#the ventriloquist Riley

[aslightaddity]

The Ventriloquist(s)

Riley

Wesker

[randomuser678]

I love how most Batman villains have a genderbend version of them, specially bc as a trans woman I want to read into them being trans

Like, the Ventriloquist's design is of a mild mannered boring looking man who contrasts with his puppet Scarface who's much more rude and greedy, it feels like Scarface is a way for his ventriloquist to express his more rude side while distancing himself from them.

Now on my read where she's a trans woman there would be two layers of repression here, Ventriloquist personified her "masculine" side into the puppet who acts like a stereotypical tough guy, a rude bossy mafia leader, and she became a sexy trophy wife for him, this way she separates herself from the undesirable masculine traits, as well as becoming a love interest to a man who makes all the decisions for her, she only exists to support him, she finally made it to cisnormative and heteronormative ideals of femininity! It comes off as a tragic clinging to idealized femininity and male approval on a way I really relate to.

Clayface also has a really good portrayal of Dysphoria since in the versions I've seen they're an actor who hates their own face and got into a drug that would make their face easy to remold, then it went horribly wrong and now their entire body is moldable, Lady Clayface didn't have to change that general backstory for it to work at all, and the theme of beauty is common on female villains, but tbh I love this one specifically because of the trans read being more obvious, and this is the one case where a character didn't have to change backstories at all for the female version, she can still be a former actor with dysphoria that later gains shapeshifting powers, it's almost a happy ending for her now that she can change her shapes even if it's still tragic.

Calendar girl has a similar theme (Although she's both a version of Calendar man but also The Manikin) where she's a former celebrity who's horrified by her appearance under the mask and is "aging out" of her career, her attacking themed on holidays is both a mockery of her job as a model and needing to keep up with trends and also to show her resentment towards the passage of time, it's a really fun mix of characters and my trans read of her would be similar to Clayface. Also how youth and beauty is valued in society as a whole and older trans people in general are ignored on the mainstream.

And because the comic book world is really hostile towards genderbends (see Oswald from the newest Batman cartoon) a lot of them have instead characters who co-exist with their male counterparts, that was the case for the Ventriolquist since she just took the role from the previous one, but sometimes they do what they did here:

Madame Crow is part of the Victim Syndicate, a group of people who were victims of different villains and now resent Batman for not saving them, their powers are now ironic mirrors to the characters they were victimized by, and on Madame Crow's case, where she was a victim of the fear toxins from the Scarecrow, she made toxins that completely rid a person of any fear or self-preservation. And idk the fact that she wants to create something that gets rid of fears and repression just comes off as queer to me even though it was obviously not intentional, it's just that on a version where she IS the Scarecrow I would love how thematically fitting it all is.

I've seen pieces about how Batman is inherently queer bc super heroes and villains as a whole empower themselves through creating an alternative persona on an over the top camp way that's basically drag.

Some male villains have female sidekicks, Sugar and Spice, Query and Echo, and I guess those are harder to read as female personas of the same character like how I've been doing, but idk, you can rewrite the stories however you like to make these work, maybe twoface is bigender and flips a coin to decide which gender they're going with, that would be on theme. You can do anything ever with these characters.

Also I never understood why ppl were mad about Oswalda, every version of Batman changes backstories around, why is changing a character's gender or whatever completely out of line with that they've already been doing for decades? Anyways I'm trans and this is all.

[nerdybitch]

Drew some Peyton Riley! I absolutely adore her with all my heart, she's such an amazing character in my opinion from her backstory, to her design, I genuinely adore her. Honestly, the only change I have for her in my verse is that Arnold and Riley are uncle and niece, Arnold being the brother of her late mother and the one who got her into ventriloquism, which she would later use as a coping mechanism when her abusive husband tries to kill her. Which gives her a severe TBI which makes her go full ventriloquist.

[froot-batty]

quick post new rogues while no ones looking

[joyjoy-the-troll]

My vesion of the ventriloquist(s)&scarface

[constantlyscreaminghere]

@the-ventriloquizt's Peyton posting got to me

[plotbunny-bundle]

I was watching videos on the two lady Ventriloquists. The Post crisis one and the new 52 one The poster of the video mentioned "would you like to see them meet" The Third Ventriloquist is obsessed with attention and beauty so I think she'd try to skin the second. but then I went. what if they kissed so she wouldn't? So long story story I now ship

with

If Peyton went for Scarface she could go for Shauna. and Shauna loves attention. they could have so much fun. Do a mob take over. Fake Peyton's death. Their puppets could hit on the other. Awkward off panel sex/ make-out scene that the puppets are commenting on. Peyton calls her puppet Daddy. Therefore one of the girls needs to call herself Mommy.

Here are the YouTube videos that got me into this ship

[dc-megatournament]

DC Mega Tournament

Round 1

Please vote for who you think would win between the 2 characters and not who you like more.

[quackerzzz]

Sorry I skipped a day. Anyways here's the Ventriloquist Peyton Riley and her puppet Scarface. Note, Peyton is nonverbal and communicates solely by whispering in Scarface's ear

Backstory under the cut (TW transmisogyny and parental abuse)

Peyton was born as (Redacted) Wesker, youngest "son" to the Wesker crime family. As the youngest of her siblings, she was often looked down upon by the family for being smaller and weaker than the others. As a child, she knew that she wasn't a boy. She loved dresses and pearls like her mother wore to parties. She loved makeup. But that was shameful according to her father. It wasn't how a "son" should act.

