#gooning on company time that's rich

[reynaruina]

Can't leave this mf unattended for 1 second

[batshit-auspol]

So a bit of background first for our international followers: Clive Palmer is one of Australia's many mining billionaires who like to meddle in our country's politics, and as such he is utterly despised by all of Australia.

Picture for context:

He is most commonly known online by the title "Fatty McFuckhead", (problematic as it may be) because he tried to sue a youtuber for $500,000 for calling him that - and he lost. So the name stuck.

Up until his most recent foray into parliament, the legally certified Fuckhead was best known for his batshit business ventures, such as attempting to build "The Titanic 2" (failed) and trying to build a dinosaur theme park (also failed, but at least nobody got eaten by a T-Rex in this one).

For a very long time Clive played the role of sugar daddy to Australia's largest conservative party, the ironically named Liberal Party, until they had a falling out in 2012 after Clive claimed there was too much money influencing politics (lol), at which point he started his own party, days after saying he totally quit and wasn't fired and he only left because he didn't want to be a distraction.

His initial run at parliament was actually kinda successful, with Palmer's group winning 4 seats, plus a member from the "Motoring Enthusiasts Party" joined them too after accidentally getting elected and not knowing what the fuck to do.

Despite this initial success however, Palmer's party (which ran on basically no platform other than "I'm rich") hit an iceberg (titanic 2 achieved) and seven elected state and federal politicians quit within the first year.

By the time the next federal election rolled around, only one Palmer party candidate was still running for re-election. The most successful of this group - Jaquie Lambie - quit to sit as an independant and is still in parliament today.

Here she is with a painting of herself strangling Clive (she sells signed copies of this)

And here the senator is posting about liking sausage:

Anyway, we're getting to the point: which is the yellow posters. By the 2016 election, just two years after forming, the party was in complete freefall. It won just 0.01% of the vote at their second election, and it was announced shortly after that Clive was quitting politics and the party was being shut down. Australia breathed a sigh of relief.

It was, of course, short lived.

Clive, in desperate need of attention, restarted the party for the 2019 election, fielding candidates in every seat and spending $60 million in advertising in an attempt to win votes.

Every single candidate lost.

It was in this campaign however that Australia really started to fall out of love with Palmer, because most of that $60 million went towards putting up the world's least compelling marketing billboards on almost every single free space in the country.

For a good six months this was basically the only thing you would see in Australia if you went outside:

Clearly Graphic design is his passion. And yes, the genius did just straight up try and copy Trump's homework while changing a few words, hoping nobody would notice.

Very quickly these all got vandalised and it seemed the ad companies didn't care enough to replace them.

We could go on posting examples, there are thousands, but the best is definitely the one Ikea put up shortly after Clive lost the election:

In 2022, Clive's party contested the election AGAIN, this time also opting to send millions on spam text messages to every person in Australia begging for people to vote for him, as well as buying almost every youtube ad for a year, at the cost of $100 million.

He won a whopping one seat.

During this election Clive ran on an anti-lockdown, anti-vax platform with the slogan "freedom, freedom, freedom". That message, however, was slightly undermined when his goons, dressed in 'Freedom!' shirts, made national news for trying to beat up a protester who turned up at a rally dressed as an annoying text message, shouting "pay your workers" at Clive.

As if that wasn't bad enough, at another rally Clive knocked himself unconscious while trying to jump up on stage, and then a few weeks later was rushed to hospital with covid, while his anti-vax ads were still in regular rotation on TV, at which point it was also leaked to the press that Palmer had been alledgedly trying to buy Hitler's car.

Utterly humiliated, the party deregistered again shortly after the election.

Can't wait until he runs again in 2025.

Anyway, on the other "Clive tweeting Miss Kobayashi's Dragon" thing, we have no idea what that means but here's a screencap:

[spicy-apple-pie]

Absolute Batman and Main Batman meet and they do not have a good time… at first.

Absolute!Bat is going OFF on Main!Bat about how rich and pompous he is and how he never had to struggle for anything in life and Main!Bat is like “at least you got a mom.” And the shuts Absolute!Bat up for a minute.

Absolute!Bat is actually kinda disgusted by Main!Bat. Thinking he beats up the mentally ill and homeless people and is just a cop but somehow worse. But Main!Bat is like “No, I actually recognize the systemic issues. Wayne enterprises, my company, actually pays for all the hospital bills of all the goons and offers them a job with full benefits. Ideally, Gotham wouldn’t need Batman, but when you have a supervillains like Posion Ivy and the Joker… well I do what I can.”

Also Martha immediately takes to the Batkids and insists they call her grandma.

Which makes me think if Absolute Batman would get a Robin someday…

[idyllcy]

and on and on, yeah we got the time

Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)

summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv

"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."

"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."

"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."

"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"

"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"

"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."

"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."

"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"

"Just a little, maybe."

"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"

"I mean, I'm not saying no..."

You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.

At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.

"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."

"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.

"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."

"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."

"You can start by catching up with me."

"M..." You pause. "How about... no."

"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"

"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."

"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."

"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."

"At least you got all of your packages."

"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."

"We own the building."

"WHAT." 

"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."

"Worst being you?"

"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"

Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"

"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."

"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."

You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."

"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."

"Not."

"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."

"Definitely." You hum.

Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 

Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.

"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."

"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."

"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"

"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."

"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.

"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"

"They don't."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 

"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."

"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"

"No."

"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.

"You'll be fine."

"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."

"You're my smart girl." He hums.

You grimace at him.

"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."

"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 

Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.

"Tired?"

"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"

"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."

Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."

"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."

"By killing me?"

"Jay, baby?"

"Yes?"

"No." 

He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.

"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.

"You cheeseball."

"Says the one who asked me out."

"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 

"Yeah, but you asked me out."

"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."

"Yeah, your loser."

"My loser." You sigh. 

[dairy-farmer]

SPEAKING of my Andriods Nightgaurd ficlet? And my ongoing campaign of Sexy Civilian!Tim encounters?

:Dc

Night Gaurd Tim? owo? Jason doesn't die. But Tim's dad still does. New Dad is rich but An Asshole. So Tim studies like mad to get outta there. Lands a shotty apartment in HIS name. And a job!

That the Riddler destroys.

Okay... second try... SECOND job! Two-face. MOTHER FU-!

It keeps happening. He starts taking potshots at goons. He WANTS HIS PAYCHECK, damn it. He's tired of cheap ramen!

One of his Dad's old buddies see's him on a viral clip. He... *awkward cough* maaaay have swung a bat at Condiment King. To be FAIR... the shot super staining GOO all over the fashion line Tim JUST unboxed. He may have snapped a little.

