#shadow in a cape goes incredibly fucking hard

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Cryptid Bruce

Martha and Thomas Wayne struggled to have a child for years and Thomas meets a shady man who tells him that a child will come to them soon

Thomas just ‘??? okaaaaaay’s him but in a week, Martha bursts into his office looking frazzled

“We’re being haunted.”

“….”

“Don’t give me that look, Thomas Wayne. The Manor. It’s haunted. Alfred! Tell him we’re being haunted!”

And Alfred comes in, also looking frazzled but to a lesser degree.

The two explain that things are moving around the Manor without any kind of explanation, but Thomas doesn’t believe them. Until he notices things in his office also being moved. The weirdest event is when they start hearing a child’s giggles. No explanation. None.

Not until Thomas, sleep deprived after going over paperwork for one too many hours, pops into the kitchen and…there is a child. Sitting on the kitchen counter.

The child, a boy, turns. Grins. Waves.

“Hi, daddy.”

—

Bruce, they name him, can melt into shadows. He finds it hilarious. Martha thinks she’s going to go grey at her young age. She adores him. Thomas adores him. He’s their son now.

The Waynes have a mysterious child, but they keep their private lives very private, so maybe they just successfully hid a pregnancy? And then a child. For…three years. They think Bruce is three, at least.

Despite how odd of a child Bruce is, they love him dearly. He’s some kind of miracle. A…very weird, possibly magical(?) miracle.

—

Dick thinks his adoptive father is strange. Extremely strange. Bruce makes absolutely no noise when he moves. He doesn’t cast shadows but he seemingly is able to *blend into them*. His smile, whilst genuine, seems a little too sharp.

He thinks he’s a vampire.

Bruce laughs so hard, he doubles over.

“No, but I am the Batman, so I guess you’re not far off.”

“…is this a joke?”

“Nope.”

“A dream?”

Bruce pinches him and Dick yelps.

Bruce doesn’t explain to Dick what he is, because he doesn’t have a clue himself. He just…is.

—

But when Jason comes along, he has a million and one questions. Bruce blinks at him.

“How did you do that? You literally *melted* into the shadows!”

Bruce shrugs.

“No. *No*. Explain.”

“I…can’t.”

“You said no secrets, B!”

Bruce puts his hands up defensively. “It’s not a secret! I really don’t know! It just…kind of happens.”

Jason stares at him. Bruce stands there. He seems to flicker? The edges of his body go a bit transparent and Dick knows he only does that when he’s stressed.

“Leave him alone, Jay. He’s telling the truth. He’s just…like that. But he’s still Bruce.”

It takes Jason two months to accept it. By then, his questions are more from genuine intrigue and wonder. He hides under Batman’s cape and somehow it’s spacious? It can even fit Dick at the same time. No one (but Bruce) can even hear them when they’re under there.

And then one day, when he goes to take a nap under Bruce’s cape, someone else is there.

“….B?”

“…”

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

“…”

“*Bruce*.”

“No real names, Robin.”

“No one can hear me!”

“…I didn’t kidnap him.”

“What his name?”

“Timothy Drake.”

“FROM DRAKE INDUSTRIES?”

And Tim wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted and way too skinny, and all of a sudden, Jason understands why Dick has cooed at him the first night Bruce brought him home.

“Um…hi.”

“B, we’re keeping him.”

Jason doesn’t need to see Bruce’s face to know he’s smiling.

—

Damian just…appears. Bruce suddenly understands his parents’ reactions to his first appearance because nearly the same exact thing happens. Bruce wakes up from a nap. He doesn’t need to sleep very often, something Tim finds incredibly annoying, declaring it to be *unfair*. He wakes up, and curled against his chest is…a boy. Who looks a *lot* like him.

“Uh.”

The child wakes up, blinks at him w striking green eyes.

“Hello Father.”

What the fuck.

Dick slams his way into Bruce’s office, followed by Jason and Tim, who are bickering with each other.

“DAAAAAAAD, THEY WON’T SHU- oh. Steal another kid?”

“…he just appeared.”

“That’s the excuse you used for Jason.”

“No. Literally. I fell asleep. No kid. Woke up. Kid.”

“My name is Damian.”

“That’s no fair. You came pre-named?”

Damian is as odd as Bruce. Actually, he’s weirder. And stabby. Bruce finds him *delightful*. He adores him.

—

Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood (no death, he just thought it was a cool name), Tim is Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin.

Bruce is Batman. Despite being in his late 30s, he still looks like he’s in his mid 20s.

—

Batman stands in front of a bank robber who’s going on about their evil bank robbing plans. Nightwing pops his head out from beneath Batman’s cape.

“Can you get to the point?”

Red Hood pops out next.

“I’m getting bored.”

Red Robin follows.

“This is sad.”

Damian.

“Scum.”

Batman sighs.

“Why are all of you here?”

“Missed you.”

They all chime in.

The robber.

“How…how the *fuck-?*”

“Language. There are kids around.”

“B, I’m 23.”

“Says the boy taking a nap in my cape. And I was talking about Red Robin and Robin.”

“…’s comfy.”

“I’m eighteen???”

“F- Batman! I am not a child!”

There’s some shuffling sounds, no doubt Red Hood moving over to ruffle Robin’s hair.

“Whatever you say, Tiny Demon.”

And then Red Hood shrieks.

“No stabbing your brothers, Robin.”

“He called me small!”

“…you are.”

“This is insulting, F- Batman. I will grow to be as big as you. No. *Bigger*.”

The robber watches in confusion, mild amusement, and horror.

Batman sighs.

“We’ll talk about this later. Now, you were saying? Blowing up the bank, terrorizing the people.” Batman yawns. “Anything else?”

“Just take me to Arkham. I think I’m insane.”

[thelanternlight]

Source

Witchy Asks!

Hello fellow witches! Here’s 50 Witchy Asks written by the-lunar-vixen. Please follow if you enjoy them. Blessed be!

1    What type of witch are you?

A gay one.

2    What deities do you like to work with, if any?

Angels, faery, guides, Mother God, Father God, Christ, saints, and ancestors. I'll also work with deities from various religions as they pertain to a spell or ritual (e.g. I may work with Hathor for a love spell).

3    Have you ever created your own spell?

Absolutely, most of the spellwork I do is original at least to some extent.

4    What’s your favorite time of year?

All the year is beautiful and wonderful for a myriad of reasons but Springtime is sacred to me.

5    Do you have a witch you look up to?

I think I have teachers that come and go in my life. They can be famous or not famous, witches or not, etc. Currently I'm loving Ember Honeyraven.

6    What makes you feel powerful?

Balance and freedom. Knowing that I'm on the side of what's good and right.

7    Do you have a favorite myth?

I'm an author and storyteller so I have many, many favorite myths. Off the top of my head I love the stories of Medusa, Apollo, the Christian Creation myth, Germanic and Scandinavian folklore, Anansi and his stories, Arthurian legends... the list goes on, but yes I LOVE stories. I think have so much meaning and wisdom to share.

8    Which famous/fantasy witch do you relate to the most?

I've grown up watching witches in movies, television, reading about them, etc so I've related to witches one way or another since day one. The Charmed Ones (all four) were role models for me when there were no role models for little, effeminate weirdos like myself as a child. The Sanderson Sisters were person heroes to me and I tried to emulate them from the very first time I saw the film; in fact those three are perhaps the original witches with whom I related the most. Since then there have been SO many wonderful characters in entertainment and in real life that inspired me so incredibly much that they've become a part of me.

9    Are you a wiccan?

I am not.

10   What’s the most unique item you’ve ever used in a spell?

I guess a dildo? I think 'unique' is a relative term.

11   Do you own any witchy books?

Apart from my personal book of spells I've owned many books on witchcraft but have parted ways with the majority of them. I'm currently trying to downsize the amount I have currently as it happens. Anybody want some free books?

12   Which misconception about witches annoys you the most?

That magic isn't real and this is all nonsense. I think it's especially irritating when people of other faiths criticize my own as if a prayer is anything different from an incantation. In fact I would argue that spells direct energy in a more concentrated way to affect change than simply petitioning a deity.

13   Have you ever created your own sigil?

You bet. Sometimes you just need something original and unique for the rite/spell.

14   What element are you most drawn to?

Water.

15   Do you have a familiar?

Some people use the word "familiar" interchangeably with "pet". I do have a pet but she's not my familiar. Other people define "familiar" as "spirit animal" which I'm not entirely sure is correct either. I'm in a bit of a gray area on this subject, but I see question 17 below touches on it as well.

16   Are you a part of a coven?

No. I've tried working with others to do magic but I think the synergy/chemistry has to REALLY be on point to do effective magic. Very often there's a clash of philosophies or practice that sort of spoils things all too easily whereas working alone allows me to concentrate so much better.

17   What’s your spirit animal?

Again this is a vague term that means different things to different people. I consider my spirit animal to be more or less my "familiar". When I was younger I was walking in the woods one evening praying really hard about something that was weighing very heavily on me. Then suddenly I looked up and there was this gorgeous and perfectly white stag looking back at me. He stood there for quite a while before slowly walking off again and the whole situation had such a profound sense of meaning to it. I saw the stag a few more times until finally, late one night while I was walking through the woods by a lake under the glow of a bright full moon I saw the stag one last time on the far side of the water. Ever since then the white stag has been sacred to me. So that's what I consider my spirit animal/familiar. It's a guide of sorts, a good omen, a sign, a representation of Spirit/Soul/God-energy and Self. I identify with it. So that's my spirit animal.

18   Do you do tarot readings?

I do indeed!

19   What’s your favorite witch movie?

I have several, but Hocus Pocus has been my favorite since I was a wee tot.

20   How many crystal do you have?

I actually don't really know. I don't go out and buy crystals but sometimes they come into my life and then go when they've served their purpose. For example, I had a beautiful large quartz that my grandmother had bought me from the nature store when I was a kid. I loved it so much. But one Halloween night I was doing a ritual with a friend of mine in the woods and ended up losing it. Interestingly, that friend was pursuing me romantically unbeknownst to me while also hooking up with the guy I was hooking up with and also really liked (ugh, gay culture). And during that ritual I was speaking with my grandfather (husband to the grandmother who bought me the quartz that I lost that night). So what does all that mean? I have no idea. But I figured all things considered maybe it was just time to let that thing go, along with other things that night.

21   What’s the most unique item on your altar?

I don't really have the privacy to set up an altar but generally I like my "work area" to be neat. Everything has a purpose and a meaning and a function. If I need to burn something I have the item/items, the cauldron, the lighter, oils, and anything else needed for what I'm doing. So nothing in particular stands out as "unique"... unless... Well I do have a small copper cauldron with a handful of dirt from my grandmother's house that I've kept for almost twenty years now. I guess that's unique?

22   Have you ever enchanted anything?

Oh god, yes, lots of things. I've enchanted things so as to protect them, or so that the item will protect someone else or some place... I've enchanted things for love, or to keep something or someone away. I've enchanted things to help in a greater ritual or spell. And so on.

23   What’s your religion?

I was raised Christian Baptist but following one horrible experience after another I've absolutely left that faith well behind long ago. I don't have a particular religion in the sense of organized religion. I'm spiritual and I cast spells. I also believe in science. I don't call myself a witch but I do everything a witch does.

24   Do you have a favorite crystal?

"I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens".

25   What are some of your favorite spells?

Oooo I'd have to say I'm rather partial to love magic. I'm particularly good at it too.

26   What do you like to do to cleanse your space?

After physically cleaning a space I like to use the Violet Fire to cleanse an area as well as cleansing using a broom and a wand and/or athame.

27   When do you feel the most powerful?

When nature and I have our little moments. When the wind is warm and strong. When I'm out in a storm. When I can "feel" things growing during the Spring. The silence of a frozen winter night in the woods... Also when I'm cooking. I fucking LOVE charging a pot of boiling ingredients with good juju.

28   Do other people know you’re a witch?

A few people close to me know I practice witchcraft. Others think I'm just a little bit daffy.

29   Has one of your spells ever gone wrong?

Definitely. Mostly when I was still learning and practicing. Like this one time in sixth grade I cast a spell so that a popular girl in school would like me and we could start dating. Obviously since I was gay I didn't really want to be with her, I only did it because I wanted to be cool (although I did like her and we ended up being fairly good friends until we went to different high schools). That spell backfired and I ended up 1. not getting the result I intended because I was doing it for the wrong reason and simultaneously trying to force another to do something against her will, and 2. I ended up having one shitty fucking love life for the longest time.

30   What outfit makes you feel the most witchy?

Oh I love me a good cape. Even just walking around with a long blanket around me.

31   Have you ever tried astral projection?

Yes, successfully, several times. I like to use it for meditation. Often I go to the artic sea where there's just ocean, ice, and darkness.

32   Do you have any enchanted jewelry?

Probably.

33   What does your altar look like?

A space on the floor where I cast a circle and set up my stuff.

34   Have you ever seen a spirit?

YES! I've seen fairies, spirits, ghosts, shadows, sparks, heard voices, etc.

35   What’s your favorite spell sachet?

I can't say that I have one.

36   Do you have a favorite sigil?

I'm especially fond of the Sigil of Venus.

37   What’s your astrological sign?

Sun sign Virgo, Rising Pisces, Moon in Sagittarius

38   Have you ever interacted with a deity?

Well, yes, of course... per the previous questions.

39   What color are you most drawn to?

Purple.

40   Do you believe in past lives?

Without a doubt.

41   Where do you like to practice your craft?

Wherever I have privacy and calm.

42   What’s your favorite season?

Springtime, as mentioned previously.

43   Have you ever cursed someone?

That's not what my magic is for. Yes I'm familiar with the how-to, but no I don't partake in that kind of thing. The "worst" I've ever done is cast binding spells to keep someone from harming me and/or even coming into my presence.

44   How long have you been a practicing witch?

I'm telling on myself now but I'd say about 24 years practicing in earnest.

45   What drew you to witchcraft?

A natural inclination.

46   In what moon phase do you feel the most powerful?

The Moon itself does not change with the phases of its shadow. The phases are representational, of course, and its symbology can be evocative and meaningful, but otherwise the Moon is what it is. Therefore I'd have to say I personally feel most connected or at least most aware of the Moon when it's full. Else, I would say when it's waxing as that's when most of my spells are done simply because of the type of spell I usually work.

47   What’s your favorite holiday?

Wisterlimas, and then Halloween. Although I love all the holidays.

