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headoverhiddles · 4 years ago

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The Romance Of A Yellow Rose - Dr. King Schultz x Reader [Smut]

Words: 5.6k

Synopsis: You and King get married, and celebrate your first night together by consummating the marriage.

Commissioned by a friend! Enjoy.

Your eyes open on the rugged planes of the Southern state the three of you had found yourselves in. As you roll over to stretch the sleep out of your body, you find a single yellow rose, native to this area. A smile grows on your face. It’s King’s way of saying good morning to you, as it had been for many months.

For years now, you had been tagging along with Schultz and Django. Having attached yourself to their travels three hot summers ago, the two men had become quite fond of your travelling company; King in particular. Over time, your relationship had evolved from a companionship, through friendship, to having romantic feelings for one another. You were the first to admit to them; King hadn’t wanted to say anything, as he still held a fruitless hope that one day he could return you to the pleasantries of the normal life you once knew, before it had been uprooted. But as the months passed, you getting more and more comfortable and (dare he say) suited to the lifestyle of a bounty hunter, it was becoming apparent that you were going nowhere. Not without him, anyway.

Hildy had decided to stay with some friends in the North while the three of you travelled the country on business. Texas Jack, Turkey Creek and Jack’s wife Camarilla were more than happy to keep her with them. It had put Django at ease at least, knowing they had one less person they had to worry about with them catching a bullet. Hildy was even teaching Camarilla different things she had learned over the years at their home, and the four were getting on fine from what Django took from her letters to him. King wished you had enough sense to stay with them, but where the older bounty hunter went, you went. You had made that quite clear.

Today, a warm day in mid October, you, King and Django were headed to visit a plantation in Conroe, Texas. There an outlaw by the name of Amos “Sly Eye” Little had been posing as an overseer for 3 months, flying under the radar on the small eastern Texan plantation. He wasn’t a particularly dangerous outlaw, only wanted for his habit of skipping out on poker games before paying up. Three months ago, he ended up double crossing the wrong man which led to legal involvement, and now to deter trouble in peaceful towns he was wanted dead or alive by the state. King and Django had discovered upon visiting this plantation that the family who owned it had been dodging the law for a while as well.

After the slaves had been freed by King and Django, this outlaw family just so happened to get in the way of a few bullets. The last man left alive on the property is now Amos.

“Back here!” you call. King dashes toward you, swiping you out of the way as a bullet whizzes by your ear. You sit in shock for a moment, King’s arm still around you. For a man who isn’t very dangerous, this Amos sure is trigger happy.

“Django!” King shouts, but his partner is already far ahead in pursuit. “Never listens,” the doctor mutters, loading his shotgun and aiming. You watch as Django dodges a couple more of the outlaw’s bullets before grabbing Amos by his collar, lifting him up a few feet. The man tries to scramble for his gun, but Django of course is faster. Just as he’s about to fire at close range, King clucks his tongue, looking through his target. “Bullseye.” Your eyes shut briefly as the snap of the bullet leaving the gun jolts you closer to the older man. He pulls you out of sight once more as the bullet hits Amos through the side of his head, out the other side in a bloody deluge. Django jerks his head up your direction, dropping the corpse into the carnage at his feet.

“I was handling it!” he mutters.

King comes out from behind the tree, helping you up with one hand. You brush off your pants as you both approach the other man. “You were being hasty again,” King says.

“I was handling it,” Django insists with a look. You two nudge arms amiably, and King gives you a disapproving look.

“You are encouraging him.” He turns to Django. “And you’re encouraging her.”

“What’s wrong with a little congratulations?” you giggle. “You got your dead cowboy.”

“I would trade a thousand dead cowboys to keep both of you alive. You’re the best things that have ever happened to me, do you know that?” King gives you a meaningful look, before brushing off Django’s jacket and squeezing your hand. “Forget this place. We’d better get the horses and get out of here.”

Taking the initiative, you go off in search of Tony, Fritz and Ida, your mare. Django approaches King, taking off his bloodstained gloves. “You talked to her yet?”

“She doesn’t know, no.” King looks down, nervously stroking one side of his moustache. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“You wait any longer, she’s gonna be burying her husband to be.” King doesn’t bother taking offense—he knows Django is right. He’s much older than you—not one foot in the grave as Django likes to tease, but older. That had been another source of insecurity for him during the burgeoning relationship, but you had made it clear that you didn’t mind; in fact, you liked the difference in age. King’s fellow bounty hunter interrupts his thoughts. “Y’all should get married here. Nice place, no one left in it now.” Schultz looks around the grounds. It is pretty, and it would be nice to marry you in such agreeable weather... but King shakes his head.

“No Django. This place was built on treachery and suffering. It would be not only tasteless, but bad luck to get married here.”

When you three make it to the next town in the state over of Arkansas, something is waiting for King at the inn.

“You Doctor Schultz?” the innkeeper asks, spitting tobacco into a spittoon. King nods, taking out his billfold. The innkeeper sizes him up. “Yep, man who sent this said fella looking like you’d be coming through here. This’s for you.” He takes a letter out from behind the desk in one of the cubbies, and slides it across. King expects it would be from Texas Jack, but it instead it’s from a different friend in the North; a sheriff acquaintance he had written to before about his situation with you. Thanking the man, you all head upstairs, and when King gets to a desk, he slips on his reading glasses.