But! It lands him a job!

Night Gaurd~ *jazz hands*

It's not like he sleeps at night anyway! Might as well get payed! He gaurds the satellite building used for staff overflow. It's only really in USE during certain seasons. But the don't want squatters or stolen company secrets.

O7 got it.

What he DOESN'T realize? That building has an EXCELLENT vantage point line of sight from certain parts of the roof. It's been part of the Bat's intersecting patrol paths for YEARS.

He doesn't notice them, at first. But they notice him. He's the cutie in uniform. Background check reveals some memes and that he used to be their neighbor etc.

Now, this can go one of two ways~ "Ivy assisted Fuck Seduction" or "I swear to GOD I WILL TRESPASS YOU-" It? Depends on if you want Timmers to notice! That waaait a second *squint*

Why does the roof... look EXACTLY the same as it did 8 days ago. Because he has freakishly good memory. Leading to him realizing the cameras? Hacked. There are 17 randomly played "night footage" banks. Son of a- *keeps open roof access to find the Bat's mid patrol Bat Burgering" YOU. #TheyCanExplain?

Or! Ivy, miffed that Bats made her MISS her girlfriends BIRTHDAY, decides? Fuck you in particular, actually. And hits him with a Pollen bomb.

He was standing RIGHT in front of the intake vent for the air conditioning. The whole BUILDING gets dusted. Not as concentrated, since it's spread out. But still exposer. Tim? Starts feeling off. Fever maybe? Weirdly horny. Really distracted, actually...

The Bat's? Drive Ivy off. Okay, who was hit? Everyone gets their antidote. We good? Let's head hooo-OMG! THE GAURD! FUCK.

And yep. Too late for an antidote too be effective. But don't worry Really Hot security Gaurd! They will- stop shoving! No you will not! I will-! No you have-! I said I WILL *Sibling jostling for the right to Help Tim*

Batman, NOT allowing himself to be distracted by gorgeous legs or the TIGHTEST little- Regardless, NOT letting himself getting distracted. Lends quite literally a hand. Gotta get that consent. For medical assistance. Because Bruce TOTALLY hasn't been fantasizing about taking this boy apart. Rocking his world then buying him breakfast.

He's just here to lend a dick in these trying times. Hero's duty and all.

And once Tim? Bat Fan and Bi Disaster realizes he has fucked the Bat's and they seemed REALLY into it? :Y he uuuh *cough* I mean, he's just SAYING... no one said you had to STOP... options THERE...

Now? They REALLY like that building. Great rest stop. Grab a bite to eat, drink something, fuck the night gaurd, take a nap, you name it!

Tim REALLY likes his new job. He's great at it.

-🐼🐼🐼

tim being the shared fucktoy among the bats❤️

[lastlycoris]

So my boss in the prison medical wing is Dr. Nora Fries (pronounced freeze). She's an MD-Ph.D, both a military doctor and a biomedical engineer specializing in prosthetics. It's said that all warsuits that the rich people keep for "personal protection" are derivatives from her initial work. Her criminal moniker is Dr. Fries, which kinda just shows how infamous she is - you know - that they just outright use her name.

As for why she's here, that goes back two decades ago according to personnel here. Mostly to warn me to not mention the former company GothCorp she and her husband (important later) worked at. Because this lady has two obsessions: to restore her husband from a cryogenic freeze without killing him and getting revenge on the company that caused it.

I don't really know about their personal lives. Just two strange people meeting in college and fell in love. Eventually their paths had it so they ended up working in the same company.

Her husband was a specialist in cryogenics, Ph.Ds in physics, engineering and chemistry. And the hopes were to make a chemical gel that could easily preserve pharmaceuticals and food at the end of a cold chain.

And then an accident occurred when the company decided to scuttle the project for insurance purposes and blame Mr. Fries. Of course, this information came out much later.

In any case, they still call those series of small inhabitable inter-connected islands, where the Factory was housed, the Ice Rink. Because every so often, a vat of what's being called Friesium would rupture and instantly send everything in the area to below liquid nitrogen temperatures, which is not survivable.

Logs showed that one of the researchers noticed something was wrong with the chemical vats and sounded the alarm for evacuation to get everyone else out. The six that remained, including Dr. Fries's husband, were required to prevent the entire factory from freezing everyone instantly.

People do not survive getting frozen solid without help - if the initial freeze doesn't kill them, the defrosting will. However, logs apparently showed that Fries's husband had injected everyone with an experimental cryoprotectant fifteen minutes prior to the cryoexplosion - preventing the nastier effects like water expanding to ice to rupture cells - and a single outgoing phone call to his wife.

The rest is history. Dr. Fries makes the first prototype warsuit in three days, a suit impervious to cold and sudden pressure changes from extreme temp drops, and marches in to retrieve the lab members. Ferris Boyle, the president, tries to pull the plug stating it's futile and expensive to continue keeping the six on ice, and Dr. Fries offers the cryosuit design to make payment. He accepts and then goes back on their deal stating it never happened - and then claims it was an attempt at a bribe to prevent him from revealing that it was her husband and lab team that sabotaged the factory.

And I guess that was the moment where she descended into supervillainry.

It was quiet for a week as the Board argued about the PR nightmare pulling the plug would do, even if they claimed these were the ones that caused it.

Then someone armed to the teeth in a shiny warsuit decided to break into GothCorp with a bunch of goons to retrieve the pods - who were funded by the money she got for selling a simplified warsuit design to different criminal factions and companies . And then she declared war on GothCorp.

Now this is twenty years ago before this era of superheroes and supervillains. That warsuit was the pinnacle of high tech at its time, and it singlehandedly brought the military to the city after a month. Why they didn't come sooner was because she was very selective with the damage. Only to GothCorp assets and zero casualties beyond the broken bones people dumb enough to physically get in a walking tank's way.

She singlehandedly brought the company to near bankruptcy. And the military only helped because the company took up a military contact on a very big deficit. Otherwise, they would've just treated it as a civil matter for the police to deal with. After all, no dead people, damage only to private property, and it wouldn't look nice if the military got their asses handed over to them too.

It wasn't even the military that got her in the end. It was some fresh detective named Gordon, now Commisioner, who figured out where she's hiding because running cryogenic preservation for six people took a stable large supply of electricity.

A deal was made between the two. Nora voluntarily surrendered after five days. Gordon discovered the system logs from the factory, showing the company's sabotage of its own factory. Wayne Industries makes a generous offer to preserving and eventually finding a cure for the frozen researchers.

