#but gun batman is obscuring things somewhat

[zahri-melitor]

Thinking about the shape of A Lonely Place of Living in relation to Tim's story and what Tynion was trying to do with it, and it's interesting to me, as I don't think it's his most successful story in terms of a narrative beyond re-establishing and re-centring a character, but he's once again playing with a lot of Tim's storylines and echoing various things (and not just ALPOD though obviously ALPOD, it's in the name).

Like you cannot get around that the story is about Gun Batman, because Gun Batman is right there. But the shape of how that works: it's a recapitulation of Red Robin themes. Because Tim's trapped, and Tim strategises a way to escape from his prison, and he has to cooperate with his enemy somewhat to achieve his goals, and as soon as he gets out the first thing he says to his family, to those he's closest to - is to warn them that Gun Batman is coming for them and particularly for Batwoman. It's SO Yost arc coded.

Gun Batman and Tim's discussions over whether the ends justify the means, and whether killing is acceptable echo through a lot of stories where Tim faces that and refuses to do so (The Young El and Dava arcs in Robin around #50 are always worth pointing out, because people don't know they're there, but of course also Red Robin #26 and trapping Captain Boomerang), but it's interesting here, as the story also establishes...if Tim doesn't even remember who Conner is, this Tim also may not remember having that fight with himself and redrawing that line, and then he gets to do it all over again.

And then we also get to do a Brother Eye aspect of the story, with the intertwined narrative of Bruce's paranoia, Tim's growing paranoia over the years, the echo between those all the way back for Tower of Babel when Tim tells his friends he'd never go so far as to have protocols like Bruce, but we know by 2010 he does have protocols as the life he's led has brought him to that, and what Brother Eye in itself says about Bruce's paranoia and that whole arc of Infinite Crisis and ongoing, about programming and about watching and observation and about control and about the overwriting of control of Brother Eye over the years (want to talk about OMACs and REMACs? there is stuff here to dig out about both) and about the similarities that exist between Bruce and Tim for Gun Batman to be able to exploit this faultline.

And also: you have Bruce's guilt threaded through all of this. Because the last 25 issues have been about Bruce mourning the loss of Tim in his heroic sacrifice, but interestingly in a way that is not like he mourns Jason and not like he mourns Damian, but in a way where he refuses to lose control.

In ALPOD the reason Tim approaches first Dick and then Alfred and then Bruce is because Bruce is losing control as he doesn't have a network. For Tynion's run, Bruce DOES have a network; and not only his family, he has all the other allies that Tim specifically recruited and anchored and befriended and he helped design and set up the Belfry for - a system that Tim sees as greater than himself and that he hopes can sustain things if he is selfish and steps away for his own purposes. But while it works, it's also shaky, because part of what made the post-Crisis Bat family and Gotham network function was Tim's presence as an anchor and a recruiter and a linchpin holding people together, and Tynion is saying things don't work as well without Tim's actual presence, and repeating the narrative that Tim learns over the years - he can't retire, he cannot step away, because when he tries to bad things happen.

Bruce can avoid losing his mind with grief because Tim built him a network (like he did while initially mourning Jason). But Bruce also doesn't allow himself to try to resurrect Tim after his sacrifice; whereas Bruce had to be talked through the 5 stages of grief by family members after Damian's death and then set out on a quest to alternately protect Damian's corpse/find ways to resurrect Damian (it ping ponged back and forth) when it was Damian who was dead.

And Bruce is so mad at himself when he realises that by allowing himself to process his grief like he did with Jason and live through having a dead son, every day, and remember his sacrifice...he's left Tim trapped, thinking people were searching for him and coming for him, when...they weren't. And he starts working to try and find Tim. Especially as Tim lived through Jason's death and Damian's death and Bruce's under-reaction to Dick's 'death' and he knows how Bruce reacted - and he's waiting for rescue. He could expect Bruce to come for him and storm the Gods themselves to get Tim back: because that's what Bruce so recently did for Damian.

Tim came looking for Bruce, because he didn't believe Bruce was dead. But Bruce didn't come looking for Tim, even though he's fought to resurrect another son, and realising that you haven't gone searching for the son who searched so hard for you when you were lost and believed dead? Yeah. Ouch.

And so Tim has to rescue himself and find his own way out - but he comes back still full of belief and forgiveness for Bruce. I also think there's something here in an inflection where Bruce gets the alert as they ARE now looking, and he storms into a hospital to get to Tim, as opposed to Jason's unknown, unrecognised resurrection and HIS hospital stay in Gotham.

The layers are there! There's a bunch of interesting themes! I just really wish it wasn't held together by Gun Batman. Though admittedly it's interesting to me that Tynion's version of Gun Batman posits that this is a universe where Damian was still Batman!666 and Tim had to kill him for it. AND that it can't be the future, because Gun Batman is being torn apart by the timeline, because of the changes made. He's not Tim's future. He's a nightmare, instead.

[movie--obsessed]

brief intro + currently watching

what's up with ya, tumblr people? as i noted in my bio, this blog here is a sideblog. secondary blog. whatever the better term is. tumblr calls it a secondary blog but i've pretty much only ever seen second blogs referred to as sideblogs. so i think i'll call it that. so. this blog here's a sideblog off of my main, @pirateprincessofpizza.

i always said to myself, "i'll just post whatever i want on my main. i'm not gonna make a sideblog. i have no need for one." ...but i gave in. i want the organized chaos of my main to remain as it is with what i post on there now. which consists largely of once upon a time and other miscellaneous content. so i made this one to obsess over other movies and tv shows and actors. and the possibility of books as well.

this particular post will also consist of an ever-changing "currently watching" list, which will be placed below the cut so you can choose whether you'd like to look at it.

if you're curious if i've seen any films or tv shows, feel free to ask! i have a weird range of things that i've watched. i've seen some films/tv shows that may be somewhat obscure, and i've not seen some that might be well known.

currently watching:

tv (parentheses indicate season i’m currently on, if a show has multiple):

star wars: rebels (season 3)

toradora

rewatch of the flash (season 7)

rewatch of once upon a time (season 1)

i’m also currently working my way through the star wars screen franchise, films and shows both included

films:

val kilmer's entire filmography, basically. so far i've watched, in chronological order:

top secret (1984)

real genius (1985)

top gun (1986)

the murders in the rue morgue (1986)

willow (1988)

billy the kid (1989)

thunderheart (1992)

tombstone (1993)

batman forever (1995)

heat (1995)

the saint (1997)

the prince of egypt (1998) (i think i'll always wonder why he didn't sing in this movie. like. imagine.)

at first sight (1999)

the salton sea (2002)

blind horizon (2003)

conspiracy (2008)

planes (2013)

1st born (2019)

val (2021)

top gun: maverick (2022)

and at some point i'd like to get through johnny depp's entire filmography, an idea that's been hanging around in my brain for years. i've seen:

edward scissorhands (1990)

all pirates films (2003, 2006, 2007, 2011, 2017)

secret window (2004)

finding neverland (2004)

charlie and the chocolate factory (2005)

corpse bride (2005)

both alice films (2010, 2016)

rango (2011)

dark shadows (2012)

into the woods (2014)

and for the fun of it, i'm currently reading gilded by marissa meyer.

[arbiterlexultionis]

The whole shebang is absolutely wonderful I’ve got my one(1) brain cell firing on all cylinders, but for no I’m just gonna put my thoughts about Danny’s fighting ability and vigilante skills. A lot of the stuff I’ve seen so far has had Danny technically being the one who’s been a vigilante longer and having some skills but no where near Bruce’s level because of how long Bruce spent training. This does kinda make sense, and offers a whole bunch of opportunities around Danny learning from and training under Bruce for ✨Familial Bonding✨ but I personally am super fond of making Danny surprisingly competent for someone who was thrown into the life of a kid hero with no mentor.

Bruce has a fancy shmancy college edumancation that gives him a massive edge with a lot of the more technical and investigative areas of vigilantism, and that should show and at the same time give plenty of chances for Danny to sit criss cross applesauce on the floor with stars in his eyes while Bruce picks apart a case, thinking of how amazing it would have been to have that kind of skill when dealing with all the possession/impersonation/evil fruitloop schemes etc etc.

But Danny does have his specialties. Firstly, he grew up in the house of mad scientist. I’ve already made a post about Danny being One Smart Cookie, and while I don’t think I would apply it to this to as extreme as an extent as I did in that post Danny being really good with tech could be nice, and you could also make it funny. The only people Maddie and Jack ever really talked science with were each other, they probably needed a lot of weird purpose built equipment, parts and tools because of them building Ghost Stuff and Jack was kinda scatterbrained at times. All this came together to give the Fenton parents no reason to talk in a way that could be even somewhat coherent to normal people, and as such they did not. This, in combination with Danny just being born into mad science and thinking ray guns, dimensional portals, force fields and who knows what else are just normal science fair projects leads to Danny pretty much never learning any of the proper terms for anything or the official way of doing things, instead learning Fentonese. He is fully capable of tearing the Batmobile apart and putting it back together better than he found it, can make a death ray out of a toaster and building force field generators out of washing machines but has no knowledge about how normal people do science. The first time he sat down with Bruce to make gadgets he, after spending days on end convincing him that he Knows What He’s Doing and Is Technologically Talented, looked his new kinda dad-ish dead in the eye and went “the fucks a capacitor? That’s not a capackitom, that’s a [insert name of ultra obscure type of cheese that Bruce instantly recognizes because he a weird rich dude].” Danny gets kicked out of the workshop, sneaks back in and builds a jet pack. Which he then drops at Bruce’s feet before looking up at him with puppy dog eyes like a cat that just “gifted” their human a dead bird. This could also go into Danny learning to speak Batman, as he’s already fluent in one flavor of weirdo language. Bruce reciprocates and learns to speak Danny. To outsiders it looks completely unhinged and makes zero sense, but to them it’s perfectly understandable. This could also go with how the other bat kids learn “hrn” speak to lesser extent than Danny, they also learn Danny Speak to a lesser extent than Bruce. “How was your day?” Danny, face scrunching up: “Wisconsin” *hisses like a ghost cat*

Danny other specialty is combat, plain and simple. Some say that experience is the best teacher you can have and if there’s one thing chronically ill, sickly Danny has an utterly horrifying and heartbreaking amount of, its combat experience. Depending on how long he was doing the whole Phantom thing for before everything went to crap, he could have been fighting for his life for years. And if we’re going Immortal 14 Year Old, when it’s Win or Die the one and only option is to win, no matter how many times you have to get torn limb from limb to do so. While pretty much the entire league fights a lot of people, the overwhelming majority of their opponents are just normal people. On the other hand, the only “normal” people Danny ever fought were the GIW, who in the DC verse would probably be kinda dumb and held back by their own prejudice but actually trained and dangerous-ish or at the very least have frigen’ jetpacks, sci-fi weapons, tanks and jets like they did in the show, the Red Huntress, who is the goddamn Red Huntress, and his parents, a mom who is a master combatant that if translated into the DC verse could believably wind up as roughly equal to a member of the batfam super early in their career/while still a young kid and a father with ridiculous strength and arguably CQC skills that while not cape and cowl level could pose a serious threat in when combined with his strength and size kinda like an Off-brand Bane with laser guns who’s ranged fighting style of choice can be described as “Accuracy by Volume of fire”.

