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ew-selfish-art · 7 months

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Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.

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Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.

He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.

Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.

PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.

It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.

Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.

Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.

"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.

"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.

"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.

"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.

"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."

"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.

"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"

"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.

"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.

Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.

Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.

So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.

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Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)

Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.

Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.

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Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.

#Danny has his powers destabilized by the various lab experiments but he's slowly getting control back #Duke notices Danny phasing his hands through the table/silverware by accident- it just looks like slight of hand tho #Danny figures out the bats and the best he can do is get adopted #friends close and enemies (lol not really) closer #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #dc x dp fic #please i beg of you- write the other siblings interactions #someone tell me why I left Jazz to sabotage their parents and what to do with her next #jazz looking at danny who now has every possible resource to save them and not using it like- my guy #danny's core working against him like stockholm syndrome basically #like his protected them for this long so now he feels compulsion #danny gets adopted au #bruce adopts danny au

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

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Fernando Alonso (McLaren era) - Envious pt.2

A part 2 to Envious

Fernando walked into the paddock on the Thursday for his usual media stuff. His PR manager had brought him around, filling him I on what questions most interviewers would be asking him. Whilst they walked into the interviewing area, glancing around for Y/n. He was quite desperate to see her. He found himself having to watch her past interviews just to make the feeling of missing her go away. How could be miss her? He wasn't even with her? They weren't exactly on speaking terms. "Can we start with ITV?" He asked, eager to see Y/n. "Just get it over with? Of course." They made their way over to ITV. Fernando looked up, expecting to see Y/n but instead seeing a different girl. He crossed his arms, a confused look on his face. "Where is Y/n?" He asked. "You'll be happy to learn, she has a segment to do with Lewis for ITV." His PR manager told him, preparing her voice recorder. "No." He mumbled. "Pardon?"

"I won't do the interview for ITV unless it is Y/n asking the questions. Where is she?" The ITV production team exchanged uneasy glances. "I don't think she can change her segment, Fernando." One of them said. "I'll worry about that. I would like Y/n to interview me. We'll be back when Y/n is." He said walking away and leaving a few confused souls. Fernando went about doing his interviews but he kept glancing over at the ITV crowd, hoping he would see Y/n but each time he looked over, disappointment struck. Y/n was on the other side of the paddock, getting ready to start her segment when she got a call from her boss. "Im about to turn my phone off. I have to go do this segment." Y/n said as she answered the phone. "The segment can wait. You're needed in the interview pen." She couldnt believe the words being said to her. "I don't understand. Did Darcy just get up and leave?" She asked. "No, but Alonso is being specific about who is interviewing him and he'd like you to interview him." She chuckled. "Well, if only we were accommodating."

"We are. He's refusing to do interviews with us until you are back." She rolled her eyes. "He is so childish. He's just bored. Darcy will do." Y/n protested. "No, we need the Fernando interview." She threw her arms in the air. "It's an interview that will last two minutes! I worked so hard to get this Lewis interview!" She was near shouting at this stage. "Sleeping with the driver in question does not mean you worked hard for it." She felt her heart drop with those words. "I didn't and I won't ever sleep my way to where I want to go." She hung up and groaned.

ITV had been panicking, but eventually located Y/n, who seemed stressed and preoccupied and angry, which when interviewing Fernando became normal. Fernando turned to see her talking sternly to the girl that was interviewing. He hoped he didn't get her in trouble but at the end of the day, he finally got Y/n. He walked towards her, his PR manager following behind closely.

"Y/n." He said approaching Y/n. She didn't look up. "Fernando." She replied, engrossed in the papers she held. "What's wrong with my intern?" Y/n asked as Fernando walked towards her. "Too boring. I want a little fun in these things." He smiled. "And you are a child." She said, taking out her notebook and pen. As Y/n prepped for the interview, flicking through her countless pages, Fernando decided to begin his redemption (if you could call it that) and share a warm smile with her. "How are you today?" he asked, catching her off guard. She looked up confused. Stumbling over her words, she replied, "I'm... I'm good, thank you. How about you, Fernando?" He chuckled. "I'm doing well. I was worried you weren't going to interview me today." He said. "Believe me, I wanted the segment with Lewis but you pushed for me to interview you." He clenched his jaw. "That must has set me back a bit but I'm intrigued, why do you want me to interview you?" She asked. "You bring a smile to my face. How about that?" Y/n kept her skepticism. "Okay. Ready to roll?" She asked her camera man.