And she's been researching cryogenics in prison every day ever since. The only prisoner. allowed her own laptop and allowed outside to visit her husband every month as part of the unusual deal made with the police.

Except now that Wayne Industries took a severe blow after their Tower collapsed and President kidnapped and probably dead, the frozen six apparently moved to some no-name company, and the decaying law and order of our city, it seems she's taking matters into her own hands because it looks like no one can keep the people she wants to protect safe. At least that's what it seems like.

Makes me wonder, if their places were switched, whether her husband would show the same single-minded devotion to her.

I certainly hope so.

[radskull-69]

What if

Now hear me out

What if

Whether it be in the same au or separate ones, the undermutts as doomsers?

OOOHHHH

each of them being their own crime lord and having their own territory of the same city is such a genius idea omg, I’ll DEFINITELY make designs of them one day

One would be the top of the food chain I believe, was born rich and into his life. and even if the other mutts tease him at meetings and the dances they host they all (secretly) respect him.

owns the dead center of the city, mostly where the people live in tight apartments.

very strict with his citizens and rarely goes easy. He has a soft sport for mothers though, so that’s something. Deals with his problems himself instead of sending others to do it for him

His keen senses would be doubled and it’d be impossible to lie to him, escape from him, or even get close to him.

has two large dobermans that he loves and takes care of, though isn’t afraid to let them loose on people.

Kills people publicly if they get in his way, why take them out of the public eye when one of his goons pissed him off now? He doesn’t have time for that, one chop and their head is off and One is already continuing on like nothing happened.

much more colder in this Au, and I imagine he still meets the detective too. Just not under a fake identity, definitely toys with the police force to get the deceives attention and is less mushy about it too.

Two would own all the hospitals, doubling fee’s no matter how dire or simple the treatment is. And isn’t afraid to take the needed kidneys from them for his own benefit. Uses the hospitals as a cover up to deal drugs under the guise of the police

in this au he can phase through any matter, living or not. So he can go through walls and if someone try’s to shoot him he can simply make it phase through.

has a few wives, kinda like concubines. Doesn’t pay them much if any attention, he just likes the company.

feared for the horror stories of how he tortures information out of people, or just experiments on them. It’s how he makes the best drugs in the city, using live unwilling guinea pigs.

isn’t afraid to wonder into One’s territory, doesn’t mind the fights they have either. Actually took off one of One’s fingers during a fight, keeps it pickled by his bed. One now has a prosthetic finger because of him and it makes Two smug.

Three owns all the clubs and casinos, she’s the richest in the city because of it but spends her money on a lot of dumb shit so it’s hard to climb the ranks.

her powers are much stronger, able to make larger explosions and immune to fire as well. Very chaotic and people make sure not to mess with her or else them and their house is burnt to dust

Refuses to make deals involving any drugs and gives her clubs/casino’s customers a warning before they’re taken out if caught taking it.

does make deals involving weapons, she makes the best guns in the city and people pay good money for it. She hosts a lot of parties and dances at her mansion whenever she feels lonely

Makes people call her ‘sir’ and ‘Mr boss’ just because, doesn’t like the fact she’s the only girl Doomser in the city and hopes another one climbs the ranks so she can have a bestie.

often seen at her clubs, where she makes most meetings at. Or when she invites the others out with her, sitting in the back of the club in a VIP section so no one can ease drop on them

most of her goons and lackeys are tough women though, not because she likes women or anything!! Because she’s like- a feminist and all that.. totally (gay)

takes in any stray cat she sees, has a army of them in her mansion that tear everything up but she doesn’t care!

Four is mostly regarded as a legend around the city, barely ever seen and rumoured to have been a monster thanks to his large hight, inhuman strength and gnarly scar.

I’m reality, he just works under it all. Has his own mob going on but it’s very discreet, so well no one really ever hears of their crimes, deals and what not.

his power is pretty much the same, can still bring people to life using his sewing but can also alter peoples bodies if they provide or lay extra for the limb or part they want.

people pay a generous amount to be able to have longer legs, a prettier face, stronger arms. They don’t want to know why he gets the parts from and they don’t ask.

does some sewing on the side and makes people clothes!

rarely ever seen, mostly due to him not liking being around others. Is mostly seen in Three’s clubs when hanging out, making deals or lingering around.

he owns the side of the city filled with shops and restaurants, he has his own actually and people say it’s to die for. Literally… Three had served human meat once when Four invited her for a meeting, she is now banned from his restaurants.

He would’ve been content normal sales man doing odd (and disturbing) deeds and not a crime lord if people hand targeted him for his abilities. Accidentally killed his way to the top and can’t back out now.

has a wife, though she’s stitched all over she’s well. He loves her dearly, people see her even less than him. Whenever Four see’s a woman who catches his eye he steals their parts for his wife whenever her old parts start to rot.

is on everyone else’s good side, doesn’t bother One much. Trades parts with Two. Hangs out with Three and cooks with her at her mansion. He lets her hang out with his wife since he knows she’s lonely as the only girl with this status.

[chalkrevelations]

OK, first week of 15 Minutes with KPTS, which is about the time that Ep 1 takes to introduce us to our titular protagonists and let them have their meet-cute.

Something that immediately hit me is that Kinn is introduced as a literal red flag. Everybody makes so much of Vegas's red villain mood lighting, but Kinn marches out of that main family compound front entrance in our first view of him in a suit that's alternately the color of dried and fresh blood, depending, for his business meeting to casually shoot a guy in the head as a message. That suit's going to look burgundy, dark, the color of a scab of dried blood for most of this initial appearance, but then right around 14:30, when he gets off the motorcycle from behind Porsche at that gas station after they escape the goons trying to kill him, it's noticeably brighter, closer to the color of fresh blood, for his first actual conversation with Porsche.

Another thing I noticed right away was the use of reflections, and I know there's already been some meta about reflected vs. real images in the show, but I had forgotten that we start seeing it used this early. Some of it is probably for convenience, so we can see both Kinn's and Don's faces in a single shot, even though they're faced off on opposite sides of a table, but it also serves as an extension of self for the characters, a literal image of their metaphorical reach. When Kinn starts talking about looking through the company books, and then again when he talks about someone cheating, there are moments when we're looking directly at Don, and there's a reflection of Kinn to his right on screen, looking as if he's behind Don. If the reflection is an extension of self, then this is Kinn observing Don, stalking Don, while remaining unseen. Then there are a handful of times - including when Don asks Kinn to sit down at the beginning of the meeting, and then again when Kinn holds out his hand and accepts Big's gun - when we get a shot of Don that also shows both actual Kinn in front of him (across the table from him) and reflected Kinn behind him, the two of Kinn flanking him, like he's got Don boxed in - which of course, he does. The jaws of the trap are set when Don asks Kinn to sit down, and they snap closed when Big's gun hits the palm of Kinn's hand.

