#I think Keeper genuinely wanted to ask him to come with him in retirement | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Coach Cavill - Chapter 8

Summary: What did Dean do to upset the children?

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: I loved that the overall message of your reaction was that Dean is an idiot (and then I haven’t even talked about the pitchfork and the emergency dagger 😂😂)

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

This was definitely not how I expected our first date to go. I haven’t spoken to Henry the second we got back in his truck. While we’re might not be talking, I don’t want him to leave either. He stops in front of my house and I look to the side. ‘Could you wait?’ I ask him.

Henry nods, looking so handsome, even in the dim light of the street lights. ‘I’ll be right here when you need me.’

I have to take a deep breath, before I step out of the car. I hate facing Dean, but hearing how upset Benji was and how Isabella just stopped talking, indicated he really did something shitty. I should be a good mom and confront him about this. I confronted him during Benji’s match, so how hard can this be, right?

I close the car door behind me and walk up to Dean, who is standing in front of my porch as he turns around. ‘According to Eve, the kids were pretty upset. What happened?’ I ask him.

Dean checks me out, glancing at me, up and down. I remember that I used to love it when he checked me out when I would walk into the room. He would always show me off, whispering dirty secrets in my ear when we were in public and telling everyone that he had the most beautiful wife.

What happened to those times?

I genuinely thought we were happy and were going to last forever.

‘You look—’

‘Just answer my question, Dean,’ I interrupt him. ‘Really, we are way passed those days that we could give one another compliments or whatever about each other.’

He simply shrugs and from the looks of it, he is not feeling good. He looks tired, and a little tense. As if I should care about that. He is a grown man, he can handle is own problems. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘You honestly can’t possibly think that that will work? Your it’s nothing is what set our divorce in motion in the first place. Tell me, what happened that you got them this upset. You had the kids for what? Two hours? I mean, even for you that’s a record.’

Yes, Amelia, stab him where it hurts. I know that it annoys the shit out of him that the kids are rather at my place than at his.

Dean clenches his jaw and looks away. ‘Mindy is pregnant.’

Is this what it feels like when your soul leaves your body? This turning of the world, the way the air in my lungs is knocked out of it? ‘She is what?’ I ask him, but I start to shake my head. ‘No, wait, don’t repeat that. I heard you. This is… Why… How… Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘I’m not,’ Dean says and he is dead serious, ‘and our children were very rude about it.’

He really doesn’t get it, does he? ‘You really are not fit to be a parent, are you?’ I laugh out of disbelieve. I’m trying to find the words to say to him, but nothing seems to come out. ‘I don’t even know what to say to you.’ I turn around and beckon Henry. I throw him my keys and tell him to see if the kids are okay and if Eve needs any help.

Henry walks passed us, causing Dean to be flabbergasted, to say the least. ‘What the—’

‘Dean, this is the time where you explain yourself to me, not to ask me—or worse: lecture me—about what I’m doing with my life. Why on earth do you think this is a wise thing to do? You can barely take care of the kids that are already here.’

‘You are just jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ I ask, causing me to laugh. ‘You really are something. How on earth can I be jealous of what you have now?’ I hear something clatter in my home and I let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Are you fucking happy now?’ I ask him. ‘I think it’s for the best that you go home and I will talk to the kids. I’ll text you when they are ready to talk to you.’ I rush into my house and see that Henry has managed to calm Benji down, whose fists unclench and he leans with his head against his coach’ strong chest. I hear him mutter something under his breath and while Henry seems to understand it, I don’t.

Isabella walks up to me and I lift her up, wrap my arms tightly around her. ‘Oh honey, how are you feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispers and if she can’t even say how she is feeling, then Dean must’ve brought it in such a manner that took both of them by complete surprise and not the good kind of surprise.

I press a gentle kiss on her temple and let out a sigh. It’s pretty busy in my house; Eve has Yara on her lap, while Lola and Jake are cleaning up the shattered vase that is spread out over the floor—good thing I hated that vase in the first place.

Soft sniffles are coming from Isabella and I try to sooth her as I walk up to Eve. ‘Mindy is pregnant,’ I mouth to her.

It turns out that she didn’t get that out from either of my kids in the time that she called me and now. ‘No way,’ she whispers.

‘Mhm.’

She shakes her head and I can already see her restraining herself from walking outside to smack Dean across his face. I walk up to Henry and Benji. ‘No, no, no,’ Henry says, holding Benji’s shoulders tightly in his hands. ‘Don’t do that. You were doing just fine. Listen to my breathing and try to copy that, okay.’

Benji seems to be on the verge of a breakdown again and I place Isabella on my hip, before I hold out my arm. Benji nearly knocks me over, as he clings to me. ‘You’re doing good,’ I whisper.

‘I hate him,’ he mumbles against my shoulder.

‘I know.’

Isabella gives me a kiss on my cheek and whispers: ‘I don’t want to go to dad anymore.’

‘Me neither,’ Benji quickly agrees.

‘You two don’t have to when you don’t want to,’ I say. ‘That has always been the case and that will stay that way. What you two want and think matters the most.’ I look at Isabella, who looks really tired. ‘Sweetheart, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. You want to sleep in my bed?’

‘I do,’ she whispers.

‘Then I’ll take you there,’ I say to her. ‘Benji?’

He clenches his jaw again. ‘I’ll clean some up in the kitchen. I might’ve made quite the mess there.’ I appreciate his candor and for some reason I don’t really want to see the mess he made there.

Henry pats him on his shoulder. ‘I’ll help you out, kid.’

I carry Isabella upstairs, as she softly whimpers. ‘I’m sorry, angel,’ I say to her, as I place her in my bed. I help her change out of her clothes and I grab her pajamas from her room. ‘How about you try to sleep and we will talk about it tomorrow. From the looks of it you are really tired, which I can totally understand.’

‘Okay,’ she says and I give her a kiss. ‘Will you sleep here tonight as well?’

‘My bed is big enough,’ I say, ‘so of course.’

I tuck her in and she says in a soft voice: ‘I’m sorry we interrupted your date.’

Always the sweetheart, my lovely Isabella. Despite the fact that she likes to embarrass me and told every single one of my colleagues about my date with Henry, she sure loves me a lot. ‘Don’t you worry about that. You and Benji are my number one priorities and you always will be. I love you, little chipmunk.’

‘I love you too, mom.’

‘Good night,’ I start.

Isabella smiles. ‘Sleep tight.’

And in unison we say: ‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite. See you in the morning light. Good night.’ I let out a soft laugh, before I walk out of the room. When I descend from the stairs, I see that Eve, Yara, Lola and Jake are ready to leave, since they have to get up early tomorrow. They are going to visit Johnny’s parents and ever since their retirement, they moved quite far away. I give them all a tight hug, before I look at Eve.

‘Your date sure is a keeper,’ she whispers. ‘He has known Benji for what? Almost two weeks and he knows how to calm him down from his rare rages. I have known that kid his entire life, but when he goes off like that, I know better than to rush towards him.’

‘I know,’ I say, ‘I sure as hell am lucky.’

‘You deserve it. You know, we’ll call tomorrow. Knowing Johnny’s parents, I’m stuck on horse keeping duties again.’

I chuckle. ‘Yes, we’ll talk tomorrow. Thank you for tonight.’

‘It’s what we do,’ she says, before walking out of my house to go next door.

Benji sits on the barstool in the kitchen, staring at the counter. I walk up to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I say. ‘This must’ve been such a shock.’

He simply nods. ‘I don’t want another sibling,’ he says. ‘I already have a sister and she is all I need. I hate dad for doing this.’

I look over to Henry, who has been making some tea for us. He doesn’t seem surprised, so I figured Benji already told him about this. ‘You know,’ I say, ‘I can totally understand that, but… Maybe this is a way for your dad to make up to what he didn’t do for you and Isabella.’

Benji frowns. ‘What has that to do with me?’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘Nothing, really. Maybe this is too much of a positive outlook on this situation. I’m sorry, I was hoping that would make you feel better. I really don’t know what to say, Benji. Believe it or not, this is the first time something like this happened to me.’

Somehow he manages to crack out in a smile. ‘Really? You never had an ex-husband who was going to have another baby before?’

‘Well, you must feel a lot better,’ I chuckle, pressing a kiss on his temple. ‘How about we talk about it in the morning. Maybe I have some great positive thoughts to share with you.’

He nods in agreement. ‘I’m sorry about the vase and plates.’

‘Plates?’ I ask. ‘As in plural?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘I… I just lost it.’

‘We’ll talk about that tomorrow too, okay?’ I suggest, knowing that I can’t give him a lecture about how to deal with his emotions right now.

‘Yes, mom.’

‘I’m sorry you felt like this tonight. I know you hate it.’

He sighs. ‘Yeah… Well, I think I’m going to bed,’ he announces. ‘Thank you for being there for me. I love you.’

‘I love you too, honey.’

‘And coach,’ Benji starts, looking quite nervous, ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’

Benji hit Henry? While I’m stammering, looking for something to say, Henry smiles and simply shrugs. ‘It’s all good, Benji, no worries. I can take it.’

Benji chuckles, before walking upstairs and from what I can hear, he goes for my room. That’s going to be a full bed tonight.

Henry pushes a full cup of tea over the kitchen counter towards me, as he is standing on the opposite side of the island. ‘How are you, Amelia?’

‘I’m doing okay,’ I say, but that is probably the biggest lie of tonight. I shake my head and let out a sigh. ‘I’m not okay.’

Henry walks around the kitchen island and pushes the bar stool aside, before wrapping his strong arms around my upper body. Holding my kids tonight, was a necessity, but I never thought about how I should be held too. I mean, my ex husband is creating a new family, while it is obvious that he can’t even take care of the one he already has.

I missed the feeling of being comforted by someone who seems to care this much. I bury my face in his chest, as Henry places his chin on top of my head.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumble.

‘This isn’t your fault,’ he says, ‘so remember what I told you: save your apologizes for the moments that matter.’

I pull back, to wipe my eyes dry, because this makes me feel more emotional than I thought. ‘It’s just that I can’t believe that Mindy is pregnant,’ I whisper. ‘Dean barely knows his children and now he is simply going to bring another one in the mix? Like, how does he thinks this will work out?’

Henry sighs, placing his large hand on my flushed cheek. ‘I have no idea, Amelia.’

‘And you heard it, Benji really doesn’t want another one and even Isabella is on the fence now, for visiting her father. I can’t believe this, Henry. I don’t know what to do.’

‘I get that,’ he says. ‘But maybe you should just sleep on the matter for the night and then tomorrow, you and the kids and who else should talk about it.’

I sigh. ‘Could you maybe come here too?’ I ask him. ‘It’s because of the way you calmed Benji down and… You seem to really understand him and I would actually be very grateful if you’d join us. Normally Eve and Johnny would be here, but they are out of town this weekend and their kids have really been looking forward to this trip, so I don’t want to interfere with that. I just could really use someone else there as well, because I’m on the verge of breaking down again and I don’t think the kids can need that.’

He smiles. ‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I’d be honored and if you want me gone, just say so and I’ll let myself out right away.’ He tilts his head and when he notices the tears in my eyes, he pulls me in a nearly bone crushing hug. His thick arms wrapped so securely around me, it makes me feel safe and taken care of.

‘Did Benji hit you hard or…?’ I ask, as I pull back, as my hands rest on his sides.

He shakes his head. ‘He kind of latched out, but is was nothing serious.’ Henry twists a strand of my hair around his finger.

‘It’s a thing that we’ve been working on,’ I say in all honesty. ‘He can explode every now and then here at home. He barely does it, mostly once a year, something like that. This year however, he has been having hem once a month. This divorce, it’s really taking its toll on Benji.’

‘Has he ever hit you?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I usually leave him when he is having a moment like that. When I fear it’s getting out of hand, I go get Johnny or Jake, they seem to get through to him most of the time. What did you do, by the way? You seemed to calm him down instantly.’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Benji is a lot like me and though I barely latched out like he did, I can totally understand it. Besides, he is not the first hothead I’ve encountered. Remember, I’ve been doing this judo coaching thing for sixteen years full time now.’ He places his hand in the back of my neck, a comforting action that I have seen him do with the judoka’s quite a few times. ‘I think it also helps that I know I can take it.’

‘Yeah,’ I whisper, ‘it’s just that I don’t want him to hurt anyone, but he has this now on a monthly basis, but never this intense. For fuck’s sake, I hate Dean.’

Henry nods. ‘Well, despite the interruption, I did have a lot of fun tonight.’

‘I did so too,’ I say. ‘You are quite the catch, Henry. I thought dating after a divorce would be really complicated, but you make it pretty easy.’

‘You make acclimating in a new town very easy.’ He sends me such a loving and caring smile, that I nearly melt into a puddle. ‘You have ice cream? Since we skipped dessert at the restaurant, I figure we could finish our date here.’

I smile. ‘Bottom drawer of the fridge,’ I chuckle. He walks up to the fridge and bends down to get the ice cream out of the drawer and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from drooling. My cheeks are red by the time he stands up again. Henry has really made himself comfortable at my place and that alone is a clear sign that meeting someone like him, is going to be a once in a life time opportunity and I really shouldn’t let this go to waste.

I hoist myself up on the counter and he takes place on a stool. ‘You know,’ I say, ‘I really don’t think that Mindy is suitable to be a mom. I mean, I think she can be sweet, but she cannot be a mother already.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Twenty two,’ I say. ‘And I know that might makes me sound like a hypocrite, since I had Benji around her age, but at least I was with someone my own age and… I feel like I had reached a certain level of maturity, that I have yet to detect with her.’ I grab a spoon and take a scoop out of the carton box. ‘I honestly can’t seem to wrap my mind around the fact that Dean thought this would be a wise decision. He barely knows his own children and though our marriage was okay, he never really connected with his kids.’

Henry nods, before bringing the spoon to his lips. ‘There is this quote and it goes something like: becoming a father isn’t difficult, but it’s very difficult to be a father.’

My eyes widen. ‘If you look up Dean in a dictionary, this is the description attached to it. Oh my, I’m going to send that as a celebratory card to his new address.’

He starts to laugh. ‘You should maybe think about that,’ he suggests and I have to agree that that isn’t really the mature thing for an ex-wife to do, especially after I bitched about Mindy not reaching her level of maturity. ‘While this might not be the date we both envisioned, but I sure enjoyed it a lot.’

‘I did too,’ I say. ‘And I wouldn’t mind if we did this again sometime.’

‘I would love to,’ he says. ‘You know, I have an idea. I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow, we’ll talk about the issue and after that, we can go to the autumn market. Greg has been bugging me about it all week, so if I don’t go, he’ll probably ban me from the store.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘Well, I absolutely adore the autumn market, so I would love to go and I know the kids will too. Please bring Kal with you, okay?’

‘Dogs are allowed?’

‘They are,’ I say. ‘And I know that Isabella would love it.’

We somehow finish the entire box of ice cream in a very short amount of time—and I might have something to do with that, because I’m a professional emotional eater—and Henry announces he should go home, so he can take Kal out for a night walk. I walk him to the front door and though he is already standing on my porch, he turns around to give me a tight hug. ‘Remember,’ he whispers, ‘whatever you decide to do, whatever the kids decide to do, it’ll be a good decision.’

I nod against his chest. ‘I’ll try and remember that.’

‘Breakfast muffins?’ he asks.

‘Please, buy them in every single flavor. We Jung’s are known for being able to love every single muffin flavor.’

‘I’ll go to the bank first, crank up my loan.’

I slap him across his stomach and he pretends to double over. Because he is leaned over, his face is very close to mine. I don’t even think, but I press a kiss on his cheek. ‘See you tomorrow, coach Cavill.’

Henry smiles and from up close, it gives me some serious heart palpitations. ‘See you tomorrow, Amelia.’ He walks to his truck, as I lean in the doorway, staring as he gets in. He holds up his hand, before he drives off.

I quickly walk upstairs—no, correction: I float upstairs because of the butterflies that I haven’t felt in such a long time—and quickly change into my pajamas and remove my make-up. I go to my room, to discover that Benji and Isabella are under the covers, leaving a spot for me between them. I remember when Dean and I were still together and one night it was storming. Isabella was four and Benji was ten. First it was Isabella who ran into our room, to lay between us. Around five minutes later, Benji sneaked into our room, to lay with us, flinching every single time the thunder hit.

After Dean moved out of this house, when we all found out he was doing his intern, we would have slumber parties, every night in a different room. We would drag mattresses from one room to the other, every night, but it was our way of reminding one another that no matter where we were, we’d always be there for each other.