Thought you’d make your way through this here town, Schultz-

Sounds like a hell of a woman, the one you’ve told me about. You softie. Knew you wanted to settle down, and it’s about damn time, too. What the hell are you doing with her down in the South then? She oughtta be up here. Maybe I’m biased, but there’s a lot more law n order up here. Better people too. I am biased, spose.

You asked me what I thought about asking for her hand. Why wait to marry her? Hell, bring her up, we’ll have a ceremony here! I’m not only a sheriff, but an ordained minister too. Bet you didn’t know that. Wouldn’t kill you to ask. Anyway, no reason why I can’t make things look good, clean up the place nice and host your happy union. Got some more birthday cake here too, for someone to eat. Pretty good.

Come on up when you finally convince yourself she won’t say no.

- G. A.

“You got a letter back from Sheriff Snowy Snow?” Django smirks. King stares at the letter in his hands for a long while, before looking up at him with a smile.

He could do it. He could finally ask for your hand.

“Django, my boy. We’re going to Nebraska.” You overhear, and turn back with the bags.

“Up North? What for?”

“To see an old friend of mine, fraulein,” King says, taking the bags from you to carry inside. “Sheriff Gus Arnett.” You smile. It’ll be nice to get out of all this heat and around some likeminded people—people who King can relax and be himself around.

You had all stopped off to pick up Hildy in Boston after travelling by train through the Southern states and switching back to horsepower as you made your way up through the wintery landscape of barren northern land. It was worth it, of course; King and Django had insisted Hildy come too, and you had been happy for female company.

“Has my troublemaker been behaving himself?” is the first thing Hildy asks you, kissing your cheek in greeting.

“About as much as mine has,” you laugh.

“Coming from the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. It is you who has been the naughty one,” King chastises you right back.

“Maybe one day, you can teach me a lesson for it.” King blushes as Hildy lets out a loud laugh at the connotations of such a taunt. He knows you’re still virginal, waiting for marriage as you’ve told him before. Once united by matrimony, that’s another wall that could be knocked down between you, if you decided you still wished to give yourself to him.

It was no secret you wanted King, and he had made it plain he would wait for you—he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word. Still, men have needs, and some late nights it had been hard. Many evenings by the fire had ended with you in his lap, grinding down as you kissed him with feverish intensity. It had always ended the same way however, with you heading off to sleep alone and leaving him with nothing but his mind to picture what the next hour may have felt like. This time, King feared he wouldn’t last once he finally got to feel you as he’d wanted to for so long. Either way, he had a silver tongue, and experience in the art of pleasuring a woman. He wouldn’t leave you wanting; whatever you needed he would give you.

Arriving at the snowy lodge some days later, Sheriff Gus Arnett comes out the front door. A couple of minks and rabbits are hanging from the roof over the porch, and two pairs of boots caked with snow are drying outside by a wooden rocking chair that had been collecting frost no doubt since September.

“King Schultz and Django Freeman, in the flesh! Come on in with your little ladies!” he says, opening his arms. You approach first, and he shakes your hand with the assurance of a man who’s not used to gentle handshakes. “I don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am,” he says softly, “But any friend of King’s is a friend of mine. Especially a friend like you.” He winks at you and smirks over at King, who ushers you in out of the cold quickly. Gus tips his hat at Django and Hildy, closing the door after they come in.

“Like I said,” he sighs, “We got some cake. Y’all want some?”

“Perhaps we wait until after dinner?” Schultz proposes.

“I wouldn’t mind some,” Django speaks up, giving King a look. King just chuckles.

“Go ahead, my boy. I was a dentist, remember. Old habits remain, I suppose. Would you like some, (y/n)?”

“I’ll have the piece you didn’t want,” you tease. You lean closer to him to brush your lips against his ear. “When it comes to you, I want everything.” The former dentist swallows. This proposal couldn’t come at a better time, as things between you two are heating up.

That night after dinner of rabbit stew and some leftover cake for dessert for everyone but your beloved, everyone had retired to bed a few hours after the sun had gone down. In your own room, you set your satchel on the bed of clothing you had been travelling with in the South, and just as you’re about to unpack, a knock at the door distracts you from your task. King slowly pushes the door open—he’s dressed in his white shirt and grey vest, his hair freshly combed back. It seems counterproductive to groom that well before bed, but to be fair, you had never personally witnessed King’s nocturnal habits in a place that allows such a luxury. He offers his arm, and when you take it in curiosity, he leads you out the back porch of the lodge home. The wind isn’t too cold tonight, but he still wraps his arm around you. The mountains are beautiful out here, and the snow has stopped for the night to allow for a crystal clear view of the surrounding landscape, snow white on the bottom and starry black on top.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been able to sit together like this,” King says. “Just sit and enjoy one another’s company alone. It’s very rare we get time just the two of us without our faithful hero.” You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Mm. We’re usually around a campfire, with Django snoring behind us.”

“At least we don’t have any of that to score our evening. I think Django’s gone to bed with Hildy in there.”

“You should be in bed too,” you fret. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I never have been very good at that. I’m a light sleeper, fraulein. Especially when I have lots on the mind.”

“You know what helps me when I can’t sleep?” You smile. “Something I learned from you.” King turns to look at you, a soft chilly breeze blowing the silver blonde hair from his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“A story.”

King ducks his head, and pulls you closer to him. “I think that would do the trick. Go on then, my love. Will you regale me?”

“I know a story of a deep running love, where a woman slowly developed feelings for one who she learned to depend on.”

“A common story, no?” King teases.

“Shhh. She loved very freely, but this was different. She not only loved this man, but worried about him when he wasn’t around, yearned for him, desired him in ways that drove her crazy sometimes.” King’s breath audibly quickens.