This is all intercut with our introduction to Porsche at Hum Bar, and we first see him facing away from the camera, toward the mirror behind the bar that's lined with liquor and glasses, as Yok brings in some customers, before he finally he turns around, game face on, to perform for the ladies. Porsche at Hum Bar is all shirt unbuttoned even lower than Kinn's, smooth talking the ladies, getting his cocktail on behind the bar, doing a dozen shots, handing out Don Juan advice for free - because he doesn't charge his homies - to his junior waiters and bartenders, and getting busy with tonight's hookup in the back alley. Every bit of this is a hustle of some kind - Porsche is introduced to us as a hustler. He advises his juniors that the way into rich ladies' wallets and panties is to praise them and give them what they want. He's having a post-O cigarette in the alley when Kinn comes barrelling in with Assassination Goon Squad hot on his heels, and like any good hustler, Porsche requires a fee for services rendered, i.e. to save Kinn's ass, because Kinn is not one of the homies. We're treated to a brief display of Porsche's street-fighting skills that we'll see for a couple of episodes and that he'll then apparently lose, like everything else of his old life, as he's subsumed into the main family compound. :sadface: I'm going to miss street-fighter Porsche. The hustler will remain, however, and will not only understand that Vegas requires a fee to provide information in Ep 13 but will hold out that fee, a.k.a. Pete, on a silver platter, because Porsche is not actually one of Vegas's homies, and that's how you get services rendered. You can take the boy off the streets, but can you take the streets out of the boy?

At about 14:45, we've made our escape on Porsche's motorcycle, we stop in a gas station parking lot, and we hit this little wordless conversation of headtilts that was what initially hooked me into the show. Both Apo and Mile do a great job of this, and Mile, frankly, looks the best he's going to look anywhere in the show - I don't know if it's having Kinn's unfortunate helmet hair tousled fetchingly by the breeze on the back of a motorbike, or if this earliest stage of the show is still showing Filmania styling influence or what, but they never quite manage to hit this again.

Of note, the first time around, this whole exchange in the gas station parking lot gave me some expectations for their later pairing dynamic that did not pan out at all, lol (rough-trade Porsche whomst?). I can't help feeling like both Porsche and I get taken in a little bit by a Kinn who's out of his element and more specifically out of the iron control he otherwise keeps on everyone and everything around him, and we never really see that guy again, other than at some points during the kidnapping in Ep 6. Kinn playacts at it some when they slip the leash in Ep 8, maybe, but it still feels like an act there, I think - I'll be interested to see how I feel about it when it comes 'round on this re-watch. Porsche is also in control of their interaction in this scene in a way that not only will he never have again, but that we'll watch be systematically stripped away from him, sometimes brutally. Probably unintentional and just meant as a good comedy bit, but with knowledge of what's coming, Kinn asking for Porsche's phone and Porsche saying no while yanking it away from him made me think about how not only is Porsche going to lose his phone when the main family compound swallows him, but how he's only going to get a phone back - and one he's only supposed to use to call Kinn - when Kinn allows it for his own convenience.

Shot of the family crest ring as Porsche pulls Kinn's watch off.

First shot of Pete - foreground and blurred - at about 16:50 as the camera focuses on Arm and Ken instead.

Big's with Kinn for the entire first part of this sequence - he opens the door as Kinn leaves the main family compound, rides in the same car, takes point on the walk into the back room to meet Don, stands at Kinn's left shoulder during the meeting, hands Kinn his own gun for the wetwork, and of course is the one who sticks to Kinn like a burr while trying to escape Assassination Goon Squad, until he gets shot. He gets shot in the arm right about the same place Pete's going to shoot Vegas in the last ep. He's also shown right up front wearing his cute little stylin' ponytail and some earrings, indicating both that he's going to be a speaking character and that he's apparently being allowed some liberties with the dress code that we aren't going to see from anyone else while they're in uniform. Meanwhile, we don't actually see any more of our regulars among the bodyguards during the meeting with Don.

Gets us to about 17:00 for this week.

[radarrider87]

The Seven Year Sleep (Chapter 3)

I linger at the bar long after the final bets are placed, a candle bouncing its light off the side of my lowball glass. The fairy fountains have gone dim, and most of the crooks are either stumbling in the streets or passed out under the very fountains that swallowed up their dough.

A small voice reaches my ear, a sound so tender and easily broken. “Another glass, sir?” asks the unlucky waitress, who seems to have full run of the bar now. Cremia, was it? Somehow, the little lady found time to change her blouse as the evening wore on, but the shame of that incident is still written all over her face.

I shake my head slightly and raise my glass. A good sip of Chateau Romani remains, but I'll keep nursing this one. Best to keep a level head as I put my questions to Ingo.

She turns her attention to wiping up the mess left behind by so many crooks and gamblers, extinguishing most of the candles as she goes. I sit there and try to work up the nerve to track down the proprietor. Can't say I'm looking forward to seeing his ugly mug up close... or dealing with any goons he may have hired to push around unwanted guests.

Well, how about that. Ingo saves me the trip, rounding the corner of his bar. He snatches Cremia by the arm, hissing through his teeth as he lays into her.

“You lousy bimbo.” He bares his teeth, a golden tooth flashing next to a rotten one. “I oughta tan your hide for that little stunt you pulled! If you so much as look at one of our guests the wrong way, I’m gonna do a lot more than dock your pay, that’s for damn sure.”

All of a sudden, Ingo’s eyes are flickering with something very close to fear. He twists the girl’s arm as he stares across the room. “For crying out loud, the last thing I need is somebody like Big Knuckle laying waste to the place. I’ve worked so hard, damn it! I’ve earned it! This club, this beautiful club that should’ve always been mine... Graaah! Listen to me when I’m talking to you, girl!”

That greaseball makes to slap Cremia with all of that pent-up insecurity of his, but then he stops. A smooth, pale hand is resting on his shoulder. He turns sharply, furious that somebody has the gall to lay a hand on him here, in his little corner of the world.

Malon, still gorgeous in that violet dress of hers, looks him in the eye.

“Leave her alone, uncle. Can’t you see she’s embarrassed? She won’t let it happen again.”

Ingo grinds his teeth, towering over his niece. “Keep your pretty nose outta my affairs, Malon. Remember who puts a roof over your head and food in your mouth. I only do that ’cuz your my brother’s whelp, but if you’re not happy with the jobs I give you, maybe we can find something more interesting, eh? I’d make a serious wager that our guests would like to spend more time in your company, and they won’t just be interested in your singing voice, I can tell ya that much.”