Confused but intrigued, Y/n began the interview. "Hello, Fernando. Its a new race week here in Malaysia. Are you hoping hoping to better than your P2 last race weekend?" She asked, trying to add a harshness in the fact he had P3. "Well, of course. The Race was difficult last week with Kimi doing so well in the Ferrari and obviously, as a driver you always have to strive to be the best at what you do. I feel like it would be the same for journalists which is why why are as highly regarded as you are." He smiled. Y/n pulled a face. Did he just....compliment her? What was he up to?

"Do you think that long-term, you could beat Ferrari in the constructors or even beat them to the driver championship?" Fernando took a deep breath in. "Well, it's always tricky to pin-point these things but I think I could get there with the help of McLaren and obviously my teammate." He replied. "Something tells me your teammate won't be as willing to help you as you think." She remarked. "Something or someone?" He joked, making the few people surrounding them laugh. She felt her face heat up at what he was implying. "Sorry, that was unprofessional, but to finish that question off, I think-" to her surprise, Fernando's apology was laced with genuine kindness and humility. The tension that usually filled the air between them dissipated, replaced by an unexpected camaraderie. She didn't entirely believe him, she still thought he was up to something but until she could put her finger on it, she had to bite her tongue.

"But yeah, if he wants to help me he can. It's not my job." He answered. "Thank you Fernando." She said, concluding the interview. "You seem pretty tense today." Fernando said. "Why are you still here?" She asked, handing her notebook to Darcy. "Can you please write this up for the article. Thanks." She brought her attention back to Fernando. "What? J thought you'd be happy to see me." She scoffed. "Yeah, right." Fernando thought for a moment. He didn't wanna leave her just yet, he wanted to talk to her more. He had gone ages without seeing her.

"How about a joke?" He offered. "What?" Was he serious? "What does a bee do in the gym?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Zum-ba." The camera crew looked at eachother confused. "It makes sense in Spanish. Because its like 'qué hace una abeja en el gimnasio?' Zum-ba! But in English it makes no sense." She found herself giggling along, knowing the joke since she spoke spanish. "I know, I know." She found herself laughing harder and harder at how bad the joke was and how Fernando explaining it somehow made it much funnier. "You're crying!" Fernando laughed, pointing at Y/n as she wiped her tears away.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you and I would share a laugh." She admitted. "Again." He said. Y/n looked at him bewildered. "What?" She asked. "Well we have shared laughs before so you never thought you'd see the day we would share a laugh again." She smiled, reminiscent of her first ever motorsport interview, back when Fernando was in Minardi. "I'm surprised you remember that far back." She smiled. Fernando grinned. "Life is full of surprises, isn't it?" Y/n nodded. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Fernando smiled and agreed. "What's with the sudden change? We've had our fair share of clashes in the past and now you're refusing to answer to anyone other than me."

Fernando tried to think of an answer that didn't completely include the truth but still add a hint or two. "Sometimes, it's good to leave the past behind and start anew. Besides, life is too short for unnecessary feuds." He said, stretching his hand out. "Hopefully, we can just be friends now." He said. Y/n reluctantly took his hand and shook it before he bid farewell to everyone and left, leaving confused souls behind.

That evening, Y/n had to rewrite Darcy's work which led to a late night, and a lot of coffee. As she was writing, she heard her phone ringing, eith the caller ID of 'The Boss' on it. She answered, holding in yawn. "Hello?" She questioned, still writing away. "I didn't expect you to be awake at this time." He said. "Well, you know me. I'm always up late for work." She said, a hint of bitterness still in her voice from their earlier conversation. "Yes, well I'm calling became McLaren gave me a ring. Your segment with Lewis can be done tomorrow after qualifying." She smiled. "Aw, he's a gem for reorganising it." She chuckled. "It wasnt Lewis." She knotted her eyebrows in confusion. "Was it his PR people?"

"No actually. It was Fenrnado." She stopped writing. "Fernando?" Fernando had rescheduled it. "He said he felt bad about pulling you away from the segment with Lewis. The marketing team over there are not happy about Fernando giving them an earful this evening so I'd say go over and just thank them." Her boss said. "An earful?"