Eventually, Peyton got fed up with her family belittling and mocking her. She ran away one stormy night, taking shelter within the house of married party clowns, The Rileys. Eventually, she became old enough to be able to take estrogen and pay for her own bottom surgery.

As soon as she was officially Peyton Riley, she decided to go into entertainment. Purchasing an old dummy from a magic shop, she fixed it up and named it Ferdie, taking them to an old night club and hoping to gain acceptance with her new act. However, the patrons instead mocked her for being a "crossdresser" (among other unmentionable names) and booed her off stage.

Peyton snapped from this incident, and her mind created the woman she wished she could be, one who could stand up to others, and projected it into her puppet. Ferdie renamed herself Scarface and began to do the work Peyton was afraid to, killing those who mocked her at the bar.

She then tracked down the Wesker family and murdered them, taking over their empire, so nobody could ever hurt Peyton again. And Peyton, though slightly regretful that people have to die, couldn't be happier.

[laughroditee]

🔴 "Your Ghost" | Part 3 - Three of Swords

Part 1 // Previous Part // A03 CW: this story takes place after Soap's death and contains supernatural elements, tarot, mentions of death and blood. this chapter contains SMUT, minor injury, foul language, grief, reference to alcohol abuse, reference to attempted self-waterboarding, implied attempted self-harm, depression, despair, survivor’s guilt, implied suicidal ideation (no details), consensual possession, unprotected piv sex (pls use protection irl), MMF threesome (sort of?), mildly dubious consent (I tried to lessen this as much as possible), angst, crying, angst/comfort, heartbreak, emotional sex, butchering of the Scottish language. Characters in this chapter: Evangeline Stephens (female OC), Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley Pairing: Simon Riley x Evangeline Stephens x Johnny MacTavish (as a ghost) Summary: What's a little consensual possession between friends? ...Well, that escalated quickly. Word Count: 5135 

18+ for smut. MDNI!

Mood music:

Simon’s eyes widened, and he dropped me like I burned him, my ass hitting the floor hard enough that I knew I would be dealing with the pain for a while.  He took several steps backward, staring at me in disbelief.

Shifting the weight off of my bruised bum, I whimpered, cursing under my breath.

”Ye alright, lass?”  Johnny knelt by me, ghost hands hovering around my arms as if he wanted to help me up.

“Yeah,” I said.  “Guess I won’t be sending anyone any butt pictures for a while.”

“If ye can make jokes, you’ll be just fine.”  Despite saying that, he still looked worried.  “He’s not usually like this, Evangeline, I promise ye.”

I nodded.  While I believed him, it didn’t make the situation easy to stomach.  “I get it, he’s grieving.  Or more like actively avoiding it,” I muttered.  My eyes flicked up to the man in question where he stood, still half naked and covered in scars, with that wild skull mask on his face, his eyes wide.

Johnny put his hand on my shoulder and spoke through me again.  Being used like a ventriloquist dummy felt slightly like vomiting, though marginally less unpleasant.  Still, compulsion felt very weird.  “Simon, this is Evangeline, my li’l American kinswoman.  Take care of ‘er, yeah?”  

Even though I could only see the skin around Simon’s eyes, it visibly paled.

Johnny was having too much fun to cede control of my vocals just yet, though.  “Och, yer lookin’ a wee bit peely wally, love.  Maybe ye should stop fuckin’ drownin’ yerself in drink, ya bawbag!”

“This is fuckin’ mad,” Simon said, sinking onto the sofa and staring at us.  Rather, at me specifically, since Johnny was a ghost and couldn’t be seen by anyone but me for whatever reason.  How lucky.  Simon reached up and pulled off his balaclava, revealing a dazed oval-shaped face peppered with scars and about three days' worth of stubble.  His short, sandy blonde hair went every which way on his head, fair lashes blinking absently over his dark, glassy eyes.  He looked like his world had just been turned upside down again, or maybe he was considering the possibility that he was losing his mind.  Both were valid thoughts, to be fair.

With Johnny’s hands on me, I could sense a mixture of emotions coming from him as he looked at his boyfriend, ranging from love and relief at seeing Simon’s face to worry at seeing how much the alcohol messed him up.  His emotional tone shifted back to “nag,” but before he could say anything else, I scooted away, breaking contact.

“STOP USING MY MOUTH WITHOUT MY PERMISSION TO YELL AT YOUR BOYFRIEND!”

Johnny had the nerve to roll his eyes.  “Fine, can I please borrow yer mouth to yell at my boyfriend?”

“No, it feels weird.  I'll do it for you.  Just tell me what you want to say.” He then proceeded to say a string of words that were definitely not English, and I wasn't sure I could even replicate the sounds by myself; I was never good with accents.  “You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?”

The bastard grinned. “Och, aye.  I just want a chance to use that pretty li’l mouth of yours again, hen.”

“That sounds all sorts of wrong.”

“Not wrong if everyone consents.”

“Johnny!”

“What?  At least make him tell you where he’s hidin’ his drink.  If he hasn’t pissed it all away already.”

“You are so bossy!  Was he always this bossy?”  I directed the question toward Simon, and the weird atmosphere made me forget to be afraid of him.  It was challenging to stay scared of him when he looked like a confused kid who just woke up from a nightmare.  Unfortunately for him, this nightmare was real.

“I prefer the term ‘persistent,’ lass,” Johnny said.