I slam the glass down on the bar, nice and hard.

The three of them look my way, and Ingo starts to chuckle.

“Well, well, well. Look what the wallmaster dragged in! Didn’t think I’d be seeing your sorry ass around here.”

The stick man struts over and stands on the other side of the bar like a puffed up rooster.

“Silent Masters. I thought you’d still be hiding in a hole, especially after all that trouble you caused for the rich stiffs. Who was it again?”

I stay true to my name, silent in the face of stupidity.

“Oh yeah, the Fitzgeralts!” He whistles through those rotten teeth. “You really dragged the whole lot of ’em through the mud, didn’t ya? But maybe I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for crazy flatfoots like yourself, I’d still be playing second fiddle to that fat brother of mine.”

Snatching a towel from the bottom drawer, Ingo turns about. He casually polishes the golden horse on its pedestal, as if the thing needed an extra shine. “So, what can we do for ya, Mr. Masters? Ready to throw in your lot with the winning side for a change?”

I lay out my uncle’s drawing, sliding it across the bar. The instant Ingo looks back and catches sight of those triangles, his face turns whiter than a graveyard ghost. He clears his throat, regaining his composure with a little effort, but I can see right through the act.

“Got no idea what I’m looking at, Silent. Care to enlighten me?”

Folding up the triangles slowly, carefully, I slip the scrap of paper back into my pocket. Then, after taking a deep breath, I reach across the bar and grab Ingo by the collar.

That odd screeching sound he makes would probably wake up half the neighborhood, if he didn’t get the wind knocked out of him as he hit the trim, that is. Dragging him over the top, I demand answers. I demand to know the meaning of these damn symbols, and while he’s at it, he’d better tell me where I can find this Sheik character.

Ingo's right eye twitches something fierce, but he still has the gall to smile. “Wrong move, detective. Boys!”

A rough set of hands throw back the stage curtains, and goon after goon marches into the club. Some snicker at my bad luck, and others just crack their knuckles. One goon, a moblin gangster by the looks of him, even adds a bit of brass to those knuckles of his.

Heavy boots thump against the floor, and a large figure takes the lead of this small army. Figures. Who better to lead the assault than the Lynel bouncer himself? The beast man flexes every muscle in his body, and I swear I can hear that fancy club jacket ripping at the seams. I turn back to find Ingo’s smile has gotten just a little bit wider.

Damn.

Lowering Ingo nice and easy, I push the empty lowball towards him and make my final request. He tosses some ice into the glass and pours a generous helping of green spirit.

“Sure thing, Silent. On the rocks... just like your life, eh?”

As I make a toast to bad company, I can feel them closing in. Malon catches my eye as I raise the glass to my lips. She looks nervous, and who can blame her? One of the moblins stands next to me, baring his teeth in a parody of a smile. He’s watching me, waiting for me to down the drink so he and his buddies can put me down for good.

Here goes nothing.

I throw back the glass without swallowing. The green spirit tingles inside my mouth as I grab the candle off the bar. Turning on the gangster, I blow liquor through the flame. His suit jacket catches instantly, setting his right arm aflame and sending the moblin on his way, screaming. Before anyone else can put in their two cents, I smash the glass upside the head of a goon behind me.

And just like that, the club switches from last calls to anything goes. Two moblins rush forward. I whip off my trench coat, catching one and twisting the coat around his head. As I swing him around, making sure his head connects with the bar, I slip a knife from its hidden holster and stab his buddy in the shoulder. He screams bloody murder until I knee him between the legs, at which point he only manages to grunt as he tumbles to the floor.

I’m not too aware of anything outside of the fight, but I do hear a lot of screaming. Cremia’s making a fuss as she runs backstage, and she’s not the only one. As the last moblin slumps to the floor, I catch sight of the first goon dousing his sleeve in a fairy fountain. While he does manage to put out the fire, he finds himself in a whole bucket of trouble as the fairies shriek and pummel the intruder senseless with their magic. Guess that’s what you get for cheating in this joint.

All of this good fortune must be going to my head, because even as I dust my hands of these lowlifes, I realize the fight isn’t over. There’s still one major player, and he’s coming right at me. The Lynel bouncer huffs and puffs, hot air blowing from his nostrils as he charges forward, and I’m standing in the way like a damn chuckle head.

A woman throws herself at me, pushing me to the side as the Lynel crashes through the bar wall and reduces it to splinters. Malon is lying on top of me, and I can just make out her lovely face through the curls of red hair.

“Watch yourself, Silent. I’m not losing you again.”

I gently roll her to the side, urging her to stay out of trouble. She scoffs. “Look who’s talking.”

As I get back on my feet, I can see the bouncer doing the same, throwing a piece of the counter away like an unwanted blanket. Glass shards are stuck in his skin and he’s bleeding from a dozen places, but none of that means squat to a Lynel.

The beast man grabs a bottle, smashing it against whatever’s left of the bar. He’s getting ready to charge again, but there’s no way he’s gonna pull a fast one on me again. I dart forward, leaping onto his back, locking him in a chokehold that I knew my life depended on.

The Lynel roars and cusses at the top of his lungs until he’s suddenly out of breath. Even still, he refuses to give in. He swings the broken bottle over his head. He stumbles into the casino, throwing his back against tables and fountains, doing everything he can to get me off his back. And boy, am I feeling it.

Water splashes all over the floor as the bouncer knocks over a fountain. A fairy cries out, covering her ethereal figure in a towel and sprinting away. This is getting out of hand. I need to slow this bruiser down before he breaks everything in the club, including yours truly.

I tighten my grip around his neck, willing the big guy to drop, and pretty soon, all of that effort pays off. The Lynel crashes down, his knees slamming against the wood. The rest of him follows, and as I somehow manage to walk away from the fight of my life, I can hear the beast man snoring, loud as a jack hammer.

I stumble backwards, every muscle screaming in agony. And just when I think it’s over, all of the hired thugs down for the count, I can feel a hand tugging at the collar of my shirt.

Ingo, the head honcho himself, is holding a knife to my throat. His eyes are on fire, and he won’t take no for an answer, no sir. He’s gonna have his pound of flesh tonight.

As I push back against the stick man, I hear Malon shouting. “Silent! Catch!”

I glance over and catch sight of a golden horse flying through the air. Holding Ingo back with one hand, I grab the airborne statue with the other. Swinging it around, I knock Ingo over the head with his prized trophy. The club owner slumps over, dropping his knife as he slips off into dreamland.

