#and the only justification is 'I'm seeing something through for once!' which is just insulting to her previous character???

[soleminisanction]

Have I ranted before about how the Devil's Square makes no fucking sense?

So I'm trying to write the next part of Batgirl, Repentant, and more fool me, that means I need to go back and re-read parts of Batgirl (2009) for research. And like what always happens when I do that, I noticed yet another detail that stops working when you stop to think about it for even a moment.

Because see, on the second page of the third issue, we get these two moments in rapid succession.

Scarecrow's hideout is in "Gotham's Western Quadrant, the Devil's Square," established in the previous issue as a bad neighborhood, quote, "Otherwise known as 'Thunderdome.'" This place is treated like it's a Big Stinkin' Deal for the first two arcs (maybe the first year? I don't remember clearly and I don't want to go any further down this rabbit hole than I have) of this series, but nothing about it makes sense.

We are never ever given a clear reason why this neighborhood is supposedly such a uniquely terrible place, but it's supposedly so bad that it's worth making a whole terrible philosophy lecture out of why criminals would choose to stay there.

But the closest thing we get is that, at one point, Professor Exposition describes it as "a demilitarized zone."

Which does not make any goddamn sense because that would require Gotham City as a whole to be the location of an ongoing military conflict. Y'know, like the one between the Koreas.

I can only assume, given Brian Miller et al's tendency to do zero research on even the most basic of plot elements (see also: labeling all of Stephanie's obviously freshman-level college classes with 400-level designations intended for seniors or grad students) that what he actually meant here was autonomous zone. Like the CHAZ, as imagined by your Republican uncle. The implication being that this is an area of town that's been completely abandoned by police and emergency services, reducing it to a lawless wasteland where criminals roam free. (A no man's land, you might say. 🙄)

EXCEPT. APPARENTLY. LITERALLY ONE ISSUE LATER. We get the panels I started this post off with, where Steph arrives at Scarecrow's hide-out in the Devil's Square and we get EXPLICIT confirmation that the police will be there in five minutes.

That's all to say nothing of the fact that it being "Gotham's Western Quadrant" that's been cut off makes zero sense on its face. Besides implying that's an entire QUARTER of the city that's just been completely abandoned, Steph at one point describes it as being "on the west bank of the Gotham River."

There is no west bank of the Gotham River. Gotham is on a series of islands off the coast of New Jersey. The west bank of the Gotham River is the MAINLAND where Bristol and the suburbs are.

Gotham's geography is super fluid and can change from book to book, but it being on an island connected only by a series of bridges was a big deal in this era and the only reason the No Man's Land concept even worked. If you're gonna rip that plot off, Miller, you gotta use an eastern neighborhood. Or a northern one. Or even a southern tip. Anything but west. That's like saying there's an east side of Chicago.

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 6

Chapter: 6/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: "Are you any good at crossword puzzles?" Patton asked, failing to read Janus' crossed legs and tucked elbows as anything other than a comfortable way to sit. "No," said Janus, intending for Patton to take that at face value. And at first, Patton did. "Oh," he said, drumming the pencil against the page of the book. He thought for a minute. "Wait, does that mean you are?"

Patton's crossword was especially hard the following morning. He stared at the blank spaces in the booklet, tongue stuck out in concentration.

His mind kept wandering back to breakfast, which had been awkward.

Roman and Remus weren't speaking to each other despite their collaboration the previous evening. They were both wary of witnesses and neither one felt brave enough to engage the other somewhere people might see.

Janus, too, was maintaining an icy silence, much to Virgil's irritation and Patton's surprise. In his limited interactions with Janus, Patton had never known him to be quiet.

Patton shook his head, changed his pen out for a pencil, and scribbled 'feline' in a descending series of squares.

In the end, it had been Logan who had saved them from total silence. Most of his explanation about the inner workings of convection ovens went straight over Patton's head, but he was just grateful that someone had taken up the burden of speaking.

But it was over now. Patton wanted to stop thinking about it. He tapped the eraser of his pencil against the page and read through the clues again. "Six letters," he said slowly, "'what a swindler does.'"

After a brief pause, Janus answered, "Cheats." He watched in some satisfaction as Patton flinched and looked up with wide eyes.

"Thanks," Patton said, penciling it in. A glance around the living room revealed that Janus was the only person there. The others had gone their separate ways when Patton wasn't paying attention.

Janus nodded and turned the page in Notes from the Underground. He really didn't want to be up here in the common area, still sore and mistrustful of the Light Sides. But he cared for Virgil and was determined to not be the only one left behind in the darkness, so he played along as much as his pride would allow. He'd been keeping up his sullen silence mostly to shield himself from Patton's lukewarm attempts at friendship. Words were Janus' weapon, but he saw no need to strike now and ruin everything.

"Are you any good at crossword puzzles?" Patton asked, failing to read Janus' crossed legs and tucked elbows as anything other than a comfortable way to sit.

"No," said Janus, intending for Patton to take that at face value.

And at first, Patton did. "Oh," he said, drumming the pencil against the page of the book. He thought for a minute. "Wait, does that mean you are?"

Janus stared at the beat-up paperback, tormented by the desire to prove himself. Rather than answer and confuse Patton, he set his own book aside and held out his hand. "Give it here "

"Say please," Patton said instinctively. He blushed under Janus' subsequent withering look, and handed over the book of word puzzles with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you cross with me!"

Janus made a face at him before turning his attention to the puzzle that was giving Patton so much trouble. He got a few answers right away and filled them in.

"Look at you go!" Patton said, desperate to ease the tension.

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a dog," Janus said, irritated with the way Patton's approval, patronizing though it was, made warmth radiate through his chest.

Patton pressed his lips together and nodded, wary of putting his foot in his mouth. He watched in silence as Janus scratched in a few more answers, and then his mind began to wander. "I forgot about movie night!"

"Hm?" said Janus.

"I can't believe nobody reminded me! It was Virgil's turn to pick the movie, too."

"Yes, I'm sure he's devastated," Janus murmured. "Which two Zodiac signs are born in August?"

"I don't know," Patton said. Janus began to flip to the back of the book in search of the answer key only to stop short and Patton's noise of protest. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing my page-turning skills," Janus said drily, flipping through another few pages.

"I never check the answer key."

"What do you do?"

"Ask for help."

Janus raised an eyebrow. "And if Logan doesn't know?"

"I… I just leave it unfinished," Patton said, feeling as though he'd said something wrong.

"How are you supposed to get better at crosswords if you never check your answers?" Janus asked.

Patton considered this. "I guess I never really thought about it like that."

"Three down," Janus said, finding the answer. "Leo." Patton watched him flip back to the puzzle and write the answer in, dissatisfied in a way he couldn't properly articulate. Janus chafed under the baleful gaze. "Any particular reason you're staring at me like I just diagnosed your cat with heart failure?"

Once he'd muddled through the simile, Patton sighed. "It feels dishonest."

Janus squinted at Patton, who refused to meet his gaze, and raised the corners of his mouth in a cruel facsimile of a smile. "What?"

Patton was under no illusions that he could keep up with Janus' odd style of communication, and he knew better than to try. He saw no reason to get wrapped up in an argument or to try to find some intellectual justification for his feelings. "Can you write it in with red ink?"

"Oh, and that will make it honest?" Janus changed the pencil into a pen with green ink just to be contrary, and traced over the letters he had already written. "There."

"Thank you!" Patton said, and his smile was so genuine and warm that Janus nearly forgave him for the insult to his function.