“Maybe we should work on getting Simon sober,” I suggested to Johnny as I pushed myself to my feet, wincing slightly.  Though I knew I’d be fine in the long run, it didn’t change the fact that I had been hauled into the air and then dropped on my ass like a sack of potatoes by a man more than a foot taller than me and probably ten times as strong.  To say I was mildly apprehensive about being here would be an understatement.  I approached the sofa warily, edging toward Simon slowly as if he were a wounded animal.  Which… the comparison wasn’t too far off.  “Can I get you some water, Simon?”

He just stared at me.

Alrighty then.  “Johnny?  Show me where the glasses are?”

“Copy that,” he said, leading the way through the kitchen and stopping before the designated cabinet.

Ignoring the feel of Simon's eyes on me, I moved through his kitchen to grab a glass.  “The floor is sticky,” I observed.  Small puddles of drying alcohol decorated the ground like forgotten watercolor paintings of amber hues.

“Had a spill,” Simon explained simply, raking a large hand over his face.

“Spill my arse,” Johnny spat.  “He was waterboarding himself.  Pouring bourbon over his fucking face with that bloody mask on.  Yer oot yer face ya twat!” he yelled at his boyfriend, though Simon couldn’t hear him.

Water filled the glass as I turned to Simon, my face horrified.  “You were waterboarding yourself?  With bourbon?”

Simon stared back at me with a suspicious, bewildered look, which may have been funny if not for the context.  The expression melted into a sullen frown; it was all I needed as confirmation.  He looked like he wanted to ask me how I knew.

“Johnny told me,” I explained without waiting for him to ask.  I came back and handed him the glass of water.  “Here.  Drink up.”

Accepting the glass numbly, Simon kept his eyes on me, examining me in a way that was downright uncomfortable for a person who doesn't like to be perceived.  I was relieved when he glanced around me, presumably trying to see his late lover.  “He’s talkin’ shite again, is he?”

I scoffed fondly.  “Isn’t he always?”

Simon grunted.

Johnny came to sit next to Simon on the sofa, leaving me to stand over them both.  “Make him drink it,” he murmured as he stared at his boyfriend.  I could feel the pain and yearning radiating off of him, and it was enough to make me turn away.

Simon was still staring at me when I looked at him again.

“He wants you to drink the water, Simon,” I said gently, gesturing to the glass in his hand.  

He dutifully drank the water, looking around the room again.  “Where…?”

“Where is he?”

Simon nodded.

“He’s next to you on the couch over here.”  I pointed to where Johnny sat beside a tartan pillow with a Scottish flag.  Johnny stared intently at him as if willing his boyfriend to be able to see him.

Simon’s eyes searched the seat, but with no hint of recognition, he didn’t know exactly where he was.

Covering his pain with a smirk, Johnny said, “Tell ‘im to stop starin’ at my cock.”

“I’d rather not tell him that, actually, thank you.”

Unfortunately, that got Simon’s attention.  “Tell me what?”

“Fucking Johnny…,” I sighed.

The mischief-maker laughed while Simon waited for me to deliver the message. 

“Fine, he said to ‘stop staring at his cock.’”

Two seconds passed before Simon let out a single, loud laugh, a startled smile on his face that said that, until this moment, he had been so sure he would never be able to smile again.  “He would say that, wouldn’t he?”  He looked back to the spot next to him with unbridled affection.  “Fuckin’ wanker.”

Johnny chuckled, the sound muted by an underlying melancholy.  It made me wish that I could do something more for him.  For both of them.  Of all the people to ask for help, Johnny had to get stuck with me.  I wondered if there were other blood ties he could have followed, maybe to a more skilled person than myself.  A love this strong had to go somewhere, right?

And then an idea took me.  It was a stupid idea, of course, and I didn't know if it would work, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt like it could be the only thing I could contribute.  Kneeling by where Johnny sat on the couch, I rested my elbow on the cushion with my hand up, almost like I was threatening to arm wrestle Simon. 

Johnny smirked.  “Afraid yer gonna be a wee bit disappointed with the results there, chum.”

I returned his smirk.  “No, I want to try something.  Put your hand here,” I told him, gesturing to my hand and wiggling my fingers.

Looking curious, Johnny obliged and played along, placing his hand on mine.  It passed right through, making him frown.

“Hmm, try thinking like you’re putting on a glove,” I suggested, not that I knew what I was doing.   

“Alright,” he said.  While Johnny concentrated a little more, I focused on opening up my hand metaphysically until I could feel his presence filling the space.  It was cold and alien — feeling someone else’s spirit inside me — and I shivered.

Pushing the physical sensation aside, I reached my other hand out to Simon.  “Your turn.”

His wary gaze had a calculating edge, which I was beginning to understand was Simon’s default mode, at least around strangers. 

“Take my hand.  I just want to try something.”  When he didn’t move, I added, “Johnny’s cooperating with me.”  I may or may not have sounded mildly tart when I said it.

Callused skin engulfed mine as Simon smothered my hand with his, and I brought it to the hand Johnny was occupying.  Next to me, Johnny’s breath caught in his throat.

“I can feel that,” he whispered, and all at once, I was filled with an overwhelming maelstrom of his emotions.  The pain of loss, the guilt over dying, the sheer yearning for life and love pouring out of him caused me to pull back, gasping, and I pushed Johnny’s spirit out of me.

Both men looked at me as I tried to catch my breath, my eyes blinking away tears.  “S-sorry…. That was a little overwhelming.”  But, my God, to be loved that much.  To be loved the way these two love each other, I could only hope to be that lucky one day.

“Ye alright?”

“What happened?”  They spoke at once, waiting for me to answer.  