“And what did our heroine do about this tumultuous situation?”

“Oh, she took care of things. But not like she knew he could.” His breath hitches. You bite your lip as you go on. “The two had been together so long... learning one another’s quirks, laughing at little things and sharing moments others wouldn’t understand. They knew what scared them, what made them smile. At the end of the day, she told the man a million times how she adored him. But she was afraid he still didn’t know how much.”

King rubs down your finger, eyes trained on it before looking up at you. “I think I do.” You forget whatever you were going to say next as King rubs his rough fingers over your knuckles, bringing them up to his lips to kiss them. His beard grazes your skin pleasantly as he opens his mouth. “Will you be my wife?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Truly?”

“True as my love for you.”

“Tomorrow?”

“If you wish.” You lean in to kiss him.

The door bangs open, Gus tosses a pail of water out all over you two. He realizes where you two were sitting, and his eyes widen.

"Gott verdammt."

“Oh, hell. I’m— what are the two of you doing out—?” He can’t even finish his sentence—you’re laughing too hard. King tries to keep up a grumpy facade at the fact that you had both just been drenched in ice water in this weather, but he can’t help it. Your laughter is infectious.

“Please tell me there is enough boiled water for a bath,” he sighs, and you shiver. “For the fraulein, at least.”

Django and Hildy had been up to witness the commotion from the noise of it all, no doubt committing the sight to memory for future teasing. They returned comfortably to bed with one another, which was a comfort you and King couldn’t currently afford in your state.

You get to work drawing the bath as Gus passes you each pails of hot water. King comes in, shedding his dripping fur coat and tugging at his tie. Your eyes drift down to his chest, then back up to his face. King subsequently tries to distract himself so as not to focus too hard on you. You had stripped down to your slip, which was stuck to every curve of your body from the water. The temperature hadn’t done much to help any other evidence of the cold, around your breasts. He tries not to look too long.

“Would you take me out of this?” you ask. It’s a harmless question, but King’s thoughts run wild. He could simply refuse you, but what reason would he give then? That he couldn’t control himself around you, so close to your wedding night?

“Of course,” he sighs softly, and approaches. He takes the back of the slip and undoes the buttons, helping you pull it over your head. He inches it up, the wet material dragging along your skin. He turns to go as you’re revealed, and to his dismay, you don’t stop him. Only one more night, and he could have all of you.

As you step out of the lodge, it’s as if you’ve stepped out into a painting. A light dusting of snow is falling over you, snowflakes catching in your eyelashes and melting tracks down your cheeks like tears of happiness. King is standing there at the end of the pathway shovelled out, just by the small lake. It’s frozen over, reflecting the light of the moon through every little icicle hanging from the branches of trees hanging over top of it. Mountains soar around the group of you, boasting the most beautiful landscape you’d ever seen.

King takes your hand as you approach. Beside him, you see Django dressed in a handsome green winter’s jacket, black leather gloves pristine. On your side, Broomhilda is wearing a beautiful green dress under layers of a form fitting brown jacket. You’re in a beautiful snow white dress with furs covering your shoulders and a fur hat. King is also wearing his grey fur coat. The two of you join hands, and recite vows.

“I know I’m a considerable number of years older than you,” King tells you softly, “But I promise to make up for this. I promise to protect you with my life, cherish you, and support you in every endeavor you wish to pursue.”

“I will stay by your side no matter what,” you tell him, “I’ll be brave when you can’t be. I’ll be strong when you need me to be. I’ll love you as long as my heart beats, and oppose anyone who tries to take you away.” Kindness in his eyes, King smiles down at you, crow’s feet crinkling. He lifts your hand up to kiss.

“Do you take this man?” the sheriff asks.

“I do.”

“Do you take this little lady?” King sighs out through his nose, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“I certainly do,” he breathes.

“Well hell, you may kiss the bride then!”

When King leans forward, you surprise him by taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around him, deepening the kiss. It lasts for an eternity between you, and when you part, King brushes the snow off your rosy cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Ich liebe dich,” he whispers into your hair, and you slide your arms around his middle in embrace.

Inside the bedroom upstairs, a fire crackles in the hearth. The curtains are open to the snowy view outside, and the frost on the glass only makes you savour the warmth inside. King pours you some bourbon, and comes to sit down beside you in front of the fire. As you cuddle into him, he puts a hand on your back and draws you in for a kiss, his beard pleasantly tickling your face. Bourbon forgotten, the kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth as you part your lips for more. You pull away, smiling.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looks at you. “Of course. What are you thinking about?”

“How does it feel?”

King looks at you. “You will have to be a little more specific.”

“How does it feel to finally consummate a marriage?”

He stares into the flickering fire. “We don’t have to do it if you’re nervous.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say, crawling over to straddle him. King welcomes you into his lap. “I just wanted to know. You’ll show me?”

“I would love to.”

“You know I’m inexperienced.”

“I do,” King nods.

“Isn’t that undesirable?” King seems offended that you would even suggest such a thing, at the very least ruffled by the idea of it.

“My dear, of course not. Being inexperienced merely means I can show you how to do things.” He hums against your neck, grazing his lips down.

“I’m not completely clueless,” you breathe as you tilt your head back to give him better access. You stand in one smooth movement in front of the fire, leaving King sitting and gazing up at you. “I know what fucking is.” You hear his exhaled breath.

“Yes. I would assume you wouldn’t be entirely in the dark about that.”