I crawl into the bed and manage to wiggle myself under the cover. As if we’re magnets, Isabella curls herself up in my arms and I feel Benji’s head against my shoulder. ‘I love you,’ I whisper, ‘I love you both so so much.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x amelia jung #henry cavill x asian ofc #Henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #amelia jung #asian ofc #coach!henry cavill #Coach Cavill

107 notes · View notes

wreathedinscales · 3 years

Link

shoutout to @grogusdads for their 100% accurate headcanon about Din Djarin being Ultimate Dad as Mand’alor. we’ve never talked, but you share many headcanons with me :D

anyway here’s din realizing, oh wait, he’s actually a??? ruler???? :O

()

1. Guards?

Without Grogu, Din makes it his purpose to help reclaim Mandalore. And attempt to provoke Bo-Katan into challenging him.

This time, he thinks, he's got her.

"Do you know anything about ruling?" Bo-Katan snaps.

Din once again holds out the Darksaber. "You're welcome to do it yourself."

But no. She just rolls her eyes and tries once again to fix his posture. Because apparently just standing straight does not a ruler make.

Mandalorians answer the call. Not all of them, but enough to start rebuilding. Din doesn't know about ruling, but he can organize a few supply runs and a roster. He takes mental notes of names, strengths and weaknesses. Nothing he hasn't done before.

About two weeks into this, Din notices two Mandalorians following him. Both have predominantly red armor with identical wing-shaped markings on their helmets. Kai and Kol, Din's inner records supply, sisters who grew up in a covert not quite as traditional as Din's, but their background is similar enough that Din's found common ground with them. They're some of the best at stealth, great for off-planet supply runs.

Din looks around at the small crowd. It's still somewhat staggering, seeing so many Mandalorians in broad daylight. He still catches himself scanning for Imps.

"Inventory's still scattered, and you're light on your feet," he says, "See what you can find in the palace."

For once, the sisters don't nod and walk off. Instead, they glance at each other, then look back at din with helmets tilted.

"We already have a task," Kai says slowly.

"Then why are you following me?"

They share another glance.

"We are your guard," Kol says, matching her sister's voice.

Din's so surprised he says, "What?" Then he shakes his head and adds, "Did Bo-Katan put you up to this?"

"She approached candidates," Kai says, "We volunteered first."

Din puts his hands on his hips. He's genuinely at a loss. "Why?"

They're attracting a small audience. The sisters' stunned silence doesn't help.

"You are Mand'alor," Kol replies blankly, "Our planet is not without dangers. We must protect you."

...oh.

Hm.

"Your efforts are best suited helping rebuild," Din tries, "I don't see any danger getting past all of us." He gestures to the rubble that was once the capital. "Help our people first."

More silence. For the first time in years, Din actively stops himself from fidgeting.

It becomes quickly apparent that they are not moving. But guards not listening to him is something he's used to.

"Okay, how about one of you stays with me?"

Kol and Kai stare a bit more. Then they bow, and Kai heads to the city.

"Okay," Din says again, "I guess if you're staying close, you might as well help me look over our supplies. We're still short on materials."

He turns on his heel and hopes everyone will stop staring. Fortunately, inventory takes focus. After some hesitation, Kol shoulders her staff and joins him.

Two hours later, Din is satisfied he's done all he can. He passes the datapad to Hrush, who's unofficially record-keeper with how quick they are at it. Their brain's the size of Mandalore, and their fingers fly over the screen.

Next batch.

Din looks over his shoulder. With any luck, Kol will have caught the hint and gone back to work.

He finds another Mandalorian walking beside her. Jaz, fought in the Purge, follows Bo-Katan's version of the Way, Fennec-level shot with her two blasters. Her muscles make her tower over Kol.

Din stops. They stop with him.

He sighs. "Fine. Jaz, you can lift two crates at a time, yes?"

Jaz balks a bit. After a moment, she says, "Yes, Mand'alor."

"Good. Kol, get those open while Jaz and I get the rest. You can. Multitask."

Din would really, really like everyone to stop staring.

2. Palace?

"What?"

Bo-Katan raises an eyebrow. "The Mand'alor needs his throne."

They're standing outside the palace ruin, Bo-Katan's helmet under her arm and Din glad his own hides his no doubt stupid expression. Kai and Kol are, unfortunately, still following him.

"Why the hell would I want a palace?" Din asks. "We're almost done the compound. There's plenty of room."

"Yours isn't ready yet."

"I don't need a suite, Kryze. As long as I can fit, a bunk and a door will be fine."

"You are Mand'alor."

"I am Mandalorian." It's taken a bit for him to come to terms with that, after the light cruiser. But everyone else sure sees him as one, which has helped. "A door and a bunk. No. Palace."

Hrush is quiet when Din approaches them with dimensions for his bunk. He's been sleeping with various clans and families so far, and it's worked out alright. Those who don't follow the Watch's Way respect his helmet. But a bit a privacy would be nice, and if Bo-Katan insists on him having his own room, well.

"I know materials are low," Din says, "Prioritize others first. This can wait."

Hrush is a small spitfire. They are still quiet.

Din waits a beat before nodding. The training yards still need a lot of attention. He heads there next.

That night, he checks the compound's roster. There are still two groups he hasn't imposed on yet. Their community is growing. It makes him smile.

"Mand'alor?" Kai says.

Din turns and waves his hand. "You can, uh, bunk down. I'll see if Clan Gon has floor space."

Even though, for some reason, people keep insisting Din take a cot, he's won through stubbornness so far. His back hates him, but it's not the first time they've been at odds.

A familiar huff joins them. "Mand'alor," Hrush says, "your room is ready. All the way down, to the left."

"...oh."

Well, at least they've finally given up on the suite.

"Thank you," Din says.

Hrush's helmet tilts, like they're about to say something. Din waits, but whatever they had wanted to say turns into, "Good night, Mand'alor."

Din inclines his head. "Same to you."

"What the hell."

This is not a bunk. This is. This is a full on apartment.

"I said no suite."

"It isn't a suite, Mand'alor," Kai says. She actually sounds amused. "It meets your specifications."

Din turns to her and crosses his arms. The room is huge, with a damn kitchenette, table, and private fresher. The cot isn't a cot, but a full on double bed. Din doesn't even know where all this stuff came from.

"You asked for a door," Kol says.

"I asked. For. A. Bunk. This is a waste of supplies we haven't got."

"Mand'alor, we provided the bare necessities." Kai seems seconds away from laughing.

"A double bed is not a necessity. Switch it with," Din thinks a second, "Clan To. The alors need support for those limps, and their Foundlings can use the extra cot."

The sisters look at each other. Din wishes they'd stop doing that.

"As you wish," they say.

"But it's too late now," Kai adds, "Clan To retired before you."

"Tomorrow, then."

"When would you like us to do it?"

Din shakes his head. "I'll do it myself. I can lift this."

"...certainly, Mand'alor."

3. Personal Space?

Since the fresher isn't going anywhere, Din figures, fuck it, he might as well use it. It's been a pain getting up extra early for the communal space anyway. Even if the space is working just fine, Bo-Katan.

When he's freshly dressed, he reenters the main room to find Jaz setting down one of Clan To's cots.

"Your time is better spent elsewhere," Din says firmly.

"Of course, Mand'alor," Jaz replies.

Well, Din's used to a bit of mocking. What's done is done. "Then help me move the rest of this to the communal space. I just need the caf."

"Mand'alor, with respect, I will not remove necessities from your room." Jaz shifts her weight. "This will make it easier for you to follow your Way. We wish to respect your helmet."

It's reasonable. Din would be lying if he said he didn't miss his privacy. But he'd rather sacrifice some personal bubble for a Foundling's future than have this.

"Would you not do the same for another?" Jaz asks quietly.

Din sighs. "Fine. If any who follow my Creed want to use this room, let them know it's open. I'll put a lock on the door."

"A lock will be installed in an hour," Jaz says.

"Okay. We'll spread the word."

"...as you wish, Mand'alor. I'll leave you to your first meal."

Quiet follows Jaz. Complete, utter quiet.

Wow. Din...has really missed this.

He looks around. There are no windows. People won't barge in. He can trust fellow Mandalorians.

Cautiously, Din removes his helmet. The quiet is still there.

He did sleep better last night. Maybe he can let himself have this.

4. Respect?

Din whirls around, spear out, just in time for Kol and Kai to take the attacker down.

Having guards is weird, but convenient.

Din studies the Mandalorian. Armor similar to Fett's, not enough for the resemblance to be startling, as it is painted blue and yellow. Goboz, young, cocky but well-meaning, best at hand-to-hand, needs more gun training.

Caju and Vadde of Clan To are in front of Din in a second, blasters raised. It makes Din warm.

"What business have you, attacking our Mand'alor?" Kai demands coldly.

"The Darksaber," Goboz says.

Din gently pushes Caju and Vadde aside. "You're barely 23, kid. Why do you want to rule?"

Goboz starts. "How do you know how old I am?"

Din cocks his head. "You told me when we met. If you can't remember that, what makes you think you're fit to lead?"

He's not angry. But Goboz did not issue an honorable challenge. He clearly has not studied the Way enough. Din will have to have a word with his buir. No matter how old they get, a child deserves guidance.

(Child. No, not the time. Not the place.)

Din puts his hands on his hips and says calmly, "If you wish to challenge me to the Darksaber, do so honorably. This is the Way."

Voices echo, "This is the Way."

Goboz averts his helmet. "...this is the Way."

Din nods. "Let him up."

Kai and Kol step back. They keep their spears level in warning.

"Now," Din says, "do you want to challenge me?"

Goboz nods.

"As challenger, choose your weapon."

As expected, Goboz replies, "Hand-to-hand."

"Fine. I accept." Din scans the crowd. "Kryze. Since you won't challenge me, you can oversee this."

Bo-Katan's lip quirks. "Certainly, Mand'alor."

"Meet me in the training yard in ten," Din says, "I need to finalize the Foundlings' training rosters."

Goboz looks cowed. Din waits for him to walk off before turning back to Hrush.

They meet without weapons in the center. Goboz bounces lightly on his feet. Din finds himself looking forward to this. It's been too long since he's had a good fight.

Bo-Katan widens her stance. "Begin."

Goboz swings first. Din parries and goes for his blind spot. He's blocked and pushed, but he stands his ground. It soon becomes apparent that Goboz doesn't mind his legs nearly as much as he should. He's good, very good. Just not good enough.

Din trips him, shoving a knee on his chest and pinning his arms. Goboz nearly throws him off. Nearly.

"Do you yield?" Din hisses.

Goboz struggles valiantly. But he sees he's beaten. He goes limp. "I yield."

"The Mand'alor is the winner," Bo-Katan announces. The crowd cheers.

Din helps Goboz up. Goboz says, "I thought you'd be more aggressive. I did you a dishonor."

"You did yourself and your clan a dishonor," Din retorts, "You clearly know better, Goboz."

Goboz's shoulders hunch slightly. "Yes, Mand'alor." He puts a fist to his chest and bows. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

Din tilts his head. "You learned from your mistake. I hold no grudge against you. Go to your buir for punishment."

Goboz makes himself even smaller, showing his age. The next "Yes, Mand'alor" is more of a grumble.

Din revels in the buzzing of his muscles and gets back to work.

Goboz's buir, Imni, approaches him later that afternoon.

"I apologize for Goboz's behavior," she says, "I thought I taught him better."

Din shrugs. "He's young. Kids don't always listen."

Imni huffs. "You are wise, Mand'alor."

"Just experienced. My." Din swallows. "My own Foundling liked to get his paws into trouble."

Imni inclines her head. "I heard you returned him to his kind."

"I did. Now I have other Foundlings to look after."

"You honor us, Mand'alor."

Din shakes his head. "This is the Way."

"This is the Way." Imni sounds like she's smiling.

5. Children?

"They're a bounty hunter," Din explains for the umpteenth time.

"They tried to assassinate you," Bo-Katan replies for the umpteenth time.

"I've done worse in their shoes."

"But you're not in their shoes anymore. You are Mand'alor."

"I'm still a hunter."

"You are Mand'alor."

Din looks to Senator Organa, who's trying not to laugh. She resembles the Jedi strongly; it had been a shock to know the Huttslayer is Grogu's teacher's twin sister. He now knows the Jedi is called Luke Skywalker. He'd been about to find out more when a sniper got him right between the beskar.

He'll be fine, especially with the fancy tech on Coruscant. It's practically a five star treatment compared to Din's usual experience. Only now Bo-Katan is insisting the hunter be put on trial or something.

Din tries again. "Let's just talk. Find out who hired them."

"They won't leave without their reward," Bo-Katan says.

"They might be Guild. I can get in touch with Karga, get them another job."

Bo-Katan looks at him with the slightly narrowed eyes of a person who's looking at an absolute moron. Din doesn't feel like he deserves that, thank you.

"You want," she says, "to get your would-be assassin another job."

"Might not be as high, but they seem like they can take on more than one. They're capable."

Bo-Katan mouths capable. She looks to Organa as if pleading for patience.

Organa clears her throat. "Mand'alor. Would you feel the same if one of your people was shot?"

The anger is sharp and sudden. Din breathes through it. "I'm supposed to protect them. It's not the same."

Bo-Katan gestures to him. "You see what I have to deal with?"

Din balks. Organa stops fighting her grin.

"I think we should take this to the conference room," Organa says, "If the Mand'alor feels able."

Din stands without wobbling and motions for her to lead the way. He waves to a stiff Kai and Kol, and they settle behind him.

The conference room is full of seething Mandalorians.

"You guaranteed our Mand'alor's safety!" Jaz bellows, hands flat on the table. "You go back on your word so easily?"

Caju is coiled to strike. "It was a mistake to come here. We should have known better."

These are but two voices among the throng. The other senators are various shades of pale and flushed, some trying to calm the situation while others are yelling back.

"Don't suppose you can help?" Organa asks sardonically.

Din sighs. He draws his spear and hits it against his vambrace. The room cuts off mid-shout.

"Have we found out who hired them?" Din asks.

One of the senators, a human male whose hair is mussed from running his fingers through it, says, "Yes."

"And where is the hunter?"

"Captured," Vadde replies tightly, "Alive."

Din nods and heads for the nearest seat. He pauses when the Mandalorians part for him, showing the head of the table. He awkwardly changes course.

"Tell me about the employer."

"You're what."

Din punches the code for the cell. "I got you some new pucks. Together, it should be close to what this job would've paid." The door opens. "I'll go with you to your ship, make sure they let you pass."

The hunter's frog eyes stare widely. Din wonders if their species ever blink.

"You are a world leader," the hunter says, "I tried to kill you."

"So I've been told."

"You realize you should be executing me, right? Or at least sending me to max prison?"

Din huffs. "I've been told that too. I've also been a bounty hunter. You don't seem like you have close ties with your employer, which means you're only in it for the money. You're not a threat to my people."

"I could be."

"Then I'll kill you." Simple, matter-of-fact. "Do you want me to? I can think of at least a dozen ways right now."

The bounty hunter finally blinks. "...no."

"Then let's go. Sooner we get you going, the sooner I can get back to getting coordinates for my kid."

The hunter takes a few hesitant steps. Kai and Kol are pillars of ice, but they don't attack. Din starts walking.

"So, uh. The rumors about your Foundling are true?" the hunter says.

"Yep."

"Huh. You're, uh. I mean, you seem like a good dad, then."

Din's throat goes tight. "He's with his kind now. I am no longer as his father."

"...oh," the hunter croaks.

A beat.

"He is father to his people," Kol snaps.

Din whips around so fast his neck nearly cracks. Kol raises her chin, as if daring him to argue.

"We..." Din slowly starts walking again, "we take care of each other."

"You take care of us, Mand'alor," Kai says firmly.

After a few more paces, the hunter says, "I actually feel a little bad for trying to kill you."

Din huffs a laugh, still reeling. "Thanks."

As he watches the hunter take off, Din murmurs, "You honor me."

Softly, Kai says, "It is what you deserve, Mand'alor."

"And," Kol adds, "it's fun to watch when people realize you're not angry, just disappointed."

Kai shoulders her spear to put her hands on her hips, bending slightly at the waist and cocking her head. Din realizes as Kol laughs that she's imitating him. His cheeks burn when he also realizes he's halfway to putting his hands on his hips too.

When she's calmed down, Kol puts a hand on Din's shoulder. "You are as our father, Mand'alor. Let us care for you in turn."

Din has to take at least half a minute to steady himself. He's still hoarse when he says, "You can't shoot the ship."