“I’m alright,” I told Johnny.  Taking a deep breath, I turned to Simon and said, “I had Johnny try to possess my hand.” At his eyebrow raise, I rushed to say, “It worked though!”  Shifting so that I was sitting instead of kneeling, I leaned forward toward Simon.  “He felt you, Simon.  Johnny could feel you through my hand.”  I waited for that to sink in, watching the emotions pass through his eyes like a kaleidoscope until he had to look away.  “With his spirit touching mine, I could feel everything that Johnny felt, emotionally speaking.”  Glancing at Johnny showed me that he wasn’t surprised.  Maybe it was a two-way connection.  “Everything kind of bled together, and it was a lot all at once, so I pushed him out.”

Johnny and I watched Simon process the information. His eyes stared down at the empty hand that previously held mine, balling it into a fist and opening it again.

“Can I…?” he asked hesitantly, pointedly not looking at me.

“Can we try again?” Johnny asked, knowing what his boyfriend wanted.

“We can try again if you want.  Johnny wants to try again,” I tell Simon.

“He does?” Simon asked, finally looking at me, his eyes flicking to the empty couch cushion where he knew his boyfriend’s spirit was.

I was about to answer when Johnny asked, “And what do you want, Evangeline?” 

I looked back at him in surprise.  “What do I want?” I repeated for Simon’s sake.  “I just want to help.”

“Why?”  Simon’s low voice was guarded but curious.  “It’s hardly your business, is it?”

“You’re right, it’s not.”  I met his examining gaze with an open one of my own.  “I’m a stranger here.  I don’t know either of you or what you were like together.”  The memory of Johnny’s emotions was so fresh inside me that the thought brought a fresh wave of feeling.  “I just know that if I loved someone the way Johnny loves you… I would want to be able to tell them.  I would want that chance to say goodbye.”  My voice broke on the last word as I looked into Simon’s eyes.  “Wouldn’t you want that?”

He frowned bitterly.  “You can’t save people from their pain.”

“No, I can’t.  But maybe I can help them to face it instead of trying to drown it out with alcohol.”

Johnny blew out a long whistle next to me, but my eyes were still focused on Simon. We stared at each other, locked in a war of grimaces, our brows drawn down tight.  “Alright, ya numpties, set’le down,” he said.

That broke the staring contest.  I blinked.  “What the hell is a ‘numpty?’”

“He’s calling us idiots,” Simon informed me.

“Ah, fair.  So, are we going for round two?  We can go bigger this time.”

“Bigger?  Are ye sure ye want to do this, lass?” Johnny asked with a hint of concern.

“Yeah, I'm sure.  Go big or go home, right?  It's really the only thing I can do for you, and I want to do it.”

He smiled at that.  “Did I ever tell ye yer an angel Evangeline?”

“I’m definitely not an angel, Johnny,” I laughed awkwardly, but the sentiment warmed my heart.

Standing up, I took a deep breath.  “I'm ready, Johnny.  All aboard, let’s go.”  Holding my arms out in welcome, he got off the couch and stepped into my body, overlapping me as I stood there.  It didn’t happen right away.  Johnny was much bigger than me in life, so he had to concentrate on inhabiting a smaller space, filling my physical body as if filling up a glass or a glove and squishing in all of the extra.  Luckily, spirits are flexible and can fill any space if they put their minds to it.  

As I’d done earlier, I concentrated on relaxing and opening up my energetic walls, accepting his presence into me.  But let me just say that it was fucking weird.  Alternating waves of heat and chills rolled through my body as he settled inside me, my limbs jerking and twitching occasionally in a manner that probably looked like I needed an exorcist.  Not now, but maybe later.

And I could feel him, the essence of who and what he was.  Every emotion and emotional memory that passed through Johnny also passed through me; his warm, strong energy made me feel steady and safe.  He feels just like love.  And it was bittersweet.

“Well, isn’t she a wee bonnie thing?” Johnny said as he looked down at my body, moving my arms about, sliding my hands over my hips.  “Told you I’d lose my dick on the battlefield one day, LT,” his laugh made our blue eyes twinkle as we looked up at Simon, whose gaze was complicated.

Johnny and I both could read Simon’s confusion at seeing us this way, and our smile faded.  I didn’t know what I looked like with Johnny’s facial mannerisms showing through on my face — the particular way your eyebrows moved, your lips curled when you smirked, and your eyes squinted when you laughed or smiled.  From Simon’s pained expression, he clearly saw all this on my face.  That, through me, he could see Johnny.

“Ye see me, don’t you, love?” Johnny asked for confirmation as if he could read my thoughts.  Maybe he could.

“I see you,” Simon said quietly, his hands squeezing reflexively at his sides.  “I see you, Johnny.”

We smiled softly, relief flooding our system.  Every emotion was enhanced twofold with the two of us fully in here, and it was a challenge to keep from being overwhelmed and losing myself completely.  Johnny was aching with need, making my fingers itch to touch Simon, to feel his skin on mine — on ours.  I had to take a few cleansing breaths to separate his thoughts and compulsions from mine.  Possession is weird.  

And yet, he didn’t make a move; I could tell that Johnny wanted to give Simon time to adjust.  There was some kind of feeling — something that’s difficult to put into words — almost like trying to coax an abused animal with food and love but accepting that it will come on its own terms.  You leave the door open and wait for them to approach because you don’t want to scare them away.  That was the feeling I got as Simon looked down at us.  Conflict was written all over his face as he lifted his hand near our head, wanting to touch but afraid to.

“It’s alright, love, it’s just me,” Johnny said softly.  “There’s no rush.”