"Yes, he said bugging them all evening to fit you in for your segment. You're all about the questions today." She nodded along. "Yeah, yeah. I- mmh. Perks of being an interviewer. Look, I'll call you back tomorrow. In just finishing this up for the weekend preview. I'll send it on over when it's done." She said hanging up the phone and looking out her window into nothing. What alternate dimension was she in that Fernando was so nice? Did he hit his head or something? What was with him. It was weird, it was strange.

The day after, Fernando was walking into the paddock. His trainer had gone in before him but since Fernando forgot his pass he had to run back to the car and grab it quickly. "Fernando!" He turned, expecting to see a fan but instead spotted Y/n, jogging towards him. "Ah, good morning, Y/n." He smiled. "How are you, my friend?" He asked as she caught up. "I"m good, you?" She asked. "I'm doing good. Thank you." He replied. "Um, I just wanted tk say thank you for rescheduling that interview." She said. "Oh, that was nothing. It was simply a thank you for interviewing me and changing your plans up." He turned to face her. "It's what friends do." He scanned his pass and let her go in first, before scanning his own pass. "So, are you looking forward to your interview with Lewis?" He asked as they walked in the paddock. "I'm not with Lewis." She said. He looked at her, a grin on his face. "I didn't say you were. I said-"

"I know, but everyone thinks im with Lewis. My boss even thinks I slept with him but-" She paused. "I don't know why I told you. I'll go." She said quickly. "Wait, wait. We'll since you are not eith Lewis and I am most definitely not with anyone-" Y/n looked as her face turned red from embarrassment. "How about we head out after the race. Just as friends, nothing more." A smile tugged at her lips, before she agreed. "Very good, I'll be seeing you around." Fernando smiled, and disappeared into the McLaren hospitality while Y/n walked around as muddled as the day before.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #fernando alonso oneshot #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso fanfic

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thekillingvote · 8 months

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No Birds Allowed: Batman without Robin

The usual claim is that Jason Todd was singularly hated by audiences. Dick Grayson, Carrie Kelley, and Tim Drake are proper, beloved Robins—and Jason Todd is the one and only outlier so unlikable that audiences killed him off by popular vote.

But this claim ignores a massive piece of the puzzle—the Robin role has long been treated as an outdated remnant of a childish era, not only by a significant share of Batman fans, but also by Batman creative teams. While there were definitely fans who hated Jason Todd, he was at least partly chosen to be killed as a scapegoat for some long-standing complaints about the Robin role in Batman stories.

The 1988 poll to kill Jason Todd wasn't just a poll to kill Jason Todd—the poll to kill Robin was a poll to kill Robin.

Fan letters columns from Batman #221 and Detective Comics #398, reacting to Dick leaving for Hudson University in Batman #217 (1969):

Denny O'Neil Batman/Detective Comics writer (1970-1980) Batman group editor (1986-2000) on sending Robin away to Hudson University:

Dan Greenfield: Actually, last night I went back through my comics and the one thing that always strikes me is that before you came onto the character, they’d already made the decision to have Robin leave. Robin was up at Hudson University and was used sparingly from that point forward. Denny O’Neil: Well, that was a conscious decision of mine. Greenfield: Oh! O’Neil: Yeah, I mean … I had been offered Batman a year before I did it. Greenfield: No kidding? I wanna hear this. O’Neil: Because that was in the (Batman TV show) camp thing. The comics were very half-heartedly following in the footsteps of the camp because it was having a palpable effect on circulation. That’s not always true but it was in that case. Camp as in the sense — as opposed to the more erudite sense — this one-line joke about: “I loved this stuff when I was 6 and now that I’m 28 and I have a bi-weekly appointment with a therapist and a little, mild drug habit and two divorces, ‘Look how silly it is.'” I would go into the most literary bar in Greenwich Village on (Wednesday) or Thursday evenings and there would be writers and poets and college professors, all looking at Batman! But when that was over, it was over. It was like somebody turned a switch. And that’s when (editor) Julie (Schwartz) said, in his avuncular way, did I have any ideas for Batman? And at that point, I wasn’t going to be asked to do camp. I was going to be asked to do anything within the bounds of good taste, etc., that I wanted to.

O'Neil, quoted from “Notes from the Batcave: An Interview with Dennis O’Neil” in The Many Lives of The Batman: Critical Approaches to a Superhero and His Media:

There was a time right before I took over as Batman editor when he seemed to be much closer to a family man, much closer to a nice guy. He seemed to have a love life and he seemed to be very paternal towards Robin. My version is a lot nastier than that. He has a lot more edge to him.