“But I’ve never felt it,” you whisper. “I wanna feel it, King.” He doesn’t get a chance to respond. You undo your dress, lace by lace, letting your fingers twine slowly between the hooks. You sigh his name as the corset comes free, recalling how you’d longed for him to do this last night, and you hook the straps of your dress under your thumbs, sliding it down to reveal the slip beneath. You hear his breath hitch, but he doesn’t make a move.

You run your hands down over your ass, letting out a soft noise. You hear him readjust where he’s sitting, and you work now on the cream coloured pants beneath the white gown, sliding them down ever so carefully.

“(y/n),” King whispers.

You let out a moan. “I’ve been wanting to get out of this the entire ceremony just to see how you would look at me, seeing me like this for the first time.” You swing your hips a little, arching your back, and finally wiggle some more as you drop your pants to the floor. King’s breathing is heavier now, and you stretch your arms above your head, sighing again as you let your hair free. “Like I said. I may not have done this before, but I know a lot more than you think I do.”

“I’m not certain I believe that, my feisty little one,” King huffs, averting eye contact. Oh, no. Not tonight he doesn’t. You’re only in your chemise now, and you turn to reveal smooth skin he’s never seen before, bunching the fabric up just enough to give him a peek of the v of your hips.

You can see the visible outline of his hardened cock in his pants, straining against the tight confines and desperate for some kind of relief. You put one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Touch me?” you whisper, and reach down. He doesn’t stop you, just watches closely as you bring your hands to his pants, untie them, and reach in to take his cock in your hand. He does as you say, returning the touch with his hands up your back, taking the straps of your chemise down. He takes a shallow breath as your fingers come in contact with his warm cock. You grin wickedly, swiping your thumb up to spread his precum around a little. He meets your eyes as you pull him fully out of his pants.

“Oh,” he huffs gently, head falling back a little as you stroke him once.

“Is that good?” you ask softly, pressing a kiss to his ear. “Am I doing it right?” King stutters a little, gasping for air when you swipe over his swollen cockhead again.

“You are doing just fine,” King whispers, lips parting.

“Mmm,” you mumble, pressing a trail of wet kisses down his face and lazily taking his lips between your teeth, leading into a dizzying kiss full of tongue and one another’s slow breath.

“Stop. Wait my love,” King mumbles, stalling your wrist with his hand. You pout.

“What’s wrong?”

He opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown with lust. “After a show like that, I am at your complete and ready service, not the other way around. Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he whispers gently, and you get off of him, lying back on the floor like a princess awaiting a treat.

“Could you pleasure me with your mouth?”

Your cheeks heat, but King nods with a smile, dispelling any nerves you might have for such an intimate display of sensuality. He lays you on the floor, pressing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and across the top of the soft skin of your breasts. His hands come up to gently hold your hips down as they circle upward—he moves your legs so he can brace himself between them, pressing more kisses down over your stomach to the impressions on your hips he’s left with his fingers.

“I want you to have me,” you whisper. King strokes one hand along your thigh.

“It takes time to discover each and every spot that will make you weak for me, lieb,” he mumbles, mouthing at your panties with a practiced finesse. “Be a good girl now for me. Be patient. There is more to come.” The bounty hunter takes the panties down with deft fingers, sliding the fabric down your legs until you’re bare to him. Your cheeks heat, but he reassures you with a starstruck gaze, looking over your body like a lovesick man. He dips his head back down with a soft kiss to your thigh, reaching up to hold your hips as if he’s predicted your body’s reaction already. He presses a reverent kiss to your clit, and his tongue takes a sweep of your folds, making you quiver as his beard scratches the soft skin of your thighs. His prediction proves correct when your hips jerk up as he gives his first lick between your lips. You reach back to grab the carpet, before deciding instead to grip onto his blonde and silver locks where his mouth works between your legs. It’s a surreal pleasure—unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you want more.

“Does that feel good?” King asks. All you can do is nod, but he encourages you to tell him exactly how you feel. “Use your words, fraulein.”

“Yes. Don’t stop,” you sigh.

“My good girl.” King dips back down, swirling his tongue around your bud until you’re shaking. Taking care to hold you close to him, he moves himself up until he’s grinding himself against you. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you,” he whispers.

“Take me as you wish then,” you groan.

“Tonight is about you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I want it.”

Unbuckling himself, he takes his time slowly working a finger inside of you. He adds another and gently curves them up, before gauging your reaction. Going by the desperation in your face, he slowly replaces his fingers with his cock, pausing every inch to check and see if you’re still alright. You can tell how he’s exercising his restraint—you’re so tight, and all he wants to do is take you until both of you are sweaty and screaming, but he must make this last. You can feel him sliding into you, and his hand comes up to hold yours. Your eyes screw shut as he finally bottoms out, and he presses a kiss to your chest. “Tell me when it is okay to move.” You nod.

“Please.” He starts up a slow pace, covering your body with his as he takes his time with you. Too desperate to take the time King might have in mind to teach you patience, you push your lips harder against him, and roll over on top of him. You kiss the bounty hunter, again and again until your lips are swollen and King is painfully hard inside of you.

“Lift up your shirt for me,” he whispers, his voice gentle. “That’s it.”

“Have me,” you mumble.

“What was that?” King asks, “You must use your words if you would like something, hm?”

You blink up at your older lover. “Please take me King,” you raise your voice, and he smiles.

“Hm.” He gives you an affectionate smile. “I have no choice but to oblige my lady love when she asks as nicely as that. Very well. As you wish.”