But I knew he was lying.  In the back of our shared consciousness lurked the oppressive shadow of time, and it was only running out. There was only this moment, and never again, not for Johnny, and my heart clenched in my chest.

Something passed through Simon’s eyes, and I wondered if he could pick up on his boyfriend’s bluff because his control slipped.  He trailed his fingers down our cheek to our jaw, tipping our head up and cupping our face like we were something precious.  “Johnny,” he whispered.  “It’s really you.”

We smirked at him, covering his hands with our own.  “Don’t go cryin’ on me now, LT,” Johnny said.

“It should have been me.”

I could feel Johnny’s anguish at hearing Simon’s tormented thoughts out loud, and our brows drew down.  “You hush yerself now, love.  There is no ‘should,’ there’s only what is.  Can’t go back and change anything.  Ye’ll have to keep moving forward.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Johnny insisted, and our hearts broke all together.

Simon shook his head.

“Ye have to.  I want ye to.”  We reached a hand up to his face, the stubble grating at our fingertips as we caressed his cheek.  “Let me be selfish, love.  I want ye to live.”

I could sense Simon's conflicting emotions as we stayed in skin contact.  Wanting to honor your lover’s last wishes while being condemned to what felt like a literal life sentence in the process was no easy thing to stomach.  He looked down at us with such a pained expression that it was difficult to look at him, but Johnny was far braver than I and wouldn’t look away.

“It’s because I love ye, Simon.  And I know ye can take it.”  He knows he can take the pain of existence without him, which is what he meant.  “Ye can move past it.”  Johnny's emotions roiled inside me, his yearning and desperation building to a breaking point. So much love. So much it was almost blinding.  

“Kiss me like yer missin’ me,” Johnny said suddenly, voice low and demanding, hands trailing down Simon's chest.

Simon’s pupils blew wide, and he responded to the demand with a “Fuckin’ hell” before his mouth came crashing down on ours, his large hands pulling our face close, his lips moving with bruising insistence against ours.  Johnny growled into the kiss at the same time that I gasped, and Simon took advantage of our open mouth by invading it with his tongue, desperate to taste every last inch of us.

As the kiss deepened, it felt like he wanted to devour us.  Simon became more frantic, his movements rougher, more urgent.  His hands roamed over our body, exploring every curve as if he was trying to savor the feel of us.  His hands slid down our hips and pulled us against his body, and — oh my god, he’s hard.

That was the exact moment that the careful hold on my metaphysical shields separating me from Johnny — tentative and unskilled though they were — shattered, and Johnny and I dissolved into one another, becoming a mass of hungry hands and mouths, desires and libido.  We pulled at Simon, and, without even breaking the kiss, he lifted us into his arms, our legs wrapping around his waist automatically as his hands went to our ass, squeezing the soft flesh roughly.  He inadvertently squeezed the bruise on our butt from earlier, and we hissed into the kiss, biting his bottom lip.

The responding growl that came out of Simon’s throat gave us chills.  Something low in our belly clenched, and we were instantly wet.  Backing us up against a wall, he kept us pinned with his body between our legs as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down our neck, grazing our flesh with his teeth.  

We hummed as a shiver passed through us, and our greedy hands snaked under his shirt, sliding up his sides, relishing the feel of every inch: skin, muscles, and scars indiscriminately.  Simon pulled back from the kiss to tear his shirt off, tossing it aside before giving our shirt the same treatment.  His tongue traced the length of our collarbone before sucking the skin there, the pinpricks of pain telling us that there would be marks left behind, and we were satisfied by this.  Maybe he could make us a lovely little necklace of cherry bruises to remember this day.

The air was chill without our shirt on, and Johnny’s momentary amusement at having breasts was drowned out as Simon squeezed one of them, and we moaned, “Oh, fuck.”  We felt his lips quirk up against our skin in a smile, and then he rolled his hips against us, and we saw stars.  “Bed!” we gasped, and we didn’t need to say it twice.  Still holding onto us, Simon carried us down the hall, and we could feel his heart pounding against us.  “Tha gaol agam ort, bidh mi an-còmhnaidh. Gu bràth agus gu bràth,” we breathed against his ear, and his shoulders trembled.  I love you, I always will. Forever and always.

As he laid us down on the bed, Simon seemed to register for a moment that this was not the body he knew before, but he pressed on in curious reverence, dragging our jeans off of our legs and discarding them onto the floor.

“Let us have it, LT,” Johnny said, our voice thick with desire as we unclasped our bra and threw it somewhere in the room, spilling our naked breasts to his gaze.  “I want ye to fuck us like yer life depends on it.”  

Simon’s breath caught in his throat at our words, eyes darkening as he looked down at us splayed on the bed, hands fumbling with his belt, not moving fast enough.  He shed his pants, his cock straining against his boxers, and came to cover our body with his own.  We basked in the warmth of his skin, the prickly sensation of his chest hairs on our breasts, the satisfying weight of him as he pressed us into the mattress.  Capturing our lips again, he fed at our mouth as if it would keep him alive.  We could feel his erection pressing against our thigh, hard and insistent as he ground against us, and we purred, running our hands up his broad back.

"I’ve been missin’ you, love," he whispered hoarsely, his hands roaming over our body as he kissed us again.  His hands were everywhere �� running through our hair, exploring every inch of our body. We could feel his desperation, his need for us overwhelming him, and it was a heady mix of emotions that left us breathless.  

“I know, LT,” we said, “but I’m here with ye now.”  And now was all that mattered.

Simon ran his hand lightly over the front of our panties and paused, looking at us with a questioning gaze, unable to keep the longing out of his eyes.