O'Neil in 2015:

Modern Batman does not do camp. He has to evolve but to stay true to the concept he has to stay lonely. The kids, there shouldn't be many. Keep him the lone, obsessed crusader and the stories will be better. We did a story called Son of the Demon. It told a story where he had a kid, a baby. It wasn't in continuity. These days, the kid came back and became the new Robin, and I hear that Batman's got a few more running around.

Jim Starlin, Batman writer (1987-1988), writer of A Death in the Family:

I tried to avoid using [Robin] as much as I could. In most of my early Batman stories, he doesn’t appear. Eventually Denny asked me to do a specific Robin story, which I did, and I guess it went over fairly well from what I understand. But I wasn’t crazy about Robin.

I thought that going out and fighting crime in a grey and black outfit while you send out a kid in primary colors was kind of like child abuse. So when I started working on Batman, I was always leaving Robin out of the stories, and Denny O’Neil who is the editor finally said, "You gotta put [Robin] in."

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In the one Batman issue I wrote with Robin featured, I had him do something underhanded, as I recall. Denny had told me that the character was very unpopular with fans, so I decided to play on that dislike. [...] At that time, DC had this idea that they were gonna do an AIDS education book, and so they put a box out and wanted everybody to put in suggestions of who should contract AIDS and perish in the comics. I stuffed it with Robin. They realized it was all my handwriting so they ended up throwing all my things out. About six months later, Denny came up with this idea of the call-in thing. [...] I didn’t find out about it until I came back [from Mexico] and found out that, just as I expected, my ghoulish little fans voted him dead. But by a much smaller margin than I’d imagined. It was only like 72 votes out of 10,000, so statistically it was next to nothing.

Dan Raspler, assistant editor/associate editor to Denny O’Neil (1988-1990):

Denny wasn’t really interested in comics continuity, and he didn’t like superheroes. And if you read his work, you see his influence was really a pushing away from the conventions at the time—it was growing old, that sort of Golden Age-y, Silver Age-y stuff, and Denny sort of modernized it, and he never stopped feeling that way. Jim Starlin’s Batman appealed to Denny. It was a little more ‘down to Earth. Nobody liked Robin at the time. For a while Robin was not—it didn’t make sense in comics. Comics were darkening, and so having the kid was just, it was silly, and even at the time I kind of didn’t. Now Robin is my favorite all-time character, but at the time when I was twenty-whatever, I accepted kicking Robin out, the short pants and all the rest of it.

Comic shop owner Phil Beracha on A Death in the Family, quoted in The Sun Sentinel (October 22, 1988):

"I got 100 copies, and I don't expect them to last past the weekend," said Phil Beracha, owner of Phil's Comic Shoppe in Margate. "I usually get 50 copies of Batman. I doubled my order, and I still expect to sell out." The readers voted right, Beracha said. "Robin is an outdated concept. He was created in the `40s, and back then in a comic book you could have a kid beating up grown men. I don't think that works today."

Writer Steve Englehart, quoted in "Batman, the Gamble; Warner Bros. is betting big money that a 50-year-old comic book vigilante will be a `hero for our times'" in the Los Angeles Times (June 18, 1989):

Writer Steven Englehart, who did a series of Batman stories in Detective Comics, also worked up some movie treatments. In a letter to Comics Buyer's Guide, he revealed the approach he had in mind, which would have pleased Batfanatics: "My first treatment had Robin getting blown away in the first 90 seconds, so that every reviewer in the country would begin his review with, `This sure isn't the TV show.' "

Michael Uslan, producer and film rights holder for the 1989 Batman film:

I only let Tim [Burton] see the original year of the Bob Kane/Bill Finger run, up until the time that Robin was introduced. I showed him the Steve Englehart/Marshall Rogers and the Neal Adams/Denny O'Neil stories. My biggest fear was that somehow Tim would get hold of the campiest Batman comics and then where would we be?

"Death Knell for the Campy Crusader" in the Orlando Sentinel (23 June 1989):

For most people, the name Batman summons up a picture of a clown in long johns, a Campy Crusader who - with the young punster Robin - ZAPed and POWed his way into our lives. That's the Batman that appeared on TV in the mid-'60s, and that's the Batman that the world at large knows. Such is the power of television. But this ludicrous image may become obsolete now that the new, $40 million Batman movie has opened. Robin is absent from the film, as are the perky Batgirl and the utterly superfluous Aunt Harriet of the TV series. And though the movie has plenty of sound effects, they don't appear on the screen as words, spelled out in neo-Brechtian absurdity.