Other then them all his opponents were full on superhuman’s/giant animal monsters with at least 3 powers each, decades if not century’s to hone their skills, occasionally high tech weaponry and/or obscure abilities that range from “scary if you stop and think about it”(pretty sure the box ghost has shown the ability to control stuff that he finds in box’s. Everything Comes In Boxes. Including grenades. He also got his hands on Pandora’s Box and used it to wreak havoc.) all the way to “damn near unbeatable.”

Depending on how long he was acting as the protector of Amity, he could have very easily had literally everything and the kitchen sink thrown at him dozens of times over and came out on top again and again. I like the idea of him not having any prior training from his mom, being thrust into the life of a vigilante with nothing but talent, wits and the will to never give up no matter the odds. But by the time he meets Batman, covered in blood looking like death warmed over, he has had more skill and experience than any one deserves to have no choice but to gain forced upon him. Powers or no, he is a force of nature on the battlefield. Sneak attacks are blocked and dodged before he even realizes he’s moving because of all the times he wasn’t able to block or dodge Skulker phasing out of the ground beneath his feet to sink a blade into his ribcage. He can drag Robin to the ground and barely a second later bullets scream through where they had both been standing because of all the times he didn’t realize he was in his own mothers sights before he felt the white hot burn of plasma and spent the next hours sobbing in his closet as quietly as he could while trying to get the bleeding to stop. Lessons that no one should ever have to learn were carved, burned and beaten into his flesh far to many times for him to ever let even a single member of his new family learn them while he still lives(and he will always live, always always always. He has no choice.) All the experience he has with dealing with completely new abilities, both his own and his enemies, on the fly makes him a bizarrely good strategist despite his age and demeanor. He picks apart powers, fighting styles and technology without even realizing he’s doing it, pulling countermeasure and plans out of nowhere like it’s nothing. Once Bruce figures out he has this skill, he nurtures it and helps Danny figure out what and how he does it other than it just being a base instinct by the time they met.

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2020, Day 2

Kidnapping

A03

Warnings: violence against a minor, kidnapping, panic attacks, near death experiences

-o-o-o-o-

There's the sound of people moving close by. Shuffling and mumbling amongst each other. It's grating on Damian's nerves.

Not that he'll let them see that he's unnerved or anything close to it. It's just, well, he's currently tied to a chair with miles of duct tape around his wrists and ankles—connecting him to the arms and legs of the chair—and wearing a hood over his head to obscure his vision. There's also a slap of tape across his mouth to keep him somewhat gagged.

He's been kidnapped. Off the streets like some hunted animal, into a van filled with people waving guns and shouting. The effects of the chloroform they used on him are still wearing off, making it so that even though he's been awake for quite awhile now, stuck in this room and restrained to a chair, he can still hardly find the strength to lift his head or summon the coordination in his fingers to test his bonds.

Kidnapped.

This is… his first time being kidnapped as Damian Wayne. Not as Robin. Not as an Al Ghul heir.

Just: thirteen year old Damian Wayne.

And Damian had never believed Richard about how scary it was when the older man had explained to him what to do in case of abduction via civilian identity. Damian's starting to see it now.

He's starting to understand now.

And, admittedly, it is scary. More scary than any of his other identities. At least when he was kidnapped for his connections to his grandfather, the kidnappers knew how dangerous he was. And as Robin, there's no need to hold back. But as he is now… they want him as Bruce Wayne's tiny little son.

So there's no slipping his binds, no glorious escapes with flying kicks and powerful punches. He can only sit here and be expected to whimper and cry like any other child hostage. He hasn't had any contact with the kidnappers yet, since waking up, but he can already tell it will be humiliating.

But he will do it, because Richard told him to. It's how you keep safe in situations like this. You act weak like they expect you to be, and you don't make yourself anything close to a threat to them.

The mumbling around him continues and Damian's head is still too muddled to pick the conversations apart. He's pretty sure he's heard ransom and Wayne a few times, so hopefully, this shouldn't take too long or be too traumatic. Damian knows there is no price his father wouldn't pay for him.

Or at least… he thinks he knows.

He quickly shoves that doubt to some corner of his hazy mind to focus on trying to fight past the lingering effects of chloroform. He doesn't remember much from the initial kidnapping, just chaos and yelling and not being able to breathe as he's dragged away, but they must have given him just a little too much. Feeling sick to your stomach is a common effect of the sedative, but Damian's been trained since his first memories to be able to have an immunity greater than most adults to these kinds of drugs.

They must have given him too much. Must have. Because he can't bear the thought of finally getting weaker like his mother and grandfather always says he will if he spends too much time with his father and his family.

Somehow without Damian having noticed anyone had come up to him, the fabric bag over his head is ripped off, adulting his sensitive eyes with light too bright for him to meet straight on. He lets his first instincts run, the ones that don't make him force back whimpers and flinches to put on a show that he's more mature than what his age may imply. He cringes away from the light, squeezing his eyes shut, but then the bag of his head is grabbed and calloused fingers dig into his cheek, tugging the tape off his mouth in one huge rip. Tears sting his eyes as his entire mouth goes numb. He's pretty sure the tape took skin from his lips with it, causing the metallic taste of blood to enter his mouth.

Before he can try to even recover from that, something is pressed against his ear. He thinks he hears something like his name being called out to him, but everything is so fuzzy and far away.

It's a slap to the cheek that gets the fog to clear a little. The first thing he hears is the sound of his father yelling to not hurt Damian.

Father. The thing pressed against his ear. A phone.

Ransom.

Proof of life.

"Say hi ta daddy," a man's voice says, his voice tight and angry like he's had to repeat himself multiple times. He probably has had to.

Slowly, Damian takes a deep breath, fighting the fog that is already beginning to creep back in. He tries to open his eyes, but the light is so bright. It's all he can do to open his mouth and say "f'ther…"

But apparently, that's enough for the kidnappers, because the phone is ripped from his ear and a hand slaps another piece of tape over his mouth, replacing the bag immediately after.

Damian huffs, quickly becoming annoying of being restrained, blinded, and silenced like this. Quickly beginning to very much dislike the lingering effects of drugs. Everything is so far away and muted, but so overwhelming at the same time. It makes something tighten in his chest as the kidnapper (kidnappers, right? There are multiple? There's multiple voices in the room…) speaks to Damian's father with tight, angry, and overly confident words.

"And I want the money by midnight tonight, or else you're never seein' the brat alive again," the man says. How far away is midnight? How long does Damian's father have to gather the ransom? (And… how much is it? How much is Damian worth? No, no that doesn't matter. Father will pay any price).

The call must end after that, because a short time later, Damian feels a rough hand grab the top sections of his hair through the bag. Damian's now very much aware of a presence right in front of him. The nauseating smell of cigarettes assaults his sensitive senses.

"You're goin' ta sit here and not make a sound, yeah?" The man says, the same one who was talking to his father. Damian can recognize him by his unique accent, which is lazy. If you're going to kidnap someone, at least copy the accent of the area the person lives in. That way, the victim won't be able to predict where you come from and narrow down your identity and… and how drugged is he? Criticizing the tactics the kidnapper has used to kidnap him? Get it together Damian. "Cooperate, and no unnecessary harm will come ta ya, kay?"

He doesn't wait for Damian to even attempt to try and answer, because with a rough shove, Damian's head is forced down so his chin hits his chest.

His head spins at the sudden movement, and it takes him way too long to realize the voices have shifted around him. Fading in and out until Damian manages to crawl back to awareness and realize everything is silent now.

No movement. No talking.

Nothing.

Just the sounds of his own breathing and the freaking of the chair he's tied to every time he shifts.

He focuses on that silence. On the internal noises. Meditating until the traitorous feeling in his stomach begins to settle—until the muffled feeling in his brain begins to clear.

He flexes his hand, scowling at the numb feeling that still lingers in the joints of each finger. He wonders slightly if it's because of the ever-persistent after-effects of drugs or if it's because the tape is so tight it's cutting off circulation.

He slowly works his sluggish fingers into a fist, then he tugs on the tape. He feels weaker than a newborn kitten, but judging on how there's a bump in the groove of the wood near his left wrist that hasn't shifted at all with his tugging, the tape is definitely tight.

Damian released a breath through his nose, deciding to now risk opening his eyes. He doesn't see much, just vague lights shining through the pitiful thread count of the bag, but that's not all bad. With the holes between each woven fiber of fabric shining through with light, he'd be able to see vague forms of people and things around him.

There's nothing. Just light. Nothing moves, nothing changes.

Damian must be alone in the room.

He curls his fingers, picking at whatever tape that's in his reach, trying to decide where he needs to go from here.

He could force himself to disregard the nausea swimming in his body and lean forward to grab the hood with one of his tapped hands, then rip the tape off his mouth, then chew the edges of tape around his wrists until he manages to get it loose enough to slip through. He'd then free his other arm and his two legs, stand up, and break the legs of this creaky chair to have a blunt force weapon. Then, using the walls as support until the adrenaline kicks in, he'll leave the room he's trapped in and find a way hopefully unnoticed. If he is noticed, well, that's what the chair leg and the adrenalin is for.

Damian is a skilled warrior. He was trained by the best of the best, the most deadly of the deadly. He knows how to kill a man so many ways it's impossible to really narrow down to numbers.

He'll take down his kidnappers, leave the building, then find the closest road. Hail a car. Ask for a phone. Call father and ask to be picked up and for an ambulance; not for him of course but for the men and women he left drooling on the floor behind him.

It would be spectacular. A daring escape that these buffoons wouldn't expect. A tale to be praised and retold.

Or he could sit here, pretending to be a frightened, privileged rich thirteen year old boy like they think he is. Like what Richard told him to be.