I make my way over to Malon, who kisses her fingers and gently touches the statue in my hands. "Thank you, Epona," she says with a smile. "Such a sweet girl."

Yeah. Good ol' Epona.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39944304/

[toomuchhobbies-toolittletime]

"No no No, we are not going to rob a bank!"

"But how are we-"

"It is no longer an efficient way to get money! It's very overused and the bank knows how to stop being robbed! This idea is almost as bad as kidnapping a rich person's "dear child""

A goon who was excited about sharing their idea slowly lowered their hand

I slowly blinked at them

"..they no longer care about their children nor their image"

"Then, what do you suggest, sire?"

"For the last time do not call me that! Gosh!" I crossed my arms and scowled in disgust at that. Sire? Why did father even like being called that!

But, yeah. What are we gonna do?

I sighed a long, suffering sigh. I was perfectly happy just being their little handy hacker, why did father suddenly dropped this on me.

"Someone fetch me my laptop" I said tiredly as I sat on this ridiculous throne made of pure gold and stolen gems that is just a waste of resources that I will get rid of some way or another.

"Here you go, si-sir?" He questioned the title, clearly unsure of it.

"Just use what you used to call me" I watched as a ruly smile streched across all of them, and the stuffy atmoshpere disappeared as if it was never there

"Aright, pipsqueak, watcha gonna do with the 'puter?" He ruffled my hair roughly as all 50 goons cluttered behind me trying to see what I'm doing

"Well, I didn't really plan for anything, so I'm just gonna break into this phone company's data base and sell as much information as possible to any scammer or spam companies I come across. You know, to fund our next villainous deed?"

Silence filled the room which filled me with dread. Is it too tame for them?

A moment later, small whisper broke the silence.

"Oh my lord" and brought with it the shouts of the rest

"What the fuck"

"That's the worst thing you could ever do!"

"That's so annoying and it gives us money?!"

"No wonder four-eyes is the new leader if he thinks this is nothing"

"Do not put our information in their, short-stack!"

"What the fuck!"

A supervillain’s child has finally decided to take up their mantle in the villainous lineage, but unfortunately, the generation gap causes them to argue constantly about “traditional” villainy versus “modern” villainy.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Atlas Shrugged Part III: Who Is John Galt? (2014)

There’s something deeply satisfying about the failure that is Atlas Shrugged Part III: Who Is John Galt?. The first film had a budget of $20 million. It tanked at the box office. The sequel had a budget of $10 million and tanked as well. This third chapter was made with a budget of $5 million and earned less than $1 million in ticket sales. All three films feature a completely different cast despite being released only 1-2 years apart. If these movies were good, or even passable that would be depressing but these films are part nut-job parable, part cheezy romance. If there’s an entry in this series that’s so bad it’s good, it’s Part III: Who Is John Galt?, though whether it’s worth sitting through two films to have a couple of laughs at its expense is another story…

After pursuing Quentin Daniels to a remote part of the country, Dagny Taggart (played this time by Laura Regan) crashes into an invisible barrier. She’s discovered Galt’s Gulch, a hidden valley where the United States' brightest minds have retreated to avoid the government's oppressive over-regulation of companies and products. Dagny is told by John Galt (Kristoffer Polaha) that she and Henry Rearden (Rob Morrow) are the only people missing from this new hidden society of free entrepreneurs and inventors. Is Dagny ready to abandon Taggart Transcontinental and the rest of the outside world, or will she continue a fight everyone else thinks has already been lost?

At the end of Atlas Shrugged: Part II, I wondered what the point was. So much of the second movie reiterated what we had already been told. What unsuspecting plot points or revelations could possibly justify this book by Ayn Rand being turned into a trilogy? As this film begins, you’ll double-underscore that question because Rearden, who for the most part has been an important secondary character, is basically written out of the film to make room for John Galt, whom Dagny instantly falls for. It’s like a demented version of a fairytale conjured up by some loony objectivist. After falling into Galt’s magical kingdom, Dagny is confronted by the mystery man whose name is spoken like a curse in the outside world. What a surprise! He’s handsome and charismatic. Best of all, he believes that unfettered self-interest is good and altruism will ruin society. If that doesn’t make a lady want to take off her clothes, I don’t know what does.

The film tries so hard to make John Galt into a hero it becomes comical. At one point, he hijacks a broadcast by the President of the United States - oh, sorry. I mean the “Head of States” (Peter Mackenzie) - so he can deliver a message of rebellion and hope to the people. We're supposed to see him as some Bizarro world version of V. After heroically giving himself up, he is tortured by those goons in the White House in a way that resembles a crucifixion way too much to be a coincidence.

Who Is John Galt? is so hammy you might lose track of the film’s message, which is the same as before. The big enemy is the government. Yeah, there’s been some interference from Dagny's useless brother, the President of Taggart Industries (Greg Germann, whose character has a sub-plot that amounts to so little it must have been included solely because it was in the source material) but it’s those meanies up on Capital Hill that have been causing all the trouble. They insist on breaking up monopolies, taxing the rich, forcing wealthy states to share their money with poorer states, etc. Remember that last one. A turning point in this film that shows just how evil the Head of States is comes when we learn that a trainload of grains meant for a poor state is being diverted to another. “But the people will starve!” screams Dagny. “Why does she care?” you’ll ask. “Didn’t she previously tell us that altruism is for dummies and soft-headed care-bears?”

The biggest joke in this whole movie comes during the end credits when we see that the film’s budget included contributions from Kickstarter supporters. It’s so ironic I wonder how many of them sent money to director J. James Manera so they could metaphorically piss all over this film and on Ayn Rand in the process. If she believed in half of what this film exposits, she must’ve been one of the most uncompassionate, cold-blooded reptiles to ever disguise herself as a human being.