He pumps in harder, ripping a groan from you. You’d dreamed of what this would feel like, and it turned out better than you had imagined, King’s soft sighs and the rocking of his body against yours heightening every touch he grazes your sensitive skin with.

A moment later, he pulls out and flips you over gently. He then positions himself between your legs and brings his mouth back down between your legs, suckling around your clit again. “King,” you whisper, breath hitching.

“Louder,” he encourages, and goes back to masterfully taking you apart with his tongue. He soon encourages you to sit on his face, and you do, feeling him lick you perfectly as the pleasant feeling of his beard returns to tantalize your skin. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue as you reach down to touch his cock. It’s a foreign feeling in your hand, but you soon get the hang of the motions, twisting your fist and using his precum to slick your strokes.

“King... don’t stop,” you groan, his tongue delving just barely inside of you. He moves off of your pussy as you moan, and licks his lips.

“I must admit, I wanted nothing more than to do this all day,” he groans as he moves back up your body, “But I am a gentleman.”

“Too much of one sometimes.”

As if in challenge, he picks up his pace and starts to grunt your name, leaning down every now and then between thrusts to press a kiss to your breastbone as his face scrunches up. You love how uncharacteristically possessive King is getting– it turns you on beyond belief. Your moans grow loud as the bounty hunter’s cock fills you over and over again, satisfying your need for him as your noises blend together into the creak, groan, gasp of making love for the first time.

“K… King…” you groan, breasts bouncing with every thrust. His breath is hot on your neck, and he presses an open mouthed kiss there.

“You are astonishing,” he whispers, “You’re perfect… oh, bitte, bitte Fraulein, you feel so nice… you are my everything.”

“King, just like that, oh god–” you groan, and he makes a noise at your slutty display, reaching up to massage your breasts. You feel your orgasm approach as he continues to touch you, and his hand quickly comes down to rub your clit.

“Ah,” you moan, and clutch his shoulders. King sighs, feeling your pussy squeeze him, and with a stuttered thrust he cums as well, spilling inside you. Soon, you’re crying out his name, and he squeezes your hand tighter as you both finish at the same time, the love you share burning at the height of its passion as your bodies become one. You both rock together to ride out your orgasms until you’re satisfied. Panting breaths mingle as you snuggle close to him.

“Is that what all the fuss was about?” you tease. King frowns at you, and you laugh into his chest.

“Into bed before I take full offense to your jokes, beloved,” he murmurs. You nod, smiling as he helps you up with one hand and carries you bridal style over to the bed covered in furs for a warm night’s sleep together—finally together.

"I am lucky I have such a pretty creature warming my bed tonight," he jokes, "A plucked chicken like me should be very grateful." You huff another laugh, rolling over beside him to finally tuck in with your love.

"I've only ever wanted you. That'll never change, no matter what." You grin. "Tonight only helped solidify that fact."

"So you are with me for my talents in the bedroom, ah!"

"NO--"

"I understand it now."

"King!"

"Shh. Let's sleep now. We will argue like an old married couple in the morning."

The next day, Hildy and Django are already in the living room of the lodge. Gus is in the kitchen making up some breakfast.

“You look radiant this morning,” Broomhilda says, smile wide.

“Yeah. You do look pretty good. Different,” Django nods, narrowing his eyes as if to try and decipher what could have changed about you. Hildy just rolls her eyes, turning back to you from her own husband.

“So. Where’s your significant other?” You grab yourself a cup for the coffee that’s brewing, settling in across from them at the table.

“He’s still sleeping. He worked hard last night.” Tucked in the pocket of your nightgown is a single perfect, yellow rose he had saved you from the South, one King had left his new wife to find upon waking.

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

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Longitudinalwaveme Reviews More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 1

I’m going to be doing these reviews in chronological order, starting with the oldest of the bunch.

Batman #292: “The Testimony of the Riddler”

This issue is actually the second part of a four-part story, “Where Were You On the Night Batman Was Killed?” Basically, everyone thinks Batman is dead, and a bunch of his villains are coming forward to claim the honor of being his killer. Catwoman’s claim was dismissed last issue; now it’s Riddler’s turn.

The mock trial that the villains have set up to determine the identity of the killer is amazing. Ra’s al Ghul is the judge, Two-Face is the prosecutor, and the jury is composed of the Mad Hatter, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze before B:TAS gave him a good costume, Scarecrow, the Signalman (*snicker*) and the Spook, who I only know as the D-Lister beheaded by Damian Wayne.

The Riddler begins his testimony, regaling everyone with riddles (some of which seem more like jokes, but whatever), and telling them about a crazy criminal caper he launched, during which time he posed as Bruce Wayne in order to steal a ridiculous jeweled typewriter ( “made of gold, platinum, and ivory...its keys studded with diamonds and rubies...its ribbon made from a Ming Dynasty robe....and its case encrusted with emeralds!”).

Amusingly, since Riddler doesn’t know Bruce Wayne is Batman, his Batman is not at all surprised to come across “Bruce Wayne” at the party. Batman ends up following the Riddler’s clues to find the Riddler and the ridiculously fancy typewriter in a quarry, whereupon the Riddler uses a knife he has to cut a rope that was holding some rock slabs. According to Riddler, the slabs fell on Batman, pinning him. Riddler then blew him up with dynamite (which he set off using a latern’s flames).

As soon as he finishes his testimony, Two-Face calls him a liar; gets permission to take the entire court outside, sets up a deathtrap using the dynamite Riddler claims he used to kill the Batman, and orders the bailiffs to tie Riddler to the trap and light it all on fire.