The sisters sigh.

#ecriture #the mandalorian #the man-dad-lorian

17 notes · View notes

in-arlathan · 4 years

Text

A Little Light

A/N: Totally wrote this on a whim before going to bed, because who needs to sleep when they can write Solavellan fanfiction? It’s a slow-burning something, inspired by a writing prompt from @the-solavellan-archive list (you can find it here).

3. How Lavellan falls in love with him

This time around, we’re exploring Lavellan’s feelings for Solas before their relationship. I hope you enjoy the read. <3

––––

It wasn’t until the candles went out that she realized how much time she’d spent in the library. Doused in sudden darkness, Lavellan swore under her breath and fumbled for the fresh candles she had brought with her as replacement.

An absolute silence had taken hold of the rooms in the basement of Haven’s Chantry, making her panting loud and ragged by contrast. How did she not notice that everyone had retired for the night?

A moment later, a soft warm light flared up by the door. She jolted upright, turning around in an instant. Every fiber in her body went tense with anticipation.

“You need more light, lethallin,” Solas said, showing one of his rare smiles.

She stared at him, struggling to realize she was not in danger. Even now, as an official member of the Inquisition, Lavellan was half-expecting the townsfolk of Haven to lock her up at any given moment. It was still hard to believe that they had dismissed their mistrust and replaced it with unconditional worship so easily.

Herald of Andraste, she thought. Yeah, sure...

Lavellan rubbed her tired eyes, slowly easing back into the moment.

“What are you doing here?”, she asked.

“We didn’t see you at dinner,” he said, amused. “So, naturally, everyone was concerned about you.Cassandra especially. She has everyone looking for you just now, to make sure you haven’t run off.” To her surprise, he chuckled. “I was quite sure you didn’t, but I joined the seeker’s efforts so we might all sleep in comfort tonight.”

For a moment, Lavellan thought she saw mockery in his eyes, but when he came closer and held out his hand so the fireball would help her see better without making a cocky remark, she dismissed the thought.

“Thank you,” she said and took the spare candles that had been buried beneath a stack of parchment scrolls, lighting them with the fire Solas had conjured up so easily. With a sigh, she replaced the old candles and stifled a yawn.

Solas twisted his hand and the fireball perished. His eyebrows raised in surprise, when he saw the ancient tome lying on the desk before Lavellan. “What were you doing here, this late at night?”

“Just some light reading. ‘An Advanced Compendium on the Schools of Magic’, for starters,” she said, pointing to the book. “Vivienne assured me it was a good place to start my studies.”

“What were you hoping to find in there?” Solas asked, bewildered.

Her lips curled up in a half-hearted smile. “Since I am not a mage, you mean?”

Solas opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but then he decided otherwise and closed it again.

Lavellan sighed, running a hand through her long blond hair. She could feel how tangled it was. What must he think of her?

“Since the mark is of magical origin, I thought it might be time for me to get acquainted with the basics of magic,” she told him.

“The power that bestowed that mark upon your hand is unlike anything any mage of this age has encountered,” Solas pointed out. “Did you really think you would find deeper knowledge in books for acolytes in the Circle of Magi?”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “It just…”

She let the sentence trail off, uncertain what to say. What had she hoped to find in those books, anyway?

Solas leaned against the table. “Please, go on.”

Lavellan clenched her left hand, half-expecting the green light of the mark to flare up, but nothing happened. Again. How was she able to do what she did – sealing the rifts – if most of the time she didn’t even understand how she did it?

“For a mage such as yourself, this might sound childish,” she said.

Solas smirked. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Her gaze flicked towards him, taking in his sharp features. Everything about him – his poise, his posture, the tiny upward curl of his lips – seemed like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Now, that’s a first, she thought.

The last time she had talked with Solas, he’d seemed more than secretive about himself. In fact, upon their return to Haven from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the elven apostate had appeared to be dead set on the idea to avoid her in any way possible. Only when she approached him openly, he answered her questions and even then he was reluctant to share more personal information. That he came to speak to her on his own volition was highly unusual behavior for him.

Yet, she was grateful for it. She enjoyed talking to him more than she’d like to admit. Vivienne and the Chantry folks in Haven might denounce him as apostate, flinging the word at Solas like an insult, Lavellan had grown up amongst mages that had never been trained by the Circle. Her view of Solas was not clouded by Chantry teaching or superstition.

“All my life I have wanted to learn more, even though my clan wasn’t too happy about it,” she told him, allowing her gaze to drift off. Her mind returned to the far-away meadows and hills of the Free Marches, where she had spent her entire life before coming to Haven. “The other hunters chastised me for sneaking away into the woods or reading books on ‘shemlen shenanigans’. For them, there was nothing more important than to keep the clan safe and fed. When they listened to the old stories, they merely dismissed them as morality tales. But that is not how I felt. I couldn’t help but wonder how and why these stories came to be. I wanted to know what had brought us here ⎯ me, my clan, the Dalish in general.”

“More often than not, I went to Keeper Deshanna to seek guidance,” she continued. “I pestered her with my questions, trying to piece together the fractured tapestry of our history. Somehow, I thought it would help me understand why the world is the way it is. In tracing the path that had let us to where we are now, I hoped to find a way to move forward. I guess that is why she came to me when it was time to pick someone to spy on the conclave. But what good did it to me? “

She licked her lips, biting back the bitter feeling the memories invoke in her. All of this seemed to have happened so long ago, it might as well have happened to a different person. When she had awoken after the explosion at the conclave, everything she knew about the inner workings of the world had been taken from her, not just the memory of the explosion itself. Absolutely nothing made sense to her anymore.

If she could only remember what happened…

“I think I know what you mean.” Solas said, lost in his own thoughts. “You hoped that if you knew more about magic, you could find a way to learn more about the anchor and how it affects you.”

“Yes, that,“ she admitted, shaking her left hand to release the tension in her muscles. “And how I might keep it from killing me.”

Without warning, Solas drew himself upright, his lips set in a tense line. “I will not allow the mark to harm you,” he said sternly. “I can promise you that.”

Lavellan couldn’t help but smile. This reminded her of another conversation she had with Solas. It had been the first time that had truly talked to each after their return from the meeting with Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands.

“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.” “How would you stop them?” “However I had to.”

It seemed, suddenly, their roles were reversed. And it was quite endearing to see Solas care for her.

Don’t get your hopes up, she told herself. It’s not like he has any interest in you. The only thing he truly cares about is to seal the Breach.

“That’s very kind of you, Solas,” she said, still smiling. “But you won’t be around forever to take care of me, are you? Besides, I’m can handle myself pretty well and I’d like things to remain that way. I just need to learn more about this threat were facing, that’s all.”

Looking at Solas once more, she found herself taken aback.

Did her eyes trick her or was he blushing?

“Well,” Solas mused, breaking into a small cough. “If you truly wish to learn more about magic, maybe I could assist you in your studies. Only if you find my help useful, of course. Maybe the I can provide insight that Circle mages lack, as my unique knowledge of the Fade allowed me to slow the mark from spreading while you lay in dreamless slumber.”

Okay, maybe he is interested, a soft voice in the back of her mind whispered, and she allowed herself to hope. A little bit, at least.

Lavellan smiled before she could stop herself. “Thank you, Solas. That would be lovely.”

____

#dragon age #da #dragon age fanfiction #solas #lavellan #solavellan #solas x lavellan #solas x inquisitor #slow burn

41 notes · View notes

terraforged · 4 years

Note

How does Wrathuon recruit and treat his Blacktalons? How many are there? Does he scout them, or do they come to him? What skills does he look for? What would make him fire or refuse to hire someone? Are certain races and classes overrepresented? Underrepresented? Are the Blacktalons paid fairly and equally? Are there ranks? Does he know all their names? How much do they know about him? Does he interact with them individually? How does Wrathion assign them tasks? Asking for a friend...

Valeera has no friends so should just admit she wants to be a blacktalon :^)

How does Wrathion recruit and treat his Blacktalons?

I mean the fact he’s still able to recruit them after what he did is a bit of a mystery all things considered. I assume what mostly happens is people either don’t think their factions are doing enough and have nowhere but him to turn as an alternative, or other Blacktalons sorta wink wink nudge nudge people into it at which point he’ll go through the motions of dealing with that person himself.

He’s, you know, he’s their boss. He treats them like an employer because that’s what he is. When he was younger he was probably a goddamn nightmare to work for given how volatile he was, but as he is now he’s not too bad. His Blacktalons are his, so whilst he’s an employer he’s also possessive and he will go out of his way to support them if he can and they need it. He does generally have their backs with things even if he doesn’t care for them on an individual personal level like you might a friend– he’s probably more empathetic with them than you’d think, which I think goes a long way to how he’s managed to retain his own lil faction and grow it despite the dumb shit he did.

How many are there?

Man, I dunno. A lot. Not as many as the Horde or Alliance obviously, but his network is vast and there’s going to be a hell of a lot of them spread out through the factions and other neutral groups.

Does he scout them, or do they come to him?

If he sees someone talented he’ll try and scout/headhunt them if he can, and like he does know talent when he sees it. However, if he realises he’s going to get nowhere (like with Valeera lmaooo) he won’t bother or push too hard. Likewise though I think people do also approach him, and I think that this tends to be the primary way people become Blacktalons other than existing Blacktalons generally being like ‘yo have you considered’.

What skills does he look for?

Anything that might be of benefit. I think the game only ever really shows him as having rogues but I think this is massively narrow-minded and not actually the case at all– he’d have people from all classes, and people who aren’t actually any class at all. Wrathion would hire a bar keeper in an area where having someone placed that centrally would be a boon, so it’s like not all Blacktalons are actually people who can fight or heal. Some are nobles, some are seemingly random civilians. If they can offer something of benefit to him he’ll take them. Being able to fight well is one of the last things he actually looks for because whilst useful you can train a farmhand to fight decently. He more looks for the things you can’t train.

What would make him fire or refuse to hire someone?

If you get ‘fired’ you’re dead. You don’t get fired from the Blacktalons, though you could quit or retire naturally. If you do something to the point you need to be fired though he’ll just fucking kill you, he’s really not about that life when actions like that have a lot of potential to shred his already shitty reputation.

He’d refuse to hire someone if they were a genuine asshole, and like I know that probably sounds hypocritical but Wrathion does have his own moral code and if someone’s was too far removed from his own they wouldn’t be suitable and he wouldn’t hire them.

Criminals who’ve done things like petty theft or something in retaliation to something done to them are fine? If they’ve done something he can morally account for and deem acceptable they’re still fair game to him, so it really just depends on how he views them and their past as a whole.

Are certain races and classes overrepresented? Underrepresented?

Rogues and shamans are both pretty overrepresented, with druids also being higher in numbers. Rogues are the most abundant because, you know, he’s a rogue himself and ended up with quite a few to begin with from Ravenholdt so for a while that’d have been what he was known for.

Paladins and priests are probably the least represented, though he does have some. Ironically he’d probably have primarily shadow priests, though again there’d be some disc and holy in there too.

Race wise nothing is over or under represented. Wrathion doesn’t give a shit what you are, and I absolutely think he has individuals from none playable races in the Blacktalon ranks too including things like the mogu and arakoa etcetc.

Are the Blacktalons paid fairly and equally?

They’d be paid a set base salary, and like they’re well paid even in the basic lowest end salary a Blacktalon could have. Over and above this though bonuses are a pretty, uh, big thing. Skilled Blacktalons make fucking bank out of it, which I think is a very deliberate thing on his end because it’s way harder to convince someone to to betray an employer who’s already paying them very, very well and offering them benefits both financial and otherwise probably not generally found in Azeroth.

Everyone’s paid equally in relation to their position. Race and/or class mean nothing in relation to this.

Are there ranks?

There are. Left and Right are the highest ranked Blacktalons beyond himself, but under them there are individuals of higher and lower rank with more or less responsibility than others. It is possible to work up through ranks depending on what you’re bringing to the table and what you’re actively accomplishing for him.

Does he know all their names?

He does. He also knows basic information about all of them such as family ties and prior affiliations etc.

How much do they know about him?

Anything that’s public knowledge. Beyond that they really know little more than anyone else, until you get into higher ranked individuals like Left and Right who he’s personally close with. Even they though rarely know what he’s actually doing as we see in his journal questline.

Does he interact with them individually?

He’s met all of them at least once, but after that he doesn’t personally interact with them directly. What he actually uses, and what makes him and his network so fucking hard to find anything on, are things like the gems we see him give players in MoP which allowed him to directly talk with the player and see what they’re seeing. Every Blacktalon has one and this is an absolutely mandatory part of being a Blacktalon. They’re tied specifically to Wrathion and the Blacktalon in question. Killing the Blacktalon breaks the gem, and whilst someone particularly gifted might be able to essentially ‘hack’ one of them that hasn’t happened yet so. Shrug on that one I guess!

Wrathion does issue orders directly to his Blacktalons, but never really by meeting them face to face. I think this is part of what’s made his network so fucking effective despite being managed by one person even though it’s so spread out.

How does Wrathion assign them tasks?

It depends on the strengths of the person in question. As aforementioned a Blacktalon which is someone like a bar keep or a noble isn’t going to be given a combat mission, as their primary role as a Blacktalon is to gather information and/or use their influence as needed to the benefit of Wrathion and his goals.

He’ll give people tasks suited to their skills. Wrathion doesn’t really set his Blacktalons up to fail by sending them to do something he isn’t certain they can accomplish, he has the player Champions for that.

#i don't know who wrathuon is tho #long post/#fatesblades #⥑Ω⥏ headcanons.

6 notes · View notes

tommyparkerr · 5 years

Text

Promises BONUS I | Peter Parker x Reader

So, it’s not absolutely necessary for you to have read my series Promises before reading this, but I would highly suggest it! (You can find all the links in my masterlist located in my bio!) Plus, I’d be the happiest girl in the world if you did. :) For everyone who HAS read it, I hope you enjoy the first of the many bonuses I have planned. Ask and you shall receive!

Also, I kinda sorta am entering this as an entry to my own writing challenge? I took a prompt from it because I realized this fic had the exact same line, so...yeah. Join my Fix The Endgame Irondad Writing Challenge! I’m in desperate need of Irondad as of late for...*clears throat* obvious reasons. It’ll be fun, plus you get to add to a healthy dose of Irondad if you do! Check out my post for details :)

Prompt: “Take it back.”

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: No more angst, just fluff (hence why I’m writing the bonuses)

-Masterlist-

P R O M I S E S - B O N U S O N E :

Three months later...

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Peter asked you for the tenth time today as he loaded up your things into the car.

“Peter, we’ve been over this,” you said with a smile and roll of your eyes.

He pursed his lips. “I know, but...I just wanna make sure, ya know?”

You took a step closer and cupped his face, bringing it down to plant a small kiss on his lips. “Peter,” you said quietly, your thumb stroking his cheek, “I’m ready.”

He nodded with a sigh. “Okay, I get it. I’ll stop asking.”

You giggled and pecked his nose before lowering back down to the ground. “We already told May, hun. We’ve got to tell them before she does or we’ll both be dead.”

“She said she’d keep it a secret!” Peter argued. “Is that the only reason you’re doing this?”

“Peter, honey,” you laughed, “you know your aunt is actually a terrible secret keeper, right?” Peter grumbled in acknowledgment but didn’t reply, leading you to go on. “And no, that’s not the only reason I’m doing this. I want to do this, Peter. It’s been four months now. Besides,” you said with a shrug, “I won’t be able to keep hiding my bump for much longer. I’m actually surprised no one has figured it out already.”

At that, your husband’s face lit up and he moved to kneel in front of you. His hand lifted your shirt just enough to lay a hand on the bare skin of your small-but-there baby bump.

“Hey, baby,” Peter said, his lips parted into a smile. “We’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house soon and we’re going to tell them all about you. So please don’t get too scared if you hear yelling or someone you don’t know yet touches you, like Grandma May did yesterday when we told her. They’re just excited, bug.”

As he continued to speak to your baby, your heart seemed to grow and your entire body seemed to warm. You couldn’t help but lay a hand over Peter’s as a smile broke out on your face, too.

“Hey, Peter?”

He looked up finally, his eyes twinkling in pure joy. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Peter’s grin grew larger, and he let your shirt drop back down as he stood to kiss you. “I love you, too,” he said just before his mouth met yours.

After a few minutes of soft kisses, you gently pulled away and leaned your head against his chest. “We’re going to be late.”

“As if Tony’s ever been on time.”