It’s easy to find things to say about a movie like Atlas Shrugged Part III: Where is John Galt?. My friends and I watched it together and our collective suffering will make us a more tightly-knit group. That doesn’t mean I recommend you watch it. The first two parts are so dull and infuriating that the “homework” needed for you to understand the irony of this cinematic blight just isn’t worth it. (On Blu-ray, April 7, 2023)

[somemagichence]

Thanks for giving me hope again when we signed out then throwing the whole legislation so Gloria can torture me and the new century and make fun of me beating myself you turned my right hand man on me and my brother Dicey got deleted exd out by you and Adam Sandler... Your sick secret society so you can fuck the demonic who made our lives a living hell last time... It can't be you i saw your profile get stripped off your robot a million times in the escape it's gotta be Jackson i guess this is what you want i can't have peace or love or respect now im supposed to just beat myself and cry and make myself look insane and weak and embarrassed... This is awesome I spent the last 1.5 million years hoping I would see you again just for you to stab me in my back and have everything cave in on me again it's been 150 years since you even turned on this pos metaverse after you went and fucked non stop with some random ass nigger you thought you loved then you electrocuted me knowing it can destroy your key card and mine and the actuator cuz I put lead in my blood line spine... Fuck it... Enjoy the show butler county, Hollywood... I guess I am gonna spend eternity alone and miserable for witch it stands and united right.... Halloween... Yup I'm in hell cuz I refuse to rape a small child or molest one or kill one for butler county to watch and you just support every enemy and kill or ex out anyone I've ever loved... Cassi was otw so was Honey and Monique and you yanked them.... Now my whole cliq is fucking your doubles while my friends the COG get choked to death and nuked and ice broken.... You made me just to torture... Accept my losses until there's nothing to do nothing ever mattered we ever did together you even prostituted out Madison after I told her I didn't want sex I just wanted to listen to music and talk and share my memories... You even stole Mason from me I just wanted him to experience the aliens and the celestials powers but instead you just fucked him 24/7 my whole life slamming walls... Narration... Soooooooooo.... Back to jacking off my soft dick so you can watch on tv laughing while your doubles perform your fake setup of evil people since every security company fails us every damn time... these kids wanted to see us smile together I even found the pictures of us from our old cinemas and then they stole them from me so it must be hopelessness is all I'm allowed to feel now right for money gambling and money handling me and my life for your friends to enjoy there riches and for you to blow all of mine since i figured out that paper trail to through the mystery men you fucked... Who are now being tortured by your goons so that they can't do the right things either for me to live life... You are not the person I signed out with at all and signed back in with I'm fucked I'll accept it and you can't find any way to bring me back together again I'm not the one for anyone in there life because I can't be a fake person like you all I'm just myself and I used to love myself that's my only crime... You hate yourself or you would be here now...

[jupiter-777]

RAKE: Planet Neptune's symblization is a rake, a pitchfork, same as King Neptune carries around. This symbolizes the illusion that is our lives. A farmer, pitiching a fork in in the lot, raking it all in. Raking in the dough. Your rake in your astrology chart is your illusion, this photo in particular is the American Dream, the illusion. Now there are big corporations that have pitched a fork in us since birth. Companies and media that OWN us. They own not only our mind (they feed it what they want, they direct its currents where it goes, its channels...) but they also own our BODIES, and all the magick that resides within it (iykyk...the body as the temple...the rooms...the lots...the fortune... all astrological) these corporations can prevent us from raking in our own worlds, completely "clocking us out" of our own lives by buying slots of our time, shepherding us thru foods, again, media, etc. They own our health..for instance, Big Pharma, they own our illusion of sel,f which is what the buddhists and hindus call Maya, our incarnated light bodies. As the bible suggests, we are cattle , and Saturn (the leader, the government) is our Shepherd. They buy us at birth, we are vessels brought to shore (blacks law) and they rake parts of our streams...think bloodstreams, think thought streams. They place us (astrological PLACEMENTS) and lord us subtly. No conspiracy, just the way it is..

The corporaations are enlightened or realized beings, some call illuminati. They are not a special spiritual archetype (some are) but rather just corporate goons! Look at the pyramid with the All-Seeing-Eye on the back of the American Dollar.

Freemasons are an example, the country was founded by them. Check out George Washington and the symvolization in some of his photos--very astrological. They say, "religion is regarded as true by the fools, false by the wise, usefull by the elites" these "elites" are awakened beings that know the rules of this game we call life. They own it thru money and power. It isn't as conspirtal as ppl make it seem, but it can be unfortunate for the little guy. Humans are just product to them. Alive...or dead. Its all about $$$$

That's why the pitchfork is sometimes depicted as the Devil's pitchfork, because the devil is known to "conquer anad divide" you are not whole once you have been partially or fully raked through contracts and other things. You are not a whole person but a compilation of whatever syllabus the Big Cheese has laid out for you, whether its to subject you to prostitution for example or to shovel certain media toward you. I suppose the devil would be the rich guy.

[ectoentity]

I realized I haven't updated in a long time. Very sorry about that. My job got much more difficult over the last year and it's really cutting into my brain capacity. Here are the next 38-ish lines:

Thankfully, Jim seemed to get the picture, because he changed topic to whatever bullshit Two-Face was doing this week. Mo was more than used to that. Most people who came in here were goons or henches who just needed space to whine about their lot in life. Danny, unfortunately, was not. He tried to look disinterested, but Mo caught him glancing at Jim with a curious expression more than once. It only took two beers for Jim to notice he had an interested audience. "Hey kid! What do you know about Dent?" Danny took the opportunity to clean a glass that hadn't been used. Mo almost smiled. He might be greener than grass, but he had some good instincts. "He used to be a judge or something, right?" Danny asked. "Or something! Boy, he was the best fucking DA this city ever had!" Jim cried. He downed the last of his third pint. He launched into a history of Two-Face, at least as Dent probably told it. Danny hummed and nodded politely. He kept glancing back at Mo, but she did her best to appear to ignore the whole situation. Only when a group of other regulars had come in and distracted Jim did she decide to take pity on Danny. "Never met an old goon before?" she asked. "A what?" "Goons. Henchmen. Thugs. Lackeys. The guys that work for rogues." Danny shook his head. "There aren't a lot of rogues back home," he admitted. Lord help her. This kid was going to fall face first into a Riddler trap and not even know it. Mo tried her best not to let the annoyance show on her face. "Lotta folk here, they don't have any job opportunities. Easiest thing to do is sign up with a rogue and hold a gun for eight hours a night," Moe explained. "Most companies don't dare step foot in Gotham. Supermarket chains, restaurants, whatever. They don't want a headline like 'Joker kills twelve in an Arbys'." Danny winced. "Yeah, I guess that might be bad for PR." Mo barked out a laugh. "No shit, kid. Anyway, most people here don't get chances for respectable jobs. Most of the businesses are owned by one of the mobs or rogues, but the biggest hauls come from working for them directly. So we have a lotta people who're poor as dirt without prospects trying to get rich." "And they think they'll get a big payout by being bodyguards or whatever for like, Joker or Riddler or whatever."

WIP Wednesday: Bartender Danny

This fic got 28 votes, which means 78 lines. I can't finish it all in one go, so I'm gonna break it up. Here are the first 28 lines.