They do, and the Riddler promptly passes out. Two-Face then walks onto the trap himself, and nothing happens. As Two-Face explains, “dynamite does not explode in fire! It can be lighted only by electric spark or percussion!”

Riddler is eliminated as a potential candidate and escorted from the courtroom (with an apparent $25,000 fine for the dynamite display).

Several other claimants retract their claims, and Ra’s adjourns the court for the day.

Also, Bronze Age Riddler makes a surprisingly convincing Bruce Wayne, all things considered (this was back when he still had black hair; rather than red).

Batman #293, “Luthor’s Testimony”

This issue takes up immediately where the last one left off, with Lex Luthor of all people taking the stand in the costume you can see in the picture above. It’s...certainly something, all right.

Cluemaster, Killer Moth, the Cavalier, and some random gangsters are also at the trial. Most are impressed by Luthor’s amazing(ly hilarious) new outfit, which I’m pretty sure he only ever wore once (for this trial).

Luthor does his usual grandstanding before launching into the story of his latest plot to kill Superman.

Said plot involved a fake robbery to lure Batman into a trap that would allow Luthor to put Superman’s mind into Batman’s body.

Luthor then punched Superman-in-Batman’s-body to death and launched the body into space. Luthor says that now he’s leaving to go back to Metropolis, where he’ll put his own mind into Superman’s body so that he may become Super-Luthor.

Two-Face proceeds to demolish Luthor’s story, first by calling in one of Luthor’s goons to reveal that Batman had infiltrated Luthor’s gang by posing as a henchman, and then calling in Superman himself to prove that, in fact, Superman’s mind is still in its body. Superman just dressed up as Batman and pretended to be Superman-in-Batman’s-body to fool Luthor.

Exposed as a liar, Luthor storms out of the room, but not before yelling at Two-Face for “colluding with Superman” and insulting the criminal pretensions of everyone in the room.

Also, Two-Face somehow managed to convince Superman to grant every villain in the courtroom amnesty. (Although if I’m remembering the fourth part of the story properly, I think “Two-Face” is really Batman in disguise, explaining why he was so easily able to get into contact with Superman and probably making the amnesty fake.)

The comic ends with the Joker’s signature laughter; he’ll be the last villain to give testimony in front of the kangaroo court. Sadly, I don’t have that issue, so I won’t be reviewing it here.

Batman #296, “The Sinister Straws of the Scarecrow”

Scarecrow has henchmen he calls “Strawmen”. They have weird costumes and exist to give him someone to deliver all his lectures to and test his fear gas on. As usual, his speeches to his underlings sound...well...like simplified college psychology lectures.

Otto the burly henchman’s deepest fear is Batman. What a surprise.

Phobias namedropped by the Scarecrow (and narration boxes): phobophobia (the fear of fear), pyrophobia (fear of fire), algophobia (fear of pain), pathophobia (fear of illness), taphephobia (the fear of being buried alive), inutilophobia (the fear of not being able to carry on one’s work) and “chiropterhomopobia”. The last is especially interesting since it’s not actually a real word; it’s a fictional one that manages to effectively follow the formula used for naming phobias. “Chiropterophobia” is the fear of bats. “Homophobia”, in this case, is the fear of men (homo referring to our species name, homo sapiens); therefore chiropterhomophobia would be the fear of bat-men. Good work with conjugation there, writer!

Anyway, the Scarecrow uses a crook named Skibo’s taphephobia to convince him to give them the location of the turnpike bond money he stole from Gotham City’s National Bank several months ago.

The next day at the bank, the money is returned, puzzling Bruce Wayne. Wayne goes to interrogate a crook who talks in confusing criminal slang, who tells him that Skibo was the one who fenced the stolen bonds.

Batman tracks Skibo down...and finds him being assaulted by the Scarecrow, who believes that the bonds he returned to the bank were counterfeit. This is problematic for the Scarecrow because it suggests that Skibo was able to withstand his fear of the Scarecrow and disobey his orders, which would interefere with his ability to intercept criminals who are obeying his orders to return stolent money and take the money for himself.

Batman, Skibo, Scarecrow, and his goons get into a free-for-all that ends up causing an explosion. In the chaos, Scarecrow and the goons escape and Batman gets information out of Skibo about the Scarecrow’s plans.

Scarecrow and his goons then go after a thief who stole a valuable Gutenberg Bible, but before they can use the fear toxin on him, Batman shows up and they use it on him instead. It affects Batman, but he shakes it off and manages to defeat the Scarecrow and his goons as well as capture the thief who stole the Guetenberg Bible.

The story ends with Batman telling Commissioner Gordon that he found the case exhilarating.

All-in-all, a pretty standard Scarecrow story.

Batman #308, “There’ll Be a Cold Time in the Old Town Tonight”

Some guy named Jacob Riker has betrayed Mr. Freeze. The man in question is promptly murdered by Freeze and his henchmen.

In this issue, Mr. Freeze is wearing an outfit that’s reminiscent of Captain Cold’s, but with a bubble-helmet and pink shades.

Catwoman shows up in Bruce Wayne’s office to tell him that she’s reformed and wants to invest money in Wayne Enterprises. Bruce agrees, and also agrees to meet her for dinner at some point next week. She also brings a cat with her to this meeting, because of course she does.