48   Do you know anything about your past lives? (if you believe in them!)

Yes, wow, I've done extensive work on discovering my past lives. I've lived in San Francisco at the turn of the century, in Scotland, England, France, Japan, China, as a woman, as a man... It's all very fascinating but you can't delve too deep because it's simply not necessary. You're not really *supposed* to know about your past lives. That defeats the purpose of the great forgetting once you're reincarnated. Yes, you can revisit the major themes and lessons learned, but one shouldn't really fret too much about what happened in the past.

49   Have you ever done an energy reading?

Certainly. I think most people do energy readings even when they don't know they're doing it. There's "reading the room" or "getting a bad vibe". There's also reiki and the like. And healing work. And of course magic is all about directing energy so to achieve a specific goal.

50   What time of day do you like to practice your craft?

Usually at night but it has more to do with the individual spell. Astronomical positioning is also important as well as weather, season, personal mood, day of the week, et al.

[cbspams]

ONEUS - Come back home (MV on YouTube)

Yooooooooooooo aight, ONEUS, I see you!!

So I had to watch the MV first because I didn't know this song prior to performance and I wanted to see if this was a different arrangement as they've done for the performances but it's not and that totally makes sense all things considered. An arrangement gives you an opportunity to change the story and the vibe but at its core, the live broadcast is meant to show the true colors of the group.

NGL I'm kind of shook they filmed the MV (or at least part of it) right after Round 3 (pt 2). But it's pretty cool! And just plain pretty.

So since the live broadcast was a bit like a comeback performance in ONEUS's case, all the thoughts listed below will also be commentary on the MV. No one get mad at me, these are just personal thoughts and perspectives.

First just on the song itself: that beat is literally so good. I'm definitely adding this song to my usual playlists because it's just so powerful. I already knew this from before but Hwanwoong's voice is so uniquely cadence and pitched, I could probably pick him out easily in any song because it sounds so different. Same with Leedo's deep voice and once again, screams over Leedo's sheer duality.

Dance wise this is also really fun and eye-catching. There's a couple stunts which, as always, are so incredible to watch and I'm always impressed by the kind of physicality idols have! You can tell they work so hard to perfect the formations and choreo. In particular I really liked the way they used chains and ribbons to signify bindings and holding back. It just looked cool as hell!!

The neck roll with the body lean is mmph, sexy as fuck. Just like. Yeah.

Anyways--

I have to say I know ONEUS isn't well know for their synchronized dance but they did pretty well! Maybe it's because I've been watching Verivery but I can pick out a lot of little differences now and it's sort of off putting when I see one member go too fast or too slow compared to everyone else. Still, ONEUS did a fantastic job of matching up to each other enough that I didn't mind the slight deviances.

ALSO that portion when Leedo and RAVN dance together and one of them is on the floor as a shadow!!! Really interesting! The coordination for that must have been really fun, since you have to think of yourself as a mirror image. As someone who struggles with that kind of spatial thinking, I give props to both ONEUS and their choreographer.

Once again I also love the way that groups are developing to use the stage more. The light flare, the galaxy, the burning wolf in the high (!!) note, all super cool and potentially additive to the story of the performance.

Unfortunately this story didn't make a lot of sense to me? Maybe I'm missing context but as far as I can tell, there's three key aesthetic/sections of the MV. One is the clean stage with the grand proscenium style theater. White shirts, black pants, red velvet curtains. Genuinely didn't understand what that was but like I'm here for aesthetics! Second was the military style gear in the midst of battle. This one made a bit more sense considering the story is ONEUS protecting a child. Is it just me or does anyone else really like the kind of scratch/injury makeup idols use?? The last section is the one the live performance used as well which is the more royalty based outfits, the capes and gold cords and such.

They mentioned in a snippet that their idea was to be vampires protecting a child from some kind of zombie (?) enemy and while that's a good concept and I fully support it, I don't think it was executed all that well? As far as story goes anyways. I see the child, I see the warfare, all that makes sense, but I don't really see how vampires fit in and I definitely did not see the reason why the theater bit was included (outside of usual kpop MV aesthetics).

In the RTK live performance, there wasn't a lot of allusions to vampires or anything either but I suppose there's a little more dedicated to the aesthetic as the stage was set up with a graveyard, barren trees and the moving graveyard on the screen. (Sidenote the screen was p cool and gave a really paranormal spooky aesthetic with the red/blue anaglyph. Very techno-horror). But then that bit with the light tossing and the starry explosion like?? I guess if I think about it I could connect it to a lull in the night, safety in darkness which would make sense since the members are vampires (creatures of the night) defending a child. But then what's the point of the fiery wolf during the high note?? Aren't y'all vampires not wolves??

(Another shoutout to Seoho for that high note!! Holy shit!!)

Going back for a moment, I mentioned I liked the ribbons which I do. Individually. As part of the performance, it doesn't really make sense because there hasn't been more indication of struggle so then having the ribbons doesn't exactly play into the story. As just purely performance, it's amazing. As part of story telling, it's just confusing.

I feel similarly about the synchronized dance portion. Are y'all a tree now?? What's with the sudden references to Christianity?

Okay but the dance break is pretty bomb. And that bit with Hwanwoong (I think) tackling someone down, that leads back into the story bit about being in battle and defending. Also just a really neat stunt!

ENDING. Okay so hi child first of all, you're so little. Second, them chasing off the backup dancers and raising their capes again reinforces defending, but then ??? Why they gone?? Why only the capes remain?? What happened?? What tf is the child looking at, an amulet? A necklace? ???????? Theory building wise, I could potentially connect it to them being controlled by the necklace and vanishing, only appearing when called on. Or they could have been illusions in some way? But I don't have a lot of story to go off of so I can't really guess. But just on the perspective of theatricality, it was a good way to go out with an attention grabbing moment.

Last note tho can I like, get more information on that kid?? What's going on there??? They mentioned it in the video at the beginning of the RTK performance kinda but I need more clarification please.

Score: 7.5/10

[typinggently]

Monsterfucker Bruce get fucked by Killer Croc #feralbrucehours

:0 I woke up to this and half-asleep me went “ohhhhhhh” and immediately went to go and do research on crocodile mating rituals.

-

However, this was super difficult because I couldn’t decide whether Bruce actually would go for it?? Not because Croc could like…eat him… I feel like that’s not really all that important to him. But I also don’t know whether he’d actually go for a villian? Like - will he look at Croc and go “HMMMMmmm yeah that looks like the fodder for my fantasies for the next two months”? Absolutely. but will he actually make a move?? I simply can’t say.

What I *can* say, however, it what that would look like.

Warning: Nasty. I use the term “swamp daddy”. Monsterfuckery.

-

First things first - speaking of looks: what croc design are we thinking?? I honestly haven’t read much where he made an appearance and as impressive as the costume builders were at designing his looks in suicide squad… that look wasn’t very höt, was it? So I went and had a look around and found the Stjepan Sejic comic and?? That’s top tier monsterfucker content, that’s absolutely incredible.

Sejic really went “he’s big and green and heavy and scaly and fucks Enchantress” ?! Absolute power move. Nothing but respect. Wow.

But I also love the design where he has a full on croc head like damn. Damn. Swamp daddy.

So in general, what I’m thinking: Green. Very big. Scales and spikes and black claws. Needly-sharp teeth.

-

The setting: It’s night, Bruce is on his way to track down Croc who’s found himself a suitable home in the abandoned spa at the edge of town. The sewers are too nasty to fuck in, so I had to get creative. It used to be a luxurious place, so we have high ceilings, stucco and fountains, mirrors and tall windows, mosaics and statues. But everything is overgrown and falling apart - the glass ceiling smashed in places, the headless statues still holding up the conches that used to spill hot water.

And Batman slipping through the shadows, walking along the edge of the pools to try and peak into the water, see if he can make out movement underneath the surface.

-

What’s very important to me is that Bruce is into it. I know it should be obvious but i just want to make it clear again because he’s getting pulled in by the ankle (of course he’s wearing the sexy shiny mid-thigh black boots. I love them so much) and Croc has very sharp teeth. And there’s something to be said about getting pulled towards a water-dripping creature at the edge of a pool at midnight.

But you know. He’s into it. Obviously. Since he knew exactly why Croc has found this place, so far away from his usual sewers – it’s mating season babeh!!!!

Croc’s spending his days splashing around his territory, growing and sweating out hormones. I say since he’s part human, the scent could actually be used to attract humans? Not that Bruce needs the added stimulation (can I just stress again that he went ‘Hm Croc needs to fuck…better go say hi’), but it goes a long way to get him from ‘silently vibrating with interest’ into ‘full on overdrive’.

Boy lets himself be pulled over the edge of the pool and is wrapping his thighs around Croc’s waist as soon as he’s close enough.

Considering Croc has a ton of sharp teeth and no lips, kissing is pretty much out of question, but you know what Bruce can do? Whine and deepthroat that tongue, that’s what. Croc was probably down for a midnight snack when he caught sight of Batman dancing along the edge of his pool, but now that the guy has his muscular thighs wrapped around his thick waist and is eagerly sucking his tongue down, he guesses he could also go for a snacc.

So he flips Bruce over and starts tearing at the cape (it’s in the way!) until Bruce, who won’t stop making those hungry little sex noises, helps and finds the clasp to get the thing off so he can push his ass against Croc’s crotch. And that’s a massive cock. Bruce can’t see it, but he can feel the size through the material of his trousers and he wants to turn around and have a look so badly, but Crock’s got him pinned to the edge of the pool and he can’t move.

The pool is, by the way, deep. Bruce can’t stand. Croc can, of course, so he can manhandle Bruce however he wants, while Bruce has to try and cling to the edge of the pool (slippery tiles + gloves) while Croc makes short work of that suit.

Now, did Bruce fuck himself before getting here because he knew he’d be a horny dumbass otherwise? Yes. Is he still a horny dumbass right now, but with the added benefit of a soft, well-prepared hole? Also yes.

Croc pinning him against the edge of the pool with his big, hard body, fitting his rough, sharp-clawed, cold fingers into him while his growl vibrates through him? Heaven. Bruce is a whiny mess. He can’t really move or he’d already be doing the splits on that cock.

Speaking of which.

Big, thick, ribbed. Bruce can’t breathe, cheek pressed against the slippery tile, mouth falling open while Croc works that monster into him. And that’s just the beginning.

After all, Croc is inhumanely strong. He’s got his hands on the edge of the pool for leverage as he fucks into Bruce and the tiles crumble under his hands. Bruce is pushed up, but Croc just pulls him back on his cock, pushing his face into Bruce’s neck, teeth and all, and growls happily.

“So hot” Croc growls at him – of course! He’s cold-blooded, after all, so Bruce must feel like heaven to him, all soft and hot, clenching around him – “I’m keeping you right here ‘till I’m done with you”

Bruce shivers in delight. He’s way past words at this point, merely mewling in delight, clenching down. And let’s blame it on the sex pheromones Croc is producing, but he gets it up for at least three times, letting Croc move him however he pleases, happy to get pinned and fucked however Croc feels, only moving to try and find purchase so he can fuck himself back on that cock sometimes.

And Croc needs it. It’s mating season, crocodiles mate multiple times, so he’s not letting Bruce go until he’s fucked at least four loads into him, until his hole makes sloppy-wet noises whenever he pushes in. And even then, he makes sure to come inside again, holding Bruce up and against his chest. Just to make sure.

(Of course he knows he won’t knock him up, but damn is it nice to push your claws into some Kevlar and fuck into a soft-hot hole with abandon while your mate mewls and sighs and writhes in your arms, trying to fuck themselves back against you like they’re hungry for your cock (they are))

-

My sources varied on how violent male crocs are (ranging from “cute cuddle sessions” to “he might kill her and still fuck her after”), but I say Croc’s sweet enough to make sure Bruce doesn’t drown and has a nice, refreshing nap (still impaled on his cock, of course. It’s too nice and soft to just give it up like that)

-

Once they’re both more or less back to their true selves, Croc goes “I could eat you up right now”. But!!! Bruce is back to his true self! Which means he goes “I want to suck your tongue again”

And that’s how they fuck again. Sloppy MESS.

-

…anon… I hope this is somewhat close to what you had in mind…I swear Feral Bruce Wayne is not just a sex puppet but this was such fun to write…I do love Bruce lusting after his villains, but Croc had never occurred to me so this…a fun adventure…

[pax-2735]

Got Fanfic: Come Into My Parlor (2/3)

Notes: Part 2 of this little Halloween story is up - if you haven’t read it yet, here’s part 1

Summary: When Sansa goes to the Targaryen’s annual Halloween bash, the last thing she expected was to come face to face with her demons.

Come into my parlor

She was making her way towards the bar, since her drink was long gone and she might as well take advantage of the expensive booze, when someone grabbed her arm. Feeling giddy and carefree – because she was not going to let that prick Joffrey ruin her spirits - she had spun around with a smile on her lips. And then she froze.

Drumroll please, as we welcome into our midst asshole number two.

She had met Harry Hardyng during her second year of college. He was sweet and polite, bumbling his way around campus with a map on his hand and a confused look on his face. Her manners had kicked in and she had offered to help him and he had dazzled her with a brilliant smile.

The fumbling ways of their first encounter had given way to a charming, confident man by their second meeting and that had been it. Harry was everything Joffrey wasn’t - he was kind and funny and had a way of listening to her as though he really cared about her opinions. In a word, he was nice.

She hadn’t loved him, no. She had never said the words to him nor had she tried to pretend as though she felt something she didn’t, but Harry had never pushed her. He never lost his patience and he never asked for more than what she was willing to give.

She had berated herself for it at times. There were days when she told herself she should just put an end to it if they weren’t going anywhere, and not lead him on. There were days she convinced herself there must be something wrong with her for how could she not love a man who was as perfect as Harry?

As it turns out, he wasn’t.

Three days into their second year together, she had run into him on campus by accident. He had a map in his hand and a confused look on his face and a pretty girl talking to him and Sansa’s world came crashing down. All of the sudden, every night spent studying, every late night phone call that went unanswered, his understanding nature and accepting demeanor, all of it reeked of lies.

He hadn’t even denied it, the smug bastard. If anything, he was completely unapologetic about the number of times he had cheated on her and if Sansa wasn’t as much of a lady she would have punched that brilliant smile right out of his face.

It was the same smile he was wearing now as he stood in front of her and Sansa took a deep breath, trying to dispel the urge to smash his teeth in.

“Sansa! It’s so good to see you,” he said. “How have you been?”

“You mean after you broke my heart? Pretty good actually.”

There was a skeptical look on his face as he answered. “Come on now. You know there were never any hearts involved.”

Alright, so that hurt. He was right, yeah, but it still stung to hear it spelt out quite like that. “How about honesty? Apparently there was none of that either.”