“Please,” we whispered as we looked up at him.  Just one last time.  Though that part remained unsaid, Simon heard it in our voice.

He hooked his thumbs into our panties, dragging them down our legs slowly, his hands trembling slightly with emotion.  Trailing a finger up our slit, he watched our face as we sighed, and he gathered the wetness there before kissing us again.  Running his tongue along our bottom lip, we opened for him, and he plundered our mouth at the same time that he plunged a finger into our pussy, making us gasp.

We moaned into his mouth as he added a second finger and started to pump them in time with our heartbeat.  Threading our fingers through his short hair, he hummed against our neck, feeling our pulse jump against his tongue as he added a third finger, preparing us to take his cock.

Our body was on fire.  We squirmed beneath him, mewling as his fingers fucked into us, consumed by the intensity of it all.  But it wasn’t what we needed.  “Simon, please,” we gasped, unable to find the words to finish our sentence.

But he knew, just like always.  Withdrawing his fingers, he spread our wetness over our folds and stripped off his underwear, settling between our legs.  Because of the size difference, we found ourselves on our sides, his body curled around us slightly, our leg draped over his hip.  He dragged the tip of his dick up our slit, coating it with our wetness before pushing forward slowly, watching our face as we took him into our slickened cunt.  

Our body stretched wide around him, and we whimpered, our fingernails making half-moons on his tattooed forearm.  He paused, gathering us close to kiss our hair and whisper sweet words into our ear until we finally relaxed enough to take more of him.  And we took every fucking inch.  Once his cock was buried inside of us, he closed his eyes, and we stayed like that for a moment.  We felt impossibly full, not just physically, but our heart felt like it would burst.  He opened his eyes, and we knew from the raw emotion on his face that he felt it, too.  So much love.  

Digging his fingers into the plush of our hip to steady us, he drew back, his shaft sliding out slightly before snapping his hips and thrusting it back in, finding a slow, firm rhythm that had us moaning as we tried — and failed — not to melt.

“Sweet bloody Jesus, LT,” we said, looping our arms around his neck.

“Praying again, Johnny?” Simon murmured, a small smile touching his lips.

“Someone has to, ye bastart.”

He kissed us, increasing his pace, fucking into us harder.  Reaching down between us, he drew circles around our clit with a gentle insistence that had our toes curling.  “Come for me, love,” he said in a low rumble that did things to us, and we could feel our pleasure building, coiling like a spring deep within us.

With every thrust, we thought, I want to stay. I want to stay. I want to stay.  But we knew we couldn't.  So we let him drink us in through his skin, and we left our imprint there, another scar among many.  It hurt to feel this good, and we closed our eyes.  We wanted him, wanted to keep him forever, but we don’t have that.  It's not fair.  He was ours, and now he has to face this alone.  We didn't want to leave him.  

“Look at me,” Simon commanded softly.  “Let me see you.”

Our eyelids fluttered open again.  One look into the dark pools of his eyes, and we were drowning, and this great and terrible love broke us, and we were undone.  The orgasm that coiled deep in our belly ripped through us, and we cried out as our pussy tightened around him.  He groaned, the sound vibrating against us as he plunged his cock deep inside one final time before spilling himself into us.

We panted together, our breaths mingling as he rested his sweaty forehead against ours and finally closed his eyes.  As our heartbeats slowed, we looked up at him, a bittersweet expression on our face.

“I love ye, Simon Riley,” Johnny said softly.  We gently caressed his face with our hands. “Always will.  Don't be an arse, and take care of yerself.  Stay alive.  I'll see ye again in the end.”  

“Johnny,” Simon said as his eyes shot open, a flash of panic moving through them as he pulled his face back.  He knew it was time to say goodbye.  “Johnny,” he said again.  I could tell he wanted to say don’t go, but you can’t stop death; Simon knew that better than anyone.  “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking as he smoothed the hair out of our face.

Johnny looked up at him through my eyes and kissed him with everything he had left. When Simon pulled back, my connection with Johnny had been severed, leaving only me behind.  

I cried out in sudden pain, the psychic wound in my soul raging and raw, feeling the empty void where Johnny had been so loud and strong only seconds before.  Tears filled my eyes and poured down my cheeks as if they would never stop.

“What is it?” Simon asked with alarm, freezing above me.

“He’s gone!” I wailed, and it was like I was split open by grief, feeling Johnny’s loss so strongly despite never knowing him in life.  Being deprived of his presence, his essence, his warmth inside me left me bereft in a way I didn’t even think was possible, and I was powerless against this onslaught of feelings.  How could I feel like this when Simon, who knew and loved Johnny, was here with the pain of time and experience?

Simon stared down at my face, his expression contorted by the anguish of this second loss.  I could feel his pain like a second skin, its heavy weight oppressive and harsh.  Tears filled his eyes, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his arms coming tighter around me, and we wept together, trying to coax comfort out of each other as the world broke apart around us.

Only then did I realize that the final card in my initial reading, the Three of Swords, represented the three of us sharing our grief with hearts still freshly broken—three people, one heart, and a love that bleeds.

[randomuser678]

Little doodle of The Ventriloquist and Scarface as kids bc I have like a whole backstory for my version of him in the works

[coolgelding]

in the 00s they created a bunch of new girl batman villains like alyce sinner and peyton riley ventriloquist and fright and they all lowkey stopped existing after flashpoint which is fine because they mostly sucked but i do kind of miss them

[dalekofchaos]

Gunnverse Batman fancast

Fancast for James Gunn’s DCU/Batman!