Don't make yourself a target. Be what they expect you to be, and wait for me to find you. Don't out yourself unless you absolutely need to. Life or death, Damian. Promise me.

Damian promised. Unless he was in an immediate threat to his life or physical well being, he has to keep up the act.

That was when Richard was Batman. And even though father is back, Damian can guess the same rules stay in place. Richard was raised by his father, after all, and he has the family record of most civilian abductions.

Which also means he has the record of most civilian abductions survived.

But… technically his life is being threatened. If father doesn't pay the ransom, they'll kill Damian. Or so they say. But... but father will pay. Damian shouldn't have to be worried. In fact, he isn't worried. All he needs to do is sit tight and wait for this all to be over. They said midnight tonight. Yes, that could mean a minute of waiting here or a full twenty four hours, but that's fine.

Father will come.

Batman will come if it so demands. He always does.

(Except for when he doesn't).

And maybe it's the fuzziness still in his brain. Maybe it's the weak limbs or the confusing situation or the half-formed memories that won't let him remember what he was doing walking out in the city to be kidnapped in the first place.

But that thought… the thought that maybe father won't come… it sticks in there. No matter how hard he tries to shove it away.

Because what if… father doesn't come? If he were in his right mind, this train of thought wouldn't even cross his mind.

But now it's all he can think about.

Because Damian… and his father... do not have the best relationship. Being Robin hasn't been the same since he came back. Living in the manor hasn't been the same. There's so many arguments in each other's presence, so many tense interactions that has Damian not even bothering to go downstairs from his room unless he needed to eat. Father is always angry and distrustful with Damian, like he's waiting for Damian to slip up and ruin something. Kill someone.

Damian is Bruce Wayne's biological son.

But he's also the only child he didn't choose.

What if… what if he uses this as an opportunity to finally be rid of Damian? Let the kidnappers off him and then wipe his hands clean, saying there was nothing he could have done. No one would mourn him, except maybe Richard. But everyone else, especially Timothy…

He's shoving down the urge to throw up and bending down to start trying to escape before he knows it because it feels like such a fact that everyone wants him gone… but Damian doesn't want to be. He's already died once, and he promised himself that he'll get better. He won't go back down to hell. He'll make things right. He'll be normal, and kind, and gentle. He just needs a little more time to fix himself. Time that can't be taken away from him now.

It takes a few tries, tries that have his wrists straining against his binds, to get the hood off his face. He squeezes his eyes shut at the assaulting light, but forces them open again to get a read on his situation. Blinking tears from his eyes, he studies the room he's placed in the center of. Well, it can't be called much of a room, it's more like a small, square storage closet, one that—judging by the flattened carpet near his feet—recently had things moved out of it to make room for Damian. The walls are an ugly yellow color that would have Alfred the Butler wrinkling his nose to, especially if he saw the dark wooden baseboards. There's a door immediately in front of Damian, and the knob doesn't look like it has a lock. They must have faith in the binds they've put Damian in to place him in a room that doesn't lock.

They're going to regret that.

Still squinting his eyes, Damian bends forward again and twists his wrists raw against the tape in an attempt to reach the strip on his mouth. It isn't as difficult to do this time because he can see now, even if his sight is limited thanks to the persistent blurriness and sensitivity that comes from the lingering effects of chloroform. The feeling of the tape leaving his cheeks and mouth is sharp and painful, and he tastes more blood enter his mouth at the action thanks to various sections of his chapped lips deciding they'd rather stick with the tape.

Now that that's over, Damian moves his free mouth to his wrists, trying to lash his teeth to the cut end of the tape. The tape on his left wrist ends near the joint of his thumb, which he figures will be easier to get to than the where it's located on his right wrist: under the chair arm. It takes a few tries, but he eventually manages to dig his lower teeth under the end and begin the process of unraveling. He clenches his teeth, then jerks to the side, the tape following the motion.

He forces it as far as he can bend within his trapped position—and thankfully, by the time where contorting like this begins to become painful, the bit of tape is long enough for his fingers to grab if he strains against the bindings.

It takes a short amount of time for the plastic to reach a point where he can grab at with his teeth again, and he's in the process of doing so when he suddenly hears voices on the other side of the door.

He freezes for a second, heart fluttering up to his throat, and immediately begins to try and listen to the muffled voices.

"Three million," a woman's voice says, her tone in a whispered sigh. "Can you actually believe that the kid in there is worth three million."

The number is so shocking that Damian almost misses what is said next by a man's voice this time. Though, it's different from the man who made the ransom call.

"Oh, I can. Wayne is up to his balls in money. I'm sure he's spent more on whores."

No. No that is not true. Three million?

That's... That's...

The door suddenly opens and Damian realizes he's accidentally fallen still while listening to the conversation. It's comedic, almost, how the woman stops in her tracks after opening the door, a man behind her looking shocked with his mouth open.

Then, the woman rushes forward and wraps one hand around Damian's halfway freed wrist and then bunches a chunk of hair in her other, forcing him away so his back slams into the back of the chair. He bites off a cry at the harsh movement. He's failed. He's gotten caught. Pathetic.

Weak.

"Don't just stand there, you idiot," the woman practically screeches towards the man, "go get Dee!"

The man nods, then turns tail out of the room in what could possibly be a sprint.

The woman snarls under her breath, tightening her grip so it's harsher than what the tape initially was. "You shit," she hisses. "How'd you get this far?!"

"The money," Damian says instead of answering her questions. "You're not going to get it. It's impossible."

Her grip tightens. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My father doesn't have that much money just... Just sitting around. It takes time to get that much money. More than twenty four hours."

"Don't bullshit me, brat," the woman hisses, her voice just barely a little louder than the distant sound of approaching footsteps. Angry footsteps. "I've seen the numbers. He donated more than that to the fucking water plant just a bit ago."

"It's true. That money, he had already been saving up and setting aside months prior. And the rest of his money he has in stocks- or on the way to charities or into the funds meant to financially support Batman and the Justice League-" Damian cuts off with a wince as her fingers tighten. Her grip is grinding on his ulna and radius. "There's no way you're getting the money. You have to give him more time- or let me g-"

"Are ya insane?!" A newcomer shouts. Damian almost flinches at the noise. Here he is. The ransom call man.

He must be in charge of this dumpster fire of a kidnapping.

Damian flicks his eyes away from the woman still holding him towards the man. He looks… normal. For a white American man. Medium build, barely any neck, dirty brown hair and black framed glasses that aren't shaped like anything exciting.

It's then that Damian realizes that none of them are wearing masks.

There's only one reason why an abductor wouldn't wear a mask or cover their face in some way.

They don't intend on letting the victim leave.

Or maybe, this man is the only one that doesn't intend to see Damian go. Maybe the others are all naive enough to follow his every order and get there cut of three million. Whatever the case, the look in the man's pale eyes are furious, his lips turned down into his five o'clock shadow.

"I don't know how this happened, D-"

"Don't use names!" The man screeches, walking forward with his finger held towards her like it was a wand casting a horrible spell. "Get the tape! Tie him back up, and someone get me the chloroform."

"The chloroform, boss?" The other man, the one who had been talking with the woman earlier, asks. Damian remains stiff and antsy as the woman finally lets him go to grab a roll of tape which just happened to be on the floor and Damian hadn't noticed. "So soon? But, isn't that dangerous-?"

"What does it matter?!" Dee snarls, causing the other man to quickly walk back out of the room like a dog with its tail shamefully tucked between its legs.

There's the sound of duct-tape being unwound, the noise cutting through the air like a swinging sword.

"So your plan is to bleed my father dry of everything he has," Damian hisses towards the man as the woman begins to re-wrap his wrist to the chair, "and then kill me anyway when he can't get you everything."

And maybe Damian shouldn't be gibing at the already livid man. He realizes this when red fills his face as he stomps forward, shoving the woman out of the way to wrap Damian's wrist the rest of the way up, and then takes a separate strip and practically slaps it onto Damian's mouth.

"I told ya not ta try anythin'," the man snarls when Damian glares at him. He doesn't back down at the glare either, even though Damian made it as intense as he possibly could. A "batglare" as Richard so lovingly puts it. Except most bat leveled glares are depleted by the lack of mask and milky eyes. "I told ya you'll get hurt if you do."

Damian's heartbeat kicks in and he jerks in his restraints when the man moves his hand towards one of Damian's trapped ones, digging through Damian's clenched fist until he grabs the middle digit and starts bending it backwards.

Damian does his best to free his finger and bend it back down, but unfortunately, the finger strength of a thirteen year old is destined to always be weaker than a full grown man. He prepares himself for the pain before it hits, oftentimes, broken fingers are more shocking and painful than one expects.

When the sickening snap hits the air, Damian's left with a split second decision to bite off his grunt or verbally shout. It's painful. Definitely painful enough to warrant a shout. Richard has always told him to go with his first instincts when kidnapped in a civilian's identity.

But this man wants to kill Damian. He had been planning to kill Damian all along, judging by his lack of surprise or confusion when Damian called him out.

This man will kill Damian in less than a day's time. Perhaps exactly at midnight.

Damian doesn't shout. This man doesn't deserve to feel more powerful. He doesn't deserve to let Damian play into his hands. If he's going to kill Damian anyway, he should at least be honest about it! He hates Americans and their sleazy ways, always hiding behind secrets and double meanings. If Damian were back with Grandfather, no one there would lie about desiring Damian's death.

So he doesn't shout like he wants to. Just grunts and pants through his nose as his finger is released, a pulse in it that's in time with his heart, making the hurting practically vibrate in intensity.

He can barely contain his shouting when the man begins to add more duct-tape to his wrists, wrapping his hands down so they're flat to the arms of the chair. There will be no using his fingers to try and escape now. They're pinned, and all Damian can do is continue to glare; taking deep breaths through his nose, and ignoring how the pressure of the tape on his broken finger presses down with horribly sharp pins and needles.

The other man returns now, holding a brown tinted glass bottle that looks like it should contain iodine of something similar.

But it doesn't. That fact is clear enough when the bottle and a rag is handed to the leader.

Damian really isn't looking forward to this one.

He wonders slightly, as he watches the man pour some of the substance onto the cloth and tries to jolt his head away from grabbing hands, if he'll be awake when midnight comes. If these are his last moments alive. There's no hope to escape now.