He at least had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. “That was a failure in communication. I honestly thought we were on the same page.”

“Is that why you were so secretive about all your affairs?”

A group of super heroes clearly intent on saving the world one drink at a time knocked into her side as they passed them on the way to the bar and Sansa stumbled forward. Harry’s hands flew to her arms to steady her. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” she answered with pursed lips. This close, seeing his eyes and his smile, it was easy to remember why she had been so eager to lose herself with him. She felt goosebumps prickling her arms as the temperature seemed to drop suddenly, and she shivered.

Harry was smirking – no doubt believing she was shivering because of him – when his gaze flickered over her shoulder and she watched as his whole posture changed abruptly, his shoulders squaring and his back straightening as his eyes widened at whatever he was seeing. She turned around to see it too.

The blonde was stunning, she had to give him that. Even her zombie makeup wasn’t enough to take away from the fact that her face was perfectly proportional, her blood red lips and dark eyes incredibly enticing.

She turned back to Harry with a raised brow. “Seriously?”

That seemed to break him from his spell. “Sorry,” he muttered, his gaze still flickering between the blonde and Sansa, “I thought I knew her but that’s not…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear the cobwebs.

“What? There were so many you can’t remember all our faces?” His head snapped back towards her, a troubled look on his face. Yeah, she was being a little bit of a bitch but he was a sorry excuse of a man so… she figured she had earned it.

“Sorry,” he said again, this time with a grimace. “That can’t be her. She’s… I mean, well… she’s dead.”

“Zombies usually are.”

He looked back towards the blonde, her voluptuous form now surrounded by a small entourage of corpse-looking guys salivating around her, and he visibly froze. His face grew pale and he looked quite literally as though he had seen a ghost.

“Sansa.”

“What?”

“Do you see them?”

“The dead guys? Yeah,” she snorted. “They’re kinda hard to miss.”

“So you do see them?”

She turned back to him, eyebrow raised and an incredulous smile. “How much did you have to drink?”

There was no answer to her quip but his grip on her am grew painfully tighter and she could feel her heart start to hammer inside her chest as she tried to loosen his grip.

“Harry you’re hurting me.”

A shadow moved on the corner of her eye and suddenly Jon was there, his own hand tightening around Harry’s wrist. “Let her go Hardyng.” Harry didn’t seem to be listening, his eyes still fixed ahead of him and Jon’s voice drew lower as his grip grew harder. “I won’t tell you again,” he hissed. “Let. Her. Go.”

Harry moved as though in slow motion, his eyes landing on Jon before widening like saucers, as though he was just now seeing him there. He stumbled backwards, finally letting go of her before mumbling out some apology or what-not and hightailing it out of there like a bat out of hell.

And then it was just her and Jon.

Goddammit.

She and Jon had known each other since she was literally in diapers. Robb’s constant companion, the two were more like brothers than anything else really. To her though, he was… more like a cousin or some shit like that. A sweet, handsomely hot cousin.

But really, with his soft curls, dark eyes, pouty mouth and sinfully delicious body, well… who could blame her really?

Yeah, she had a crush. One she’d been sporting for a while now – ever since her teens really, but in her mind she was still closer to that than to the dreaded 3-0 she was about to turn in a couple of hours. But the point was, they were friends. Close ones at that.

Jon was still looking at Harry’s retreating form with a dark look. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” she heard him mutter. When he turned to her though, he visibly softened. “Are you alright?”

She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Anytime.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute he was fine and the next he was going all I-see-dead-people on me.”

Jon gave her a sardonic smile. “I can see half a dozen of them without even blinking.”

“I know right?” She looked back towards the corpses who seemed to have frightened the shit out of Harry, not that she minded, but they were nowhere in sight. Her eyes did a quick sweep around the room, but even with their garishly decadent clothing and incredibly real face paint, she couldn’t spot them. They seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Shrugging, she returned her attention back to Jon. “Whatever booze you’re serving here tonight, it packs a mean punch.” She dropped her eyes to where his hand was holding her wrist, his fingers smoothly drawing circles on her reddening skin.

His eyes followed hers and suddenly his fingers stopped their soothing motion. He didn’t let go though. “I don’t know what they’re serving. Rhaenis took care of that.”

His eyes were boring into hers again and she gulped. “Where is she anyway? I haven’t seen her in ages, I’d like to say hello.”

“She’s not here. Her mother isn’t well, she had to fly down to Dorne to be with her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Did Aegon go with her?”

“No, Aegon’s around here somewhere,” he said with a wolfish smile. His eyes swept over her briefly before changing gears. “Your costume is nice.” He waved his hand around, indicating her bodice. “I like the spider bit.”

“Thanks. I’d return the compliment but…” she let her eyes very pointedly roam over his black pullover, down his black jeans all the way to the tip of his black boots before letting them journey back north. And if she lingered a little bit over certain parts of his anatomy, well – let it never be said Jon Snow didn’t know exactly how to pick a pair of fitted jeans.

So sue her for indulging.

He chuckled before giving her a mock hurtful look. “You don’t like my costume? You wound me Stark.” At her questioning look he took a small step back before giving her a little bow. “I’m a brother of the Night’s Watch.”

“Aren’t they supposed to have capes and swords and stuff?”

“Well I had a sword.” He took a quick scan of the room. “But your brother took it. Said he needed to save a fairy from some brain eating zombies.”

Her eyes mimicked his earlier move, scanning the ever growing crowd. “Where is Robb anyway? I haven’t seen him ever since we got here.”

“Probably huddled in a corner somewhere, seeing what kind of magic that fairy can do.” He waggled his brows suggestively and then laughed when she frowned at him. “Wanna go find him?”

“Thanks for that mental picture,” she mock shuddered. “And no, I don’t. If it’s brain eating zombies he’s up against then I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well hello my lovelies.” Margaery Tyrell sidled up to them, wrapping them both in a hug and keeping her arms casually over their shoulders as she gave Sansa an appraising look. “Darling you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful Jon?”

Fuck. Sansa could feel the blush creeping up on her cheeks as she risked a look at Jon, relieved to see he was looking a little flustered himself. Good.

“Yeah, I was just telling her that.” His voice took on a deeper, dare she say it, huskier tone as his eyes once again roved over her costume. Better.

She cocked a brow daringly at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“Aye,” he raised a brow of his own, “I’m pretty sure I was.”

Her face was pensive as she pretended to concentrate to remember exactly what he had said. “I believe the word being thrown around was ‘nice’.”

“Nice?” Margaery’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Oh my sweet summer child,” she tutted at him.

Jon flushed even harder, the tips of his ears turning red and a healthy blush spreading down his neck, and Sansa wondered exactly how far down it went and how much she’d like to find out. Preferably with her tongue, but she was open to suggestions.

“Although that works in my favor as it makes me feel much less guilty about stealing her away,” Margaery was still saying. “Darling, I’m in desperate need of your assistance.” She batted her eyelashes prettily and Sansa laughed.

“What, the corpse bride needs a wingwoman?”

Margaery scoffed. “It’s a much more mundane affair I’m afraid.” She waved Sansa closer and dropped her voice in a conspiratorial manner. “I need to go the bathroom and I need you to help me lift up my skirts.”

Jon was openly chuckling as Sansa turned to him with an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry. Duty calls.” Margaery was already pulling her along when Sansa turned back, shooting him an over the shoulder look paired with a wink. “See you around Snow.” He narrowed his eyes and she could swear the look in its stormy grey depths was ravenous. Perfect.

Helping Margaery with her skirts turned out to be much more complicated than she had anticipated, the layers upon layers of skillfully torn fabric easily catching on the embroidery of Sansa’s own dress. Not that it mattered, Margaery was saying, along with thousands of other crap ranging from the cute quarterback from hell with whom she hoped to have a nightmarish evening to how Jon was looking at Sansa like she was the Little Red Riding Hood to his wolf. Thankfully her voice was mostly muffled underneath her skirts, so Sansa only caught every few words.

“Thanks doll. You’re a lifesaver,” Margaery said as she washed her hands.

“What are friends for right?”

Margaery was looking at her through the mirror. “Sorry I interrupted your little chat with clueless guy wonder.”

Sansa gave her a little frown. “He’s not clueless. He’s not interested either. At least, not like that. See the difference?”

Margaery shook her head. “I swear to the gods, one day I’m gonna lose my patience with the two of you.” She finished drying her hands before extending one to Sansa. “Come, let’s get back to the party.”

“Go ahead. I think I’m gonna go too. Since I’m already here and all.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“No,” Sansa said, waving her hands at Margaery in a shooing motion, “go get your quarterback. I’ll be right out.”

“You sure love?” Sansa gave her a stern look and Margaery laughed. “Alright sweetie. See you in a bit.”

The hallway leading back to the main floor of the party was only partially lighted by the time Sansa started back, the soft glow of the lamps mingling with the retreating shadows to create an eerie atmosphere. Perfect for Halloween.

Not so perfect when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the star of our show, asshole number three.

Although asshole was hardly the right word to describe Ramsay Bolton. Harry was an asshole, and a downright great one at that. Joffrey was a prick and creep. But Ramsay, well… Ramsay was a monster.

When Sansa was a child she loved playing monsters and maidens with her siblings. Those were the kind of stories she used to beg Old Nan to tell them, the ones where the beautiful princess was captured by a horrible monster until a fair and handsome prince came to rescue her.

It’s funny how the stories never warn you that the worst kind of monsters are the ones wearing a human mask.

And there are no princes coming to the rescue.

She had met Ramsay during her first job. He was a quiet, unassuming guy, the sort you wouldn’t look at twice if you happened to notice him the first time around. Most people didn’t. He seemed to have mastered the art of disappearing into the background until he was needed and then he was suddenly there, ready to help before blending back into the shadows.

After Joffrey’s and Harry’s over exceeding confidence, she had liked how quiet Ramsay was. There was a quality about it that almost reminded her of Jon. He seemed safe. They had a world wind romance and before long they were living together.

It was only when the key had turned on that lock for the first time that she had realized she was trapped.

And in spite of how far she’d come after putting an end to that relationship, after leaving all traces of Ramsay Bolton behind – not forgetting, no, never forgetting, the marks he had left on her skin and on her soul a constant reminder, a never ending lesson – in spite of it all, that’s exactly how she felt as soon as she heard his voice. Trapped.

“Hello Sansa.”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, coating her form like a spider web thinly veiled with drops of honey. His blue eyes were what gave him away, its icy sparkle shining from amidst the shadows, long before he stepped forward so she could see him.

“I’ve missed you.” His smile was something akin to a snarl, a pulling of lips over teeth as he stopped just a few steps short of reaching her.

“Ramsay. You do remember the restraining order don’t you?” Sansa was proud of how even and strong her voice came out even as she felt the airs on her arms prickling and her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“I had no idea you’d be here. You haven’t exactly kept in touch.” He shook his head slowly at her. “But you’ve always been a naughty girl haven’t you Sansa?”

Another step towards her and Sansa stiffened. She stood her ground though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of backing away. Instead, she gave him a disbelieving look. “My brother’s best friend’s family is hosting the party.”

“Is he your friend though? Or perhaps something more?” There was a hint of something dangerous lurking underneath his casual tone, something that Sansa recognized immediately. Something Sansa chose to ignore.

“You knew I’d be here,” she accused him.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He moved forward again and this time Sansa did step back. The shadows flickered over the walls as her back collided with the lamp, almost sending it tumbling to the floor. Ramsay smiled. “Alright, maybe I did have some idea. What can I say? I’m a hopeful romantic.”

“If Robb and Jon find you here –“

He cut her off abruptly. “They’ll do what? I was invited here, just like everyone else.”

“You can’t be here.”

“Sansa, Sansa,” he said, shaking his head in disapproval, “don’t be difficult. This house is big enough for the two of us, I’m sure we can manage something.”

He seemed to be pondering something before he stepped back, putting some space between them, and Sansa breathed again. “I’m gonna take a tour of the gardens now. I hear they used to have some lovely kennels here. That should put the necessary space between us,” he turned his head, giving her one last glance over his shoulder, “until we meet again.”

It was only after his footsteps faded, the sound of a door closing in the distance, that Sansa forced her own feet to start moving. Not towards the now dim sounds of the party, no. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to go back in there and risk another chance encounter. It was hard to imagine this night getting any shittier but the way the universe was treating her lately… she wasn’t about to take any chances.

Turning around, she went in the opposite direction.

[ahsporn]

Cody Fern Interview for Out Nagazine

Out: What is it like to play the Antichrist?

Cody: It’s been the greatest privilege of my acting career so far. Between this and Versace, if for some reason the apocalypse came tonight, I’d be pretty happy with what I’ve done.

Out: How much did you know going into the season?

Cody: I didn’t know anything, I didn’t even know the theme, we found out when everybody else found out. We did know obviously that there had been an apocalypse, but I found out that I was playing Michael Langdon two days before we started filming. My first scene was the interrogation with Venable. All that Ryan had told me was that I’d be wearing a long, blonde wig and that I would have an affinity for capes. I went into the piece thinking I was the protagonist.

Out: Do you think that in a way, Michael is the protagonist of Apocalypse?

Cody: I think he is, but that’s from my perspective. I understand that the witches are the protagonists, particularly Cordelia. It’s in many ways a continuation of the Coven story, but running parallel is the story of how I see Michael, which is this very betrayed, broken, lost young man who finds his way into the apocalypse because of circumstance, not because of destiny.

Out: There’s a conversation of nature vs. nurture: we know from Murder House that there was evil in Michael from birth, he wouldn’t have been murdering his babysitters if there wasn't, but it’s become clear in the latter half of the season that he’s lost and is being manipulated by people with their own agendas.

Cody: We see him at 15 when he’s grown 10 years overnight, and the way that I always played Michael was that the murders are an impulse that he can’t control and he doesn’t understand. His consciousness is that of a 6-year-old boy when he’s a teenager, but he’s struggling to come to terms with his body and his desires, but he’s not fully formed. When you follow that, to me Michael’s story is a parable. There’s two ways of looking at the story of the devil: the way that people have interpreted the bible, and this polar opposite that Lucifer so loved god that he refused to bow down before men. Here we have god’s favorite angel in this kingdom of heaven, who was then made to bow down before god’s next making, and ultimately that leads to him being cast out of Heaven, and it wasn’t like Lucifer was wrong. Man then goes about destroying the earth. That’s what we’re doing right now, we’re destroying planet Earth, and it seems that there’s no remorse for it. I really leaned into that with Michael, this young boy who was cast from the kingdom of Heaven, who was cast out of the normal rigors of society, out of what people find acceptable, and then is used and abused and abandoned and broken, and what happens when you have no love in your life, where does that energy go?