DCEU recast

Burtonverse Recast

90′s Justice League

Reevesverse Batman

Superman

Wonder Woman

The Flash

Green Lantern

Aquaman

Justice League

Green Arrow

Teen Titans

Suicide Squad

Justice League Dark

Batman Beyond

The Dark Knight Returns

Telltale’s Batman

Injustice

Legion Of Doom

Birds Of Prey

Jensen Ackles as Batman/Bruce Wayne

Peter Capaldi as Alfred Pennyworth

Jon Hamm as Thomas Wayne

Lena Headley as Martha Wayne

Courtney B. Vance as Lucius Fox

Laura Dern as Dr Leslie Thompkins

Bryan Cranston as James Gordon

David Harbour as Harvey Bullock

Stephanie Beatriz as Renee Montoya

Tricia Helfer as Sarah Essen

Gabrielle Union as Detective Josephine "Josie Mac" MacDonald

Charlie Hunam as Marcus Driver

Tyrese Gibson as Michael Akins

Billie Piper as Maggie Sawyer

Garrett Hedlund as Ron Probson

Domhnall Gleeson as Jim Corrigan

Bill Hader as Jack Ryder/The Creeper

Jodie Comer as Vicki Vale

Jesús Castro as Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Kiera Allen as Oracle/Barbara Gordon

Dacre Montgomery as Red Hood/Jason Todd

Lucas Jade Zumann as Red Robin/Tim Drake

Kristen Stewart as Batwoman/Kate Kane

Pom Klementieff as Huntress/Helena Bertinelli

Riley Lai Nelet as Batgirl/Cassandra Cain

Mckenna Grace as Spoiler/Stephanie Brown

Carter Rockwood as Robin/Damian Wayne

John Boyega as Batwing/Luke Fox

Caleb McLaughlin as Duke Thomas/The Signal

Alexander Ludwig as Azrael/Jean Paul Valley

Michael B Jordan as Azrael/Michael Lane

Ana De Armas as Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Brian Cox as Commissioner Gillian Loeb

Sam Witwer as Captain Howard Brandon

Michael Weatherly as Detective Arnold Flass

Liam McIntyre as Max Court/Night-Scourge

Robert De Niro as Carmine Falcone

Gwendoline Christie as Sofia Falcone

David Dastmalchian as Alberto Falcone

James Carpinello as Mario Falcone

Al Pacino as Sal Maroni

Benjamin Byron Davis as Rupert Thorne

Michael Imperioli as Anthony Zucco

David Howard Thornton as The Joker

Mia Goth as Harley Quinn

David Tennant as The Riddler/Edward Nygma

Nick Frost as The Penguin/Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot

Oscar Isaac as Two-Face/Harvey Dent

Tobin Bell as Mr Freeze/Victor Fries

Viggo Mortensen as Black Mask/Roman Sionis

Jane Levy as Andrea Beaumont/The Phantasm

Adam Driver as Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

Kevin Grevioux as Killer Croc

Marko Zaror as Bane

Kevin Durand as Solomon Grundy

Doug Jones as Man-Bat/Kirk Langstrom

Peter Stormare as Clayface/Basil Karlo

Simon Pegg as Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch

John Lithgow as The Ventriloquist/Arnold Wesker

Natalie Dormer as The Ventriloquist II/Peyton Riley

Tom Ellis as Hush/Thomas Elliot

Raul Esparza as Hugo Strange

Anya Taylor-Joy as Poison Ivy

Pedro Pascal as Deadshot/Floyd Lawton

Anson Mount as Deathstroke/Slade Wilson

Finn Wittrock as Talon/William Cobb

Karl Urban as Owlman/Thomas Wayne Jr

John Carroll Lynch as Professor Pyg

Stephen Lang as David Cain

Daniel Radcliffe as Anarky

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as Cluemaster

Conleth Hill as Calendar Man

Keanu Reeves as Prometheus

Ming-Na Wen as Lady Shiva

Ghassan Massoud as Ra’s Al Ghul

Nadine Njeim as Talia Al Ghul

Yasmine Al Massri as Nyssa Raatko

Michael Fassbender as Dr Simon Hurt

Kat Graham as Jezebel Jet/Black Glove

Christian Bale as The Batman Who Laughs

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Bit late but gonna throe my hat into the ring on this.

Professor Pyg: Apart from the obvious "he seems like the type to keep the mask on", tell me this, do you want to wake up after the act with your lady bits/bait and tackle taken off and a doll mask sewn to your face...forever physically bound to this madman as a Dollotron. I didn't think so.

Killer Croc: 9/10 times he's gonna eat you afterwards. The 1/10...it's gonna be a rough ride.

Poison Ivy: 3 things are gonna happen depending on or in spite of origins. You are either going to knocked out and ground into plant mulch, if she's half plant you are walking away with something no antibiotic is getting rid of, or you're going to be hypnotized into being her latest meat puppet for crime related purposes or she just needs someone to mind the greenhouse.

Humpty Dumpty: I really, REALLY doubt he's able to consent.

Great White Shark: C'mon, even amongst the worst of the worst in Batman's Rogue Gallery he stands out for his "creative accounting methods" and running into Arkham cause he thought that would be an easier ride than Blackgate.

Victor Zsasz: You will get stabbed. No snark, no description of sex acts. He will stab you.

Mad Hatter: Much like the Professor Pyg example but less body horror can almost guarantee mind control will be involved.

