So @bifacialler and I were talking and I brought up the fact that Walter Strickler must, on a daily/nightly/weekly basis feel the need to fence his step-child. It could be about anything.
He rolls his eyes? DUEL ME!
His mother raised his allowance? FIGHT ME, RIGHT NOW!
He left plates in the sink? COME AT ME, BITCH!
Barbara needs to find ways to, instead of screaming, calmly reason with her blade happy husband to ensure that her son lives out the rest of his high school career with every limb still attached to his body.
Most conversations go somewhat like;
Walt: I WILL DUEL HIM TO THE DEATH!
Barbara: No, Walt.
Walt: I WILL DUEL HIM TO THE MAME!
Barbara: Walt. No.
Walt: I WILL DUEL HIM TO THE STAIRS!
Barbara: Sure. Fine. That’s okay.
Walt: HAHA! I HAVE THE APPROVAL OF THE MATRIARCH! JIM! COME FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW! FROM THE BACK DOOR TO THE STAIRS! THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO LEAVE THE CEREAL OUT!
And don’t even talk about dinner time.
Remember that scene? With Barbara in the kitchen while the two of them went at it like a pair of frat boys with too much adrenaline and knives?
Well, now that the secret is out, it could happen at any fucking time.
Jim could say that the steak he cooked was too dry. Could comment on how the history homework was boring. Or god forbid he forgot something Walter taught him in a history paper.
Strickler picks up a knife and pushes back his chair, Jim following suit. And Barbara, who really is just trying to have a nice family dinner, just sort of presses her head into her hands and groans.
Jim lunges across the plates. Strickler stabs a decent sized chunk out of their table. They fence their way through the living room. Something drops and shatters after Jim finds an opening to jump on the man’s back. There’s a shock of blue and green, and now there’s suddenly a Changeling and a Trollhunter running around the kitchen shouting at one another.
In the end, Barbara just has to pour herself a cup of tea and sit there, watching the two idiots circle the table like fucking sharks. “If one of you hits me,” she comments dryly, “I’d like to remind you now that I can legally obtain poison. Just putting it out there.”
“THE ONLY POISON HERE IS THE ONE YOUR SON SPAT OUT WHEN HE FORGOT MY LESSONS!”
“Because your teaching style was boring-”
“And your history jokes sucked!”
“I’LL SEE YOUR HEAD ON A PLATTER!”
Barbara sometimes needs to remind herself that she did, in a strange, awful, secretive way, sign up for this bullshit.
Her boys are idiots. But they’re her idiots.
[also, Strickler looks so fucking attractive striking a fencers pose like that and she’ll let him know as soon as she’s dragged the defeated idiot off to bed.]