Out: One of the ways I’ve been reading this season is a commentary about the state of gender politics. The warlocks essentially bring about Armageddon by attempting to topple the matriarchal power the witches have over the coven. Michael in a way is this avatar for misogyny and male entitlement. Was that intentional?

Cody: I absolutely believe that was intentional. The thing about Ryan Murphy is he’s able to weave these incredible social commentaries into this fascinating world he’s created. Certainly in this season we are looking at bringing down the patriarchy, about what happens when a matriarchal society is enforced and the hubris of men begins to take flight. It’s not dissimilar to what’s happening in society today or what has been happening for hundreds of years. Ryan certainly weaves that into his writing. The gender battle is being fought and Michael is the avatar for it but is certainly not a part of of it. He is manipulated into this gender battle but he himself is not misogynistic, but there’s certainly something to be said for the fact that he needs a very strong mother figure in his life and has mommy issues. His mother tries to kill him in the Murder House, Constance commits suicide, Cordelia takes away Mead and he has this robot who he has to program into loving him. I think he has an enormous respect for Cordelia. He needs strong women in his life, and if he just took Cordelia’s hand when she offered it, if he just overcame his insatiable thirst for revenge, he could’ve gone another way.

Out: One of the standout episodes of the season was “Return to Murder House,” what was it like to find out that not only was Jessica Lange returning but that you’d get to act opposite her?

Cody: My ovaries exploded. I can’t begin to describe to you how overwhelmed I was. The first scene I shot with Jessica was the scene where Michael finds her dead body after she’s committed suicide, and I was so excited and nervous and afraid of that scene that I spent the whole day shaking like a life. When we got to it I was so excited and overwhelmed, it was very hard for me to drop into the chaos around what I needed to go into. Sarah, who is just the most exceptional human being in the world not to mention the hardest working and the most talented, took my hand and said, “Don’t be afraid of this, you’ve got to really go there,” and then jokingly, “Imagine that at the end of this if you didn’t get it that Jessica would think you’re a bad actor.” It was terrifying! I was certainly able to move past a wall, that’s what was blocking me, I was so afraid of judgement, that wasn’t coming from Jessica of course, it was coming from myself and my own process. Working with Jessica will go down as one of my life’s greatest achievements.

Out: What was it like to not only act alongside Sarah Paulson but to be directed by her in “Return to Murder House?”

Cody: One of the greatest joys. As an actor, to step into the director’s chair, you have a certain upper hand because you understand how actors work and how to communicate with actors. Sarah very much comes from a place of absolute respect for the emotional process of the artist. First and foremost she’s looking out for you as an artist, which elicits such extraordinary performances because you have so much trust in her, so you’re willing to give her anything and everything. She’s got such a deft hand as a director, watching it was gobsmacking, and was working under the most extreme pressures imaginable. Not only was she playing Billie Dean and Cordelia in another episode in the same time as this was filming, she had to film 72 scenes. In contrast, the episode before had 32, so she was filming almost double what any other director on the series was filming, while playing two other characters in two other episodes with under one week of preparation, it was truly a feat.

Out: She certainly wears a lot of hats...speaking of which, you had a very special hat yourself. Let’s talk about that wig.

Cody: I loved that wig. If I could wear that wig on a daily basis I would. Wearing that wig was everything.

Out: How long does it take to get into the Rubber Man suit?

Cody: It takes about 20 minutes and a lot of lube, and once you’re in it you’re in it, you can’t take it off. So I was in that suit for 16 hours. I think I held the record for being in the suit the longest.

Out: Can you settle this debate: was Michael the Rubber Man suit who has sex with Gallant?

Cody: No, not physically anyway. The Rubber Man is also a demon, so when someone is wearing the suit, they become the Rubber Man, but when nobody is wearing the suit, Rubber Man — through the power of Murder House — becomes a demon, and that demon is in many aspects controlled by Langdon. Langdon uses every means at his disposal to warp and manipulate and draw out the innermost desires in a human being, he draws out their shadow self and he’s able to play with that shadow and create scenarios that tempt a person into giving into the evil inside of them. Because the Rubber Man is there and then Gallant realizes he’s killed Evie. There’s some mind games going on there in how Michael reveals Gallant’s innermost desire, which is deeply Oedipal, because we [we wonder], is he fucking his grandmother? Because the realization is that the Rubber Man is Evie and he’s just slaughtered her in his bed. There’s so many layers of darkness there. That’s certainly how I thought about it.

Out: I’m sure you can’t reveal anything about the finale tonight, but can you tease a bit about how Michael’s journey ends?

Cody: There’s something deeply beautiful and tragic about the way that the story ends for Michael. It was genuinely one of the hardest scenes that I shot in the series. The end of the series, knowing that this was going to be the last time I — I’m getting sad about it now — I loved Michael so much, the past nine days since we finished filming it have been very hard. I loved Michael so much and I wanted so much for him, I just wanted love for him. The way the series ends for Michael is very moving.

Out: Are you open to returning for another season of AHS?

Cody: Oh my god, in a heartbeat. The experience is beyond comparison. Moving forward there will hopefully be great triumphs in my career, hopefully I’ll get to play characters that are as complex and layered as Michael, but this will forever have been the most formative experience of my acting career and of my development as an artist. To work with these extraordinary women at such an early point in my career, to work with Sarah Paulson and Frances Conroy — fuck me, Frances Conroy is one of the most talented, hard working, fierce actresses. To work with Kathy Bates and Joan Collins, the list goes on and on. To be in the same room as Billy Porter, who is an American treasure. The entire experience was so exceptional and magic. I know I’ll never have that back, that moment, it’s gone. I would come back in a heartbeat.

[iphoenixrising]

Dr!Tim Drabble: Robin

Well, Babes. You both must have fucking read my mind and shit because really. I kind of started this to be such a teaser when BOOP I got this ask and my fucking heart here. You’re right on the same page when it comes to Dr!Tim getting the real Robin experience, yeah? Lol. So, just a note. B’s bad guy persona is Matches. The dude with the epic porn ‘stache. Dick’s persona is Robbie Malone, which is pretty obscure and I looked it up on a good wiki to make sure.

HOWEVER *ahem* An incredible artist @kaciart did a thing here: http://thingsfortwwings.tumblr.com/post/55338349568/kaciart-it-was-never-made-clear-whether-tim-knew. Which helped the muse.

So… so there’s that. XD Hope it's as good.

**

The Robin in Gotham that night is just a little bit taller. Not by much. He's hesitant, a newbie to the vigilante game, and even if he's got a grapple on his belt, he only uses it once. Only a drunk or two catch him strafing across rooftops, the flicker of yellow, red, and green against the lamplight.

The rest of the city is asleep. As luck would have it, he stumbles on some baddies with a leg up on him, tossing a pellet in the right spot with knockout gas to make carrying him through the night that much easier. When Robin comes to, the blurry residual clears and behind the whiteouts, his vision is sharp. Being handcuffed in a crummy warehouse in the Narrows is not really the way he'd hoped to spend his first real experience in the tunic.

(And if he embarrasses the name, a certain little demon will probably eviscerate him.

"I allow you one night–"

"To my credit, I really thought those ninjas would go down easier."

"May I remind you–"

"I know, I know. It's not one of my hobbies. No more almost getting killed under your name, I promise.")

But a single dim bulb hangs with enough away to reveal the long, lean line of muscle still half in shadows watching him from behind whiteouts.

"Been a real pain in my nut, Robin." Is more dangerous behind the synths, more casual when the Red Hood, notorious enforcer for the Black Mask, straightens up and starts to move forward. "Gettin' in my fucking business means I gotta make an example outta ya, so’s no one else thinks they can stop the trade, you feel me?" Robin's eyes narrow but his pulse is picking up, his muscles tighten against the ropes.

“Or,” he tries with a bravado he doesn’t necessarily feel, “you could cut this chase short and let me take you in so you don’t make it worse for yourself.”

The sound is probably a snort but the synths make it hard to decipher.

“Mmhm, an’ any other damn day, ya might be right. But since I know the Bat is outta town, and the rest a’ yer little cape n’ cowl crew are busy, n’ yer own yer own, little birdy. Even fucking better, I got me an old friend in Gotham t’night, and I gotta say–” the way Hood moves, hips swaying, something of a swagger, all indications the vigilante has a plan, makes Robin catch a breath with what the hell else?

“Ya might be in over yer head.”

And oh God.

He’s in for it.

(Teasing his boyfriends can have some interesting results, so even with the plan they’d had for him tonight, there were so many things they hadn’t told him.)

Because the shift in the shadows and the crimson slash is just what the bad guy ordered, and the man coming out of the shadows to stand beside Hood is nothing short of mouth-wateringly dangerous– all done in sharp black and red.

Something in Robin’s abdomen goes unbearably tight when Renegade puts the intense focus of those whiteouts right on him, folds his arms over his chest, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Even while he might be melting into a puddle of oh God, please, please, I’ve been a bad Robin, he can maneuver his hands well enough to get into the green gloves for the small lockpick set he’d completely kyped out of B’s utility belt the last time they’d had a little snatch n’ stitch. Since he’s completely used to working with fine instruments wearing gloves, working the small end into the handcuffs is easier than he’d originally calculated.

(So much win going on right now.)

“So nice to know you’ve got friends in town, Hood. I hope you have an itinerary to show him the sights. Robinson Park is really nice this time of year.” He tries to keep the banter, give himself time he needs to work the cuffs.

(Still, watching them walk toward him like a fucking bad ass wet dream is really making the night look up regardless of how things are going to go from here.)

“Too much mouth on ya, Robin,” and the flex of hips and thighs, the glint off the gun in Hood’s hand, the feral-looking smirk on Renegade’s face make him take a pause to work his fingers into the back of the utility belt, bite down on his lower lip to try and get–

Yes.

“Looks like we need to shut him up, Hood,” is Renegade’s deep response, that tone rolling around in the abandoned warehouse, makes a shiver work up his spine.

Which causes him to drop the pellet he’d been holding, the little ball rolling right under his chair.

Fuck. That’s bad.

He tries to think fast, using his weight to throw his chair back, out of the way of the little blast and following plumes of smoke. It’s really nothing more than dumb luck that the chair is probably older than all of them and pretty much breaks into kindling on impact.

It’s even luckier that the small blast is inconsequential but the smoke screen gives him the opportunity to wiggle enough to get his cuffed wrists down far enough to get his feet over them so at least his hands are bound in the front.

Rolling to his feet, he tries to duck away from the chair in the thick smoke, cape hitting him in the back of the ankles, and fucking right, he didn’t even lose the lockpick.

(“Damn. Good one, Baby Bird. Didn’t see that shit coming.”

“This is going to be much better than we thought, Jay.”

“Fuck right, Dickie, now we gedda chase.”

And with that little revelation, Robin is thinking, looking around at the high windows, making plans.)

He flips one of the few bat-a-rangs in his utility belt, awkwardly holding it up to throw with his bound hands. He manages throw far enough to knock it into an empty crate further down than where he’s hiding, but it draws the attention of the “baddies” coming through the dissipating smoke after him.

It does the job and he sees the outline of Hood and Renegade change course, closer to the sound.

“You’re only making it harder on yourself, Robin,” Renegade purrs low, his footsteps not even making a sound when he shares a side-eye with Hood and moves around to take the back for the element of surprise.

“When we catch ya,” Hood is cooing through the synths, popping the clip out of his .45 to make sure again he’s toting blanks (the one in his boot has the rubber rounds should things get dicey and they need ta make with the real crime fighting) before he circles around the smoky pile of old pallets and crates laying in dusty ruin, “we ain’t gonna be nice ‘bout it, you feel me, Robin? Gonna make ya one sorry lil’ bird.”

(But he totally hears, “gonna fuck ya until ya scream for it, Baby. Gonna make ya come ‘til ya can’t even stand up no more.”)

The handcuffs finally pop as the two bad guys jump in their planned strike, coming down on a whole lotta empty pallets with only a bat-a-rang there for them to stare at.

“Little motherfucker,” is all he needs to hear, shoving the handcuffs in his belt (in case he needs to have a plan) and pulling the grapple while his pulse throbs in his mouth and his adrenaline kicks up a notch. He’s got to shoot and reel himself in before they get to him, got to get out the upper windows and climb to the roof, got to at least get a few buildings over before they catch him.

(And he completely has a new appreciation for the reinforced jocks they wear under the suits because the things is literally killing him right now.)

The bang makes him flinch regardless, and with that, the jig is completely up. Two heads swivel toward the sound, trace the line up to the window sill where the hook sinks deep, and the shadow of the cape flares out like wings as the grapple pulls Robin from the ground and away.

“Fuck this is gettin’ good,” Hood breathes out, already pulling his own, watching the flex of Timmy’s thighs in those fucking tights and his ass outlined in Robin Red.

The window breaks with his momentum, and Robin pauses on the broken sill long enough to grin widely down at them, “I really need to be on my way, but we should do this again sometime!”

The cap flaps around the green tights and black boots as Robin scales the ancient fire escape and disappears out of sight.

Renegade puts a hand on his wrist, stills Hood from raising the grapple for the ole’ point-n-shoot. “Let him get a little bit of distance, Jay. He’s putting a hell of a lot into this.”

“Big Wing,” and even with the whiteouts on both sides, he knows how dark Dickies eyes are, is pretty sure his are just as dark. “ we’re gonna destroy that ass, you feel me?”

“You know we are. Damn, he looks cute in that suit.”

“Cute? Nah, ain’t where I’m at right now, yeah? Motherfucking sexy is ‘bout what I’m feelin’.”

“Fuckable, sure, but wow, he wears it so well.”

“Don’t tell Demon. That little shit won’t never let this happen again.”

“Right. We play it out with our boyfriend, fuck him on a safe rooftop, then take him home for a soak in the tub and cuddle-palooza.”

“You better fuckin’ add pancakes ta that list, Dickie. I like seein’ ‘im all full n’ sleepy after we fucked ‘im but good.”

“Done and done.”

In a smooth move, Hood raises the grapple again and loops his free arm around Renegade’s waist, pulling his Baby Boy right into his body.

The two vigilantes pause in the moment, and Renegade raises both hands quick, hits the right spot on the back of the helmet to release the catch, pulls the damn thing off so they can have just a second–

And anyone looking in the dilapidated warehouse down by Dixon Docks in that exact moment would be scandalized to see the Red Hood and Renegade writhing against one another, caught up in the taste of one another, just a tease before the grapple starts to reel.

