreshadowing to see it through but when writing one scene badly makes almost everything else you’ve written seem futile and pointless not only are you failing as a writer your failing those who have invested considerable time and energy into those characters and their story-lines/redemption arcs/perspectives.

Which brings us onto my final point

5. Look at your story in a wider context

Like it or not, no narrative exists in isolation and no matter how fantastical a setting it will always be the characters, their emotions and the way they relate to each other that viewers and readers are captivated by. Many of a character’s actions may become horribly dated as times (and attitudes) change, one need only watch any film about a young working class man made between 1960 and 1987 to see that treating female characters like crap used to be the norm even for well-liked protagonists but with this in mind writers still need to be conscious of the way their story will be received.

If Game of Thrones was ever supposed to be about disrupting an oppressive feudal order, giving voice to those who were robbed of it and dismantling the power structures that allowed might and ruthlessness to triumph over intelligence and common decency then it failed miserably.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t read a lot into these things but it seemed pretty obvious that the message was one of utter futility; never try to escape a toxic relationship, you’ll just end up going back and it’ll be the death of you, never try to be better than your insane family, you’ll just end up turning into them and if you’re born a slave don’t try to be anything else because you’ll probably still die in chains. And that’s before you even dig into how much the show is wrecking Sansa’s character arc by implying that she should be grateful for all the horrible things which happened to her rather having her consciously decide to do things differently to those who tormented her.

So those were the biggies. There were countless other examples of sloppy writing (Qyburns scorpions being able to take down a dragon from behind and island on a boat but not being able to hit one and point blank range, yara being robbed of the chance to kill her uncle, Varys not even knowing Jon but being determined that even though all Targaryans have the potential to be nuts he’d be the better ruler) but I digress, if I’ve missed anything major message me or leave me a comment, I’m sorry that this has been such a long post but I’ve invested too much of my life into both the show and the books to allow this mess to pass for acceptable writing.

#game of thrones #got #got spoilers #got 8x05 #got s8 #ugh #why did i even bother #asoiaf

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