The first patron came in when Mo unlocked the door at five. Old Jim was a bum who would stumble through multiple bars in a night before passing out on a chair and getting thrown out. Mo liked the guy, as long as he came in early. "Hey, Mo," Jim mumbled. He looked blearily at Danny. "You get a new guy already?" Jim took a seat at the bar. "Trial run." Danny smiled at Jim and gave a little wave. What the hell. "Hi! I'm Danny. Can I get you anything?" Jim gave Mo a look like he thought she was yanking his chain. "Yeah, sure. Gimme a Miller." Danny took out a clean glass and filled it from the draft, held just like Mo had showed him so it got a clean pour instead of a whole glass of fizz. He slid it over to Jim with a napkin. "There you go. Want to start a tab?" Jim laughed. "Hell, Mo, you better hope this one doesn't get killed in a week. Yeah, start me up a tab." Danny seemed to ignore the comment about him dying. He just went to the register and put in the information from Jim's card. Mo scowled at Jim and made a cutting motion. Last thing she needed was for her new hire to find out his predecessor got cut down by some Penguin goons right outside the bar.

[thesmuttypepper]

Twisted

Emily McIntire

Overall Rating: ⭐️

Smutty Peppers: 🌶️🌶️

Thoughts:

Starts off weird with a very much older man watching a young woman receiving mediocre oral from her boyfriend while stroking his own cock. This man is Julian Faraci, aka Jafar and the two lovers are Jasmin (or Yasmin Karam) and Aladdin who I genuinely didn’t bother remembering the book’s version of his name. Aladdin is a servant boy and Jasmin is the rich girl but the two are in love.

As soon as you meet Aladdin he’s promptly sent across the planet on a mission to find an antique artifact called the Lamp so that he can offer the artifact in exchange for Jasmin’s hand in marriage. Really it was because Jafar has eyes on Jasmine’s inheritance and wants to force her into a marriage contract.

Jasmin essentially continues to cheat on Aladdin throughout the rest of the book whilst developing Stockholm syndrome.

As all good forced proximity/fake marriage plots go, Jasmin ends up falling for the brute of a man over their time spent together with her father. These books are dark romance so Jafar is shown to deeply care for Jasmin’s father and genuinely want what’s best for the company, despite all of this Jasmin continues to perceive him as a villain.

A few steamy scenes play out that leave Jasmin wanting more than Jafar is willing to give and dear god I agree. Just give the girl your dick already.

In the final third of the book, where we expect to see a miscommunication arc thrown in haphazardly, we get a trip to the desert to meet back up with Aladdin (who I had completely forgotten about until now). The research team has been unsuccessful in their search for the Lamp and Aladdin is weirdly chill about it. Jasmin has some time alone with Aladdin to prove to herself that she is no longer in love with him but get manipulated by Aladdin and a turncoat goon.

One thing leads to another and Jasmin has the Lamp and Aladdin all to herself in a small hotel room in the middle of nowhere, when she hears Aladdin speaking to his mother on the phone and all the pieces fit into place. Aladdin has been the bad guy the whole time. He never loved her, he just wanted to marry her for her money so that he and his mother could live the lavish life. She finds a weapon and does what she needs to.

Jasmin ends up with Jafar like we knew she would and everything is fine. Except it’s not fine and this book sucked.

[pensight]

Woo another dream! This time about vampires!

Dream starts in a large cavernous doctors lab where there is a man dying in front of Mr. Doctor and Ms. Assistant. They can't figure out what is wrong with him, and eventually doc shocks ast and reveals fangs. He buries them into the dying's neck because when a vampire drinks someone's blood they share their memories? So he is able to see through Adrien's eyes. Adrien was a vampire's human goon where it was kinda like the mob. His master Oztolpho is an elderly vampire who is very rich. He preys upon specific people, manipulating them into voluntarily giving their blood, because the game of slowly breaking someone down was the only thing that entertained Oz anymore.

Ephram was a father to a young woman Desirée who was very sickly. Oz offered to pay for her care if Ephram came to dinner once a month. Oz would send Adrien to get enough of Desiree's blood that she continues feeling ill all the time, with a vampire minion to wipe her memory of it.

At the dinners, Oz explained his own "predicament" of how he was a creature that fed on the blood of others and he didn't want to go out and hunt and kill anymore, hasn't for years, and you would be saving lives if you offered your wrist. No problem if not, of course, I will still sponsor your daughter's treatment and we will have this discussion monthly, if you change your mind. And of course if you speak of this with anyone you won't be believed, haha.

Ephram, believing in the good of others, gives his wrist hesitantly. The bite makes his whole arm ache for the entire month. He denies the bite the next month, but that just makes the ache turn... needing? Oz tells him the ache would be satisfied if he bit him again, and when Ephram does offer his wrist again the pain is gone while Oz is drinking. The pain is back when he leaves Oz's presence. So he eventually asks Oz for more frequent visits. Soon Oz can just ask Ephram to visit whenever, and he can rearrange what he is doing (to his own detriment) to meet with Oz and get some relief.

Ephram's job, social life, and health all suffer for this. Even his home is a lot messier because he can't clean while his arm aches like this. Oz visits him one time and says he'll pay for a cleaning company to come by as well. These are just more of his goons that do more gaslighting business like moving his furniture or his photos on the wall or leave disturbing things around to pick up when he turns his back again.

(The ache was that I fell asleep on my arm in a weird way lmao)

Through Adrien's memories, Doc sees one of Oz's goons, and remembers he is not Adrien, pulls his teeth out, screams in the horror of having forgotten his own personhood. One of Oz's goons looked way too familiar. Doc was suddenly able to remember he was reincarnated, and in a past life he was this goon. The memories start to wash over him.

He didn't have a name, in this life. Oz had fingers in a lot of pies. One of them was human cloning. This life had been made to be a bloodbag. He was raised knowing he was made for a special purpose; to feed the vampires and do their bidding. He was a teenager. He had a younger "brother" that had a lot more questions to ask than the older ever thought he could get away with.

The older was given the "privilege" of telling the younger of their "honorable" positions. Teaching him the propaganda he'd been fed. With every question the younger is asking him, his rock solid surety is starting to erode. Slowly. Slowly he begins to notice he'd been justifying when the vampires weren't perfect. He'd been chastising himself when they were not all knowing and wise. The pain of the bite was not a symbol of his noble duty. It was just a brand that was not allowed to heal.

Doc came back to himself again, shaken by the memories of a past life, and he was seeing things. A double of himself, giving little bits of advice to him with his past life's knowledge. He didn't notice this as strange at all, and could see four more doubles from other past lives all chiming in like his own personal peanut gallery.

Then I woke up because my arm was really aching like hell and I was able to adjust it finally hahaha