**

Robin is panting with the effort, tries not to get tangled in his cape, tries to keep his eyes open to everything around him with the sharp vision he gets behind the whiteouts.

Luckily for him, he’s shaking off the residual of the sedative and this area of the city is one so absolutely familiar, he already knows he’s got an edge.

The same spots from those days when he was a kid with a camera, hiding while he followed the flying vigilantes are obviously still there, could still give him a place to duck if he thinks his pursuers are getting too close. If Dick and Jay had really been paying those old photographs in the shoebox enough attention, they’d probably be able to pick out the majority of his hidey-holes and make this game come to a quick and abrupt end (he’s hoping they don’t because he’s really, really enjoying this).

But, he’s already evaded them three times and he’s still too damn far from his apartment to believe he’s anywhere near home free.

Which is why he’s wasting time ducked down between two massive air conditioning units on the Mylar building instead of in Renegade and Hood’s path. A few feet away is an old bridge the maintenance crew used to get up to the next roof, giving him an out to use the grapple for a swing and give himself away.

He waits until the shadows recede and he can’t see either of them before he darts out and takes the bridge at a run, making a leap that immediately gets his adrenaline back up.

His chest is heaving a little because the climb is about a bitch.

A hard jerk on the suspension bridge takes him by surprise as both “villains” land it on either side of him, effectively boxing him in.

Well, fuck.

He pulls the grapple since, you know, the jig is up, but an escrima stick knocks the damn thing from his hand, and no amount of time he’s spent in the gym or hard-core parkour is going to get him out of this little sitch.

(Dammit. Trapped.)

Renegade clicks his tongue, “tsk, tsk, Robin. Nice try, but you should have tried to stay ahead of us. That might have gotten you home free.” And the two start advancing on him, getting closer. Robin looks from one to the other, bites down on his lower lip–

Until the plan pops into his head.

“Gonna enjoy this, little bird,” Hood drawls out, “after the run ya gave us.”

Panting, Robin tries to make the move subtle enough to miss, back up just a step, tries to make it look like he’s searching for a way out when he looks over the bridge and all the way down.

The action works because both villains jump for him at the same time, trying to keep him from throwing himself over, and it gives Robin just enough of a chance to let his knees give out from under him and fake fall to the wobbly bridge so Renegade can careen over his head at the same time Hood smacks into him, landing the two in a heap right at Robin’s feet.

The knock of Hood’s helmet against Renegade’s forehead gives him a crucial moment to slam the handcuffs he’d kept down on the Red Hood’s left wrist and Renegade’s right one, pushing the sides closed to cuff the two together.

(Oh fuck is he winning here.)

He’s already moving back while they untangle themselves and stare at their cuffed wrists before slowly, ever so slowly, turning to him.

“Well, damn.” And if he didn’t know better, he’d say Hood was, well, impressed.

(I have other hobbies, asshole, remember?)

“The surprises keep coming,” Renegade already climbing to his feet is grinning widely, Hood following in a smooth motion. “Too bad it isn’t going to save you, you know.”

“I just need to keep you two on–”

When he would have finished off the banter portion with on your toes, what he gets is the terrible sighing sound breaking the night, followed right by a sharp twang that is all too fucking familiar.

(Why do bridges have a tendency to break while he’s on them? Seriously now?)

His whole body jerks up, head turning to the sight of the old bridge coming apart and falling from under him, making him gasp in hard enough to hurt, making his knees knock, making a hard reality of Oh God, not again.

But cuffed arms brace under his and the bang of grapples firing shakes him out of breath-stealing panic, Hood and Renegade working in tandem to send the three of them flying through the night while the bridge crumbles to Gotham’s dirty sidewalk below.

Effortlessly, the villains land them on the Mylar, setting the three of them down in the shadows where one side of the building keeps it absolutely hidden away.

“Holy shit,” Robin pants out, held up between Hood and Renegade, his chest heaving under the tunic. “That...was not part of the plan.”

“Good to know,” Renegade lays his forehead against the base of Robin’s neck, exhaling slowly, moving his free hand down to push the cape out from between their bodies, to twist it around his hand for the next step.

“I’ll fuckin’ say,” Hood deactivates the helmet and tosses it down, moves a step closer to sandwich Robin between the two of them. With just a dom, his eyes are dark blue without the flecks of jade which means he’s probably still riding a little bit of the adrenaline from the almost-oops.

Robin looks up and over when Hood holds up his cuffed hand and arches a brow. “Still, ya gonna have ta work on them plans, Rob, if ya wanna get the better of us, yeah? This ain’t bad, but that don’t mean–”

And Robin gasps when his gloves wrists are gathered up by the cuffed hands, pulled over his head to stretch his body taunt.

Renegade is leaning down to talk against his ear, growling low and so fucking dangerous, “–you’re going to get away this time. Sorry, little bird. Looks like we win.”

**

Apparently things like capes are weapons and should not be used against him.

Or...well, maybe he’s going to re-think that since his wrists are bound together tight before they even worked the tunic open.

Renegade is keeping Robin’s bound arms down with a knee and a gloved hand over his mouth to make sure the noises are nice and quiet, kept between just the three of them. Hood had picked the cuffs in approximately two seconds to give them both a chance to get to work on making sure the young vigilante knew he was fucking around with the real deal.

The utility belt came off, lying just out of reach and Robin’s thighs spread open with less fight than anticipated.

The struggling, the writhing against Hood’s crotch, the straining muscle and taunt hold is just this side of perfect. For a little show, Hood pulls out a wickedly sharp knife, the glint dull in the night, leans down over Robin’s body and slides the sharp end of the blade right over the base of his throat, bare now that his cape is gone.

(But even though Timmy’s is half-assed struggling, he ain’t scared. No fear in those eyes, yeah?)

“Better be a good little bird, Rob. I like ta keep m’ implements nice n’ sharp. Don’t wanna make me slip by accident.”

Renegade’s hand on the younger vigilante’s mouth pulls so the head tilts back, eyes looking up. “I’ve known Hood for a long time, kid. You don’t want to see the master at work.”

When the struggling stops and the only thing Robin is doing is panting against Renegade’s hand, the sharp edge eases up slightly, slides down his chest, the tip fitting right under the tunic’s laces.

“Atta boy. Make it easier on yerself. Ain’t nobody gonna find ya, so don’t gotta have it rough unless ya wanna.”

“He might like it that way, Hood.” The first lace gives without hesitation. “Maybe we should go a little hard on him to find out.”

The second lace.

“But lookit how cute he is, Baby Boy. Gonna show ‘im just how things gotta go down on our side a’ the law, ain’t we? That don’t mean we gotta get nasty ‘bout it long as he behaves himself.”

The third.

Finally, the two villains are finally getting a little skin, and a gloved hands runs down Robin’s collar bone, moves to thumb and tweak until the little nub under is tight.

The hand on Robin’s mouth tightens down when the moan cuts through the stillness.

“He needs to learn, Hood. He can’t mess with business and get away without paying the price.” The thumb on Robin’s face moves over the domino and the whiteouts slide down, showing half-mast eyes, darkening by degrees.

“Mmhm. That’s the thing ‘bout Gotham, ain’t it?” And the hands moving down, pull hard, rip the tunic until there’s nothing in his path except the tights and reinforced jock. “Always got consequences, Rob, and you? You ain’t any different.”

The telltale tremble in his thighs makes the Red Hood grin wide and white (don’t be breaking character yet, Baby Bird. We gotta whole lotta play still left), and he’s nothing but a nasty bastard when he runs both hands up the inside of those thighs, grips tight to make sure there’s gonna be bruises there tomorrow.

Since he and Dickie pretty much engineered this whole thing (and made a suit with strategized weaknesses), the tights give under his hands, ripping open from the waist to the knee. He hands a sizeable strip to Renegade and leans down over Robin’s body, giving a little bit of distraction while his partner in crime moves just long enough to tie the strip in their little vigilante’s mouth.

“Much better.” He palms the grapple in his freed hand, and pulls out the line, throws the hook to catch on the lip of the roof and wrap the other end to keep Robin from going anywhere. Renegade pulls off the head piece, is in just a domino so he can flick the catch of his suit and pull it down to bare a tantalizing v-ee of his chest.

With the suit ripped away, helpless to whatever they planned to do to him on a roof in the middle of Gotham, Robin is gagged and panting, his chest stuttering with it, going pink down his collarbone and upper chest.

(Fingers slide into one of his bound hand, and the metal ball gives a soft jingle. All he has to do is drop it if he needs to stop, all he has to do is give the signal. He’s in control, he’s in control, he’s in control–)

And the feel of Hood’s gloves on his hip bone, tearing the strap on the reinforced jock makes his hips twitch, makes him unconsciously arch into the touch even when his hard cock springs up into the cool Gotham air.

“That’s smart kid. This’ll go easier for you if you try to enjoy it.” Renegade palms the vial in his suit and holds it up where the can both see it, smirks at the muffled noise right beside his thigh.

Hood grins back at him and pops the lid, dribbles lube on his fingers and lifts one of Robin’s calves for Renegade to hold. He hoists the other, runs his slick fingers over Robin’s balls, tugs a little, slides his forefinger up the underside of the vigilante’s straining cock, just a tease.

Getting his suit down far enough with one hand, Renegade shakes Robin’s leg, palms the side of his face to turn him, gets a load of those eyes, “My partner here is going to give you the fuck of a lifetime. And you? Are going to suck me while he does it.”

The jock is gone, and Robin gasps in hard through his nose, those eyes rolling over the length, teeth biting down on the gag in his mouth. He watches, mesmerized, as the gloved hand strokes himself, makes himself harder, gives Robin a preview to what he’s about to get.

When Hood spreads him open wider, slick and blunt finger sliding in, moving fast and hard, making Robin’s spine arch while he watches Renegade jerk off right in front of his face, mouth watering for it, his cock aching, his body clenching when one finger becomes two, and the desperation for more is starting to take over.

Pulling against the zip line isn’t doing anything for him because he can’t move, is caught between them, is already making noises with his body anticipating Hood (Jay) making him utterly senseless while he sucks Renegade’s thick cock to the fucking base.

(This is the best thing to ever happen.)

A jerk of his hips and a third finger slides in, gives him only a few thrusts against his spot, just enough for Hood to smirk and finally pull out.

“Gonna keep ya nice n’ tight fer me, Robin,” and while he’s been prepping the vigilante, he’d pulled himself out, lubed himself up to press right against the prize waiting for him. “But don’t worry. Since yer being a good, little bird, we’ll make sure you get yers.”

And Robin throws his head back, body arching in a clean line as well as he can with his legs caught and hands restrained. His fist tightens on the bell, keening through his gag as Hood pushes in, gives a few slow back-and-forths until he’s balls deep with a long moan.

“Lookit you taking all of his dick on the first go,” Renegade purrs down at him, and thumbs the gag out of his mouth, puts a finger over his lips. “Good for you, little bird. Now you’re going to give me mine. Don’t make me have to tell you to be very good.”

Renegade pulls with fingers on his jaw, and Robin opens up without a fight, taking the wide head in, moaning around it. Hood finally gets the point that he’s sure he isn’t going to come immediately when he moves, changing his hold to fit the bend of Robin’s knee and hoist his hips up higher, makes sure he’s in as far as he can possibly go (just the way Timmy likes it), then pulls back, starts up a few slow-n’-easies before he picks up the pace.

And Robin’s eyes are fluttering behind the domino, sliding his tongue around Renegade’s cock, leaning closer when he can take more, when he can take it deeper--

And suck.

“Holy–” and the villain’s hips twitch, a gloved hand threading into his hair, holds him still as hips twitch and fuck his mouth in shallow thrusts. “Fuck, know what you’re doing, don’t you Robin? Ah, you’re going to love my cock by the time we’re done with you.”

“Ya kiddin’ me, Baby Boy? Fuck him and you’ll be in love with his ass. Like a fucking vice.” And Hood leans over Robin’s body to get a better view of Renegade’s hips twitching, cock sliding in and out of his mouth, of Robin’s cheeks hollowing, of his jaw moving, of the tight nubs they’re both absently working.

In a calculated move, Renegade gives Hood a wink, and they both draw back, leave just the tip in him, gets a low noise for the effort, and fuck back into him with a vengeance.

“That’s right, little birdie. Found yer sweet spot, yeah?” And the strokes inside him are long and firm and fast, his spot abused by each one, making the pressure in his belly start to burn.

Renegade keeps up with a smooth, steady pace, sliding over his tongue, spilling pre-come in his throat, staring down as he pants, watching Robin take every fucking inch.

He’s moaning around the width in his mouth, in his throat, trying to suck, trying to scream while his cock throbs and the R still partly on his chest gleams in the night.

Hood’s balls slapping against his ass, and Renegade panting, groaning out above him, and a gloved hands fists him at the base, starts stroking him in time with the hits to his spot.

And the rhythm is driving, pound, rushing, his pulse racing in his ears, struggling to get a breath, but it’s all toomuchmoremoremore that he can’t think past the need to come, whimpering in his throat when he can, and trying to move his hips up into the fist pumping him and down into the pound thrusts driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s right, give it up, Robin,” Renegade pants, groans down at him, working his hips, fucking into that throat, “you’re gonna take everything we give you, and when you go back to the Bat, you’ll remember just what you get when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Hood draws back to fuck in hard, tightening his hand down and speed up. “We’re gonna make sure this lessons sticks, Baby Boy. Fill ‘im up good, make sure he knows what happens ta bad little birdies.”

Robin screams around Renegade’s cock when fingers tease the tip of him and hips ground into deep, trying to move but he’s helplessly caught.

When Renegade leans down over him, talks low and feral, fucking into his mouth with fast, hard jerks, getting harder against his tongue, when it’s those blue eyes with the haze of need and want, (when it’s Dick talking to him), when the words, “come for us, baby,” are breathed so soft and fond, his body lets go, the knot of tension exploding, sending tingling pleasure from his ass to his cock to his nipples and spreads out until his eyes are rolling back in his head and all he can do is suck Renegade’s come down his throat while the pleasure loops around and keeps him going.

“Fuck, baby,” (Is Jay instead of–) Hood yells to the night sky, Robin’s body milking him, tightening down so hard, so fast, so wet, that he comes with a jolt, burying himself deep to fill the vigilante up.

And while Gotham remains completely serene at this time of night, three (two, technically) caped crusaders are laying out on the roof of the Mylar building in a tangle of limbs, panting, and weak, and so amazingly sated.

Boneless and content not to move another inch in his life, Tim manages to slide a gloved hand out of the knot made from the cape, and wipe his mouth, absently keeping track of his heart rate.