Stupid. He should have ignored the rules earlier on and just escaped. Disregarded being a typical and normal child. It's not like being a normal child had ever done him any good. It always just gets him hurt, even if for a while he truly feels comfortable in his own skin being a child. It's safer to be jaded and angry and full of killer's instinct. Things like this don't happen to Damian Al Ghul.

Eventually, the hands in his hair win and the cloth presses over his nose. Immediately, a suffocating chemical reek hits his nostrils. He writhes in the grips, terror and panic beginning to slip into his chest cavity.

Ever so slowly, he can feel the chloroform weakening him. He tries to not breathe in, but he also knows that they're not letting go until he's unconscious. Might as well finish this already. Let it end.

Let Damian Wayne end.

His fingers and toes tingle. It's painful. And scary. And he… he wants to cry.

But he doesn't, because nothing on his body is his own anymore. His eyes slip shut and unconsciousness is winding it's cold embrace around him, consciousness becoming similar to the fine sands of his home country. Thin, fine, and slipping away.

The cloth leaves his face, as do the hands in his hair, and his chin hits his chest.

-o-o-o-o-

Voices. There are voices. In front of him, behind him. Everywhere. His stomach rolls and his sinuses feel like he's been stuffed full with cotton. He gags, trying to open his mouth but something keeps it shut. Vaguely, this feeling becomes oddly familiar. The intense urge to vomit, the tape over his mouth, the aches and pains that reside between every cell of his body.

His brain is a million miles away, floating in the strong currents of the sky, out of reach but trying to take Damian with it.

There's a shout. It echoes in his ears. It makes him flinch.

Flinch from what? He doesn't know. All he knows is that he's confused and in a numb agony that makes him want to curl up and not exist.

Light attacks his senses. Sounds echo and stab. He cringes away, squeezing his eyes shut, but a hand falls into his shoulder, spending shards of glass down his spine.

This hand… it's dangerous. Unfriendly. An enemy.

He forces his eyes open against the crusty gunk that's trying to keep his eyes shut. Everything is a swirl of blurry shapes and figures moving in front of a splash of ugly yellow. There's one blob, in particular, that's right beside him.

Damian doesn't like this man. Why does he not like this man?

Why can't he open his mouth? Why can't he move? His finger hurts. He needs to throw up.

"Where's the rest of my money, Wayne?!" The man screeches, causing Damian to wince and try to retreat from the grating voice. It doesn't work though. The hand on his shoulder is strong, along with whatever is keeping him sitting in the chair.

Duct-tape, his mind sluggishly supplies.

Duct-tape. He's been… kidnapped. Ransom. The money... too high… impossible…

"I told ya, if I don't get my money I'll kill the kid!"

Die. Damian's going to die.

He writhes weakly in his bonds, his muscles no stronger than paper. He doesn't… he can't...

"I'll get you the money!" A new voice says, one that's muffled by the speakers of a cell phone. Worried. Anxious. Deep. Father. "I just need more t-"

"I gave ya enough time already," the man sneers, fingers curling into Damian's collarbone.

"I'll get you more than three million if you just give me time! A few more days, that's all I need t-"

Something hard and cold is pressed against Damian's head. Damian closes his eyes, doing his best not to flinch as the safety is loudly clicked off.

"Ya didn't meet the requirements, Wayne. Now, yer goin' ta pay fer that."

Scared.

Damian is scared. He doesn't… he's hopeless. He wants to cry. He wants to throw up.

He wants to go home.

Damian's father yells angrily over the phone. Desperately. It almost sounds like… he actually cares. Like Damian dying will affect him just as much as any other of his chosen children dying.

Damian's died before.

But that was before he and father had spent this much time together. This much time to learn what they like and dislike about each other. When father saved him, he was saving a boy he thought had potential, similar to how Richard gave Damian Robin because he thought he had potential. Potential to be good.

Damian always messes things up. Especially when those things involve being good. Perhaps, this time, when life leaves him, father won't feel guilty about it. Richard won't be depressed about it. Timothy could have Robin back. Jason would have a bullet point on his list of reasons to not visit the manor knocked off. Duke and Cassandra won't be burdened with his prickly personality. Hell, maybe even Stephanie will be better off without Damian this time around.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang, and Damian is immediately sure he's dead. In a haze of panic and fear and terror, Damian's barely aware of the crashing that follows the bang, nor does he pay much attention to the sharp boom which was much louder than the first one.

All he can think about is that he's dead again. He's dead and he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to go back to Hell. He promised himself he'd be better. He promised himself he'd be the boy father wanted him to be, the boy Richard believed he could be.

He doesn't want to be dead again. But he's dead again.

He's dead and there's nothing he can do about it now besides mourn his own life, because he knows no one else will. There will be a funeral, but it will be a formality. There will be revenge, but it will only be because the people who killed him are criminals and deserve to be put behind bars.

Not because they loathe them for taking Damian's life.

Tears slip through his dead eyes. His dead chest rattles with sharp, dead gasps.

He's dead. He's dead. Dead dead dead dead dead-

"got you-" a far away voice whispers. "Feel that? I'm breathing, you need to too, Dami-"

Expanding. A warm body under his cold, dead, fingers. Going in and out, and Damian subconsciously begins to try and copy that. Breathing. Something that doesn't belong to him anymore.

But he tries.

"There we go," the voice says, "you're going great!"

Is he? Is he breathing correctly? A thing only the living can do?

He gasps, his lungs shaking with each breath he tries to copy. The voice encourages him until Damian's able to keep breathing on his own. Until he opens his eyes and sees a familiar face with bright blue eyes, a body wearing a black suit with a splash of blue right where Damian's freed hand is pressed against.

Around them is a mess of unconscious bodies, all restrained with zip ties and cuffs. It's horribly difficult to focus, but things are so much sharper than what they were the last time he had his eyes open. He can see a second familiar face, picking through the mess of unconscious bodies as if looking for something. It's Timothy.

Richard smiles at him. "See? I have you. You're okay-"

And Damian launches himself forward, hardly even remembering that last he remembers he was restrained to the chair. They must have cut him loose. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because Richard immediately winds his arms around Damian, careful of his broken finger, and begins whispering comforts so soft and genuine that Damian… Damian feels heat gather in his eyes.

Besides them, Timothy finds what he was looking for, quickly putting the cellphone the leader had been using to his ear. "It's okay, Mr Wayne, Nightwing and Red Robin found him. He's safe."

Safe. Alive. Damian's alive. He curls his good fingers into Richard's suit, his chest heaving from sobs that want to tear out. He didn't die. The drugs and stress made him think he did. Richard and Timothy came and saved him. Dragged him out of a panic attack, and are going to take him home.

Home. Where father will hover like a worried mother hen until he's sure Damian is alright. Where Richard will convince Alfred to make something high in carbs and sugar to comfort Damian. Where Timothy will invite him to play video games with him to give silent support. Where Cassandra will give the best hug and whisper that she's glad he's okay. Where Duke will talk with him until his sides hurt from laughing. Where Jason will visit and ruffle his hair and grumble quietly that he's glad Damian isn't dead.

Home.

He curls tighter into Richard's embrace.

Home.

---

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3

[punkdaddylouis]

// two prudes: code red //

chapter two of my punk louis au. behold, some zouis brotp moments - thanks in advance if u would proceed to read on ! x

//a one night stand; don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man//

at around 9:30 in the morning of a monday, louis pushes at the entrance door of code red and strolls inside with delilah nestled to his side, making the bell hooked atop the door ring soundly throughout the area.

he meets with the relaxing atmosphere of the air conditioned and truly spacious shop, some metal music playing to a minimum level in the background.

he sees the same multi-purpose cool shop with its skateboards all hanging on one slanted corner, boxes filled of stuff louis yet doesn't know - perhaps some wheels and other tools.

on one corner there are shelves specially for comic books of any kinds, even k-zones and mangas. on the center are aisles with neat alignments of vinyls and stacks of cds with headphones hooked to some, the certain lists one is allowed to listen to for free. and then there's a door on the other end, just right below the shelf of skateboards, with the neon sign that says guns & roses tattoo parlor.

a head from behind the counter snaps up as he nears, and louis is right away met by a pair of dashing hazel brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes, the owner of them being his ex-boyfriend slash best mate for three years now, zayn javaad malik. the brooding guy with the jet black hair and arms littered with tattoos just like louis himself.

"morning, lou," he greets eerily, voice thin as per usual, flashing those white pearls, lower lip decorated by a round piercing on the right corner.

snickering mentally to himself, louis deems out of nowhere not remembering a single time zayn's voice was ever that thin when he was fucking him into oblivion and he was groaning like a rabid animal.

but of course, that was in the past. louis and zayn are now just best friends, or more like, brothers from another mothers, something like that. zayn ended them, and louis was chill enough to just shrug and agree to his decision. i think i'm just gonna go find my true penguin.

penguin? what the fuck are you talking about, zaynie boy? louis had laughed so hard, sex hazy and high with consumed marijuana.

penguin, lou. zayn shook louis' arms, as if wanting him to wake the fuck up. it's like, your soulmate, yeh? because when penguins mate, they never leave their other halves anymore. it's like, their forever, ye know?

louis had blinked at him, sobering up by the absurdity of it all. and then he pushed at zayn and straddled his hips. will you shut the fuck up? you're beautiful, baby, it's true, but fuck, you're also the fucking lamest, most cliché person ever. and then he surged down, kissed zayn and shut him up for the last 5 hours as they fucked once again.

like, zayn is just...the weirdest weirdo louis has ever known in his life. and he's seen worse.

truth be told, he didn't love him like that - the whole sweetness and romance shit, because fuck no, louis doesn't do that. louis loves zayn, of course he does, but only like he's his cousin or step brother or perhaps little sister. they were boyfriends before, but that only served as a label, since they fucked like rabbits at every chance they got back then, sex driven and young. but that was that.

zayn is the gentle type, the sentimentalist, the tiptoeing kind of person, so louis figured they needed something to somewhat seal the deal - for the two of them to have the authority and right to fuck. and it was for them to become "official". thus they became boyfriends.

they only lasted four months, however, before zayn had eventually realized that louis never loved him in a romantic way. he never took offence to that, thankfully, knew to himself that he was a good fuck, a warm hole to sedate, so he didn't blame louis for using him to release steam anytime he so pleased.

they don't fuck nowadays anymore though. it's been years.