Lucius Fox introduces Bruce Wayne to his daughter, Tiffany, who works in a drug rehabilitation program sponsored by the Wayne Foundation. After exchanging pleasantries, Bruce tells Lucius to give him a complete rundown on what Selina’s been up to, presumably so that he can know if she’s on the level.

He moons over Catwoman for a bit before getting called into action by the Batsignal, and he subsequently arrives at the scene of Riker’s murder. The guy is frozen solid and very dead.

Some rich guy name Mr. McVee comes to Mr. Freeze; he’s exchanging all his wealth in exchange for the promise of immortality.

Unfortunately, the process turns the man into a Popsicle zombie. His body is alive, but his brain is dead.

Also, Mr. Freeze has a girlfriend named Hildy, whom he loves and is planning to make immortal (as he himself effectively is). Unfortunately for him, she does not reciprocate his feelings and is using him solely as a means of staying young forever. Interestingly, she’s blonde, just like Nora usually is (Nora, of course, didn’t exist at the time this was written).

Meanwhile, at STAR labs, a medical treatment goes wrong and kills somebody.

Batman finds and breaks into Mr. Freeze’s hideout...and is promptly attacked by Mr. Freeze and his Popsicle zombies. Mr. Freeze dubs them his “Ice Pack”.

Mr. Freeze manages to take Batman out of the fight by freezing his legs, which causes him to fall to the floor. This allows him to be captured by the Popsicle Zombies and put inside Mr. Freeze’s immortality machine.

Batman is apparently turned into another mindless Popsicle zombie as Mr. Freeze exposits about how lonely his life is and how much he loves Hindy.

Mr. Freeze leaves Hildy in the room with the Popsicle zombies, at which point Hildy starts to talk to Batman about how she thinks he’s cute and she’d rather be immortal with him rather than with Freeze (who she’s planning to kill in any case).

Unfortunately for her, Mr. Freeze overhears her and is predictably furious, pointing his Freeze Ray directly at her face.

Batman saves her from an icy fate by attacking Mr. Freeze, revealing as he does so that he had only pretended to be frozen by the machine (having disconnected several of the building’s extra power lines). Cue another fight with Freeze and the Popsicle Zombies.

Batman uses a piece of ice to break Freeze’s bubble helmet; preventing him from giving any more orders to the Popsicle Zombies. He then fights Freeze some more. The Freeze Ray goes flying and gets grabbed by Hildy, who plans to kill both of them. Unfortunately, the gun backfires on her and she’s killed instead. Mr. Freeze is arrested.

Meanwhile, we learn that the dead guy was the Blockbuster, Mark Desmond, and that he isn’t quite as dead as the people at STAR Labs think.

Justice League of America #167, “The League That Defeated Itself!”

The splash page is of Superman punching Hal Jordan Green Lantern in the face.

The explanation is pretty quickly forthcoming: the Secret Society of Super-Villains has swapped bodies with the Justice League. The Wizard from Earth-2 is in Superman’s body, Professor Zoom the Reverse-Flash is in Green Lantern’s body, Plant-Master is in Wonder Woman’s body (ew), Star Sapphire is in Zatanna’s body, and Blockbuster is in Batman’s body.

The real Justice League are trapped in the bodies of the villains and locked in a cube-shaped cell. Superman guides Hal into using his new super-speed to help them break free of the cube.

The Joker stars in a Hostess Fruit pie ad!

The villains have left for Earth, leaving the heroes (who are trapped in their bodies) alone on the JLA Satellite, along with an unconscious Red Tornado, whom they promptly wake up.

Naturally unaware of the switch, the Tornado attacks them and they fight. Zatanna manages to bring the tornado down using Star Sapphire’s powers, and the JLA go off to find their bodies on Earth, with Batman telling Zatanna that she’ll have to reverse the spell as their only magician.

Green Lantern gets some information out of Hijack (who I think is a member of the Royal Flush Gang) by pretending to be Reverse-Flash. The information helps them locate the Society’s HQ.

As soon as they break into the building, however...they’re promptly incapacitated by Green Arrow (except for Zatanna, who remained outside). Green Arrow is suspicious of the way Superman is behaving and decides to keep an eye on him and the others who “located” the HQ of the Secret Society.

Justice League of America #168, “The Last Great Switcheroo”

This issue picks up where the last issue left off. Ollie and Hawkman are supsicous about the behavior of their allies, while Black Canary ad the Elongated Man don’t think anything unusual is going on.

Eobard traps the “villains” in a diamond cell, and then the Wizard chucks the diamond into another dimension!

The Wizard covers for himself by claiming that the “villains” have been put into “time-stasis” by “Green Lantern”’s ring. “I just tossed the diamond into an orbit around the solar system! They’ll remain there until science perfects criminal rehabilitation.” For some reason, everyone except Green Arrow immediately accepts this excuse.

Red Tornado breaks free of the trap Zatanna-in-Star-Sapphire’s-Body had to put him in last issue and criticizes the decisions he made in the fight with them.

Zatanna then arrives on the satellite and convinces Red Tornado of the swap that’s taken place.

Meanwhile, in Mexico, the Secret Society and the remaining members of the Justice League are, at least allegedly, guarding some jewels for the Mexican government. Elongated Man, Hawkman, and the Flash are also becoming suspicious of their supposed allies.

And then Eobard ruins everything in the most Eobard way possible: forcing a kiss onto Black Canary!

The real Justice Leaguers fight and defeat the impostors (except for the Wizard, who left to “patrol the city”)...but before he can step in to salvage his plan, Superman uses the Wizard’s own magic to take his body down.