Dick is curled around his upper body, idly running fingers through his hair, the Renegade costume zipped half-way up his chest so he doesn’t get a whole lot of roof rash. On his other side, Jay has a heavy arm over his bare hips, a leg thrown over his and the Kevlar feels just as good on bare skin as it always does.

“That? Was fucking amazing,” he murmers, drowsy, shivering slightly now that he realizes he’s pretty much naked on a roof in the middle of the city after being fucked out of his mind, and somehow--

This is his life.

So it’s good when his vigilante boyfriends recover enough to maybe get them the hell off this roof before people like, office staff start coming into the Mylar’s upper floors for work.

Dawn is riding the horizon when he’s pulled to his feet and wrapped in Robin’s cape, rocking a toga to cover the torn suit and tunic, and carried off by his vigilante boyfriends so he can be absolutely lazy and just let Dick then Jay take him flying.

He has to make his body work when maneuvering through the window with shaky legs. Jay gives the helmet a toss in pretty much the direction of the kitchen table before picking Tim up by the back of his thighs, and let their doctor squawk but still flops his upper body flops over Jay’s shoulder.

Dick has the Renegade suit hanging off his hips, moving around the kitchen bare-chested with a domino, making coffee that is desperately, desperately needed.

“I’ll be there in a sec! I was promised cuddles, Jay, and I expect you two to deliver.”

“Bath first, Big Wing. Gotta let Timmy take a soak. Getcha ass in here so’s we can wash ‘im but good.” The abrupt smack and corresponding yelp from the path down the hall toward the direction of the bathroom makes Dick smirk and quickly scoop the grounds in while trying to get a glove off with his teeth.

“‘Sides, we might need ta give Sweets one more go ‘round, you feel me here, Dickie?”

“Wh-what?! How do you even expect me to get hard right now?!”

The bath is running in Tim’s massive tub (the real benefit to the apartment after all), and the sounds of Kevlar and Nomac sliding off of skin a soft sight when Dick comes to join them.

“You know, Timmy,” is a followed up by a very Dick Grayson smile, all full of bedroom eyes and promise, “we do have our ways.”

So if the tub sloshes over, and the neighbors complain about the noise this time of day (again), if maybe there might be...another suit buried in the back of their closet a few days later, if maybe he takes more detours when his boys are on the job and he can have time to scout hiding places and perfectly sized niches, when he can calculate more routes and moves.

He’s going to say, it’s always good to have a plan because of things like bleeding vigilantes—you know, on my fire escape. But in reality, it’s because now that he’s worn the tunic, flown through Gotham, and he’s pretty damn sure he’s got enough skill to make them work a hell of a lot harder–

Next time.

[comic-movieheroesranked]

Cinematic Comic Characters Ranked! (Year 2009) Part One

It’s rough coming right after a fantastic year of movies (2008) but 2009 did pretty well for itself. Terminator Salvation is our only sequel and we also get an X-Men spinoff with X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Kids favorite shows come out with Astro Boy, Dragonball: Evolution, and G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra, and we got a couple of thrillers with Whiteout and Surrogates. We also get the debut of the controversial Watchmen! Let’s get started with numbers #84-61!

*SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ALL HIGHLIGHTED MOVIES ABOVE*

Cameo Appreciation: The Minutemen (Watchmen)

The Minutemen consisted of Dollar Bill, Mothman, The Silhouette, Hooded Justice, and Captain Metropolis. They mainly appear in flashbacks as they all somehow die one by one. Dollar Bill dies after his cape gets caught on a revolving door, allowing the robbers to take aim and shoot. Captain Metropolis dies in a car accident, which was thought to be suicide. The Silhouette, who looked so damn fierce, was murdered in a homophobic hate crime with her lover. Hooded Justice's death isn't explained but we do see him stop The Comedian from raping Sally Jupiter. Mothman doesn't die but he ends up going crazy and is thrown into a psychiatric ward.

Cameo Appreciation: Professor X, Toad, Wind Dancer, Quicksilver, and Banshee (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

There were a lot of familiar faces among the mutants kidnapped by William Stryker. Those mutants were Toad, Wind Dancer, Quicksilver, and Banshee. When they escape with the help of Wolverine, Kayla, Emma, and Scott, they end up running into Professor X! With his jet ready, the professor rescues the group and takes them away to his school.

Cameo Appreciation: Sarah Connor (Terminator Salvation)

Even though she's not technically seen, Sarah Connor's voice is in the tapes she recorded for her son, John, to help him in the future. With her guidance, he's able to learn about his father, Kyle, who will eventually go to the past to help keep her safe.

84. Hollis Mason/Nite Owl (Watchmen)

"You were a better Nite Owl than I ever was, Danny boy."

One of the few Minutemen that's still alive, Hollis Mason was the original Nite Owl and is also one of the two heroes to reveal their identity to the public. He came out with a book about his life as a vigilante but after the hype of it died down he ends up opening an auto shop where he enjoys drinking occasionally with Dan.

83. The Hard Master (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"We need to invite him in and show him the path."

The Hard Master was the man who taught Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes everything they know. I kind of got a little favoritism coming from him when it came to Snake Eyes and it appeared that so did Storm Shadow, who kills him. Or so we think! At the end of the film Storm Shadow admits he didn't kill their master. So if he didn't, who did?!

82. Jared Canter (Surrogates)

"I'm not in the mood for opera."

Jared's murder started the entire film but it wasn't even him that was supposed to die in the first place. He had borrowed his father's surrogate, who was the actual target. His death is the first human murder in several years and starts Lionel Canter's quest for revenge.

81. Daniel DeCobray/The Baron (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"What a mysterious wife you are!"

The Baron got straight up PLAYED! The Baroness only marries him so Cobra can keep an eye on him and his work in the science field and is constantly leaving him, which makes him wonder where she goes all the time. When she reveals her true intentions, she forces him to weaponize the nanobite warheads before she tricks Storm Shadow into killing him.

80. Mr. Squeegee and Mr. Squirt (Astro Boy)

"I love happy endings!"

These two robots are designed to clean windows (One squirts the water, while the other wipes) in Metro City and are present when Astro discovers he's actually a robot. The two scenes they're in are for comedic relief and they show up at the end to celebrate Astro's victory over President Stone.

79. Travis and Heather Hudson (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"We all got a choice, Son."

Travis and Heather start the ridiculous trend of everyone who is nice to Logan, will end up getting killed. After he shows up to their barn naked, the Hudson's cloth him, feed him, and give him advice on forgiveness and revenge. Their thanks? They get gunned down.

78. Courtney A. Krieger/Cover Girl (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"Their capabilities are beyond anything we've ever encountered."

Cover Girl was a supermodel before she found her true calling in the G.I. Joe department. She's mostly seen as Hawk's assitant, bringing him papers to sign as well as inform him of missions when he needs it. She's technically the only Joe with a revealed identity who dies, getting murdered by Zartan when Cobra invades the Joe facility.

77. Rubin, Mooney, and Weiss (Whiteout)

"Mooney said not to trust that guy."

Rubin, Mooney, and Weiss are the biologists that discover the lost Russian plane and are at the root of this whole murder investigation. It all starts when Weiss's body is found and later Carrie figures out that he was hit with an ax then thrown off a plane after injuring himself. When the investigation starts, Mooney calls Carrie and explains he'll tell her everything at the Russian base he's at. Of course when Carrie shows up he's lying in his own blood. Finally we have Rubin who actually manages to tell Carrie everything about his team finding the plane except for who was the guy killing them! He takes off because he gets spooked by Doc (who ends up working with Haden, the killer) and ends up getting his neck snapped by Haden when he tries to escape.

76. Moloch (Watchmen)

"I have cancer."

A villain in his time, Moloch is an old man who's given up on the crime life now that he's dying of cancer. He gets paid a visit by his drunk archnemesis, The Comedian, and ends up getting murdered by Adrian so the other could frame Rorschach.

75. Orrin (Astro Boy)

"I feel so nervous!"

Orrin is the nanny robot who works in Dr. Tenma's home and takes care of Toby before he's killed. Even though it's very clear that him and other robots have their own personalities, he's constantly belittled by Tenma for trying to enjoy things like playing with paper planes with Astro. It isn't until the end of the movie that Tenma finally treats Orrin a little nicer, even if Orrin still gets freaked out by the change of attitude.

74. Dr. Serena Kogan (Terminator Salvation)

"You're about to do an incredible thing."

Dying of cancer, Dr. Kogan is the one smart enough to come up with a plan to create a human/machine hybrid. She ends up getting Marcus to volunteer after he's sentenced to death. When he arrives at Skynet Headquarters in the future, the machine uses Serena's identity to talk to him.

73. Richard Nixon (Watchmen)

"We can't let these fuckers think we're weak!"

In this altered timeline, Richard Nixon is able to be re-elected for three more additional terms as well as take on Vietnam as a state. After he disbands the Watchmen, he focuses his attention on Russia and the threat of the nuclear war. After the most populated cities are destroyed, Nixon agrees to work with the other world leaders and untie in peace.

72. Miles Strickland (Surrogates)

"I couldn't tell you his name even if my life depended on it."

The dispensable hitman. Miles is a dread, a human who doesn't use surrogates, and is hired to use the new technology that kills a host through their surrogate on Lionel Canter. He's able to avoid police but ends up killed by his own people in The Prophet's community. It later makes sense as to why he died, seeing as The Prophet was actually a surrogate belonging to the man he tried to kill in the first place.

71. Bradley (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"I always thought it would be Wade to come knocking on my door."

A mutant on Stryker's Special Ops team with the ability to control technology. Since he never participated in the killings of innocent citizens, I think Bradley also didn't agree with it but didn't have the courage to quit like Logan did. When he retires, he joins a circus but it isn't long before Victor shows up and takes him out.

70. Toby Tenma (Astro Boy)

"Up and onward."

Toby's death was so sad. He was such a bright kid and even if he had a crushing curiosity that eventually caused his downfall, a lot of his death could be blamed on his father's company as well as President Stone's arrogance. How did no one, human or robot, not notice the kid was in the room? With their technology so advanced they don't have scanners that alert every time someone enters? His death leaves his father in a huge depression which eventually leads to him creating Astro.

69. Zartan (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"This is going to be the achievement of a lifetime."

Zartan works for Cobra with a neat skill of blending in with his disguise. He's pretty decent, managing to sneak up on Hawk and Cover Girl and escaping the facility unharmed before he even gets his upgrade from The Doctor. After going through the procedure, Zartan can now physically alter his body to change into whoever he pleases. Who's his first target? None other that the President of the United States. Zartan kills him in secret before returning to the oval office, the U.S. government completely unaware about his true identity.

68. Janey Slater (Watchmen)

"I stuck by you and this is how you repay me!?"

The guys in this movie were pretty douche-y in this film and Dr. Manhattan was no exception when it came to his ex-girlfriend Janey. She was with him before his terrible accident and she stayed with him after. At first I thought he left her because she refused to be with him in his 'dying' moments, but he admits to leaving her because she's not as attractive as Laurie, which is just SO fucked up. It's also believed Jon gave her cancer, which she's dying from, but it was actually Adrian in his twisted plan to heal the world.

67. Barnes (Terminator Salvation)

"I didn't catch that last part."

Barnes is John Connor's right hand man in the resistance and is loyal to him with every decision he makes. With his brother dying early on in the film, his hatred for the machines makes things difficult when Blair tries to rescue Marcus. However once John deems Marcus ok, so does Barnes and he continues his job in the war against the machines.

66. ZOG (Astro Boy)

"I'm old school."

ZOG was one of the first robots ever created and was abandoned on the Surface World when he stopped working. More than fifty years later he gets revived by Astro using his blue core energy and ends up getting an entire makeover by the surface kids. When Hamegg proves to be a jerk, ZOG saves Astro and nearly kills Hamegg but Astro stops him. ZOG saves the day one last time when he uses the same blue core energy to revive Astro back to life.

65. Laird James McCullen XXIV/Destro (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"I've finally taken my place in the long line of McCullens."

Destro comes from a long line of weapon dealers who happens to be very power hungry. To have the world's leaders on their knees, he tricks the U.S. military to fund his work on the nanobite warheads then steals them back once they're finished. This starts an all out war with the G.I. Joe's. He successfully manages to bring down the Eiffel Tower in Paris but ends up burning most of his face off when he goes against Duke in his jealous rage over Ana. The Doctor saves him and uses the nanobite technology to harden his face, turning him to Destro soon after. And even after that, he gets arrested by the Joe's and is taken to a high guarded prison.

64. General Ashdown (Terminator Salvation)

"This is war, Connor. Leadership has its costs."

Many people in the resistance believe John Connor is the key to ending the war, General Ashdown isn't one of them. In fact, he flat out tells John that he believes he's actually a fake prophet. Since he's a leader of the resistance, you can see how this has them butt heads, especially when it comes to destroying Skynet Headquarters. At first they're on the same page but when John discovers there are human prisoners, including his future father, he tries to stop Ashdown, who believes casualties are necessary. In the end it's Ashdown and his leader that end up being casualties when they accidentally gives themselves up, allowing Skynet to blow them up.

63. Scott Summers/Cyclops and Emma Silverfox (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"I can do this!"

It's our first time seeing a young Scott Summers and an Emma who isn't Emma Frost that can harden her skin to diamond. They're both kidnapped by Victor to be experimented by Stryker for Deadpool, Scott's optic blasts eventually making the cut. When Wolverine frees them, they take off with the other young mutants, Emma using her diamond skin to block students and Scott blasting away the shooters. Eventually they run into Professor X who takes them with him to his school of mutants.

62. Lord Piccolo (Dragonball: Evolution)

"With this Dragon Ball, I take my vengeance upon the Earth."

Once again we have a villain that was absolutely BORING!!! Nearly every time Piccolo was on the screen I got bored and there was a least one scene that my eyes got heavy and threatened to glaze over. For someone who was trapped for a thousand years, he was very calm once he was free. He spends the whole movie collecting the Dragon Balls only to be stopped pretty easily in the end.

61. Big Figure (Watchmen)

"While everyone's distracted, we thought we'd bring you a little housewarming gift."

Many criminals were put in jail because of Rorschach and Big Figure was one of them. When Rorschach is thrown in the same jail, Big Figure wastes no time in trying to kill him with his goons. His plan fails horribly, and he ends up getting killed by Rorschach by the end of it. They don't show what happens, only that there's a lot of blood and toilet water so the rest is really up to the imagination.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Ok yeah we’re gonna record thoughts and feelings about P5 as we go, because I know me, and when I’m all done I’m going to want to go back to my recorded opinions about the early stages of the game and roll around in my own ignorance.