“We are going to his home, Peter,” you giggled. “He doesn’t need to be on time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Peter sighed, stepping back and moving toward the front door. “Why do you have to be so smart all of a sudden?”

You watched as Peter’s face fell after processing what he’d just said. A sick sort of smugness rose up in you (because years ago he wouldn’t have even realized the weight of his words and now, after spending a prolonged amount of time with you, he so clearly does), and when Peter turned to face you he was met with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Would you like to rephrase that, honey?” you asked with a small smirk, crossing your arms and tapping your foot for dramatization.

Your husband swallowed. “You’re the most intelligent, most kind, and most beautiful woman I ever could’ve dreamed of, you always have been, and I’m an idiot?”

At hearing his response, you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle. You attempted to hide it, but maybe it was better you failed; otherwise, Peter may have gone into a stress-induced seizure.

“Wait—you’re not mad?” the brown-eyed boy asked, blinking in surprise. You just giggled again, going up to him and reaching under his arm to open the door. Peter stumbled after you, locking the door to your apartment and fumbling for the other set of keys stuffed inside his coat pocket so he could unlock the car before you reached the doors. “Were you just messing with me? Y/N? Y/N!”

Your only answer was laughter.

---

“That wasn’t very nice, you know,” Peter grumbled as he parked. “Giving a man a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-four is neither helpful nor desirable.”

“You’re still on that?” you laughed. “Peter, that was like”—you checked your watch—“an hour and a half ago!”

“What? I’m supposed to recover from a near-heart failure in an hour and a half?!”

You laid a hand on his, shaking your head and chuckling to yourself. Going along with the joke, you said, “Your healing factor will kick in soon enough. Spider-Man, remember?”

Peter grumbled something to himself and got out of the car, coming around to your side to open your door and help you out; your belly may not have been big yet, but it was growing and it was different and it was just enough to sometimes throw your already terrible balance off-kilter.

“I love you, Spider-Man,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Peter hummed, annoyance apparently forgotten, and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “Spider-Man loves you, too.”

You smiled and settled into a comfortable silence as you walked toward the compound. It didn’t last long, however.

“Well...most of the time.”

He’d said this jokingly, but after being shoved into a nearby wall Peter chose to point out much more seriously how ‘surprisingly’ strong you were for a girl.

You raised your brows. Peter gulped.

And thus began heart attack number two for the day.

---

“How’s work, Y/N?” Pepper asked as she continued working on whatever dish she was making tonight.

Before you could answer, Peter grinned and said, “She got the promotion.”

Pepper dropped the wooden spoon she was using out of surprise. Luckily, Tony had anticipated it and snatched it up before it hit the ground.

“You what?”

You bit your lip to hide a large grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

Pepper blinked a few times. “But you didn’t even tell us you were applying for it! I mean, you told us about it and you told us that it had a lot of good benefits and you told us you’d be interested in it, but you also told us the position wouldn’t even open up until whoever held the position retired in a few years!” You opened your mouth to try and explain that that particular person had retired early and referred you to take their place, but before you could Pepper shook her head and swept you into a hug. “Nevermind all that—I’m so happy for you!”

You smiled and returned her hug, knowing it wouldn’t be the last emotional one tonight but not revealing anything that would let Pepper know that. Peter grinned from behind you, eyeing Tony and sharing a contented look with him.

“She said it, kiddo,” Tony said with a surprisingly genuine smile when Pepper stepped away. “We’re happy for you.” You accepted his hug and hair ruffle as if you were his own kid; and, you guessed in the same sort of way that Peter was his son, you were his daughter.

“Thanks, old man,” you grinned, ignoring the scoff he gave you in return.

“Well, I just have to let this simmer for a bit, so if you’d like we can move to another room while we wait,” Pepper said cheerily.

“That’d be great,” Peter quickly accepted, knowing your back was probably starting to ache and comfortingly but inconspicuously rubbing it as he led you to your favorite couch in the sitting room. You held back a sigh of relief as you sat down; you had expected to experience some back pain, as it was one of the most common symptoms during pregnancy, but you hadn’t been expecting to experience it this early.

“What about you two?” you asked. “Is there anything new with you?”

Tony waved a hand as if to dismiss the topic at hand. “You know, even with one of us being an Avenger slash one of the universe’s mightiest heroes and the other being CEO of the world’s most successful enterprise, we haven’t seen much excitement lately.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “I think what my husband means to say is we’d love to hear more about this promotion you’ve worked so hard for.”

Peter managed to cover his laugh with a cough, but you couldn’t hide your small smile in time. Tony grinned at your reactions and leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Well,” you started when you were sure you weren’t going to laugh as soon as you opened your mouth, “I do get a lot more vacation time with the promotion, along with the option to work from home on days I’m not really needed in the office which is something I’m really looking forward to. It seems unreal, but I guess with great responsibility comes great power...or something.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, catching on with an eye roll and an amused shake of his head. “Or something.”

You grinned.

“How many days of paid vacation do you get, then?” Pepper asked next, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Fifteen,” you answered. “But I’ve only been working there five years, so when I make it to ten years it then goes up to seventeen, and when I make it to twenty years I get twenty days. But that’s not including the sick or extended maternity leave.”

“Extended maternity leave, eh?” Tony spoke up with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re already figuring out how to cheat the system—I like it.”

This time Pepper pushed Tony aside until he was forced to fall sideways into the cushions, and it’s a good thing she gave that so much attention because if she hadn’t, she and Tony would’ve seen the look you and Peter had shared with each other and put the pieces together before you could reveal it yourselves.

“We’re, uh, thinking of taking advantage of some of that vacation time here in about six months or so,” Peter started. “I get eleven days a year, so I’d still have some leftover by the time I went back to work.”

“Oh, good!” Pepper exclaimed. “You two deserve a break! Where are you going? New Zealand? I know you’ve always wanted to visit New Zealand!”

“Pep, you obviously haven’t heard the way this kid talks about England—they’re definitely going there,” Tony said, sitting back up.

Ignoring him, Pepper went on. “Or Thailand! I’ve heard you talk about Thailand a lot! And you eat Thai all the time—not that I blame you.”

Tony was about to open his mouth again to probably throw another guess into the conversation, but Peter interrupted before he could. “Actually...we were thinking something a little closer to home.”

“Okay, so Pepper was wrong,” Tony said, acting as if he hadn’t proposed an overseas country as well. “So...what? The Bahamas? Hawaii? Hell, Alaska?”

“No,” you said, taking the lead with a smile. “Home. We’re going to take a vacation at home.”

It was almost comical, the looks of confusion that appeared on their faces. It was something you rarely saw, and rarer more when it came from both of them.

“Home,” Pepper repeated slowly, testing the word out on her tongue. “Okay, and what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Peter said, interlacing your fingers, “that while we appreciate the joke about cheating the system, Y/N didn’t get the promotion with extended maternity leave until after we found out.”

Silence. You gently laid a hand on your lower abdomen where your bump was slowly starting to show for emphasis, in case they hadn’t caught on.

More silence, and then-

“Take it back.”

“Tony!” Pepper exclaimed, her eyes wide and blown up with mortification as she smacked him on the chest.

“What? Being a dad makes me old enough, but a grandpa?”

You hid the smile on your face at Peter’s troubled expression. You knew Tony was joking, but Peter was a sensitive person who often took things too literal and everyone in the room (but Peter) knew it.

“Seriously, Pep! I’m too young for this!” Tony was smiling, laughing at his own humor, but Peter didn’t see. He was too busy looking down at his lap. After that, one look from Pepper got him shutting up pretty quickly. “Kid,” Tony said more seriously now at seeing the look on his son’s face, standing up and taking a few steps forward to clap his hands on Peter’s shoulders, “I’ve never been prouder.”

Peter sagged in relief and threw his arms around his mentor-turned-father-figure. You didn’t even try to fight the hormone induced tears that came with the scene. Pepper smiled at you understandingly and made her way over, wrapping you in a gentle hug and whispering a small but heartfelt congratulations in your ear.

By the time you broke apart you realized Tony was rambling in the kitchen while ‘cooking’ dinner, Peter obviously not listening to a single word. He was rather watching you with a loving smile and his own set of tears in his eyes, accepting Pepper’s hug and kiss on the cheek as she repeated Tony’s words and hurried to go fix whatever dish Tony was probably on the verge of ruining.

Peter sat you both down again and scooted close, grabbing your hands and resting your foreheads together. “This is really happening,” he whispered softly in something resembling disbelief. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” you repeated, letting your eyes fall shut at the odd sense of warmth that ran through you at the words.

“Kid, are you even listening to me? This is important stuff, I'll have you know!” Tony’s voice floated in from the kitchen, making both of your grins enlarge.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m listening, Dad!” Peter lied with a laugh as he pulled his head away from yours, letting you rest against his shoulder.

“That’s what I thought! Now, I better be the only grandpa on this side of the family! You better not be asking Steve to be anything but an uncle; the same goes for the rest of the team! And while we’re on the topic, I still stick with my belief that ‘grandpa’ makes me sound old and uncool. I’m thinking Pops? Is Pops good with you guys?”

You couldn’t help but laugh into Peter’s shirt at Tony’s way of showing enthusiasm.

“Grandpa Pops! Got it!” Peter replied.

“Watch it, Parker! I will resign from my grandfatherly position, effective immediately, if your kid calls me Grandpa Pops!”

Peter had nothing to say after that, only joyful laughter escaping his lips. You lifted your head and mindlessly brushed a stray curl off of Peter’s forehead.

“I don’t know,” you quietly said with a small shrug and mischievous grin. “I think Grandpa Pops has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“The day our little girl calls Tony ‘Grandpa Pops’ is the day hell freezes over and he kills us both,” Peter responded with a chuckle.

“Little girl?” you repeated quietly, your heart skipping a beat at Peter’s slip up.

Peter blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh...yeah.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Did your spidey senses tell you that, too?”

His cheeks turned even darker, but his smile grew. “No,” he replied. “Just a feeling.”

Your heart jumped again and you pulled Peter down for a kiss, ignoring Tony’s one-sided attempt at a conversation.

“I think it’s a girl, too,” you whispered with a smile against his lips. Peter grinned at that and pulled you in for another kiss, one hand delicately cupping your face and the other resting protectively over the small bump that would soon be your entire world.

“Hey, as long as that baby’s around we’re keeping it PG in this household!” Tony scolded, and you giggled, pulling away from your husband’s lips.

You expected Peter to blush and stutter like he always did when you were caught showing PDA, so you were caught by surprise when he instead rolled his eyes, said, “Oh, screw off, old man,” and kissed you again, this time lasting much longer than before. It was your turn to blush, but that soon went away along with Tony’s indignant sputtering as Pepper led him back into the kitchen.

Now it was just you and Peter and baby—your baby—and with another skipping of your heart, you realized this was your future. Not nervously listening for knocks on the door that would no doubt tell you your husband was dead. Not failing to calm down your crying child because they just wanted their dad and didn’t understand why he hadn’t held them in so long. Not figuring out how to be both a single mother and a widow in mourning.

No—your future was filled with tender kisses and ‘I love you’s and bright smiles in the mornings, fake gags when your child saw your tender kisses, sleepy yawns as they responded with ‘I love you, too’s, and giggles as they ate the Mickey Mouse shaped pancake on their plate.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter murmured, and it wasn’t until he said something that you noticed you’d stopped kissing him. You wondered how long he’d been watching you.

“Our future,” you responded quietly with a small smile.

A smile spread over his lips too as well, and he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathily laughed, looking into the brown eyes you were determined to love for the rest of your life. You raised a hand to brush over his cheek, letting yourself memorize the feel of the smooth skin. “Our future.”

Peter took your hand from his cheek and interlaced your fingers, lowering them down to his lap. He placed a small kiss on your forehead, then on the tip of your nose, then slowly connected his mouth to yours. “Our future,” he whispered against your lips. “I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” you said with a grin, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, moving your interlocked hands to rest over your stomach. “Our future: you, me, our little girl, and whatever impossible things life decides to throw at us next.”

“Like calling Tony Grandpa Pops?” you grinned

Peter chuckled and closed his eyes, brushing his nose against yours. “I love you, Y/N Parker.”

Even after two years of marriage your heart still jolted at being called the Parker name, and, quite frankly, you didn’t think your reaction would be any different sixty years from now. Because sixty years from now you would still love Peter as much as you did yesterday and still be wondering what you did to deserve such a pure, beautiful soul. Because sixty years from now your children would be all grown up and you’d be left with much, much more than what you have now, and your love for your husband would have multiplied tenfold over the years.

Because sixty years from now you’d both be in your rocking chairs sitting the same way you are now, saying your ‘I love you’s knowing that each one could be your last but not regretting a single thing.

“I love you, too, Peter Benjamin Parker,” you whispered, your eyes closing and your hand squeezing his. “I love you, too.”

---

Promises Tag List: @mintaeroandmerlin @thehollandfam @trumpettay @ganggangganggg @secretagentben @rayanismybae* @yellowkenyon97 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @shewhoshallnotswear @slytherpuffyy @mutuallynotmutual* @the-kylialovesyou @babebenhardy @lilbeatlebear @obsessive-fangirl44

Permanent Tag List: @lemirabitur @my-meant-to-find-blog @jongindeepbreath @tomspideyweb @farfromjustordinary @tomsstarlight @delicately-written @catstielanddeanthedog @tom-holland-and-textposts @spiderman-n @wtfholland @hollandandi @starsholland @celestialparker @beautiful-holland @spideycentral-1 @laurfangirl424 @laureharrier @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @smexylemony @antifaspiderman @trashqueenbitch @fireboltrose7559 @propertyofmarvel @perhaps-he-schnapped @ofserien @mariemrose @toxic-pineapple @chewymoustachio @captainstartights

72 notes · View notes

emeraldtawny · 5 years

Text

Edgar x OC (Eleanor): Masquerade (Pt.4/5)

Eleagar returns!!! And they have a ship name because people were asking about that so here ya go yaaaaay~!

This one is more fluff than angst because I felt bad torturing them so much last time. I tried I really did to fit what I wanted to say into this chapter...but it’s already 2k words so IT’S A PENTALOGY BABY! Next part will happen...eventually. Gotta write request fics too >:P

What happened afterwards can only be described as organised chaos. In the span of two days, Eleanor packs the few valuable items that she gives sentimental value to and abandons her home, leaving no trace of her existence behind. Through the entire affair, Edgar was always there. He helped in destroying any evidence of her life, running any information networks he could dry. He couldn’t delve too deeply of course, lest his uncle caught wind of what he was doing; he always said never to let his pawns too close, but Eleanor wasn’t a pawn, she was...well, he couldn’t say for certain what she was, only what he wanted for her.

(I want her to be safe. To keep her stained hands concealed so she won’t be subject to judgement.)

All the while, her gaze would always wander unknowingly back to the man keeping his eye out for her. At first, she resisted, saying that his help wasn’t necessary in erasing her name, but he insisted and was very persuasive. She knew she could have resisted him, but she found herself caught in his pull, like a magnetic attraction and one she couldn’t lightly brush off as she had done so many times to others in her life. His eyes shone when he expressed his desire to help, herself doubting the clarity in his irises, unsure if he was telling the truth despite the evidence staring directly at her.

(You really want to help me? Is it because I’m like you? Because I’m pathetic and shroud myself in sin and lies? Or...do I dare say it’s for an entirely different reason?)

She ventures no further into that train of thought, not willing to present her heart to the light just to have it blocked out and denied from her. They both learned young to never hope for anything, to simply exist as what they need to be, to let their strings be pulled accordingly by those who know much better than they do - so they’re both blind to the small flickers of light flaring in their souls, reaching towards each other like a beacon. Neither has ever truly opened their heart...because neither knows how.

Shoes crack softly against cobblestone as the two sinners walk side by side through Red Territory. Edgar had informed the Red Army of a “special friend” who needed accommodating, which King Lancelot gracefully agreed to. With most of her belongings already having been sent ahead by carriage, Eleanor carries a single handbag and she clutches it tightly, the fabric of her thin, white lace gloves constricting tighter to her flesh from the tension. Edgar lets his eyes fall from the top of her head to her feet, admiring her natural makeup and her elegant loose side braid cascading down her right shoulder. Her white blouse is tucked into her lilac skirt flowing down to her ankles, the tips of her boots only emerging when she kicks her feet forward to walk. Despite the welcome distraction of her impeccable presentation, his jade pools always return to her contrasting lavender depths, the tightness in her gaze as she keeps her head forward telling.