Peyton Riley Ventriloquist: Like with Wesker, she's either gonna insist on bringing the dummy, gonna try to use YOU as a dummy, or in a twist, plant a bomb and scram.

Jane Doe: Like with Zsasz, you're gonna get stabbed. The kicker is after she's dumped your body somewhere she's gonna steal your identity and run your bank account into the red. I could go on but that's what I got.

sorry I know you gave me a lot to work with here but I'm mostly just impressed that the very first person to bring up Croc did it off anon

[zahri-melitor]

Okay so I'm now 4 volumes into Gail Simone's Batgirl, and hmmmm, I really want to talk about issues #17-26.

Now look this is still quite depressing Barbara. I'm still frustrated at some of the changes, but I think Simone finally managed to pull the strings together more coherently here?

Like, I do not care about James Gordon Jr. Wow do I not find him a compelling villain. I also, just quietly, think he loses something in the potential depths of his character by the "everyone is one biological family" Gordon retcon for New 52, because I think there's a compelling additional layer available in the baby sociopath being the biological child of Jim and Barbara Eileen, while Barbara is the adopted daughter/niece, and the levels of awareness of different family members over how James Jr reacted to Barbara's arrival and his jealousy of her, that I think actually did get teased out somewhat in The Black Mirror and are now are no longer here.

Barbara Eileen here also continues to have almost no personality or motivations, but that's par for course for Barbara Eileen. Always a cipher.

I do find the contrasts set up by this third version of Ventriloquist and her brother with Barbara and James Jnr to be interesting, with the mirroring of which sibling is jealous of the other, and in their sociopath way has turned their sibling into a puppet of their desires. I actually find it more interesting in terms of the fact Ventriloquist is used for this, because the second Ventriloquist, Peyton Riley, sort of achieves the same reflection on the surrounding narrative in Dini's 'Tec run, only in that one Peyton is reflected in Dini's exploration of the upper echelons of Gotham society and its mob connections. It's just interesting to see a character type used twice in fairly close succession simply as a mirror like this.

The story however, and particularly certain elements of it, made me smile quite a bit, as Simone was reaching back into both the classic Bat storytelling set ups and themes she's used before, so I was enjoying the narrative echoes to preboot she had sprinkled through this.

I actually ended up enjoying the Barbara/Ricky Gutierrez storyline, even if it was set up for pathos. It felt like a rerun of Helena/Josh from Birds of Prey, in that Barbara started the dates because she felt sorry for Ricky, but it was interesting in that Babs did indeed reflect on both of their disabilities through the relationship, and I thought they were cute together. Completely set Jim up for the angst moments though.

Then there's the cowl revelations. I'm still very unsure if I like Barbara just outright telling Barbara Eileen about being Batgirl, while having such a harder time telling Jim. Jim's totally repressing and lying to himself over the whole situation (which is classic Jim Gordon re costumes) but it's weird having the two of them back in 'absolutely don't know' land rather than it being an unspoken secret that Jim's fully aware of. I did like that Simone pulled the "Barbara removes her cowl as Jim turns his back" move though. Babs is the primary character after Bruce who should be allowed that motif (plus maybe Dick), because it's about the layers of trust and belief.

Bruce reaching out to Jim about losing a son was also..huuurgh. Amazingly timed as Jim was newly aware of the loss, and it was interesting to see this framed via Damian's death for once, rather than Jason's. The Requiem issue was really well tied into actual plot around James fucking Jr, and Jim calling Barbara to tell her, and the way that blurs the lines, and then Babs calling Dick and Dick not wanting to talk, followed by Dick calling Babs after James Jr falls and Babs not wanting to talk... it reminded me very much of their simultaneous "I'm sorry for the breakup" phonecalls from preboot.

Also Jim taking Babs down to the gun range at GCPD and making sure she could still shoot, and Babs' trauma around that, and the way it's couched so neither of them are quite sure what the other knows, and exactly why Jim feels he needs to know Barbara can defend herself...

Anyway. It's all still very dark and angsty, but in a chewy way, the villains were less groanworthy than Knightfall was, and I finally feel like Simone's hit her stride in this new universe, and in how to layer in storytelling that's referential back to older comics while those references not being needed to understand what's going on.

[hero-adjacent]

Buffy: Ms French is a giant preying she-mantis

Xander: you're so jealous it makes you stupid

Buffy: Xander is possessed by a hyena

Giles: 🤪 or hear me out, testosterone

Buffy: a ventriloquist dummy snuck into my bedroom last night and attacked me

Xander: or it was a kitty cat 😺

Buffy: Ted is high key shady

Willow & Xander: dAdDy IsSUeS

Buffy: there's a demon lurking in the hospital and I think it's after the children

group: demon called survivor's guilt

Buffy: Kathy is evil and a demon.

Giles: You're clearly possessed. Better drop a net over you, tie you to a chair, & perform an exorcism. Willow, go warn Kathy to keep her safe.

Buffy: prophetic dream followed by an earthquake, this is warning something bad

Giles: we live in California

Buffy: Jonathan did a spell to change reality.

Riley: I don't believe her either but can we all go along with it so she doesn't dump me?

Buffy: something turned you against each other

group: you judgemental superior---

Buffy: time jumped & fast forwarded, hid under a table people moving so fast around me

Giles: auditing classes is stressful

Buffy: my coworkers are mysteriously disappearing, they might have been eaten

Xander: paranoia is part of the job package

Buffy: portal to Hell is literally under the school so major weird things will happen there

Dawn: sure, Jan. wait wtf 🧟👻

Buffy: There's something at the vineyard.

the group: There's the door, bitca.