Sam Hamm, writer for Batman (1989 live-action film):

The Case of the Disappearing Robin is high comedy. Tim (Burton) and I had worked out a plotline that did not include the Boy Wonder, whom we both regarded as an unnecessary intrusion. Really: Our hero was crazy to begin with. Did he have to prove it by enlisting a pimply adolescent to help him fight crime? Was Bat-Baby unavailable? But the studio was insistent: There was no such thing as solo Batman, there was only Batman and Robin. So, after holding off the executives for as long as we could, Tim and I realized we had better try to accommodate them. He flew up to my house in San Francisco and we walked around in circles for two days, finally deciding that there was no way to shoehorn Robin into our story. [...] We figured that if we managed to squeeze him in, the lame hacks who were making the sequel could worry about what to do with him next. When the film went into production in London, and ran seriously over budget, WB started looking for a sequence that could be cut to save money. And there was one obvious candidate: Intro Robin! So Robin was cut from the movie and shoved back to Batman Returns— from which he was cut yet again and shoved back to Batman Forever.

Grant Morrison on creating Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (written 1987-1988, published 1989) with Dave McKean (see the annotated script's fourth page):

The original first draft of the script included Robin. Robin appeared in a few scenes at the beginning then remained at Police Headquarters for the bulk of the book, where he spent his time studying plans and histories of the house, in order to find a way in to help his mentor. Dave McKean, however, felt that he had already compromised his artistic integrity sufficiently by drawing Batman and refused point blank over for the Boy Wonder — so after one brave but ridiculous attempt to put him in a trench coat, I wisely removed him from the script.

Paul Dini on Batman: The Animated Series (1992), as told in the 1998 book Batman Animated:

The Fox Network, on the assumption that kids won't watch a kid’s show unless kids are in it, soon began insisting that Robin be prominently featured in every episode. When Fox changed the title from Batman: The Animated Series to The Adventures of Batman & Robin, they laid down the law-no story premise was to be considered unless it was either a Robin story or one in which the Boy Wonder played a key role. Out were underworld character studies like “It's Never Too Late"; in were traditional Batman and Robin escapades like “The Lion and the Unicorn.” A potentially intriguing Catwoman/Black Canary team-up was interrupted in midpitch to the network by their demand, “Where's Robin?” When the writers asked if they could omit Robin from just this one episode, Fox obliged by omitting the entire story. Looking back, there was nothing drastically wrong with Robin's full-time insertion into the series—after all, kids do love him. Our major gripe at the time was that it started turning the series into the predictable Batman and Robin show people had initially expected it would be. For the first season, Batman had been an experiment we weren't sure would work. We were trying out different ways of telling all kinds of stories with Batman as our only constant. For better or worse, having a kid forced him, and the series, to settle down.

Christian Bale, star of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight trilogy (2008):

If Robin crops up in one of the new Batman films, I'll be chaining myself up somewhere and refusing to go to work.

Summed up

Among the keepers of Batman, there has been a vocal contingent arguing against the inclusion of Robin. They argue that Robin damages Batman's brooding, solitary persona. They argue that the concept of Robin is too ridiculous and fantastic for the grounded, gritty ideal of Batman. They argue that a respectable version of Batman shouldn't allow, encourage, or train "child soldiers" to endanger their lives fighting against violent evil-doers.

The original and most iconic Robin, Dick Grayson, has definitely benefited from his deep roots in DC lore and his consistent popularity among fans—and yet even he has been shunned from various Batman projects over the decades. When even he struggles to get his foot in the door, his successors face stiffer opposition.

So it's not quite correct to say that Jim Starlin hated Jason Todd. In his own words, Starlin wasn't fond of Robin, and his storytelling (most obviously A Death in the Family) set out to argue against Batman having any kind of "partner" at all. This, following the wildly successful comic that treated Barbara Gordon as a disposable prop. A growing audience welcomed the Dark Age, and the gruesome spectacles made of kid-friendly elements like Batgirl and Robin.

This trend could be broken by the upcoming sequel to The Batman and by the planned slate of upcoming DCU films. But most Robin fans will tell you that many movie-going Batman fans still have their doubts about Robin sharing Batman's spotlight.