"hey, babes," louis greets back, leaning against the platform and pecking zayn's forehead sloppily with a loud smack, rounding the counter and then dropping delilah at the corner. zayn smiles hazily, nodding his head.

they work together at code red, about a year ago now since they applied. they alternate being in charge on the till and serving walk-in customers, and then their boss, ed, is the one in charge for callers of deliveries. those calls don't come as often.

moments to his clock-in, louis finds himself later playing with his lip ring, as he chews at his bottom lip. he rummages through a couple of vinyls at one aisle and looks for the one their first costumer for the day is asking for. they said they wanted am by the arctic monkeys, so.

when louis finally sees it, a black vinyl with white obscure linings that briefly show a drawing of a ribbon, he fishes it out and inspects it before anything else.

he's got one vans clad foot perched on the three-step ladder left by the aisle they're in, and he's wearing his beanie today and then a loose gray tank top that he now regrets for wearing, since the ac is probably by 17 degrees and it's killing him, fuck.

anyway, he hands the album over to the guy who has their white tee and blue jeans on, curtly reminding louis of a lana del rey song, and then he watches them retreat back to the counter where zayn is now conversing to a few new kids that probably stepped in while he was busy back there.

by the looks of it, the kids are purchasing comics from zayn. he has a keen for nerdy stuff, this dude, and since ed is kind enough to let his shop be used for other business agendas, he lets zayn sell his own comics here, no problem.

"batman, spider-man, green lantern, you name it!" zayn chirps dazedly, voice languid as if he's high, which. probably. he's always high.

"i want superman."

"hey, i want superman too!"

"me, me! i want x-men!"

"yeah! professor x is the best!"

louis watches in peace as zayn lights up at the persistence of the kids crowding him by the counter - asking for the things he also like - can't help biting at his cheek at the happy look his half-pakistani friend is sporting. they both know it's not everyday that they wear genuine smiles and share hysterical laughter to others, considering they're a bunch of college drop-outs that are the outcasts of the town, and that now people see them as this - rebels.

which they're not, mind, seeing as louis still visits his mom and sisters and that he doesn't cause (much) trouble around the city.

they just like having lots of tattoos, smoke chain until four, get pierced every now and then, dye their hair different colors, get high whenever they could score (and that means every day), and live independently on their own, what's so wrong about that?

people can just go fuck themselves, to be honest. louis is fine being this way, thank you very much.

his life, his shit, don't like it? go suck a dick.

simple.

just as zayn's about done with serving the rest of the customers by the counter, it's only a matter of time then for louis to be greeting another batch that spills right at the door of code red, being a pretty much in-demand multipurpose shop and all. he mentally rolls his eyes.

as he looks up, louis sees students, giggling girls, an adolescent, and - a person. one who's wearing a green beanie atop their mop of curls, a hoodie above that, and is plausibly standing a solid five-foot-eleven given that he isn't wearing one of his silly boots today.

harry styles.

because of course, he goes here. of course. louis takes a deep breath, shuffles towards the new customers.

"heya, welcome to code red. anything i can help you with?"

once again, blue meets green. louis isn't really affected by it.

[aion-rsa]

15 SNES Games That Deserve a Sequel

https://ift.tt/3vtwp5A

The SNES isn’t just the greatest Nintendo console of all-time: it’s the home of a truly impressive collection of classic games, underrated gems, and, for our purposes today, a shocking number of games that never got the sequel they deserved.

While you can usually list the business reasons why certain games don’t get sequels, that does little to diminish fans’ desires for more of a particular experience or even a second chance to get things right. In the case of some of these games, fans have been holding their breath for quite a long time.

Before we dive into this look at SNES games begging for a sequel, please note that while we will mostly focus on games that never got a sequel, a few of these titles did get underwhelming sequels that missed the mark or otherwise haven’t been revisited in over 20 years.

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15. The Adventures of Batman and Robin

While I actually slightly prefer the Genesis version of this game, this underrated SNES gem was still a Konami beat-em-up made at the peak of that studio’s efforts in that genre. Even better, it was based on arguably the best Batman adaptation of all time: Batman: The Animated Series. 

So why did this never get a sequel? It certainly wasn’t perfect, and Konami may have struggled to retain the rights, but given how much the company’s TMNT games improved over time, it’s hard not to wonder what Konami could have done if they had been allowed to expand upon this brilliant marriage of an expertly adapted world and nearly airtight gameplay.

14. Saturday Night Slam Masters

This game did technically get a sequel, but that title never officially made it out of Japan and also made some drastic changes that made the series more of a 2D fighting game. It was actually quite good, but it didn’t reach the heights of the original.

After all, Saturday Night Slam Masters balanced a fascinating mixture of fighting games and wrestling games that was compelling enough at the time but may bring a generation raised on increasingly stale WWE games to tears. This is quite simply one of the most entertaining wrestling games ever made. 

13. Super Star Wars Trilogy

This entry is a bit of a cheat since it not only combines three games in one entry but arguably ignores the fact that we’ve obviously gotten quite a few Star Wars games since these were released. Still, what I really want is a new trilogy of games that mimics the gameplay and style of these brutally difficult classics. 

Whether they’re based on the prequel trilogy, sequel trilogy, or tell entirely original stories, I’d love for a modern developer (probably someone in the Devolver Digital family) to make a modern Super Star Wars game that leaves you wanting to throw your controller through the window and enjoying every minute of it. 

12. Mario Paint

While Nintendo has made other strange games that emphasized player’s creative input (Mario Maker is probably the most notable recent example), they’ve never really properly revisited this Super Mario spin-off that showed Nintendo fans everywhere there was an artist inside of them.

Mario Paint may be simple by today’s standards, but that’s all the more reason for Nintendo to upgrade what was essentially an educational game that mastered the “gamify” concept long before that really became a talking point in the industry. 

11.  U.N. Squadron

The SNES wasn’t exactly lacking in worthwhile shooters, but there was always something special about U.N. Squadron. Granted, it was tough as nails, but the game’s upgrade system, visuals, and incredible level design typically made it easy to put up with the frustrations. 

Capcom is always talking about revisiting and reviving its back catalog, so why not release an “indie-style” sequel to this cult classic that’s always deserved another look?

10. Skyblazer

This largely forgotten gem from the SNES era shows just how spoiled we were at that time for these kinds of experiences. 

After all, Skyblazer was a game that combined great visuals, a killer soundtrack, puzzle-solving, platforming, and intense side-scrolling action, and few people ever actually played it. A simple re-release of this underrated classic would be more than I could hope for, but truth be told, my heart cries out for an admittedly unlikely sequel.

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9. Sunset Riders

Long before Red Dead Redemption offered arguably the definitive Western gaming experience, one of the most enjoyable ways to take a trip to that era was this run-and-gun side-scroller shooter that failed to really make a name for itself despite having so much going for it. 

Sunset Riders‘ old west setting carries a lot of this game’s weight, but it’s really this shooter’s gameplay (which feels like a combination of Contra and a light gun shooter) that makes you wonder how it spent so many years in relative obscurity. A sequel would go a long way towards helping to ensure this game gets the love it deserves. 

8. Weaponlord

It felt like every developer was trying to make the next great fighting game in the ‘90s. While most of those efforts fell well short of being the next Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, the decade’s onslaught of subpar efforts meant that a few fighting games never got the chance they deserved. 

Weaponlord was one of those games. Sometimes referred to as the spiritual predecessor to Soul Edge/Soul Calibur, this weapon-based fighting game complemented its shockingly deep gameplay with a unique art style that stands out to this day. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s so easy to imagine how a sequel could have fixed nearly all of this game’s flaws.

7. Uniracers

A racing game about unicycles is strange enough, but what really sets this game apart is its surprising speed and wacky courses that emphasize almost “stunt-like” racing and tricks. I even kind of love this game’s weird ‘90s attitude. 

There was just so much more that could have been done with this concept had Uniracers gotten the sequel it deserved. Since its developer DMA Design (now known as Grand Theft Auto developer Rockstar North) clearly isn’t doing anything these days, I don’t see why they wouldn’t revisit this one. 

6. Secret of Evermore

It’s easy to get this game confused with Secret of Mana and some of the other titles of this era, but Secret of Evermore truly was a special piece of action RPG design that has been tragically overlooked over the years for reasons that have little to do with the game’s quality. 

At a time when many fans were looking for a Secret of Mana sequel, Secret of Evermore offered a somewhat similar but distinctly different gaming experience that was a little slower, a little stranger, and a little more complicated, but arguably never got the chance it deserved to really carve its own identity and find an audience. I think modern gamers would be more receptive to this title’s ideas, though it would be a lot easier to confirm that theory if we got a sequel.

5. Kirby’s Dream Course

Kirby’s Dream Course is one of those games that I feel was both hurt and helped by its license. While this project’s association with Kirby probably inspired more people to play what essentially amounts to a combination of golf and puzzle games (think Marble Madness), a lot of young gamers who took a chance on this thinking it was closer to a traditional Kirby game were left throwing their hands up in the air. 

Years later, though, it’s easier than ever to appreciate what Dream Course is going for. This almost zen-like experience challenges you to use your brain to solve its most fiendish puzzles but keeps things light enough to encourage you to progress even when you hit a wall. Even if an eventual sequel was nothing more than a mobile game, Dream Course is more than worthy of another look.

4. Illusion of Gaia

Illusion of Gaia was one of those SNES games that not everybody owned, but those who did own it typically wouldn’t shut up about it. To be fair to those sometimes persistent gamers, it’s kind of hard to forget about Illusion of Gaia once you’ve given it a chance. 

Though perhaps best described as an ARPG, Illusion of Gaia is actually sometimes closer to a more complicated take on a classic Legend of Zelda game. Its incredible world, surprising plot, fun action, and unique action/adventure concepts made it easy to love, hard to forget, and surprisingly difficult to play. While part of an unofficial trilogy of games, this one has always deserved a proper sequel. 

3. Super Mario RPG

While the Paper Mario series and some of the Mario & Luigi games eventually carried on Super Mario RPG’s legacy, you’ve got to forgive fans who still cry out for a “proper” Super Mario RPG sequel to this day. Maybe that’s because there’s really not another game quite like Super Mario RPG. 

Developed by SquareSoft during their 16-bit peak, Super Mario RPG combined the better elements of a Final Fantasy game with the more lighthearted nature of a Mario title. The result was an RPG that was much more “accessible” than other notable RPGs of this era but never left you feeling like you were playing a lesser game. At the very least, a Super Mario RPG sequel may be the only way that we get more Geno adventures. 

2. Demon’s Crest

There’s a loose rumor that Demon’s Crest‘s sales were so bad that it actually registered negative sales at one point due to an excessive number of returns. It may be little more than an urban legend, but it kind of goes to show you just how poorly this game performed when it was released. 