Spoilers for the first couple of hours of gameplay (up to the establishment of the Magician social link).  Do not spoil me beyond that in replies/reblogs so help me god.

This is Persona does Leverage and I am so excited.

Once upon a time, there was a meek and unremarkable boy living a meek life in an unremarkable town.  He never knew, because nobody had ever told him, that there was a badass living deep in his own heart.  It never came up.  He didn’t get into trouble, not once, not ever.  He believed in justice and the system that looks out for the weak and the meek and frightened women being forced into cars by drunk, powerful men.

(once upon a time, there was a boy, and he was a fool)

Nothing in Tokyo feels real.  The alleys are crowded, narrow, full of people.  The subway is a labyrinth.  This rented room, this garret apartment, full of rust and accumulated junk, this forgotten storage room, isn’t part of any world where people live.  You walk through school and everybody whispers--did you hear about the new boy.  He’s a violent criminal.  He’s a gang kingpin.  He carries a knife everywhere he goes, and he’ll kill you as soon as look at you if you piss him off.  That can’t be you.  That has nothing to do with your real life (your town, your parents, your school--none of that is yours any more.  Now you get this.)  The castle of magic and shadows is no more impossible and unreal a dream than this new school and this new life that’s supposed to be yours now anyway.

The protag is, at heart, deep in his core, a believer in those with power using it to protect those in need.  Not necessarily a believer that they do, now, any more--but they should.  That’s how the world is supposed to work.  You can’t just do nothing.  He’s got power of his own, now.

It turns out that the protag does carry a knife everywhere he goes, in the metaverse.  Apparently he’s a thief now.  Apparently the part all the way down in his core that’s been shouting so loud since he first heard the muffled sounds of a woman calling for help in the distance on a dark night is raging full of strength and magic.  Apparently he can do things, can fight, can rage, and nothing is stopping him, and look, nothing about this world where he lives in now matches anything he’s ever lived in the past sixteen and a half years of his life.  So now he’s a phantom thief and a rebel, and he has power the likes of which shocks even the talking cat, and everybody at school says they hear he carries a knife everywhere, and if one materializes in his hand when he finds himself in a cape and a mask in the world of the mind--he’s doing this now.  Apparently this is the person he’s going to be in this strange new impossible dream-world.  Okay.  Guess we’re doing this.  Sure.

This is a story about bonds and rebellion.  This is a story about being trapped.  It’s about justice and what’s fair, yes, but more than anything this is going to be a story about structures of power--not just about the individuals who hold it, but about the castles and palaces and empires they build around them, about silence and complacency, hierarchies and systems and all of the layers that smother and trap people in place.

The protagonist is here to break those chains, don’t you know, to tear down the castle walls and break the palaces, to fell the kings and punish the emperors.  The protagonist is here to learn to rebel and break through those empires, one by one, but he’s still in chains to his own fate.  He’s doomed by the blade of his own revolution.

You don’t have social links.  Your relationships are not forging bonds.  Your relationships are the wings and the tools you’re meant to use to break free and break yourself out.  Your friends and acquaintances are collaborators.  They steps and allies and tools to use.  (We will love them, because this is a Persona game and that’s how it works, but--will we love them more than we use them?)

(“You were sold out by one of your own,” they said, remember?)

(Captain William Kidd was imprisoned and questioned and probably tortured and never gave up any of his backers, his allies, the various rich men in England who financed his piracy and who kept their heads down and their hands hidden, right up through Kidd’s execution.  Carmen loved her man and then left him from another, and he cried fury and betrayal and cut her down then and there on the opera stage.  These children are so fucked.)

It’s not ‘Persona goes darker and edgier’, because it’s not actually darker than the epic isolation depression despair of Persona 3.  It’s maybe a little grittier.

Persona 3 was a wash of murky green and blue and darkness, existence and fear and loneliness and despair.  Persona 3 was the kind of depression that’s all emotion and numb emptiness, and everything is either as vast as the entirety of human existence, or tiny and personal and super-individual, with all the scope jumbled and knocked askew and nothing in between.  It was not brighter and it was not kinder, but the light was very different.

This is grittier in the way of a high contrast photograph in hyper-sharp focus, black and white edges on every individual blade of grass.  This is not the endless sea of despair.  This is every goddamn day that you wake up and figure out how to grind your way through to tomorrow.  This is a world where people connect all the time, for all the good it does them.  This is a world where rape is real, and abuse is named, and the suicide attempts are not metaphors.  The enemy is not the abstract wash of numb depression and existential despair--it’s real, and it’s concrete, and it’s so very, very complex that dismantling it feels next to impossible.  And we’re taking it on anyway.

(Your personas are human, every one of them so far, not counting the shades of stories and human unconscious the protag’s started picking up from the wayside.  Characters from novels and plays and actual humans who actually lived, not even 400 years ago, not in myth or legend but actual recorded history.  There’s a little myth and a little magic about them all, but they’re human human human at the core, and they didn’t fight gods or take their blessing, they fought other men, and sometimes won.)

And look, high-contrast ultra-sharpness doesn’t necessarily mean more realistic.  You were rescued from the magical castle by a talking cat.  Nobody has blue hair unless they dyed it that way, but you slip through shadows with the billow of your coat behind you like a cape, and all the visuals are sharp and stylized with shadows and angles and black and white and red all over.  This is half Victorian romantic crime fiction, with your tiny garret above the cafe in the city where you were sent for disgracing the family in public, and half pulpy graphic novel, the pre-superhero kind.  This is still very much genre.

This is Persona-does-Leverage.  There are genre conventions and I expect them to be followed--and look, I have seen all of Leverage and I have seen it all three to five times through.  If the story begins with your hero shoved none-too-gently into a cell by a couple of officers who don’t mind putting a knee in his gut, a fist to his jaw, his ribs, a few new bruises and a little blood for their troubles.  If the questioning starts with, “you were sold out by one of your own.”  If that’s how the story begins, and then we slide back through the days(weeks months year) to the very beginning of this disaster--

then that cell is exactly where our protagonist wants to be, and we are teetering on the edge of the grand reveal as every last thing falls into place.

I want it to get to that point very badly.  That’s the happy ending this genre tells me we ought to get, for all we’ll probably need to battle some dire deity of corruption and despair even after that point anyway.  I like that story.

And here’s what else I like: it means that somewhere over the course of the year, the Phantom Thieves become a group that can plan intricately together, that can grift a con where they turn on each other and trust each other to play their own sides.  It means that they can send their leader deliberately into the jaws of something dangerous and painful all alone.  They know he can take it.  They respect him for that.

Of course he can take it.  Look, this is a story with characters who wear their bruises and their knee braces and their scars every goddamn day.  Injuries from metaverse battles are probably going to magically heal themselves overnight, but this is a story where all of the characters are going to have scars before they even start.

Honestly I am so excited to see this group take shape.  I am so excited for these furious, broken rebel children and their revolution.

They don’t use their own names, their own clothes, their own faces when they fight.  They are not SEES, who never had time to be anyone but themselves, and to hell with anyone who cares, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.  (SEES could barely tolerate each other sometimes, tried to kill each other, but found a way to grab on as tight and iron as they possibly could, bonds so hard to make and the only thing that could save their lives.)  They are so incredibly far from the IT, who fought and set themselves to always always being exactly themselves, one way or another.  (The Investigation Team loved each other chaotically and brightly and openly, tripping over each other like puppies and fighting for each other like wolves.)  I cannot wait to see them.

Did you notice, did you notice, the first persona summoning--it’s not just a discovery, it’s a contract.  These kids are making a contract with their own inner heart of rebellion.  They’re making deals with themselves in exchange for power.  They have lost everything they loved, one by one--their goals, their place in the world, the people they care about, even control over their own bodies.  They have lost the things that they once thought made them who they were, and they make this deal, and they become somebody else.  Skull.  Panther.  Mona.  The Joker.  They remake themselves anew.

And that is going to mean so much for their relationships with each other! I can only guess how that’s going to play out and I can’t wait.

I continue to have more and more thoughts, but it’s very late and I need to go to bed very, very badly.  More of this tomorrow after the Epic Grind.  We’ll see if I change my mind about any of it just yet.

[akafuckyou-blog]

I WONT MAKE A MESS OUT OF THIS OR WHATEVER IT IS THE LAST ONE ON THE LIST FOR BRUCE XOXOXOO

a ‘drabble’ where jessica tries to save bROOSE from a fatal situation and ends up dying in the process:

it’s not a drabble who am i kidding, here’s a readmore. @cvpedcrusader

It’s just another sleepless night for her. Which means sitting on a fire escape with a full flask and her camera. She hasn’t slept since the Snart Sibling Debacle, not for more than a few minutes. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Lisa’s bloody feet, the crushing look of pain in Snart’s eyes. 

When the strange looking car pulls up, she starts snapping pictures immediately, because what the fuck is that? But as soon as he steps out of it, she stops, breath caught in her throat. She shoves the camera into her bag, slips it off her shoulder, and leans on the bars to get a better look. 

She’s never seen him in the cape before.

Bruce – goddamn Batman – doesn’t notice her. He parks the car in a shadowy alleyway, and makes his way to a warehouse a ways down the street. Stalks around the edge of it. Limping slightly – what the hell? When did that happen?

She hasn’t texted him in days. Not since she asked for money for Trish’s window. Every day she looks at her phone, and her fingers ache to send him something, anything, but nothing is all she has to offer. Apparently, she’s missed a lot.

She sees the broken window before he does, but she’s not surprised when he hauls his way through it. With some difficulty – it’s his knee, she can tell that even from here. She watches the goddamn cape disappear through the window, and she’s moving before she can stop herself. Hauling herself over the fire escape railing, jumping to the ground.

She lands easier than she normally does, wastes no time in getting to the warehouse where she saw Bruce – Batman – disappear into. She finds the same broken window and scrambles inside, as quietly as she can.

There’s a dull murmur of voices. She’s hidden behind a couple of large crates, and she crouches down, uses the shadows to hide her while she peers around the corner.

The warehouse is huge, ringed by a catwalk, and in the center, a group of men are chatting. Over a dozen of them, guns gripped casually, hanging by their sides. They’re gangsters or mobsters, she can never tell the difference. Either way, everything about them screams bad news.

She wants to run, wants to get out of here, before they see her. But her eyes dart around the warehouse. She doesn’t see him, not right away, but there’s a dark spot in the corner of the catwalk across the room that catches her eye.

Bruce is staring right at her. Even behind the goddamn mask, the cowl, she can see the panic in his eyes. He’s mouthing something to her, but he’s too far away. She inches forward, and he holds up a hand to stop her. He slips forward instead, moving like a shadow, like a snake, more gracefully than his knee should allow. ‘Go’ he’s mouthing to her, and for a second, she thinks about actually listening to him for once.

But then one of the men lets out a yell. 

“Up there!” he screams. And suddenly all the guns are pointed directly at Bruce. There’s a split second before they start firing, before the warehouse erupts into chaos and gunfire, mobsters running in every direction, streaming for the catwalk, for Bruce. 

Because of her. “Shit,” she mutters, barely able to hear herself over the bang of gunshots. Sparks are flying as bullets hit the wall, her eyes dart back to where he was, but he’s already gone. She can’t see him, can’t tell if he’s been hit, or if he’s run, or if he’s okay, or if he’s not. The men are running in every direction, shouting “Find him!” and cursing in a way that impresses even her. 

She could still get out. The wind whistles through the broken window behind her, the only sound that doesn’t make her heart race. But something is holding her here. 

No, not something. She’s not goddamn Kilgrave.

Someone. 

“Goddammit,” she hisses to herself. And then she’s running, running straight for the nearest mobster. He lets out a yell, points the gun at her, but she has him tackled to the ground before he can get a shot off. The gun clatters to the floor a few feet away. He tries to throw her off, but she’s stronger than him, stronger than all of these assholes put together. She grabs his head with both hands, slams it hard into the concrete floor. He goes limp, and she scrambles to her feet.

A bullet whizzes past her, inches from her arm. She punches the next mobster in the jaw, sends him sprawling, and then there’s four of them on her. She remembers what Nyssa said, about thinking before acting, about anticipating your opponents move before they make them. These men aren’t hard to read, and they aren’t nearly as fast as Nyssa. She dodges their blows, swipes at their guns. One of them shoves a barrel into her back, and she whips around, catching him with her elbow. He grunts, stumbles back, and she lunges at him, grabbing the gun and crushing it. 

She doesn’t know where Bruce is, and a part of her doesn’t care. She’s winning, and riding the high of this. The adrenaline pumping through her veins as more of them come at her, trying to grab her. She breaks their hold easily, sends them flying across the warehouse. One of them hits the wall, but his gun is still in his hand. He fires a shot – it grazes her arm, and the pain is incredible, a burning sensation tearing through her like Mick’s flames. It’s enough to halt her for a moment, and then one of the men grabs her burned arm, and she cries out, falls to her knees as he twists it. There’s a gun against her temple and then –

A shadow. The fluttering sound of a cape, and then the man is laying on the ground in front of her. She looks up, sees Bruce staring down at her. It might be the pain, but she swears he’s smiling.

He holds out a hand, and she takes it, hauling herself up using him as leverage. They’re back to back now, and it strikes her again how much like Luke he is. But Bruce doesn’t have bulletproof skin, and the remaining mobsters have tight grips on their guns, jabbing them forward as they circle her and Bruce.

“You shouldn’t be here, Jones,” Bruce hisses, his voice low and gravelly.

“No shit,” she pants. She can feel the sigh more than hear it. “Deal with it, batboy,” she says, and then she jumps forward, grabs the first man she can by the collar and throws him into another gangster.

It’s a blur from there, a flurry of fists and guns and bullets. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Bruce, like a goddamn ninja, sweeping the feet out from underneath a mobster, jabbing a fist into his throat. She likes his style, is almost mesmerized by it for a moment. They’re winning, together, taking down every man who comes at them. The circle thins, then breaks, and for a second, she thinks they can get out of this. And then –

Another gunshot. From farther away. She turns slowly, despite the burning in her chest, the way there’s suddenly not enough air. She sees him, the man half-slumped against the wall, holding his smoking gun with a look of deranged pleasure, his eyes wild with glee.

Bruce runs towards him. Which is good, because all she can do is fall forward, landing hard on the concrete floor. It’s cold, and she shivers, even as the burn spreads through her torso. She can feel the floor growing wet and sticky, blood pooling underneath her. Her blood. 