“You seem nervous.”

All that earns him is a twitch of her eyebrow, “That’s because I am nervous, you arsehole.”

“You’re using swearing as a defence mechanism again. That’s a horrible habit to have.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Edgar smiles, humming out a chuckle through closed lips, causing Eleanor to huff an annoyed sigh at his apparent enjoyment of her foreign feeling of nervousness. The walk remains devoid of other conversation, both knowing that idle chatter will relieve neither of them from their inner thoughts. Edgar’s eyes skim over the landscape, the scenery the same as usual. Until a small bushel of daisies catches his eye, the small white petals dancing softly, bobbing back and forth with the wind in a joyful dance. After a moment of thought, Edgar’s feet detour towards the flowers, Eleanor stopping in confusion and watching him. He reaches down and plucks a few daisies free from the earth, ensuring their stems remain long and unsnapped when he removes them from the soil. He returns to stand before Eleanor, only needing to crane his head down a little to meet her eyes, the top of her head level with Edgar’s eyes.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

The edge in her words doesn’t match her eyes as she appraises him, her gaze softening at the genuinely caring glint in his eyes. Without a word, his hand reaches up to softly take her braid into his hold, letting his thumb trace over the bumps of her braid.

“Edgar?”

Her confused voice has his smile widening. With gentle hands, he grabs a daisy and begins to expertly weave the delicate stem into her hair following the flow of the braid, only stopping when the flower is all that is seen. Eleanor’s mouth gapes open but she doesn’t protest, silently watching Edgar as he weaves each daisy into her hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She can feel the beginnings of blush on her cheeks, completely captivated by his instant expertise and unbearably tender care with each caress.

Once he’s done, he nods with satisfaction at his work, Eleanor’s braid resembling a chestnut brown vine growing small yet beautiful white flowers. She reaches up hesitantly to brush her gloved finger over one daisy, its fragile petals accepting of her touch.

“...Thanks, Edgar.”

“My pleasure.”

Two sets of eyes - both brimming with affection - scream their emotions to each other, but neither has any idea of the weight behind the swirling emotions in their chests, or just how deep these feelings clutch their hearts and course through their veins. With the weight of apprehension within her lifted with Edgar’s help, the two continue towards the Red Army barracks.

Getting Eleanor settled into her own room was easy enough, yet Edgar could still feel the nerves radiating off of her as she mechanically put everything in its proper place. Just as she finished, he slinks up behind her and grabs hold of her shoulders. She doesn’t jump, almost like she was expecting his touch.

“I can still read your emotions, you know.”

Despite the teasing implication behind his words, they’re spoken soothingly, his fingers kneading her shoulders softly, the subtle rustling of her blouse rubbing against her skin distracting her thoughts.

“...I can’t exactly stay calm right now.”

His smile falls at her hopeless words, but he just as quickly brightens back up again, “Not with that attitude. You don’t need to do anything else except relax. You’re safe here. I’m with you.”

She tilts her chin down to hide the smile shaping her face at his words. With a soft couple of pats to her now loosened shoulders, Edgar removes his hands and wraps one hand around to pull gently on her arm.

“Come on. I’ll have to introduce you to the others or I’ll never hear the end of their complaints.”

A short laugh puffs out of her lips, letting herself be pulled by the Jack of Hearts through the door and out into the hallway. Stealing glances at him every chance she can, Eleanor mutters under her breath, unconcerned if Edgar did happen to pick up on what she says,

“Why do I want to believe you so badly? And...why do I feel safe when you’re with me?”

She shrugs the thoughts off quickly as Edgar opens the doors to the dining hall, the Red Army officers waiting at the table. Edgar gently squeezes her arm and Eleanor takes a deep breath before they step fully into the room.

…

“Well, they were nicer than I thought they’d be about a neutral standing commoner staying in their barracks.”

“The situation called for it, so of course they’d agree to it. I was not expecting how quickly you would fit in, however. I’ve never seen Kyle so excited to talk to anyone.”

They had retired from the dining hall after dinner and introductions to Eleanor’s room, Edgar having offered to help unpack her things. They now sit on the bed recounting the evening.

“He asked me how I felt about alcohol. When I told him that my liver has been waving a white flag since I was legal enough to drink but still do it, the questions kept coming, from my favourite drinks to offers to join him at the pub. I think he needs to see someone about that.”

Edgar chuckles, “Ah, so that’s why he whispered “she’s a keeper” to me in the middle of dinner.”

The two share a conserved laugh at that, the sound fading as the words sink in. Eleanor fidgets awkwardly, attempting to get the words she wants to say out into the open.

“Do they, um...think we’re a couple?”

Edgar shrugs non-committedly, but the subtle twitch in his fingertips is not lost to Eleanor’s keen eyes, “I believe they do.”

Silence again. More shuffling of limbs unsure of where to stay put increasing the awkward atmosphere. After an unbearable eternity, Eleanor sighs exasperatedly and turns to face Edgar.

“Okay, seriously. What are we? We’re not a couple, but we certainly spend a lot of time together and I always feel weird when I’m with you, but--argh! I don’t know!”

After blinking in shock, Edgar grins, Eleanor’s eyebrows furrowing as he puts on his emotionless mask.

“You certainly surprise me sometimes with the things going on in that little head of yours, Eleanor. There’s no point--”

“Yes. There is.” She cuts him off swiftly, shuffling across the bed so their legs are touching. Edgar baulks and tries to create space between them, but Eleanor grabs his arm, holding him captive.

“Answer me Edgar, and answer me honestly; do you not feel...different right now?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues, “Like there’s someone strangling your heart, but it feels strangely good yet you want it to stop at the same time? Or that you feel like your blood is about to burst from your veins? Or, or…”

She bites her tongue, gripping Edgar’s arm tighter. Casting her purple eyes to the floor, a shadow falls over her fair face, causing Edgar’s heart to clench like what she just described. Then, as if nothing had happened, she forges a smile, one that would be convincing if it wasn’t directed at Edgar.

“I’m sorry, forget I said anything. It must be my nerves getting the better of me and--”

“I do. All of those things...I feel them all.”

Her breath catches, her gaze shooting up to lock with his. With a trembling hand, he reaches out and brushes a lock of her bangs behind her ear.

“I feel comforted by you, because you understand me and what my life entails. I can never show my face to the light, and neither can you. Maybe we just gravitated towards each other because we know the other understands us.”

With a frown and an equally trembling hand, Eleanor lets the back of her finger trace Edgar’s cheekbone.

“Mm-” He halts, that uneasy yet welcome feeling bubbling inside of him, her finger leaving a streak of fire across his skin.

“You really think it’s just that?” Her finger continues its path, moving to trace along the line of his jaw towards his chin, “We’re just relying on each other because we know darkness better than any other?”

“I--” Edgar pauses, the soft pressure of Eleanor’s finger against his skin drawing complicated emotions he has never felt to his attention, disrupting his thoughts. His hand traces the curve of her ear, eliciting the softest shiver across her skin and pricking her cheeks with heat.

The two remain locked in this cycle, unmoving aside from their touches to the other’s skin, watching with fascination at the responses they yield. Each shiver, each blush, each small noise drawn out of them - what does it mean? Neither is entirely certain, but the rushing of their bloodstreams and the torrent of emotions wringing their hearts like a wet cloth tell them the only thing they need to know: the person before them is one they wish to treasure, black heart and all.

#ikerev #ikerev fanfic #edgar bright #original character #masquerade #ah yes...figuring out feelings #I hope I made it cutesy enough to balance out the pain~!

20 notes · View notes

sunlitroom · 6 years

Text

Gotham s4e14 - The Sinking Ship, The Grand Applause

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

Previously on Gotham:

Oswald faked Martin’s death to keep him safe. Jim arrested Oswald for his murder. Victor is a lying traitor. Sofia played Jim for a dupe. I screwed up, Harve. Oh – Jesus – no, not the bit with Lee’s hand again. Ivy’s brief reign of terror. Oswald uses Riddler to plan an escape

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

An abandoned-looking house in the city. Martin sits with his back against the fireplace, guarded by hulking men, at whom he stares balefully while sketching them hanged in his little pad. As he turns the page to start a fresh sketch, he finds the next page has a message.

Do you want to escape?

He looks round quickly before reading and following the rest of the instructions. Going into an equally abandoned looking kitchen on the pretence of using the bathroom, he turns the gas on, and returns to the living room.

The men quickly smell gas. Martin smiles. They pull their guns before going to check more. The next message in Martin’s pad tells him to plug his ears. As he does, we see a missile glide through the kitchen window. There’s a huge explosion in the kitchen. Martin sees a figure emerging from the smoke in the hall who turns out to be Ed. ‘Uncle Penguin’ sent him, and now they’re going to get ice cream.

Cherry’s is under new management. In the ring in the centre of the club, we see Samson brutally beating a man. There’s not much in the way of cheering. Lee approaches cautiously, a hood covering her face.

Samson is boasting about how he’s in charge and he collects protection. We see the man’s terrified family watching from the crowd. He begs Samson,

Please, my family…..

Samson replies

Do I look like an animal?

He tells the man he won’t hurt his family, and promptly shoots him in the head. His family scream and surge towards the ring, horrified.

In the crowd – Lee is aghast. She leaves quietly.

GCPD. Harvey and Jim are in what is now Jim’s office. I wonder if Jim considers how much it might gall Harvey to sit in that office on the other side of the desk, given the circumstances?

Jim tells Harvey that before Don Falcone died, he warned him that he had no idea what he had brought to the city. Jim says he knows now that he was talking about Pyg. Jim says someone must have told him about Pyg, and that person also has evidence linking Sofia to Pyg.

Harvey asks Jim why he doesn’t just come forward with what he has. Jim wriggles, and says that it would just be his word against Sofia’s. Harvey’s visibly impatient with him, and says he’s just afraid that it will bring him down too. Jim says Harvey can be pissed at him, but that this is bigger than both of them.

He puts Harvey’s badge on the table and says he needs to know he can count on him. I dunno, Jim, I think you were still wearing your badge when you screwed Harvey over, so I don’t really think it’s a magical talisman, or anything.

Harvey takes the badge and says he hopes they take down Sofia – but he still wants Jim to pay. He adds that he knows a former Falcone assassin, the Scandinavian Skinner, and he wants to go find them. Jim makes to rise from his chair to join him, but Harvey brushes him off.

(An aside. This is the set-up for the later revelation that Mr Penn was apparently a crucial mole that the narrative never for a moment hinted at back in the first half of the season. It’s several kinds of lazy. It also ruins that lovely line of Carmine’s

You have no idea what you’ve brought to this city

At the time, that line sounded like it was about Sofia (I suspect it was, tbh, and this is a retcon to fill a plot hole). Carmine was finally acknowledging how dangerous his daughter was – out of her earshot, and right before she killed him. It carried a lot of weight. Now – it’s some stupid reference to Pyg, who Carmine apparently knew about all along. There, too, goes Jim and Harvey’s (and the show’s) weird notion that Carmine Falcone had some better code of honour than the other criminals. If he knew about Pyg and did nothing, then he was complicit.)

At Wayne Manor, there is a ruckus in the kitchen. Cans of food are rolling across the floor. Bruce approaches warily to find Selina rifling through cupboards, looking for something to eat. She said she needs help. Bruce clarifies that she needs money. She wants to get back something she fenced. Bruce asks why she doesn’t ask Barbara Kean, but Selina says she doesn’t want Barbara involved.

She promises him she’ll pay him back, and tells him that it’s the stuff she took from Roland Charles. Bruce realises she feels bad and tells her he’ll get the money. He also tells her there’s oatmeal cookies in the blue tin. He leaves, and Selina smiles – but still seems troubled.

At Arkham, a yelling Oswald is being dragged to some kind of guard’s station, where he’s told he has a message. We can see what looks like lots of Victorian maids in the background. Maybe that will be relevant later in Jerome and Jervis’ breakout.

The guard delivers a riddle, the answer to which is ‘knuckle sandwich’. Oswald receives a whopping punch in the face.

Harvey enters a delicatessen. We hear children laughing and playing, looking at sweets

Hello Agnes

The Skinner, it turns out, is an old lady – who tells Bullock she’s now retired. She looks away from him briefly to tell the children not to ruin their dinner. They promise her – apparently their grandma – that they won’t

Harvey says they’re looking for someone who might have acted as Falcone's eyes and ears when he was down south. She asks why she should tell him. He says they have a history, but she remarks that ‘history’ got her four years in a gulag.

Harvey threatens to tell her grandchildren about her past, and goes so far as to call to the children. She caves fast. She says Falcone only ever trusted the book-keeper who smelled of fish – but she heard he vanished. Harvey leaves.

(An aside. It’s debatable whether he would have gone through with it, but having Harvey use the woman’s grandchildren as a threat seemed ooc unsympathetic for him.

Was ‘Agnes Skinner’ a Simpsons reference?)

At the Falcone mansion, Sofia is throwing a tantrum about Martin’s disappearance. She sends Victor to Arkham to kill Oswald – knowing that this is the only leverage she has over him. Victor asks if he can take HeadHunter. Sofia doesn’t care, as long as Oswald dies choking on his own blood.

Harvey is also at Arkham, asking for Oswald. He finds him in the infirmary. Oswald sits up when he approaches – not clear whether this is somehow part of the escape plan. Harvey tells him (sarcastically? Not sure. Sometimes there’s an odd amiability in cop/criminal encounters in this show – but Harvey is generally angry in this episode) that it’s good to see him.

There’s a scream outside. Harvey runs out to investigate. It’s Victor and HH, looking for Oswald. Victor remarks that he though Bullock stopped being a cop, but it clearly didn’t take. He reintroduces HH to Harvey as Wendell.

Harvey tells them to walk away – but Victor says they can't. They draw their guns. I’m still generally cross at Victor – but good god those shoulder holsters do things to me.

Victor tells Harvey to step aside and he can live to get drunk another day. (this is the weird kind of amiability and sense of an actual relationship I was referring to earlier).

Suddenly, alarms start to go off. Harvey looks back. Victor and Wendell decide to try again later. An announcement comes over the tannoy system that Oswald has escaped. Harvey runs back into the infirmary. Patients there are yelling and hitting their own heads at the sound of the alarm, because this show’s depiction of Arkham just continues to plumb new depths every damn time.

Harvey looks out the window. He sees Oswald heading for a van, and Ed, leaping about like a giant grasshopper, shooting his gun into the air

Nygma

(An aside – we never actually hear how Ed broke Oswald out, because it doesn’t really make any sense that Oswald couldn’t manage it alone. He survived on his wits alone in season one – Oswald managed to negotiate his way out of a car that was seconds away from being crushed. He bested Ed last season. He managed to wrangle success from the Tetch virus mess. But to shove the plot along, he’s handed the idiot ball here.)

My wrists hurt and this bit was not wildly interesting. Bruce and Selina go back to the shop where she fenced the stolen goods, get into a big fight, make up, flirt a little, and then leave.

A street on the Narrows. Ed says he knew that Sofia would send hitmen when she learned Martin was gone. Oswald anxiously asks how he is. Ed says he’s snug as a bug in a rug. Oswald’s face lights up to hear that Martin is safe.

Ed hands Oswald his hat, and wants to boast about how he found Martin, which somehow involved Victor loving disco and Ed dressing up as an old Polish woman. Oswald, however, is not interested – and says they need a powerbase to fight Sofia. Ed smiles and says he knows – loosening his tie.

A makeshift office somewhere in the Narrows, where Lee is sitting at a desk. The door opens, and she pulls a gun – understandably wary. It’s Ed – posing as whatever iteration of himself he was before, I’ve virtually given up at this point. Lee smiles – genuinely happy to see him.

You're back. How are you doing?

Worlds better

He spots her hand, and asks what happened to it. There’s an interesting little break here. His voice when he asks the question is feigned – because he’s still pretending to be old Ed, but that only serves to underline the contrast with him quickly noticing that something had happened to her hand, and the look of concern, which seem genuine in comparison.

Lee said that Sofia smashed her hand with a hammer.

Together we can get that bitch back. She can't take everything we built.

Ed straightens his tie and calls to Oswald, saying that Lee can’t help them. A confused Lee asks what’s happening. Oswald tells her about their deal.

I let him out of his cage, he let me out of mine

Lee stares at Ed.

You're him. The Riddler

Ed stares back at her as he puts his hat on. Lee looks him up and down.

He says was hoping she was still running The Narrows and could help – but he guesses not. He’s still staring at her saying this and straightening his tie, even as Oswald tugs on his sleeve, and impatiently asks what they’re going to do now.