To this day, I’m not sure why Demon’s Crest wasn’t an instant hit. It was a bit short and some of its design elements were somewhat confusing, but this lovely gothic action title combined Castlevania and Mega Man in a way that is so easy to fall in love with. It’s the kind of game that practically begged for a sequel that it just never got. 

1. Chrono Trigger

While I’m actually a fan of 1999’s Chrono Cross, I understand why many fans don’t like it. I believe Kotaku once called it a great game and a bad sequel, which really kind of sums up some of the ways that game distinguished itself while seemingly ignoring so many of the ways the classic original made a name for itself as one of the best RPGs ever. 

So yes, count me among the many who still wants a “proper” Chrono Trigger sequel to this day. While there are plenty of reasons to doubt that a modern Chrono Trigger game could replicate the ways that this game’s “dream team” of developers made it arguably the best JRPG of the golden era of JRPGs, it’s almost impossible to walk away from this one and not be left wishing for more. 

The post 15 SNES Games That Deserve a Sequel appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[z054j-blog]

Nightwing: The New Order #2

Published by DC Comics

Writer: Kyle Higgins; Art: Trevor McCarthy (also on main covers); Colors: Dean White; Letters: Clayton Cowles

(Spoilers ahead.)

Questions answered in this issue: 

Why is Alfred Pennyworth still alive? So he can get killed by Crusaders in order to fuel up Nightwing’s probably-forthcoming anti-establishment rage. But I found this somewhat ridiculous. Grayson is head of the Crusaders, but they’re taking orders from someone else? They extend to him zero courtesy, as their colleague, nay, as their commander? I mean, if he’s still Commander after the tranquilizers they shot him up with wear off, isn’t every single one of those jack-boots going to be fired? This is all to be expected, perhaps, since we are riding a cliche wave here - but come on. And to think - they allowed Alfred an unreasonably long lifespan just so he could act a fool in front of an armed officer and take a bullet! 

The “something” Grasyon did to become a hero everyone respects until it matters: There was a huge superhero brawl in the middle of Metropolis in 2028. People and things were getting wrecked all over the place. To bring an end to it all, Grayson did indeed set off some sort of device that (inexplicably) impacted the powers of 90 percent of the metahumans on the entire planet. Never mind how significant an event (of any type) would have to be to encompass the entire globe. Instead, focus upon the fact that this device was small enough to be carried around by Nightwing. My suspension of disbelief resembles a man realizing too late that he shouldn’t have tried powerlifting. 

The device DID work on Starfire. She was powerless, but unharmed. She bailed out some time later, but as far as it has been revealed, she is not a rogue power.

Other tidbits revealed: There exists technology that can detect superpowers at a certain level of potency. There also exists technology that can obscure powers from these scanners. 

It’s also revealed that Jake Grayson’s powers are similar to Starfire’s, but possible more significant. They are steadily increasing, and have been evolving within Jake over the last three years. Jake himself only learned of them a year of so before, and he had an episode during basketball practice that amounted to some sort of power eruption. 

The main focus of this issue is Grayson reacting to what he has just learned about Jake. He takes Jake to a doctor who runs a variety of tests. He reveals all of the above information about Jake’s powers, and then the central point of emphasis: That the inhibitor drugs don’t work on him. 

I’d hoped at the close of issue one that Grayson would toe party line and try to get his son on meds ASAP. I was rewarded for this hope - that’s the first thing he says to the doctor, and that’s when the bomb is dropped. His son is looking at being put into stasis - and there’s a telling moment in which Dick all but admits that no one ever comes out of stasis. But he has a hope that there’s an alternative. He wants to get him placed in “The League” and declares that he will begin negotiations to get this done. 

Before he can do so, the windows explode with the tactical entry of a Crusaders extraction team. Even his close associate is present - none of them respect his authority or follow any of his orders. Alfred foolishly brandishes a baseball bat... (he’s become a batman... get it?) at a man who is aiming a gun at his chest, and he refuses to “stand down” in favor of making a political statement at a room full of people who don’t care, and then he’s shot dead. 

Jake is enraged, and begins to “power up” but the team is ready with the tranqs and neutralize both Jake and Dick Grayson, and we close with them being hauled off in shackles. 

(Spoilers end.) 

Everything about this issue is still top notch, aside from a slight stumble into convenient writing territory. There’s an impressible splash page of the battle in Metropolis, featuring just about every major DC hero and their opposing arch-enemy. Excepting that Batman is opposed by Bane rather than the Joker. Theoretically, Batman shouldn’t even be there, since he’s non-meta. Likewise Bane is just a substance abuser when it all boils down. Device goes off, those two would still be just a-wailin’ on each other. 

Total score, B- 

[amazingviralinfo]

Once people become famous, it seems like they only hang around other celebrities and/or rich people -- what could they possibly have to say to peasants like us? So it's no surprise when these glitzy bastards show up at the same clubs together. What is weird, however, is how many celebrities from totally different fields (or even time periods) knew each other before they got famous.

We've told you about how Samuel Beckett used to drive Andre the Giant to school, but that's not the weirdest pair of famous people to share an unexpected connection...

6

Empire Creator Danny Strong Was A Fan Of Quentin Tarantino ... When He Was Just A Video Store Clerk

Danny Strong was one of those "you know, that guy" TV actors (thanks to appearances in Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Gilmore Girls, Mad Men, and a long etc.) before gaining huge success as the creator of Fox's hip-hop soap opera, Empire.

Strong also wrote the screenplays for The Butler and two Hunger Games movies. Dude's had a pretty weird trajectory, is our point -- but it gets even weirder when you find out how he became a film buff in the first place. When Strong was a kid, he would go into the local video store and have long conversations with a clerk who "got [him] turned on to all these different movies that 10 year olds don't see." (As in, art films, not hardcore porn. We think.) That clerk's name? Albert Einstein.

Fine, it was actually Quentin Tarantino.

As we've mentioned before, Tarantino got his start in the movie industry by working at that same rental store. He was known for his infectious enthusiasm for movies, and patient zero of that outbreak might very well have been the young Strong. The kid used to spend so much time at the store, in fact, that he earned the nickname "Lil' Quentin."

One day, Tarantino was gone from the store, and it came out that he was making a movie. That movie's name? Albert Eins-- uh, Reservoir Dogs. Two years later, he'd win an Oscar for Pulp Fiction, and Strong got to tell people he was a fan of that guy before anyone else. We'd tell you to be nice to your video store clerk, but half of you are now asking Google what a "video store" even is.

5

Wyatt Earp Hung Out With A Teenage John Wayne

Wyatt Earp was one of those guys who wasn't satisfied sticking to one job for too long -- over the years he was a lawman, buffalo hunter, brothel keeper, miner and boxing referee, among others. But obviously he was best known for being an infinitely badass cowboy dude.

Earp took part in the most famous shootout in the history of the American Wild West, the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral -- a 30-second gun battle that has inspired dozens of feature-length films. What you might not realize is that, unlike most people involved in that event, Earp lived long enough to see the earliest movies inspired by his exploits. Naturally, he wanted in on that action.

Towards the end of his life, Earp settled in California and tried to break into Hollywood. Perhaps noticing an alarming lack of westerns where his character was always surrounded by naked ladies, Earp decided he wanted to tell his story from his own perspective. Unfortunately, the closest he got was reportedly a background part in a single scene of an obscure 1915 film.

On the upside, Earp did get to befriend some Hollywood actors -- including a 17-year-old nobody called Marion Morrison. You might know him under his somewhat manlier fake name, John Wayne.

While hanging out on movie sets, casually choreographing historical gunfights for directors like John Ford, Earp would share stories from the Wild West with the actors. The future Wayne, then a lowly extra/prop man, soaked them up. He also paid close attention to the way Earp talked and carried himself. It was like if Elizabeth Taylor had gotten to travel back in time and have brunch with the real Cleopatra, or if Ben Affleck could shoot the shit with the real Batman.

Obviously, those anecdotes came quite handy to Wayne once he went on to star in westerns of his own -- to the point that, according to his son, whenever Wayne had to play a tough cowboy, he just channeled Wyatt Earp. So, he did that for 95 percent of his roles, basically.

4

John Belushi Was Once Bailed Out Of Jail By Personal Finance Guru Suze Orman

Suze Orman, if you've never accidentally tuned into CNBC just as the remote ran out of battery, is one of the most successful professional assholes to tell you how to spend your money. She's famous for giving out generic financial advice while yelling "denied" and other catchphrases that may or may not have come from Wayne's World.

John Belushi, on the other hand, was one of the original cast members of Saturday Night Live and the star of comedy classics like Animal House and The Blues Brothers. He's famous for doing a shitload of drugs.

How the hell could two human beings so radically different possibly come together? The answer, of course, is through the magic of college housing. While attending the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Orman ended up rooming with a girl called Judith Pisano, who in turn brought along her boyfriend/future husband, John Belushi.

Long before Orman went on TV to tell people what to do, she would practice her craft on Pisano, advising her to dump Belushi. Pisano recalls that Orman would ask "What are you doing with this guy?" and often expressed doubts about his possibilities of making it as an actor. We like to imagine that Belushi was chilling on the couch eating pizza as she said that, and didn't give a fuck.

Now, to be fair, Belushi did run into problems -- like when he was taken to jail after accumulating an impressive amount of unpaid parking tickets.

Belushi was so broke that he was unable to cough up the $25 bail, and Pisano couldn't ask her parents for help since they didn't know she was living with a dude. So, Belushi had no choice but to ask Orman to have her dad bail him out of jail. Mr. Orman did that and Belushi paid him back with some tickets to see his improv comedy group. It was the closest thing to money he had.

Interestingly, Orman has retroactively developed a much kinder opinion of the late Belushi now that he's a comedy legend: On her site, she writes that he was a hilarious guy and the three years she spent with him and his girlfriend were "quite the adventure." Presumably, her dad is now richer than her from selling those tickets on eBay.

3

Sherlock Holmes' Creator Thought His Friend Harry Houdini Had Real Magic Powers

The relationship between Arthur Conan Doyle (creator of Sherlock Holmes) and Harry Houdini (professional death-cheater) was the opposite of what you'd expect from their job descriptions. Doyle wrote stories about taciturn detectives solving crimes through reason and logic, while Houdini was a showy illusionist whose name is synonymous with magic -- and yet, Houdini was the skeptic and Doyle the one who wouldn't shut up about how fairies are totally real, you guys.