Everything goes black for a moment. Maybe longer. The next thing she knows, Bruce is back, cradling her head in his lap. There’s no gunfire, only pained moaning from a few mobsters who haven’t lost consciousness yet. She’s on her back now, and she can see it. The bullet wound in her chest.

She laughs, feels blood trickle down her lips. Bruce is mumbling something, she can’t understand it, but she can hear the cracks in his voice. She cranes her head back to look at him, still wearing his goddamn mask.

“C-Claire’s going to kill me for this one,” she chokes out. She’s smiling, even now, even as she has to fight to keep her eyelids open. They’re so heavy, and she’s so tired, and he’s so warm. She reaches up, and his hand finds hers, but she shakes her head.

“Take your goddamn mask off,” she whispers breathlessly, sucking in air that doesn’t seem to reach her lungs. A bullet hole will do that. 

He rips the cowl off with one hand, tosses it aside. “Dammit, Jones,” he says, and she can hear him now, can see the worry and the fear in those startling blue eyes. “What were you thinking?”

Her lips twitch at the question. A dozen snarky, sarcastic replies race through her mind, which for once, isn’t full of memories of Kilgrave, or Luke, or Reva, or Ruben, or any of the terrible things she’s ever done. Things she’s never had a chance to tell him. 

All she can think of, all she can remember, is their date. The way it felt putting on a dress because she wanted to, his stupid tie, the feeling of his hand holding hers. Strong and safe and comforting, not desperately like his grip is now. She remembers wanting to do things right. 

There’s sweat and tears on his face, grimy from the mask and the fight. She takes in every detail. If this is the last thing she has to see, she’s not going to complain.

“What were you thinking?” he asks again, his free hand on the side of her face. She leans into his touch instead of pulling away.

Her eyes close, and she’s pissed. She wants to keep looking at him, knows it for certain now. She wants him, she doesn’t care how selfish it is, or what a shitty person it makes her. She knows now. She wants that goddamn future. 

“I love you,” she manages to say. 

Then everything is black, black as a shadow. 

[samdukewieland]

Stuck Inside Media Diary Week 8

Something that’s been nice about going back through Mad Men has been re-reading/re-visiting old Sepinwall recaps on the episodes. I read him religiously throughout high school and college, amongst others, but have since drifted from the recap on shows, for no good reason. Probably because there’s generally a podcast I can just listen to rather than read something (jock at heart-sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). This supposed to be a lesson in “go back and experience stuff from your high school years?” man, I don’t know; the venn diagram of things I did in high school and the things I do now is not small (or is it not big? What’s the best way to convey a lot of similarities with a venn diagram, size-wise). 

Sunday, May 10 (Mother’s Day)

The Third Man, Reed 1949

I was not super digging this while I was watching, it was late when I started watching it and it’s not slow exactly, but I was real curious how egg-zacktly Orson Wells was going to fit into the picture. Mysteries! I tells ya. Anyway, I’ve been stewing in it and realized, “huh, I think I actually like this movie quite a bit.” I think the Britishness, while not in your face, was secretly chipping away at my brain, already war-torn by tiredhead and then having a second wave of dry, British storytelling. Pretty good li’l picture (you could say that about movies in the 40′s-this isn’t uncommon).

Top Chef, Season 17 episode 4

This was done in an attempt to help my mom catch back up with Top Chef, which somewhat moved the needle, but I don’t think an episode (on her end) has been watched since. Mother’s Day: ruined.

Mad Men, “Tea Leaves”

My mom also watched this one with me, only because she just happened to be in the room. Her biggest hurdle with this show and her refusal to watch it is based solely on the fact that phones are ringing “all the time” and that “no one ever answers them.” Hard to refute it. She seemed mildly entertained by this episode, considering she had close to zero context for what was going on, thought that it was Ginsburg’s debut episode played some part into that. Pretty disorienting episode to be thrown into, what with the whole....Fat Betty thing (I was going to say “elephant in the room of Betty” but that just seemed cruel and trying too hard to try and be clever. An interesting, though ultimately aimless direction to take Betty this season and everyone involved kind of knows it.

The Last Dance, Parts 7 & 8

That this was the penultimate week of new Jordan doc created an unusual energy around the episodes, which were exciting in their own right as they went over his father’s murder, his baseball career and returning to basketball. But the thing that induced the most goosebumps was the “cliffhanger” (I am a moron) showdown between the Bulls and Pacers. 

Monday, May 11

Icarus, Fogel 2017 [as of now this is available on Netflix]

Kinda nice going into a documentary knowing hints of what it’s about and trying to figure out when it transitions to being about “X” but then you slowly realize you misremembered that information your friend Tommy told you and are surprised that it becomes about the Russian state (very possible I am misusing that term; just trying to sound smarter than I actually am). I don’t watch or know enough about documentaries to confidently state what’s a good one and what’s a great one-I think this one received some kind of critical backlash after it won Best Documentary, which happens. There’s definitely an intellectual superiority to saying you think less of a documentary that either wins that award or a lot of people like (in this case, both!). It’s engaging and accessible (another thing snobs hate) and has a misdirect that doesn’t blind side you; I don’t even care about the Olympics, but I felt sucked in.

Monty Python: Almost The Truth (Lawyers Cut), “The Much Funnier Second Episode - The Parrot Sketch - Flying Circus Included”

This one had more focus on the influence Flying Circus had on writers/comedians who were watching it at the time as kids (primarily). Lotta dudes. I can not stress how there are few things less appealing than hearing Russell Brand describing why Monty Python was funny (this was very much made in 2009).

Mad Men, “Mystery Date”

Some more Sopranos karaoke, though constructed a little bit better this time. This is also the episode that decides to flesh out Dawn (Don’s secretary, a joke that is never not funny) a little bit more, however Mad Men only does this when there’s “something to be said” about being black, which didn’t look great in 2012 and *flips through pages of notes* nope, still doesn’t look good here either. I suppose an argument you could bring up that is awfully flimsy is that they didn’t want to paint themselves into a Nikki and Paulo situation, in terms of never actually caring about digging deeper into Dawn’s story. I dunno man, I’m not trying to cast stones here.

Tuesday, May 12

The Taking Of Pelham One, Two, Three, Sargent 1974

What a white whale this movie’s been for me and brother, it feels good to have finally caught it. It’s insanely cool to go into a movie not knowing that it’s the 1974 version of Inside Man with a little bit of Dog Day Afternoon spliced in (pre-DDA mind you). This movie is packed with so many sarcastic assholes all working together in the same place, I loved it! I loved this movie! Cataloged in my brain as a Stop-Down-And-Watch if it’s on cable. However, my biggest gripe here is that Walter Matthau’s character is named “Zach,” a name that has never once been mistook for Walter Matthau’s; like there’s no way that they had Matthau casted before they came up with his name.

Mad Men, “Signal 30″

Beginning of the end of having any remote kind of sympathy for Pete Campbell. Hitting on high schoolers and shit. He wants so badly to be what he considers to be the best version of himself and will never be there.

Parks And Recreation, “The Set-Up”

Don’t know what it was about this particular viewing, but it landed better than it ever has this time around. Usually when I watch it, Arnett is so distracting and a much different energy than the show has created, but I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard watching this one as I did on this Tuesday morning. 

Wednesday, May 13

California Split, Altman 1974 [as of now this is available on Prime]

Hell yeh. Another movie I’ve been trying to see for a couple of years now, but feels nearly impossible to come across or find (note: to be fair, I have never checked to rent digitally, because I just don’t do that really ever, feels weird I don’t know why) and I found out on Tuesday night that it was put on Amazon Prime almost unceremoniously. I am by no means a gambler, so I have no idea if this is a good gambling movie, but it’s an incredible relationship and addiction movie. My introduction to Elliott Gould was Ocean’s Eleven where he is the opposite and still the same as the characters he played in the 70′s. The man has a debilitating incapacity to be effortlessly cool, even in a movie that he co-stars in with George Segal. I loved this movie.

Mad Men, “Far Away Places”, “At The Codfish Bowl”, “Lady Lazurus”

A great highlight of Don realizing he’s made a huge mistake marrying a 26-year-old. A great highlight of Roger Sterling is great with kids (and their grandmothers!). A great highlight of “Tomorrow Never Knows” fucking rules and uh, maybe wondering if Alexis Bledel is good? (certainly Rory Gilmore is good and it might’ve just been a “choice” to play this character so wooden, especially with what we know comes later on in the season)

Thursday, May 14

Cape Fear, Scorsese 1991

Apparently Spielberg was supposed to do this originally, but thought it was too violent and threw it over to Marty to get Schindler’s back from him (imagine trading those properties amongst yer friends-incredible). What’s real strange here is that he did’t give this to De Palma (I guess because it would’ve been in the wake of Bonfire), but it doesn’t really matter because Marty just goes and makes his version of a De Palma movie. It’s weird! However, when I wasn’t thinking about all of those things and being amazed at how much overt gore there was (overt for a Scorsese movie), I was shocked at the music I associate most with Sidewhow Bob (hold for Gilbert & Sullivan) is actually Max Cady’s music; like I knew that it was just Cape Fear but I had no idea it was just Cape Fear. 

Mad Men, “Dark Shadows”

Can’t go a season without a Don is actually Dick Whitman story/episode. That’s about it.

Friday, May 15

Becoming Mike Nichols, McGarth 2016 [as of now this is available on HBO]

This saved me a lot of time in the long run, should I ever read that new(ish) biography on Mike Nichols. It’s a pretty cut and dry interview focused purely on the prologue of Mike Nichols’s career, that’s a lot more interesting if you’re a theatre kid who doesn’t despise theatre kids (you know the type). Honestly, I was most engaged once Jack O’Brien pivoted towards his directing career outside of the theatre. Also gonna expose my ass here and say I didn’t realize Elaine May was that Elaine May-might’ve been a better interview if it was between two people who’re on equal level rather than a guy trying to kiss Mike Nichols’s and a bunch of theatre kids’ asses.

Mad Men, “Christmas Waltz”

This episode only exists to help punctuate how awful the next episode is, but damn if it’s not weirdly great. The Paul/Harry reunion was such a weird reunion, but only because it reminds you of how much time has passed since the beginning of this show (1960) to when it takes place now (1966); the total shift in aesthetic and thinking is massive, but it never feels shoehorned in.

Top Chef, Season 17 episode 9

Colicchio is pretty adamant about not having past challenges affect the decision of the current week’s choice in terms of sending someone home, but Melissa probably should’ve gone home this week if that were the case. They obviously weren’t going to after kicking Kevin off last week and Malarkey making the least offensive dish of the bottom 3. Melissa’s a front runner, same as Kevin was and you can’t have a competition where Malarkey is on but two frontrunners are kicked off back-to-back weeks (even if it was Kevin falling on his sword). Love Lee Anne, been with her since season 1 and hate to see her go, but she’s bigger than Top Chef-this is a loss that doesn’t make me think less of her.

Saturday, May 16

Notes On An American Film Director At Work, Mekas 2008 [as of now this is available on Vimeo]

I don’t know what to call this, honestly. It’s a videos of Martin Scorsese directing The Departed and it’s kind of fascinating. There are no sit down interviews, but snippets of conversations that you’re just thrown into the middle of. It could be that I just love him so much, but it was reaffirming to see that he (appears to be) is like a genuinely nice person. I don’t read about behind the scenes/making of’s, but I don’t really think he’s got any kind of reputation for being some kind of tyrant on set and this proves it (if he needs that proof for any kind of reason). It is one of those things though where watching actors, uh, act feels kina silly-apologies to Leo DiCaprio.

Mad Men, “The Other Woman”, “Commissions And Fees”, “The Phantom” [season 5 finale], “The Doorway” [season 6 premier], “Collaborators”

An incredibly harrowing stretch of episodes for Mad Men, maybe the best set-up for a finale the show has. The awfulness of the position they thrust Joan into and that Don is the only clear objector to this, be it that he only cares enough about the company is heartbreaking. Christina Hendricks wears so much disappointment and contempt on her face so well and that what happens is sandwiched between those interactions with Don is incredible. And awful. As is Lane’s suicide in the office (I still remember watching this episode for the first time when it aired and it’s as depressing now all these years later as it was back then; Lane and Bodie are probably my top-2 most upsetting television deaths that come to mind). Though it all seems worth it, despite how depressing it might be, for that scene between Peggy and Don where she resigns, an incredible parallel to Megan’s. I’m glad it wasn’t, but if they wanted to series wrap on Peggy there, they could’ve and it would’ve felt so incredibly earned, which you can see through both of those characters trying their hardest to choke down tears through a conversation smothered in so much understood in the unsaid. Now welcome, Bob Benson! (for the life of me, I can’t figure out if they introduce Bob like this intentionally, because it’s so fucking funny in how out of synch it is with everything else going on in the show)

Apocalypse Now, Coppola 1979 [as of now this is available on HBO]

It was either during my sophomore or junior year of high school when I became absolutely enamored with trying to watch this movie. I had built it up to such great heights in my head for whatever reason (I was very concerned with appearing knowledgeable about things like “important movies” and that this didn’t win best picture whatever year it was nominated fueled that fire even more ((I was also very concerned with being outraged over something like this)). I vaguely remember squeezing it in on a school night, but didn’t try and sneak it upstairs to my room to watch, like I tried to get this almost 3½ hour movie in under a reasonable bed time for a high schooler (I definitely didn’t have one, but I remember getting kind of dirty looks around the house if I was still hanging out past 10:30). So it was basically self-inflicted homework at that point, so I remember saying that I liked it, but I don’t know if I honestly believed it. And then that just gets all shaken up in your dumb high school brain that’s already trying it’s best to be super contrarian that you start believing that Apocalypse Now maybe sucks or at the very least isn’t as good as Hearts Of Darkness (a movie you won’t see for another 8 years). I had not watched this movie in its entirety since high school, and I knew all the big beats going into re-watching this, but it might as well have been that I had never seen it before. Man. I was a dumb as hell high schooler. This movie is electric and looks beautiful and I’m so glad that I never watched it all before this and decided to revisit it and I’m now furious at myself for letting the opportunity pass to not see it in theatres when it was remastered last year. 

The Adventures Of Tintin, Spielberg 2011 [as of now this is available on Netflix]

I was reading the oral history of Fury Road earlier that day and it got me really jonsing to watch Fury Road. For my mental health’s sake, I decided to not double feature Apocalypse Now and Fury Road, but rather Apocalypse Now and The Adventures Of Tintin. People of a certain generation really hate this movie and I kind of get it, but this movie rules. There’s maybe two sequences in it that I’d feel unashamed for putting up in the Spielberg Hall Of Fame.