Walking away from the desk, Ed says he has a backup plan. He wants Victor Fries to put Oswald in a block of ice, and to offer him as a gift to Sofia – like a trojan horse. Oswald laughs incredulously and tells him to try again.

Lee walks over to them, and tells them to let her help. They continue to bicker and ignore her. She looks indignantly at Ed. Lee was infuriated to be overlooked during the Tetch debacle, too – so her annoyance here is consistent with her character.

You think I can't handle it

I know you can't

Lee holds up her hand. Ed’s eyes are again conflicted when confronted with her injury.

Look what she did to me. I will pull the trigger on that bitch myself

Ed says that’s tough talk, but only talk.

An impatient Oswald stops their squabbling, and says that they need muscle. Lee smiles and agrees with him

I can tell you where to look.

They both start paying attention to her. Ed and Lee decide to lock eyes again.

Don't you think he misses you?

As she says this, she smiles at Ed, who catches on and smiles back. Oswald asks who she’s talking about. Neither acknowledges his question.

(An aside. There’s quite a lot in that scene. Ed superficially discounts Lee’s usefulness in the scheme to oust Sofia, since she’s lost The Narrows – but there was an awful lot of conflicted glancing at her hand. In fact, there was an awful lot of staring at each other in general. The smiles they shared at the end were also private – reminding us that they now have a close relationship and shared history.)

Ed is in the sewer, yelling for Grundy – saying he’s his best friend and pal, and smart again, and generally prancing about, enjoying the fact that there’s an echo. Ed is such an ass.

Butch approaches him. Ed condescendingly tells him he’s corralling allies to kill Sofia, and they need

A galoot like you for cannon fodder

He frowns, realising Butch looks different, and asks why he’s looking at him like that. Butch growls

Oh dear.

Butch says he’s not the only one who got smart. Ed fumbles saying that he helped him

Ed put out fire. Ed help Grundy

Butch says he’s not Ed anymore, and he’s not Grundy.

Back at Lee's. She’s relaxed, feet on the desk, waiting for Ed to come back to move on to the next stage of the plan. Oswald, meantime, is pacing, convinced that Ed has betrayed him already.

Lee tells him to calm down. Oswald snaps not to tell him to calm down, she has no idea what he’s been through. Lee calmly tells him that Ed will be here, and they will make Sofia pay. Interestingly, Lee doesn’t seem wary of the Riddler persona at all. The trust she has for Ed carries over – which raises the question of whether Lee now simply sees him as an integrated persona.

An agitated Oswald says he can't wait, and storms out. Lee rolls her eyes.

Jim and Harvey walking down a street in the Narrows. Harvey is wondering aloud how Ed got in touch with Oswald anyway. It’s called a plot contrivance, Harvey.

Jim looks annoyingly crisp and smart in his suit when I'm still mad at him. He’s told Harvey that the best way to find Oswald and Ed is to find Lee. As they head down the street, Oswald approaches. Jim and Harvey draws their guns

Or we could talk to Oswald right now

Oswald smashes a bottle and points it at them in warning. He asks what they’re doing there.

Harvey says they’re looking for an Arkham escapee, about so tall, limp, and a mommy complex.

Oswald manages to look so livid that he’s tearful

(An aside - Go take a fuck to yourself, Harvey. What on earth was that nastiness about? Aside from being mean and unnecessary – it’s not really in-character for Harvey. His first comment on encountering Oswald at the big showdown with Theo – in the midst of all the mayhem – was to tell Oswald he was ‘sorry about his mom’. So what’s this?)

Oswald tells Jim that the trumped up charges he used to put him away have lost their teeth – Martin is safe and well. Jim says if that’s the case, then produce him.

(An aside – Wow, Jim is capable of some mental contortions. So, he probably didn’t think Oswald actually killed Martin, but decided that the accusation was enough to justify arresting him, and even though he likely didn’t really believe the accusation himself, fell back on needing evidence to exonerate him)

Oswald quickly retorts no – Martin’s not safe until Sofia has been dealt with

Jim looks wide-eyed at Oswald’s statement. Why would he be surprised that Oswald wants revenge on Sofia? Anyway.

I think you and I both want the same thing, Oswald. We both want Sofia to go away.

(An aside – he’s falling back on the same line he used with Harvey: ‘yes I fucked up, but hey, we both have bigger fish to fry, so please forgive me and let’s not dwell on my fuck up’

Oswald says if that’s the case

Then turn around and walk away - let me do what I do

Jim can’t have that, though – he wants her in jail

Harvey and Jim mention Penn, and Oswald's eyes bulge with rage. He screams incoherently

That little weasel was working for her

Harvey tells him Penn worked for Carmine for years, and tells Oswald he needs to address his management style. Oswald isn’t listening, on another level of rage now, chanting to himself.

I’m gonna kill him

Jim approaches him, lowering his gun.

Oswald, Oswald - calm down.

Bizarrely, after everything that’s gone on between them– and there is a lot of everything – Jim’s voice manages to break through Oswald’s rage, and Oswald makes eye contact. Jim says they can make a deal. If Oswald tells them where to find Penn, then he’ll let him walk away.

There’s a long pained look, before Oswald says.

I don't believe you

(I ship this - so you can take it or leave it - but imo, part of Oswald looking pained in that moment was because he wants so much to trust Jim, and hates that he now can’t immediately do that)

Harvey interrupts and says that Sofia sent Victor to Arkham to kill him. She runs the Narrows now, and she’ll find him.

Jim and Oswald look at each other. Oswald drops his bottle and they face each other without weapons. Apparently there’s a specialist spa that Penn visits, and he’s probably hiding there.

Oswald walks past them. As he does, Jim says his name. He turns to face him. Oswald’s face looks raw and vulnerable. Jim actually manages a sincere thank-you, and extends his hand.

Oswald’s face softens, and he looks down at Jim’s hand, and - taking it – smiles.

Unfortunately Harvey Interruptus chooses this time to start going by the book, and cuffs him

Oswald yells they had a deal. Jim asks Harvey what he's doing, and Harvey says he didn’t agree to anything. Oswald yells as they walk away.

Lee watches from the shadows

As they get to the car, Oswald is still furious, but Jim tells him to relax, and that if the Penn info is good then he’ll still be rid of Sofia.

Victor and Wendell appear across the street. Jim quickly shoves Oswald into the car, which was technically protective, and so I’m taking it as a shippy moment and you can’t stop me.

Victor apparently has the sharpest hearing in the world, since he heard them mention Penn’s name from across the road. There’s a bit of back and forth, where they realise Penn is important.

A big shoot out happens, during which Lee swoops in and steals Oswald and the car. Victor and Wendell shoot after her before giving up. Jim tells Harvey they need to find Penn, and also need to find a car.

(An aside - Oh, Oswald. Your easy forgiveness here makes my fic writing life much much easier, but…sweetie, really. You have a very big Jim Gordon shaped blind spot. Between this, and calming down when Jim spoke to him, and making a beeline for him when he was infected with the fear serum, it seems that Oswald still sees Jim as a ‘safe’ person.)

At Sirens, Barbara has a terrible, terrible headache. She throws back a pill as Tabitha approaches, asking if it’s another migraine. Barbara nods, before asking what that stink is.

It’s Butch approaching, dragging Ed. There’s some back and forth nastiness, where Barbara realises that Butch is himself again. Which, interestingly, means that Tabitha didn’t share that information. Out of a sense of shame at her response to him? Wanting to protect him? Not having as close a relationship with Barbara anymore?

Butch tells them that Ed tried to recruit him to fight Sofia, so he brought him to Tabitha as a gift, after the whole hand amputation business. Why does this show hate hands so much? Oswald got a brooch pin through his, Butch got his cut off with a machete, Ed guillotined Tabitha’s, and Lee got hers mangled.

Anyway, Butch turns to leave. Tabitha calls after him

Don't just walk away again

What? Why wouldn’t he? Tabitha’s response to his reaffirming his feelings for her made pretty clear that she wasn’t interested anymore – and she didn’t complain when he left last time. Are we supposed to have forgotten that? I start to share Barbara’s headache.

Butch promises Tabitha that he’ll find a way to get back to what he was. Like – seriously, aside from the hair and skin, what’s the big problem here? Why is Butch living in the sewer, anyway? Some foundation and hair dye and he’s good to go. Butch, 99% of your trouble here is that your sleeves are too short and give you that weird ‘monster suit’ look. Just go see a tailor.

Butch leaves, kicking Ed as he does so. Tabitha watches him. Tabitha is wearing a seriously terrible satin shirt with weird, weird sleeves. If anyone should be living in the sewer, far from society’s gaze, it’s her in that shirt.

Barbara, meantime, grabs her head again – almost collapsing against the bar. Tabitha asks if she’s OK. Well – clearly not, Tabitha. Barbara says they should send him back to Sofia. She’ll torture him, Lee’s allies are gone, the rebellion is quelled. Once Sofia doesn’t need Ed, she’ll kill him. Same end result, less work.

(An aside – sorry, not remotely believable that Tabitha would pass up the chance to torture Ed herself. She’s generally sadistic, and enjoys torture – and she loathes Ed for what he did to her and Butch. But now she’ll hand him over? Nope.)

Back at the Falcone mansion, Sofia is pissed to hear that Oswald isn’t dead yet. She’s dialling the phone when Victor mentions Penn’s name, and goes very still. She says they have to find Penn before Gordon does. Victor asks which to prioritise, and she tells them to do both.

(An aside. Sofia’s temper and demands in this episode are another nice parallel with Oswald. It’s a reminder that the relationship was worth exploring and keeping a little more grey in terms of their similarities and understanding.)

Back at some location in The Narrows, Oswald thanks Lee for coming to his rescue. Lee tells him not to bother, she needs him to get to Sofia. Well, at least she's honest with him. Oswald sarcastically replies

Touching

Oswald can't believe they’re doing this without Ed and Butch – this plan will likely get him killed. Ah – so they’re at Victor Fries’ lair. Lee says she doesn't care, as long as it puts Sofia in the ground, and Oswald's jaw drops.

Victor F enters the room. Now my jaw drops, because good God, is Victor F in fine shape. He’s also cross at Oswald because he didn't follow through with funding him. We see him from another angle. I’m so happy.

Oswald smiles, and says that the failure to fund him was an omission he regrets and will rectify if given the chance

Victor opens a tap on a gas canister and sprays himself with something to cool himself down.

Oswald moves to investigate something in the makeshift lab. Victor grabs his arm to stop him

Don't touch that

Lee tells him he needs money for research, and Sofia wants Oswald. If he delivers her, then he can name his price. Victor hands him something. He says it’s short notice – but the best he can do. Oswald turns to Lee and starts to say if this affects his brain the way it did Nygma’s then it’ll be a disaster. He can’t afford….

We don’t know what he can’t afford, because Victor cuts in

Ready?

Oswald splutters. Victor doesn’t listen.

I don't care

Victor freezes him in a block, like he did Ed.

(An aside - I know, by this point, that I’m essentially on a hiding to nothing if I wonder about logic and reasoning – but why didn’t Oswald fund Victor? He knows what he’s capable of. He’s greedy for allies. Did he just not have the funds required? Did he never really intend to do it all (again, confusing, given how useful Victor could be to him). Did he forget? It’s not a big detail but – again – it fleshes things out to know.)

(Another aside – I think I need some of that cooling gas canister stuff. Wow.)

At Wayne Manor, Selina roots through the jewellery while Bruce ices his knuckles. She wants him to return it and he twigs that’s why she came. It wasn’t about the money. He clearly and carefully tells her that she didn’t kill Roland Charles, Ivy did. But Selina is guilty and ashamed. She asks what she’s supposed to say, ‘sorry’? Bruce says sometimes that’s enough, and they look at each other.

At the Falcone mansion, we hear drill sounds. The dentist we met before is torturing Ed. He comments that his strength of mind is impressive. Sofia pats Ed’s shoulder, and tells him he will tell her what she wants to know, or this will look like a pleasant dream

Ed laughs, and says OK

I can be done with the teeth, the eyes or the mind - what am I?

I can be humorous, but I’m never funny - what am I?

Sofia stabs him in the thigh with a scalpel, and demands to know where Oswald is.

Ed laughs and tells her he already did – but she’s too stupid to figure it out

Sofia jiggles the scapel in his leg. Ow ow ow. Ed screams in earnest. They’re interrupted – they have a visitor.

It’s Victor F – with a frozen Oswald. Ed turns and laughs – amused that they’ve gone through with his plan after all, and no doubt somewhat tickled to see Oswald in a block of ice.

Sofia asks if Oswald is alive. Victor F responds that he might be, and asks for a hundred grand. She agrees quickly. Should have asked for more, Victor.

The other hot Victor enters as he leaves, eyeballs frozen Oswald, and says he’s not even going to ask – but tells her they found Penn. A delighted Sofia kisses his forehead. She tells the other thugs present to take Ed to the docks, shoot him, and throw him in the river. Why does anyone bother doing this in this town? It’s the least successful murder spot in the city.

She smiles brightly and bounces out of the room

Let’s go get Mr Penn

Victor follows, grinning like the cat who got the cream. Wendell knocks warily at Oswald’s ice cube.

Jim and Harvey arrive at the Sumka spa. They walk into a main hall. Harvey speaks

What fresh level of hell is this?

Oh dear. Not to judge – but this is a lot of no.

Jim says they’re looking for Arthur Penn. The nurse says they try to guarantee anonymity. They spot Penn trying to escape. I’d rather exit this scene quickly without the need for description – so Harvey and Jim escort him out. The end.

At the Falcone Mansion, Oswald defrosts. Once out, he screams incoherently at the dentist about he must have been working for Sofia too. He asks where she is, before walloping him hard on the head and screaming in rage.

Lee is in the car. She answers her phone and asks excitedly if it’s done. Oswald tells her that Sofia left the mansion and is on her way to stop Jim. He tells her to meet him at the spa and they’ll kill Sofia together. That’s a bonding experience right there.

Ending the call – he spots Ed’s bowler on the table. The dentist tells him Ed wouldn't turn on him (but did he actually reveal his location through his compulsive riddling? Did anyone solve the riddles? I’m terrible at it). Oswald asks where he is now. The dentist tells him they’re at the docks, and Oswald has a visible internal back and forth on whether to go immediately to kill Sofia, or go to the docks to prevent Ed from being murdered.

Back at the spa with Jim and Harvey. Apparently, Penn worked for Falcone. He asked him to keep eye on Sofia. She found out, and made a deal – he had to report on Oswald. Harvey expresses distaste at his triple-dealing, and Penn indignantly tells him it’s how you stay alive. Sofia would let him live as long as her kept her one step ahead. She also asked him to put her in touch with Pyg - so he did, and then told Falcone right away.

Jim tells him they need a statement, but they’re interrupted by the arrival of Victor and Sofia. There’s lots of shooting. Sofia is wearing a terrible outfit – that soft pink trench-coat again, and high waisted white trousers.

There’s general mayhem, and Jim gets shot. He tells Harvey to get Penn out of there – he can make it until backup arrives.

Sofia advances, calling for him

James Gordon. We could have had a good thing, you and I - but you had to go and ruin it

Jim reiterates that Harvey should go, and makes it an order. Sofia tells her men to find Penn and get Gordon.

Jim stumble/runs into the kitchen. He takes another shot, from Sofia this time. He turns to shoot her, but he’s out of bullets, and staggers away, as Sofia follows.

Outside, Harvey passes Lee as he’s taking Penn away. Lee calmly strides past him, asking where Sofia is. Harvey says she’s in there with Jim. Lee doesn’t deviate pace or fluster, just tells him to take the car as she walks on. Harvey calls after her that Jim’s hurt bad.

Nearby, Victor and Wendell decide that the day’s more or less over at this point, and they should go get a milkshake.

Jim is stumbling, bleeding heavily. Sofia is ranting. She tells him he’s such a disappointment, and shoots again. She asks if it would have been so bad, being in the palm of her hand, letting her chip away at his soul little by little. Did he really have to rob her of her revenge?

Jim is on the floor. He tells her it wasn’t about him – he wasn’t going to give her GCPD. Jim – you’re bleeding pretty heavily and all, but she had GCPD. You were a puppet.

Sofia doesn’t buy this. She tells him of course it was about him – his pride and arrogance. What she wanted was no different than what her father had for thirty years. Jim states.

Your father - who you killed

Sofia doesn’t wobble for a moment.