Zatanna reverses the mind-swap, and the day is saved.

Was it this story that later got retconned to include more mindwiping thanks Identity Crisis, or am I thinking of a different storyline?

Flash #275, “The Last Dance”

In this issue, Iris Allen dies!

The story starts with Barry in the grip of a teenaged girl with ESP powers (no, really. Cary Bates, the issue’s writer, really liked the paranormal). His marriage with his wife Iris has been struggling, and she fears that he might be cheating on her.

She’s also spying on him by bugging his costume rings with “micro-mini homing signal devices”, which just goes to show that literally anyone in the DCU can invent amazing technology at the drop of a hat.

Stalking the stalker is Clive Yorkin, a character from the plot thread that’s been building up to this issue. He’s kind of based off of the brainwashing scene in A Clockwork Orange and hates the Flash and Barry Allen.

The teenager uses her mental powers to force the Flash to meet her at a motel and take off his mask, which he does. She’s apparently disappointed by the results, complaining that there’s nothing remarkable about him, and promptly storms out.

Iris arrives in her car just as the girl storms out, and discovers that she’s coming from the room that her tracker has Barry in. She storms inside and accuses Barry of cheating on her, then runs out in tears.

Also, right before she storms out, Barry looks at himself in the mirror and thinks “ “Ordinary”? What in blazes is that supposed to mean? I may not be Robert Redford...but I always thought I was sort of sexy...at least, that’s what Iris told me.” It’s mildly hilarious.

Iris promptly gets into a car wreck with a tanker truck. Barry manages to save both her and the two truck drivers from the massive explosion that this causes.

Barry convinces Iris that he wasn’t cheating and the two promptly make up.

Meanwhile, Mysterious Shadowy Man on the Phone tells someone to kill Barry Allen at a philanthropist’s upcoming costume party for all of the employees of Central City’s government (e.g., police officers, firefighters, etc.) The Mysterious Shadowy Man on the Phone will eventually be revealed to be the corrupt police chief of Central City, Chief Paulson.

Iris and Barry decide they want to have kids, then kiss. D’awww!

Iris’ costume for the party arrives; she’s going as Batgirl. Barry was planning to rent a Batman outfit, but it was already rented, so Barry ends up going to the costume ball dressed as himself (that is, the Flash).

Clyde Yorkin is still stalking both of them.

Barry’s friend from work, Frank Curtis, arrives to pick the couple up. Hilariously, he’s also dressed as the Flash.

The theme of the party is “Dress as Your Favorite Super-Character”. Iris comments “it’ll be interesting to see whether we get more heroes or villains!”...which raises a question: Namely, why is everyone totally okay with people dressing up as people who are, in their world, real costumed criminals? That’s always seemed odd to me.

Clive Yorkin sneaks into the trunk of Curtis’ car and slips out as the other three head for the party.

Inside the mansion, we see a huge number of people dressed up as famous DC characters, including Hawkgirl, the Calculator, Heat Wave, two Green Lanterns, Zatanna, Aquaman, Green Arrow, two Black Canaries, Abra Kadabra, Batman, Wonder Woman, Professor Zoom the Reverse-Flash, Star Sapphire, Supergirl, Pied Piper, Poison Ivy, Captain Cold, the Golden Glider, the Top, mustachioed Superman, some guy in a purple costume I can’t ID, Mirror Master, the Golden Age Sandman, and Captain Boomerang.

The Golden Age Sandman is actually an assassin in disguise; he was hired by Chief Paulson to get rid of Barry Allen before he discovered his corruption; he drugs Barry by “shooting” him with his Sandman gun. One of the Green Lanterns is actually Hal Jordan, who pops up to say hi to Barry and Iris. A later story will reveal that the Captain Boomerang in this issue was the real Captain Boomerang, and that some of the other Rogues were also actually at the party so they could, quote, “party and pick pockets”. Yet another subsequent issue will reveal that the Reverse-Flash at the party was in fact the real Eobard. So...which of the other Rogues do we think were at the party? We know that the Captain Cold isn’t real; he’s “Phil from Vice”. That means that the Golden Glider alongside him is probably not the real one either, and it seems unlikely that the Top here is the real one, since he was dead at this point. So that leaves the Pied Piper, Mirror Master, and Heat Wave as possible candidates.

Chief Paulson calls Barry to meet him in his office at 9 AM the next day; Barry agrees but notes that the man seems oddly tense.

Curtis, still dressed as the Flash, goes outside for a smoke break and gets jumped by Yorkin, who mistakenly believes him to be Barry (until he rips his mask off, at which point he just throws him off the balcony.)

Barry sees a Green Lantern making the moves on Iris and gets upset until Hal reveals that he’s the real Green Lantern and congratulates them on their plan to become parents. He then flies out the window, and somehow all the party goers are fully convinced that it’s just a really elaborate costume. Huh?

Iris tempts fate by saying that “this might be the happiest moment of my life!” The two go off together to get some privacy...but then Barry begins to feel dizzy, as though he’s been drugged. Iris goes into the bathroom to get him some water...and then Barry hears her screaming! He bursts into the bathroom to see Iris on the floor, with Yorkin standing over her. Yorkin then jumps out a window as Barry runs to his wife.

A bunch of the guests, including Mustachioed Superman, burst into the room to see what the commotion is, and Barry passes out. Curtis bursts in a few seconds later to learn that one of his friends needs a hospital....and that the other is dead! It’s a very effective cliffhanger.

#flash comics #batman comics #justice league #flash rogues #dc comics

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