The two first met in 1920, and established an unlikely bromance over their shared interest in spiritualism (as in, communication with ghosts, not a fanaticism for strong alcohol). Doyle had long been a believer in the idea that there was life after death, even more so after his son died in World War I. Houdini, on the other hand, wanted to believe that it's possible to chat with the dead after his mom passed away, but just couldn't. He knew how easy it was for bullshit artists to fake a seance -- mainly because he'd done it himself, when he was young and needed the money.

Doyle and Houdini's different positions regarding ghosts and magic caused friction between them. Houdini would perform simple vaudeville tricks to prove that anyone could fake that shit, but they only convinced Doyle that his friend was some sort of powerful psychic or X-Men. One time, out of boredom, Houdini held up his hands and pretended to remove the end of his thumb and then reattach it. Doyle was astounded and his wife nearly fainted. Apparently, the most successful detective books of all time were written by a dude with a kindergartner's stimulus threshold.

As Doyle spent more and more money trying to prove ghost-talking was a real thing, Houdini made a second career out of exposing the same frauds his friend was falling for. Their relationship finally collapsed after Doyle's wife claimed she'd been able to contact Houdini's mother during a seance, producing 15 pages of perfect English from beyond the grave. Houdini wasn't too impressed, since his mom was a Hungarian immigrant with the mastery of English of a YouTube commenter.

2

Alexander Graham Bell Was Like A Dad To Helen Keller, Paid For Her College

Helen Keller is the woman who lost her ability to see and hear at 18 months, and still led a way more badass life than any of us ever will. If we asked you to name a historical figure Keller definitely had nothing to do with, some of you might say Alexander Graham Bell, that one dude who gets all the credit for (sort of) inventing the telephone. It seems like a phone is about the most insulting gift you could get for someone like her.

And yet, Bell wasn't just a friend of Keller's: He was one of the most important people in her life. Bell's close family was basically half deaf people and half people who had done research into voice. Bell himself taught deaf children to speak using a set of old-school emoji, basically.

Wiki Commons This is the process for communicating "poop with eyes."

So, when Keller's parents decided to take the little girl to specialists to see if she could even be educated, they ended up with Bell. Keller later wrote that she "loved him at once," which is surprising given that she couldn't even see his Santa beard.

Library of Congress "I'm most famous for creating an invention that is utterly useless to you."

It was Bell who referred Keller to Anne Sullivan, the woman who taught her how to communicate, but his influence didn't stop there. The two visited and wrote to each other all the time, and Bell even paid for her college education. (We apologize for making any dropouts feel bad by reminding you that Helen Keller finished college.)

Keller gained celebrity status after Bell gushed about her accomplishments in various journals. She, in turn, dedicated her first autobiography to him and attracted national attention to deaf education, an issue very close to Bell's heart. He would even go on to marry one of his deaf pupils (not Keller, thankfully, because then the newspapers would have started calling them "Beller.")

Besides deafness, another common interest that Bell and Keller shared was ... eugenics, but that's a subject for another, far more depressing article.

1

The Major Heads Of State Fighting In World War I (Except France) Were All Cousins

Remember the time when England, Russia, France, and their buddies fought Germany and its buddies in a giant free-for-all? No, not that one. The other one. We're talking about World War I, or as it was known at the time, The Only World War We'll Ever Have, Probably. Arguably the three most important figures in the conflict were Tsar Nicholas II (last Emperor of Russia) and King George V (King of the United Kingdom and the British Dominions) on one side, and Kaiser Wilhelm II (last German Emperor and King of Prussia) on the other.

And here's the weird thing: All three happened to be first cousins.

This wasn't some cut-off, dysfunctional family, either. The cousins/heads of state frequently wrote to each other and hung out, unlike you and that cousin you borrowed some Nintendo 64 games from and have been avoiding for 20 years. Although all three of them were rarely seen together, George (the English boss) and Nicholas (the Russian boss) looked so much alike that they were often mistaken for each other. We have to assume this led to Parent Trap-style shenanigans when they were kids.

The cousins all had the same grandmother, Queen Victoria, but their amiable relationships couldn't stop the most catastrophic family feud ever. In the historic "Willy-Nicky" telegrams (yes, they had embarrassing nicknames for each other), Nicholas wrote to Wilhelm on the literal eve of battle and asked in the "name of our old friendship to stop your allies." Wilhelm replied, "with regard to the hearty and tender friendship which binds us both from long ago with firm ties, I am exerting my utmost influence to induce the Austrians to deal straightly to arrive to a satisfactory understanding with you." Presumably he was giggling to himself as he wrote that, because the conflict continued -- the two cousins would soon be not only at war, but also off their thrones.

As for George, he offered Nicholas asylum after the war, but George withdrew the offer for political reasons, forcing his cousin to stay in Russia, where his whole family was executed. That's one way to avoid awkward family dinners, we guess.

Rachel P. is not famous yet, but you can make it happen. Follow her Twitter @plehcar.

For more famous connections, read The 7 Most Random Celebrity Duos Who Hung Out Before Fame and 8 Weird Ways Celebrities Were Friends Before Fame.

And be sure to check out 9 Types Of Coworkers To Make You Want Your Head To Explode, and let us know about other headsplosion-worthy employees we may have missed.

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[everybodygetawesome]

Top 10 Memorable Motorcycle Moments in Movies!

Do you know what’s awesome?  Movie Motorcycles.   So...motorcycles.  Why are motorcycles loved by the people who ride them?  Sure enough, I get why people who don’t ride them see the activity as an entirely unnecessary risk.  Motorcycles are dangerous and I can’t place my finger exactly on what the addiction of riding a motorcycle is.  Sometimes it’s uncomfortable and sometimes it’s downright painful.  I assume that everybody out on the road doesn’t see me, is drunk, on their phones, and might kill me at any given moment.  

But motorcycles maintain an inexorable pull on people who ride them.  Tractor beam.  Sucked me right in.  (Movie?  Anybody?) Motorcycles in movies, though, that’s much easier to understand...characters who ride motorcycles just look cooler.  By the way, I’m not out to look cool...cool-looking people have no helmets, bare sleeves, and a cigar.  Since I’m terrified of head injury, roadrash and lung cancer, I have on full leather gear and a full face helmet, and no cigar, and probably look like I’m trying *too* hard, when really I just want all of my skin to stay attached to my body.  

So, to be clear, the motorcycles and their riders listed below are absolutely NOT the way motorcycling should be done.  Only 2 of the Top 10 riders and two(ish) of the Best of the Rest listed wore a helmet and ATGATT (all the gear, all the time) throughout the movie.  So if you were thinking of learning to ride, DON’T EVER DO THIS STUFF.  I promise to go back to my responsible riding just as soon as I get done writing this.  

As per previous rules, no internet was allowed in coming up with the list, but I did need the internet to help with some of the details.  Now, you might be wondering how I came up with the list in the first place and, admittedly, this was incredibly subjective.  I tried to come up with movies wherein if somebody mentioned a movie, one of the first thing I thought of was a specific motorcycle.  The higher on the list, the more the motorcycle was associated with the movie. I will concede here, that there’s a very fine line between something that’s cool and something that’s stupid and cheesy.  But if you fall on the wrong side of that line, it might be memorable, but it absolutely doesn’t make the list. ”Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man” is what inspired this paragraph and, by the way, if you want to watch something unintentionally hilarious, I highly recommend this movie.  “Biker Boyz” too.  I have no real barometer as how something falls on one side of this line vs the other but you know it when you see it.

I will take a rather unusual stance here and concede that my list may not be as good as it could be.  Normally, I consider my opinion on pop culture to be beyond contestation (bonus points if somebody can get that obscure pop-culture reference), but I feel like I’m missing some big ones here. Well, whatever.  Let’s go grab some wind...

The Best of the Rest

Bond’s Chase - “Skyfall”

Wait, what?  Bond doesn’t make an appearance in the Top 10?  No, he actually doesn’t.  You’d think that since James can do everything and since Q cooks up sweet gadgets, there’d be a good/memorable motorcycle scene somewhere.   Not so much.  Most of the time it’s the villain henchmen riding and the few scenes that do involve James are somewhat forgettable.  There is the scene in Die Another Day I think, where James and the Chinese Special agent are handcuffed together and basically coital as they ride through the streets of Shanghai and shoot bad guys and the whole thing is too silly to take seriously.

So we’re left with “Skyfall” which I actually contend is one of the two best 007 movies ever.  The motorcycle scene is cool but it’s just sort of forgettable and wasn’t even close to the most famous ride in the movie...that title goes to the silver Aston Martin kept in storage.  Hell, James is more memorable riding into the casino on that boat.  In my humble opinion.  So a best of the rest appearance, yes.  But a Top 10 appearance?  My apologies, Mr. Bond.

The Batpod - “The Dark Knight” and “The Dark Knight Rises”

Yeah, yeah...it’s not a “real” motorcycle.  It’s a custom chopper.  Shut up and don’t judge my nerding out over comic book movies.   Like you don’t want one.  Batman, was, I supposed, wearing pretty protective riding gear though I don’t think it was dedicated riding gear.

Topper Harley’s Dream Lover - “Hot Shots”

If only this scene could have involved more foolishness.  The movie it’s self is a national treasure, but the motorcycle just didn’t figure into it as much as we all wished it could have.  It’s not the first motorcycle in a movie you think of, but it does make you giggle when you get there.   Iowa State Rugby has just disowned me for this omission.  It’s almost as unfortunate as taking a bazooka round at Little Bighorn.

Maybe we should start to get serious here...

Kiddo’s Stalking - “Kill Bill Vol. 1″

A great regret of my life may be not putting this in the Top 10.  I just didn’t quite associate the movie enough with the motorcycle and there’s another Tarentino movie that’s going to show up in the top 10.  While Beatrix Kiddo is in her motorcycling leather for much of the movie, the motorcycle it’s self, tragically, just isn’t a major fixture.

She does look cool though.  I feel like if there was some memorable line or something from the scene, if she would have fired off a witty retort to a squid (a squid is a squirrley kid who’s not wearing any protective gear and rides like a jackass), that would have made the scene a little more memorable.  To me anyways.  But tearing away to Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity” was an awfully good start.   I’m so on the fence here.  But another Tarantino Motorcycle Made the Top 10.  Speaking of that...

Top 10 Memorable Motorcycle Moments in Movies!