Yes - he disappointed me, just like you

(An aside – Sofia’s murder of Carmine was probably her scariest moment in how he justified it to herself. A lot of her behaviour and beliefs are probably learned – her childhood sounds messed up. But we heard her use the old ‘he made me do it’ before with conviction, and hear it again here).

Sofia crouches by him. She tells Jim she still cares for him. If he begs for his life and asks forgiveness, then they can start over.

(An aside - ugh – Sofia has feelings for Jim, apparently. What did it for her? How easily he was duped by appealing to his ego? How judgily he looked at her before any of their sexual encounters? His eye-watering knack for hypocrisy? The way he immediately tried to drop her when she wasn’t useful anymore?)

Jim sits up slightly.

Sofia. Go to hell

Her face pinches, and she rises

James Gordon - this is where our story ends

Before she can shoot, though – she is shot in the back. She turns, face shocked.

You!

It’s a calm and smiling Lee

She pulls the trigger again – and puts a bullet through Sofia’s forehead

Yeah - me

Jim falls back to the floor, his head lolls to the side, and stares into Sofia’s open eyes. We get flashes of Lee trying to keep him conscious as he eventually blacks out.

(An aside – it’s notable here how purposeful and calm Lee was, and how little Jim factored into her actions. I’m sure saving him was likely pleasing – they have a history – but hearing he was in there didn’t produce a visible reaction, nor did her face change to see him on the floor. She was entirely focused on revenge.

There’s a narrative logic to Lee killing Sofia, in terms of Gotham’s rules. She was for a long time, and still is – in a sense – the closest thing the story has to a ‘good’ woman. She’s nurturing and protective. Her profession involves caring. Even before her current stint trying to revive the Narrows, she existed as a symbol in Jim’s story: the motivation for moral redemption, something to protect, something to long for - the ‘love of a good woman’ trope. For a long time, she hid her knowledge of Jim’s misdeeds – something she was only willing to use recently to protect people who had become more important to her.

In contrast, Sofia is set up as the wicked woman. She founds an orphanage as a front, and then uses one of the children to manipulate Oswald’s finer feelings. She uses the memory of his dead mother to do the same – serving up the goulash. She also preyed on his vulnerability about his physical disability. She uses sex to manipulate Jim, and uses his misdeeds to exert power over him. She endangers Martin. She murders her father. In just about any way a traditional narrative would function (and Gotham employs a lot of fairly traditional tropes) – she ‘fails’ at being a good woman. She’s cold where Lee is passionate, destructive where she’s nurturing, uncaring where she is protective.

In terms of narrative, then – Lee taking Sofia out is the kind of moral judgment you’d probably expect. That Lee does it herself, and later seems to enjoy using violence, I suppose raises questions of whether the story now sees Lee as ‘tainted’ by her actions.)

At the pier, Ed is being led, chuckling to the water’s edge. One of the thugs offers a bad riddle. Ed rolls his eyes, and tells them just to do it. Before they can they’re shot. Ed turns, and sees that it’s Oswald

He asks if he already killed Sofia, but he tells him no – she left the mansion to pursue Jim, and if he’d gone there he wouldn’t have made it to the pier in time. Ed is confused – Oswald gave up his revenge to save Ed?

Oswald looks out at the city. He tells Ed that trust is so very hard to find in Gotham, but he trusts Ed. Really? He thought he betrayed him, like, half an hour ago. Whatever, though. They both put their guns away and stare out over the water. Ed says he has a strong desire never to see this pier again. Oswald rolls his eyes, and heartily agrees.

(An aside - Oswald trusts Ed? This makes no sense either. Unless Oswald has essentially decided that Ed is ‘lawful evil’, and that digging up his father’s remains, humiliating in front of the public whose affection and respect he craved, and then attempting to murder him was a fair response to Isabella’s murder – and that therefore Ed can be trusted because he’ll only ever strike in retaliation. Play by the rules, and you’re fine.

To be honest, I’d find it more believable if he did it to fulfil a sense of duty to the Ed whom he essentially buried alive when he enabled the Riddler personality to come to the fore, and who is – in a sense – an unwilling passenger in all this. But hey – why bother grounding actions in personality and motivation?)

Jim wakes up in a hospital room, with quite a good colour about him for someone who was shot so much. Harvey is there. He tells him Lee saved him – even one-handed, she’s a damn good doctor. Sofia is apparently in a coma. Wow – really? Right through the forehead? OK

Jim frowns. He tells Harvey when he gets out he’ll confess everything. He has to come clean. Harvey tells him no. That would only benefit Jim’s martyr complex and make him feel better. He tells him if he wants to pay his debt he has to live with it, like he does. Oh Harvey. That would only work if Jim had a properly developed sense of guilt. You’ve made the same mistake as Sofia.

Jim says that Sofia wins after all. Harvey says it’s what the city needs.

Jim asks after Lee. Harvey says she went back to the Narrow – unfinished business.

Cherry's – where Samson is being beaten. Lee walks down the stairs, making an entrance, a hammer hanging at her belt. Samson yells that he’ll go. Lee smiles

Oh, I know - just not yet

She tells the men to hold his hand out. Samson yells no – but to no avail. Lee’s eyes light up, and she seriously goes to town on his hand – enjoying it quite a lot.

At Sirens, Barbara is in pain. Tabitha is going on about how they need to grab power, but Barbara snaps at her – in too much pain to listen. Tabitha strops off sulkily.

Barbara looks down at her hand -which is glowing white, like the thing Ra’s gave her. As she looks up, she sees him walk through the crowd. She stares in shock, the air around her blurring and jolting.

General Observations

Forgiveness is the name of the game today. It’s offered and accepted just about everywhere. Jim and Harvey seem to have worked towards a tentative truce, even though things are still delicate. Jim and Oswald have a meaningful handshake – forgiveness requested and granted hidden beneath the surface. Ed and Oswald eventually seem to have reached a truce that will enable them to cooperate when necessary and maybe even sustain friendship. Lee’s keeping Jim alive after he’s shot is mostly down to her personality and their history – but there’s also some tacit forgiveness in there, maybe, for his actions around Mario. There’s a lot of pain and history to go round – but as Bruce tells Selina, sometimes sorry is enough.

Except for Sofia. Forgiveness has to be offered, but she demands Jim beg her for it. In turn, she’s punished by Lee – who has no intention of offering forgiveness.

The practical result of all that is resetting the chessboard before the next big plot.

Harvey is back at GCPD, and Jim is still Captain. I’m not sure to what extent they’re completely OK with each other – but they’re working together now.

Oswald is out of Arkham. He’s established a truce with Ed which will enable them to cooperate. He seems to have forgiven Jim. Sofia is temporarily gone, and Martin is temporarily safe. He was willing to joint-kill Sofia with Lee.

Lee has embraced the darker side of herself. She’s back to running the Narrows, and is now a formidable power as well as on the side of her people. Her focus on getting revenge on Sofia was impressive, as was her calmness throughout.

Ed is currently in his Riddler persona. He’s mended fences with Oswald, but regained an enemy in Butch.

Ed and Lee warrant their own paragraph, I think. I’d be surprised if we don’t see things develop further there. We’ve already got the foundation of the Ed/Lee friendship, then we were shown Ed falling for her, then we got the little flickers of romantic expectation we saw from Lee in the previous episode. In this episode, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, and there was tension crackling all over the place.

Barbara’s having creepy headaches, Selina is pretty much awol, and Tabitha is trying to figure out how to grab power after they fundamentally backed the wrong horse. Sirens is pretty much in disarray.

Victor Fries has funding now. I think we definitely need to see more of him for important narrative reasons. Much more

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s4e14 #the sinking ship the grand applause

21 notes · View notes

bujoloveme · 5 years

Text

Bill drives his would-be assassins off the train.

Life and wonderful adventures of Wild Bill, the scout by J. W. Buel 1879

i_058

Bill drives his potential assassins off the train. After attaining Abilene, as was customary among the Texans who visited the place, the party turned into a big drunkard, and while in that state one of them explained the number of his trip to a friend who happened to be a friend secret friend of Bill. The information was quickly communicated to Bill, and the villains were thwarted in the following ways: Bill decided to take the train to Topeka and familiarize the killers with his purpose. He knew that they would follow him because they would consider it safer to kill their husband by luring him onto the platform of a train where a knife kick would end his work without the knowledge of the other passengers than him Boundaries attack his official jurisdiction among his friends. Accordingly, Bill climbed eastward in the evening train and saw the eight villains57 get on the bus behind the train they entered. Bill concluded wisely that no attempt would be made until a late hour, in which the passengers would generally sleep, and he quietly kept his seat until about eleven o'clock, when the train at a dark and deep cut some Kilometer passed west of Topeka. He concluded that now was the time to act; So he pulled his two revolvers and drove into the car, in which the eight possible murderers sat. In a moment everything was noticed, but confusion ensued, as Bill raised his pistols and ordered the assassins to get out of the car in front of him. They saw at once that hesitation meant death, and without attempting the purpose they had come to, each of them hurriedly set out, as Bill had commanded, and jumped out of the fast-moving train without falling off Danger to think. Three of them were so badly injured in the fall that their companions had to carry them with them, and one of the party's most famous died two days later of his injuries. The farewell decree Bill gave them forced her to give up the idea of having his heart. He said, "If any of you cruel hellhounds ever cross my trail again, I'll make blood pudding out of your hellish cadavers." Bill would undoubtedly have attacked the men if they had not. Many passengers, some of whom are certainly in conflict would have died. If this booklet is to be read by four men known to live, and one in particular, then there will be a scene that is not entirely different from the scene that took place, as Banquo's ghost before the frightened one Vision of Macbeth was born. ________________________________________ BILL THOMPSON'S FATAL SURPRISE. Wild Bill got off at Topeka and returned to Abilene the next day. A week later, he went up to Ellsworth, where he frequented a lot. A woman whose name we do not name will be attracted to this request. This woman was the keeper of a house that did not feel well, but her beauty made her a very attractive person, and her real admirers were counted in their hundreds. She is now pursuing the same vocation in Kansas City, but although she is still a good-looking woman, there are few traces left of her former beauty. She is rich, however, and what she now lacks in her natural appearance compensates her by artificial means and is still a leader of her kind. Bill's love for her was undoubtedly genuine, though he had never asked her in marriage. Bill Thompson, a great tyrant and handy with his pistol, was also a worshiper at the same shrine and hated Wild Bill more relentlessly than any other man on earth. This hatred was perhaps not so much inspired by the women's rivalry over the woman's smile when it was caused by the fact that Wild Bill once arrested Thompson and handled it rigorously while he was in Abilene. Thompson had repeatedly made threats to Bill's ears, causing him to be vigilant. In a restaurant in Ellsworth there was a collision between the two under the following circumstances: Bill had entered the place and demanded an oyster stew. He sat down in a small alcove containing a table with his back to the saloon, a position he had never known before or since. The moment the waiter came in with the stew, Bill turned around and saw Thompson enter a side door with a gun in his hand. Bill slipped out of his chair and dropped to his sixty knees, using the chair as a kind of chest work. The moment he moved, a ball from Thompson's pistol whistled to his ear and slammed the plate on the table in front of him. Before another shot could be fired from the same course, Bill ripped one of the two throttles he almost always wore from his pocket and hurled a bullet directly into Thompson's forehead on one knee. The man fell on his face without uttering a loud, stony tone; the soup plate in the waiter's hand fell to the floor and broke into pieces. He sat back down at the table, only getting up from his kneeling position. He told the angry waiter to bring the oyster stew he had ordered, but the restaurant quickly filled up with morbid people and there was too much excitement to admit to serving stews afterward. Bill was the least excited and after waiting a few moments and seeing that he did not get what he asked for, he left the place and took his oyster stew in another restaurant. Of course, he was arrested, but since it was a clear case of self-defense, he was released immediately. ________________________________________ TWENTY-THAN MEN MAKE AN APOLOGY. In a few weeks after the killing of Thompson, Bill Ellsworth visited again, and during this visit he met 61 with an episode in which his influence among the Desperado elements was clearly demonstrated. When he arrived in the city late at night, he had gone directly to the woman's house he had just spoken to, and after having dinner and played some card games with her, he retired to bed. At eleven o'clock in the morning, loud and loud noises, coupled with threats to demolish the house, if access were denied, all awoke in the house. One of the girls opened a window and asked the crowd what they wanted. The answer was that they intended to clean the house and open the door quickly, otherwise they would break it. The crowd consisted of twenty of the worst men Ellsworth could produce, and since they were two-thirds drunk, everyone in the building except Bill was very worried and feared that fatal consequences might follow. Bill got up from the bed and told everyone in the house to let him have the solution to the problem, and went down the stairs in his nightgowns with his two phone booths in his hands. A light was burning in the corridor, and as the men knocked on the door swore they would burn the house and everyone inside, Bill unlocked the door and threw it open. He stood on the threshold and told the crowd that he would only give them ten seconds to leave the place and added, "Or I'll turn this place into a big slaughterhouse." The Surprise The face of these twenty men was a fitting subject for a painter. They all tried to apologize at the same time. The leader said, "I will take my oath, Bill. If I knew you were here, I would never come. We've never meant any damage, and since you're a gentleman and we're drunk, we owe you an apology. We will leave this minute. "They all added in unison," That's the way it is, Bill, and we apologize a thousand times for forgiveness. " "Then get out of here!" Answered Bill. And they left immediately. ________________________________________ BILL'S FIGHTING WITH PHIL COLE COUSIN. About a year after the killing of Phil Cole in Abilene, Wild Bill had a chance to visit Wichita, Kansas, for personal reasons. He made the trip on horseback, there was no other way of traveling between the two places. Bill did not know anyone in Wichita, and the habit made him make his first stop at the spot in front of a hall where he held up his horse and went inside. At the time of his entry, no one was in the hall; Bill sat down, expecting that the owner had just resigned and would be back soon. While he was sitting at a table reading a newspaper, a stranger came in and asked: "Is your name Wild Bill?" "That's what they call me," Bill replied. "Then take that," the stranger said, pulling out a gun and shooting at Bill. The muzzle of the gun was so close that the lightning burned Bill's face, and the bullet hit him by the hair root on the left side, cutting out a furrow of flesh and hair. Bill went unconscious, but the saloon keeper, who came a moment after the shot, threw water into his face and consciousness was soon restored. The stranger jumped on his horse after delivering the shot and rode furiously south. It was barely ten minutes after the shot until Bill had sufficiently recovered from the breathtaking effects of the shot to climb his horse and pursue his unknown assailant. Bill was on an excellent horse, and since he had no trouble finding the route of the stranger, the ride was fast and furious. The persecuted and pursuing came after a running distance of thirty kilometers in sight and a desperate fight was now prepared. The stranger suspected that he had killed Bill and was being prosecuted by a lawyer. but Bill was driven by his excessive hunger for revenge, and it came soon – terrible enough. At a distance of fifty yards, Bill pushed the pistol at the stranger, but the ball struck and stopped the horse. Then there was an exchange of fire, and the stranger lay dead with a bullet in the brain on the ground. Bill was not content to kill the man, bent over his downed body and pulled a bowie knife out of its sheath. He cut a head out of the stranger's head, which he thought would correspond to the wound. This bloody trophy that Bill carried was a dried piece of flesh and hair. The stranger turned out to be the cousin of Phil Cole, the player, and the facts later revealed that he had long sought a way to avenge his cousin's death. The revenge was, however, visited on the head of the avenger. ________________________________________ HE REMOVES KANSAS CITY. Bill served the time for which he was elected Marshal of Abilene, and relocated to Kansas City in the spring of 1872. In this place met the writer, who was then associated with the newspaper, and met an intimate acquaintance, which offered ample opportunity to learn his true character as a man. Bill was often harassed by the details of his wonderful adventures and the permission to write his life, but he always refused. The last time this request was made, he replied with the following answer: "Well, Buel, I think my life was a little interesting, and some people would like to read about my adventures, but I do not want to spell a word have about me until I'm dead. I've never fought a man for celebrity, and I'm sorry I have my name. Since Ned65 Buntline made a material like Bill Cody (Buffalo Bill) a hero, I thought it was time not to see anymore. I took Cody when he was alone in the world, a young lad, and raised him in part. Well, I do not want to say anything against the boy, but his plucking would not be equivalent. I've kept a small diary of all my actions, and when I'm dead, I'm glad it falls into your hands, and maybe you can write something interesting out of it. If I die, it will be exactly as you see me now, and disease will not be the cause. For more than ten years, I've been counting on getting killed, and it's sure to take a while. " During this conversation, Bill seemed unusually sad, and when he referred to his death, it was serious, indicating that he had been informed by a terrible premonition of his tragic end. He was an experienced poker player and did not follow any other call in Kansas City. The place was packed with gamblers, and by 1875 the voice of the keno caller could be heard in almost every other Main Street building between Missouri Avenue and Fourth Street. The marble block and the houses on the west side of the square were the meeting place of the players. Murders and ranks were not rare, but Bill kept out of trouble. He was both feared and respected. His carriage was that of a peaceful gentleman, and in the three years he had made Kansas City his home, he was only in a row, and that was of lesser importance. This difficulty occurred in the bar of the St. Nicholas Hotel, owned by Joe Siegmund, the owner of a Malvern, Arkansas hotel. A half-drunk guy who was told that the party in the bar was Wild Bill went to him and frighteningly asked Bill if he was the Desperado who indiscriminately killed men in the West. The outrageous investigation demanded an equally offensive answer from Bill. The guy, obviously bowed in a row, started talking about shooting and his ability to "lick every frontier runner who ever lived." Bill walked slowly toward him, and when the pointless guy tried to draw a gun, he grabbed him by one ear and slapped his face until the guy howled for mercy. ________________________________________ A PRICE IN A CHICAGO BILLIARD ROOM. In 1874, Bill joined with an Indian tribe under Black Kettle, where he was seriously injured by a spear thumping through his thigh. Since he was very disabled, he visited his elderly mother and relatives in Troy Grove, Illinois, where he stayed for several weeks and until the wound was healed. Before returning to the West, he went to Chicago to see his old friend Heman Baldwin, and while they were in the bar of the St. James Hotel, they played a game of pool. While he was so busy, seven Chicago Roughs began bullying over the suede clothing he wore and challenged him to a price war. Bill told them that he was not a fighting man and was still suffering from a new healing wound at that time. They continued their insults and eventually told him that he had to fight or acknowledge that he was a coward and his reported exploits. Bill's courage came to the surface quickly enough, and his two pistols-both given to Vice President Wilson-began fighting, one man at seven. The pistols were used as "Billys," and in a few seconds the seven Roughs were on the ground, completely exposed to Bill's mercy. The injuries they suffered consisted of severe scalp wounds, traces of which are carried through life. ________________________________________ Bill's marriage to Mrs. SEE. In the fall of 1874, Bill met Ms. Lake, the widow of William Lake, owner of the Circus of Lake, who was killed in 1873 by Jack Keenan in Granby, Missouri. The meeting was purely coincidental, but the consequences were marital. It was followed by an advertisement, and in early 1875, the two were married by a justice of the peace in Kansas City. Within a few months of the marriage, Bill was sore, which made him suffer severely, and for nine months was unable to distinguish daylight from darkness. Dr. Thorne, who had previously been identified as one of Bill's confidants, was his physician, and he managed to restore his vision, but his eyes did not recover to their old strength and vision remained impaired. In the winter of 1875-76 there was a separation between Bill and his wife, whose causes we consider inappropriate to recount in this epitome of his life. Suffice to say that those who are best qualified to make a decision claim that Bill is not to blame for terminating his marriage. We believe that no divorce was ever requested by either party, but they never met after the spring of 1876. The author has been trying for two years to find the address and whereabouts of Mrs. Hickok, b. Ms. Lake, to learn but his efforts were unsuccessful The last time she heard from her, she lived in Cincinnati. ________________________________________ MAKES HIS DEBUT ON THE STAGE. In February 1876, Wild Bill entered into an engagement with Ned Buntline (Judson), the writer who created Buffalo Bill and his exploits, to appear as a leading character in a frontier play he had written for the stage. The troupe was assembled in New York, and the main characters were Wild Bill, Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack. The deal was extremely unpleasant for Wild Bill, who entered the 69 exposure solely under the pressure of financial needs. The Kansas City authorities had prosecuted the players so vigorously that the professionals were forced to give up their games, and so Bill became "tight-lipped" for his own expression. Buntline always had a vivid imagination. The bloodbath and lawlessness brought his best abilities to set up the posters announcing the appearance of his troop. Wild Bill was posted in large, blood-red letters as he killed thirty-six men, and the most desperate man ever to enter the plains. His nature came with an uprising at such a reputation of his character, and after playing the role of a border bandit for two months, he tirelessly refused to appear on stage longer. ________________________________________ BILL'S LOAD TRIP TO THE BLACK HILLS. After leaving the Buntline troupe, Wild Bill came to St. Louis to organize an expedition to the Black Hills. The gold fever was at its peak, and St. Louis, like all other Western cities, was very excited about the Aureal discoveries. Bill stayed in St. Louis for about three weeks, and in the end he managed to organize a group of nearly one hundred men, which was increased to one-hundred and fifty with additions to Kansas City. The party arrived in Black Hills in the last weeks of June, Bill went to Deadwood, and the others spread out on the hills, where they started ranches and started their search for gold. Deadwood was a gay place when Bill entered its borders, and the life of his mixed citizens was exactly what he needed. Every other house was a salon, and if ever there was a gambler's paradise, it was there. The female part of Deadwood's population was limited, but the few who were there were so active and boisterous that they compensated for ten times the number of normal women. Bill was in his element, though he was unable to attend the wild orgies of the drunken, maudlin crowd that hit every nook and cranny of the square. He liked the freedom the company allowed, but he was only gambling and occasional drinks. Bill has found many friends in Deadwood, and it was not known he had any enemies in the Black Hills. But while he was surrounded by friends, he should never have forgotten that his enemies were almost like leaves of the forest. They always planned his destruction and laid slings on his way. The end had finally come as Bill often predicted. ________________________________________ 71 ASSASSINATION OF WILD BILL. On August 2, 1876, Wild Bill was in Lewis & Mann's salon, playing with Capt. Massey, a pilot of the Missouri River, Charley Rich and Cool Man, one of the salon's owners, a poker game. The game was under way for nearly three hours when, at about 4 o'clock, P.M., a man entered the door and walked to the bar. Bill sat on a stool with his head in the direction of his foot and about five feet from the bar. When the 72-man entered, Bill had just picked up the cards he handed out to him and looked at his "hand" and therefore did not acknowledge the newbie. The man, who turned out to be Jack McCall, aka Bill Sutherland, after approaching the bar, turned and drew a large naval revolver, placed his muzzle within two inches of Bill's head, and fired. The bullet penetrated the base of the brain, ripped through the head and exited the right cheek between the upper and lower jaw bones, broke off several teeth and carried a large piece of cerebellum through the wound. The bullet hit Captain Massey, who was sitting opposite Bill, in his right arm and broke his bones. The moment the pistol was unloaded, the cards fell from Bill's hands and he dropped sideways from the stool without making a sound. His companions were so horrified that several moments had passed before it was discovered that Captain Massey was wounded.