10.  Grace - “Pulp Fiction”

The Bike: Harley-Davidson Fat Bob Chopper

I will readily admit that I don’t think of motorcycles when I think about the movie “Pulp Fiction”.  This was such a small part of the movie, I could easily entertain objections that it’s on my list.  

The thing is though, for the last 20 years (can it really be 20 years?) whenever I see a chopper on the road, I always mutter under my breath, “It’s not a motorcycle, baby, it’s a chopper”. Did you know it isn’t a motorcycle, it’s a chopper?  I didn’t.  It occurred to me that I’d like to know things like that.  I’d like to casually but firmly correct somebody about something such as this which are obvious now but when I was 14, I had no idea.  Bruce Willis telling me it wasn’t a motorcycle placed an inkling in my head I should know these things.

It’s a Tarentino movie, so don’t watch it at work...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ue996GQMC8 

9.  Riggs Lays it Down - “Lethal Weapon - 3″

The Bike: 1984 Kawasaki KZ1000 Police

Riggs, of course, needs to wreck half of Los Angeles to catch somebody and finally gets on two wheels to do so in the third installment of the franchise.  In coming up with this one, Riggs’ very memorable shot coming through the smoke with the windscreen having been torn off by a semi (of course) is arguably the most memorable shot of the whole movie which is why it makes #9.  

I was told in my motorcycle safety course that there are very few times when it is acceptable or advisable to lay it down.  If you laid it down, essentially, you consciously decided to crash.  One of the very few times it IS acceptable to lay it down is when you are about to drive off the cliff.  Since sliding off a cliff is certain death, taking your chances trying to find something to grab on to as you slide towards your doom is the better option.  Otherwise, I am told, if you are headed towards a car, you will hit the car that pulled out in front of you at a higher rate of speed if you slide vs ride as the coefficient of friction is higher between the ground and your tires than it is between the ground and the rest of your motorcycle.  Also you stand a greater chance of being run over by the wheels if you are at ground level.   Heading towards a cliff, though, changes the situation slightly.  There is no car to run you over and even you hit the cliff at 5mph, you’ll die when you go over.  You’re better off trying to grab something as you slide towards the cliff and slow your speed.  

Also, If Jack Travis is also firing a fully automatic machine gun at you, you present a harder target to hit if you lay it down, so we can see, here, that Martin made an excellent choice, given several potential hazards...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQ49ym9clB0

8.  Rooney Mara helps revive Cafe Racers - “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo”

The Bike:  Honda CL350

One of two entries on our list who rides with All the Gear, All the Time.  See, I really don’t know why people don’t want to wear proper motorcycling gear because Rooney Mara looks like a badass when she does it.  She even tries to get Daniel Craig in on ATGATT at the end of the movie but it doesn’t go well.  

Anywho.  Certainly the revival of the Cafe Racer style motorcycle wouldn’t be attributed to the movie, but it didn’t hurt.  (Cafe Racers are light, nimble motorcycles with dropped handlebars leading to a bent over riding stance...I guess these are what the cool, hipster kids are into now).  While there was no single moment involving the motorcycle, Rooney Mara’s dark, brooding character wouldn’t have been the same had she pulled up in a SmartCar.  Mara’s ride seems to be as aloof as she was throughout the movie.  A little tortured, too, as I can’t think of too many things less comfortable than taking a motorcycle with drop handlebars and an odd stance up through remote Sweden in the middle of winter.   But does she care?  Don’t be an idiot.  Of course she doesn’t care.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l23hFSfp0b4

7.  Tom Cruise’s Need for Speed - “Top Gun”

The Bike:  Kawasaki GPZ 900

Okay, so lets get this out of the way...it is rather silly to try and race a jet on a motorcycle as Tom Cruise appears to be doing.  Especially when he was fairly easily chased down by Kelly McGillis in her not-hotrod later in the movie, but if you’re going to sit there and tell me you didn’t secretly want to zoom away on a crotch rocket into the sunset to the sounds of Kenny Loggins’ “Highway to the Danger Zone”, I would easily call you a liar.

Go on then, take a trip down memory lane... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTj-jJDkYkM

6.  Trinity and the Keymaster - “The Matrix Reloaded”

The Bike:  Ducati 996

So, as motorcycle chases go, you can’t really top this one.  When Trinity goes against traffic, you kind of almost cover your eyes.  The problem is, and the reason it’s only number 6 is because I made the mistake of watching the “making of” this scene and...it just takes away from the whole thing.  So don’t.  Just watch Trinity get her swerve on.  

It is fun that they flipped the script and put the dude on the back.  Of all the scenes in movies that made me want a sport bike, this was the one that topped my list.  At the end of the day, sport bikes just aren’t my thing, but it does make you want to stop whatever you’re doing and go buy a Ducati.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eF9AC2Ce2ow

5.  Steve McQueen’s Getaway - “The Great Escape”

The Bike:  Trumph T6

I was so happy at the start of the scene when Steve McQueen was dressed appropriately.  Okay, granted, it was a stolen SS uniform and that’s what the Germans were looking for, but at least he had a helmet on.  Steve’s attempt at being inconspicuous by ditching his gear was somewhat foiled when he jumped his stolen Triumph over a barbed wire fence which looks rather suspicious.  

Steve McQueen was well known for loving motorcycles, he had over a hundred in his personal collection and was a very capable rider himself.  Bet he wished he was wearing full leather at the end of that scene...

It’s certainly not as hair raising as Trinity’s ride above, but it’s arguably more iconic and, apparently, McQueen himself lobbied pretty hard to do the jump at the end but was under contract not to. And he is the King of Cool.  So there you go...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zwW7iWinrk

4.  Marlon Brando’s Wild Ride - “The Wild One”

The Bike:  1950 Triumph Blackbird

The very first recognizable motorcycle movie had Marlon Brando, long before he was making people offers they couldn’t refuse, he was riding into town, hitting on otherwise innocent waitresses, and getting into good old-fashioned (emphasis on old-fashioned) fisticuffs in the street (the old-timey insults are kind of tremendous) and generally being a brooding jerk.   There’s motorcycle racing and fights around motorcycles and it’s obviously pretty dated.  But it was the first movie in which motorcycles were the central feature, and that commands respect.  My only complaint...arguably the best line in the movie was said in the wrong place.  While standing in a bar he was asked “Hey Johnny, what are you rebelling against?”   Instead of leaning against jukebox, the director should have had him answer while scowling over handlebars: “What do you got?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGn_od9owp8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iyq4HZZ4H50

3.  The Terminator 2 Dueling Scoots - “Terminator 2 - Judgement Day”

The Bikes - Harley-Davidson Fatboy FLSTF/Honda XR80 Dirtbike/Kawasaki KZ1000 Police Model

I rewatched “Terminator 2″ and that movie straight up, holds up.  The special effects don’t suck, even today and in 1990, they were rediculous.  While I will concede that motorcycles aren’t the first thing that people think of when they think of that movie, when you rewatch it, you remember how tremendous that scene was.  

What Mr. Brannon’s 6th Grade class was most fascinated with was Arnold’s one-handed re-cocking of his shotgun while on the back of that iconic ride and who didn’t pretend to do so while mounted on his trusted Huffy.  What kid didn’t pretend to outrun a T-1000 on his same trusted Huffy through Brookside Park in Ames, Iowa?   You didn’t?  I weep for your misspent youth.

It’s too bad they ran over the dirtbike.  It took a hit from a semi and stayed up. The thing is, though, when I was thinking about motorcycles in movies and coming up with this list, the first thing I remembered was the T-1000 on the back of the Kawasaki riding up a flight of stairs and then right the hell out of a window.  And I remember that horrifying scene where the T-1000 gets his motorcycle which is really only the line, “Say...that’s a nice bike.”   And you are left with only your imagination to devise what happened to the luckless motorcycle cop who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  In an incredible twist of irony, one of only two riders on this list wearing a helmet was a Terminator.  And fine work by the Kawasaki Police bikes, with two appearances on the Top 10.

Go ahead - waste some time at work:

http://www.getyarn.io/yarn-clip/c724bc3f-a0ce-4cf7-b060-d39a2b7beb49

Here’s Arnold getting his ride...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYOoWCv_PYE

And this is one hell of a scene:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgphD_ZO_jI

2.  Prince’s Iconic Ride - “Purple Rain”

The Bike: Honda Hondamatic CM400a

Wait, what?  A Honda?  This wasn’t some badass custom Harley Road Glide in a royal shade of purple?  Not at all...have a look at the stock version:

See, you have to remember that Prince was only 5′4 or whatever.  You can’t have His Royalty struggling to hold up a 900lb touring monster.  Not if you want that iconic photograph above.  So you switch out the stock seat for a king queen seat, put a big faring on the front to make it look bigger than it is and give it a paint job nobody would ever forget.  

And nobody did.  If you say the words “Purple Rain” to anybody born after 1985 or so (and even people born after that), the first thing they’re likely to say back is Prince.  And the first visual image they have is that motorcycle on the album cover.  If we are talking about motorcycles in movies that nobody forgets, we’d be absolutely remiss if we didn’t put this one in the top 3.

The motorcycle scene, I’m afraid, has been pulled from YouTube due to copyright stuff...honestly, the scene quite didn’t hold up over time.  Maybe it’s just better to keep the regal ride the way you had it in your mind...

1.  The Captain America Chopper - “Easy Rider”

The Bike:  A custom chopper - no model

Yeah, don’t overlook the obvious here.  There is one king of movie motorcycles and it’s the Easy Rider Captain America Chop.  

This motorcycle almost became the most expensive ride in history - at one point nearly selling for $1.7 million.  The buyer backed out when questions about authenticity arose and the story of the “Easyrider” chops is a rather notorious one.  

The interwebs tell me that there were four original motorcycles used for the movie and that 3 of the original four were stolen before the movie even hit the silver screen.  One of the actors, Dan Haggarty (Grizzly Adams DID have a beard) ended up rebuilding the fourth, or at least he SAID he did.  He authenticated two and then changed his mind.  Peter Fonda (seen above) also authenticated one bike but then said later that Haggarty had duped him and changed his mind.  Eventually, the buyer who had offered almost 2 million dollars for it changed HIS mind and backed out over questions regarding the authenticity.

The story of the motorcycle building is also pretty interesting and the good folks at NPR dug up some more history if you’re interested:

http://www.npr.org/2014/10/11/354875096/behind-the-motorcycles-in-easy-rider-a-long-obscured-story This is *The* movie motorcycle.  So go ahead and appreciate it.  And don’t worry, the opening scene still holds up.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1cDECkN2xg