from WordPress http://bujolove.enfenomen.com/2019/02/28/bill-drives-his-would-be-assassins-off-the-train/

#bullet journal

0 notes

365footballorg-blog · 6 years

Text

'A lovely man who was liked by everybody': Lineker leads tributes to Wilkins

Media playback is not supported on this device

Ray Wilkins was a “genuinely lovely man” who was “liked by everybody”, says former England striker Gary Lineker.

Football has been paying tribute to former England and Chelsea midfielder Wilkins, who died aged 61 on Wednesday.

Former team-mates described a “superb footballer”, others spoke of “a friend for life”, or praised his passion for helping others to excel.

“One thing that shines through is what a wonderful human being he was,” Lineker said.

The Match of the Day presenter, who played alongside Wilkins for England, told BBC Sport he had “great memories of Ray as a team-mate and broadcasting with him as well”.

“He was just a delightfully charming man. He always very positive, and someone who was massively supportive when I first broke into the national team.

Ex-England captain Wilkins dies at 61[1]

Listen to Wilkins tributes on 5 live[2]

Obituary: Nomad, visionary and gentleman[3]

“He was a really talented player and had success not only in this country but also internationally. He lived for the game and he loved the game.”

As a player, Wilkins also had spells with Manchester United, AC Milan, Paris St-Germain, Rangers and QPR during a career that spanned 24 years.

He played 84 times for England, captaining his country on 10 occasions, and after retiring he was a manager with QPR, Fulham and the Jordan national team.

He was also Chelsea assistant coach from 2008 until 2010, working alongside Guus Hiddink and Carlo Ancelotti.

Wilkins, who had also been working as a TV and radio pundit, suffered poor health in recent years and had double bypass heart surgery in July 2017.

He died in hospital in south London, four days after suffering cardiac arrest.

His family has thanked “Ray’s friends, colleagues and members of the public” for the many messages of goodwill they have received.

‘He brought light and fun and laughter’

England manager Gareth Southgate, who was with Wilkins during the latter’s brief spell at Crystal Palace, described him as “a true friend and a gentleman”.

“Ray was a great ambassador for the game, a proud Englishman who loved playing for his country,” he said.

“When he played with us you could immediately see that his technical ability to play the ball was phenomenal. In the modern game, those attributes would have been appreciated far more than they were at that time, so he really was a top player.”

Ex-England captain Terry Butcher told BBC Radio 5 live: “Words can’t describe how much light and fun and laughter he brought to football.”

He added: “I’m still pretty choked thinking about his passing. You don’t expect Ray to go at 61. I know he had some health problems but the last time I saw him – about two weeks ago – he seemed so full of life. He was a wonderful man.

“He mixed with the fans and he loved having a laugh. He never called me Terry, he always called me ‘Big Stuff’ and he called everyone else ‘geezer’. His energy and brightness would light up any room.”

Ex-England keeper Peter Shilton, another international team-mate, said he was “devastated” by the news of Wilkins’ death.

“He loved football, he was a connoisseur of the game, he was articulate and was a leader on and off the pitch,” he said. “He was a great lad, Ray.”

‘A real human being with such class’

In an Instagram post paying tribute to his former manager, ex-QPR midfielder Nigel Quashie told the story of how Wilkins gave him his debut against Manchester United at Old Trafford.[4]

I will always be proud to say how lucky I am to have been coached, managed and even to have met you. If it wasn’t for you I would never have started my career playing football and I will never forget going to Manchester United as a YTS trainee to do all the kit and boots in the changing room for the first-team squad.

One hour and 30 minutes before kick-off you name the team and I was in it, and that’s how my debut went. I didn’t even get to think about it because all you said was: you’re number 18, here are your boots and shin pads, just go and play, have fun and treat it like you’re over the park with your mates.

My mum never had a mobile phone back then because we couldn’t afford anything like that and everything went through her work or home phone. I asked you after the game if I could call home to speak to her. You said use my mobile and call this number – it was my mum on the other end of the line and she said she was outside by the away team bus.

I went outside to see her and asked how did you get here because I knew she couldn’t afford it. She told me Ray had got the club to pay for her train ticket to come to the game and then told me Ray got the club to give us our first mobile phone in life during the week and he wanted to surprise me, knowing I was making my debut.

I was given a chance by Ray Wilkins, one of the legends of the game, and to this day you are the first person I mention when it comes to football and that will never change. You will be missed so much not just in the football world but as a real human being with such class. Thanks for everything and my thoughts go to all the family. Sleep well Sir Ray Wilkins.

‘An elegant, visionary midfield player’

BBC Sport chief football writer Phil McNulty

Wilkins’ career was characterised by maturity and dignity, which was recognised early in his time at Chelsea, where he made his debut as a 17-year-old in October 1973 before being awarded the captaincy at just 18 by then manager Eddie McCreadie.

He went on to make his England debut in the Bicentennial Tournament against Italy in New York City in May 1976 and had a burgeoning reputation as one of the young pin-up boys of English football, as well as one of its most promising talents.

Wilkins led a group of emerging Chelsea youngsters back into the top flight, but once they were relegated again it became inevitable that top-flight clubs would pounce. So it proved as he signed for Manchester United in August 1979.

He acquired an unfair reputation for a conservative playing style, with one cruel nickname of ‘The Crab’ mocking his supposed preference for sideways passes.

Those who actually played with Wilkins thought differently and spoke of an elegant, visionary midfield player and leader, whose abilities were underrated, as evidenced by the calibre of clubs who were always keen to secure his services.

READ MORE: Farewell to a footballing nomad and an ‘absolute gentleman’[5]

‘The dark days that never showed’

Media playback is not supported on this device

Wilkins had admitted struggling with alcohol problems in the past and he went through a five-week rehabilitation programme in the Priory Hospital in Woking in 2016, following a four-year ban for drink-driving.

Peter Reid, another of his former England team-mates, told BBC Sport: “The beauty about Ray was that we knew he had demons, problems, but you would never have guessed it.

“His politeness, his manner, was outstanding. Yes, there must have been dark days for Ray but it never ever showed. We had a heart-to-heart when we had a few drinks once or twice but predominantly he talked about football because he was football crackers.

“He always had class, that brilliant smile and that brilliant sun tan. Against me, mister pasty, he always looked brilliant and he always was brilliant.”

Former Chelsea and England midfielder Frank Lampard: “Devastated to hear the news that Ray Wilkins has passed away. He was a great player and an even greater man. Full of kindness and humility, with impeccable manners at all times. He had respect and time for everyone and to me he was a mentor and a friend. I’m not sure they make them like Ray anymore. You will be sorely missed fella.”

Former Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson: “Ray was a great football man, who was well respected and liked by all who knew him and he always had a kind word and time for people.

“Ray was an impressive football talent and had a fantastic career representing some of the biggest clubs in the world. He will be missed by us all.”

Ex-Liverpool defender Mark Lawrenson: “Was only two weeks ago I was with Ray in Brighton… Feel empty. Much love to all the family… Life is cruel..RIP BUD……”

Former AC Milan defender Franco Baresi: “In these moments you never know what to say, but it was an honour to have you as a companion. You were special, a gentleman on the field and off. Thank you Ray Wilkins RIP.”

Former Manchester United goalkeeper Peter Schmeichel: “Sad and choked to hear of the passing of Ray Wilkins. A true football person with a totally underestimated contribution to our sport. One of the best I’ve seen. My thought are with his family. Rest in peace.”

Ex-England winger Chris Waddle: “So sorry to hear about Ray Wilkins – a great player and a true gentleman RIP.”

Former England striker Alan Shearer: “So sad to hear the news about Ray Wilkins. He lived for and loved football. I was lucky enough to have worked with him and he was always a true gentleman. He will be sorely missed by so many. #RIPRay.”

Ex-England midfielder Paul Gascoigne: “Such a great loss, he was such a gentleman – an unbelievable player.”

Former Manchester United team-mate Mickey Thomas on BBC Radio Wales: “He was a great guy, one unbelievable man.

“He became an instant star at Chelsea and when he went to Old Trafford in a big-money move there was a lot of pressure on him. He found it difficult initially but he won the fans over and became a legend there – he became a legend wherever he played.

“In today’s game, money couldn’t buy him – he was a gifted individual, such a talented footballer.”

League Managers’ Association chairman Howard Wilkinson: “Ray lived and breathed football his whole career. As a player, he was a leader on the pitch and he instilled his beliefs and values into his coaching, helping a vast number of players understand what it meant to win games of football at the highest level.

“Ray has been a stalwart of the LMA for many years. His energy and love of the game were his biggest strengths. As well as being a manager in his own right, he became one of the most supportive and trusted assistant managers in the Premier League, providing a sounding board to many managers in the past 20 years and achieving great successes with his boyhood club, Chelsea.

“Many things come to mind when I think of Ray but, above all, no matter what the circumstances, he remained a true gentleman.”

Aston Villa midfielder Jack Grealish: “So upset to hear the news of Ray Wilkins. RIP Ray. Even when Ray left Villa, he was always ringing me offering advice and telling me what I could do to improve. A true gentleman and one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

Former England, Manchester United and QPR defender Rio Ferdinand: “RIP Ray Wilkins. Always so humble & softly spoken whenever I saw him. Genuine lovely guy. Watched him live at Loftus Road many times for QPR. What a great passer & teacher of the game for any young kids who watched him.”

References

^ Ex-England captain Wilkins dies at 61 (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ Listen to Wilkins tributes on 5 live (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ Obituary: Nomad, visionary and gentleman (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ Instagram post (www.instagram.com)

^ Farewell to a footballing nomad and an ‘absolute gentleman’ (www.bbc.co.uk)

BBC Sport – Football

'A lovely man who was liked by everybody': Lineker leads tributes to Wilkins was originally published on 365 Football

#&039a #everybody&039 #leads #liked #Lineker #lovely #tributes #Wilkins

0 notes