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kleftiko · 8 months

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❦ HOUSE OF SILVER

cw: mature themes (paid sexual favours), implied historical violence, historical ideologies regarding sex, fem!reader

The Edo period—the final era of feudal Japan. daimyos, samurais, and the common class, all with a purpose to help society. After her father lost his money and status when she was a child, y/n works as a maid in a teashop, following courtesans and cleaning up after their jobs. When the head of the Gojo clan comes in one night, she doesn’t expect to see him again, much less have him call on her.

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

updated every thursday . . .

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dev1lm4n · 1 year

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offering

pairings: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: angsty; joel thinks more of your accidental visit, you think he still views you as one of his whores.

pt. 2 to winter coat

word count: 2.1k

warnings: explicit (18+), mentions of sexual actions, sorta manipulative n emotionally unavailable joel, but nothin' too dark, age gap if you squint.

notes: i'm sorry for taking ages! i got accepted in college so things r easier now. pls let me know if u want a smutty pt.3 lol

In the beginning, Joel Miller thought that it was pity.

Morbid curiosity was a close second. It’s like being stuck in a Monday morning traffic jam on the highway and as you creep along at a snail’s pace, a terrible collision happens. Although there’s nothing in particular that’s knotting you and the accident, you feel the sickening curiosity to observe the damage. To stare, to take a good look at the misfortune. For him it’s more than peeping, it’s sticking his nose in the messy pie. Swirling the jam with his dirty, bare fingers.

He liked to watch you crawl out of the grimy one-bedroom flat you like to call your home. A pretty smile snug on your lips, smelling like the 2003 Bath & Body Works vanilla body spray you got from him. He enjoyed you making pathetic attempts in being friendly with him. You always made sure to pursue, pursue, and pursue, even when the thin line under his unruly mustache was an obvious no. Always made sure you brought him a can of old soda, a half-empty tin of mints, or unlabelled cassette tapes whenever you’d return from wherever it is you go to scavenge. The things you’re offering him sometimes still baffle him.

With a twinkle of admirable optimism, you’d try to bribe your way into Joel’s collection of things. A winter coat first. Then, gloves and expired Christmas cookies. It was a small collection per say, but it’s much better than the left over items you find on your so-called ‘runs’ around Boston. Things are always already picked out everywhere in the city and you could never seem to build up the courage to leave the gates. You’re too weak and foolish to route your way out in the wild. A kiss with death wasn’t exactly your thing. It was Joel’s thing.

He relished in the fact that you and him both knew that deep down; you’re tethered to him.

Joel Miller pitied you with every inch of his aching body and perhaps that’s why he’s constantly finding himself waiting for you. Legs spread on his half-sunken couch, vodka in hand as he expected you to knock on his door. Three was the number you’d always knock. Thursdays and Sundays were your favorite days since you’re usually free of duties. Ten was the amount of steps you took. Sweet was your scent and darlin’ was your name.

You’re his favorite pastime show. That’s why he's bothered when you stopped coming on schedule, stopped following the sacred routine. Joel’s first instinct was of a petulant child. At first, it was reaping new helpless damsels to pamper. Then comes the unnecessary aggression. Quarrels that had him littered in royal blue bruises and everyone that crossed him dead in a ditch. But you never came. Never knocked on his door again.

Until now.

You’re gone before he knows it. Cookies were your offering this time, decent ones that don't taste like sandpaper. Does this mean you’d need him again? He swore he tried to wait it out. Tried to sit still in the qualms of his home, hoping for you to be the one to relapse into his tousled salt-and-pepper and sharp pine scent. But you didn’t. You hadn’t come over to knock three times on his door on a Thursday afternoon and took ten steps to get wrapped up in his fingers.

He’s now actively seeking for you. Asking around as subtle as he could to figure out what exactly you do these days. Tommy said a seamstress, others said preschool teacher, then a few said stablehand as well. Every time he barged his way into a shop, calmly asking for your whereabouts, he’d always be met with a head shake. You’re a ghost it seems. The more he searched for you, the more you delve deep into nonexistence. That or you’ve deliberately played cat and mouse to avoid him. Afraid that he’d be dragging you back to the trenches of Boston, of who you and him were.

It’s not hard to catch a whiff of Joel Miller when he’s coming your way. He’s tall and brooding. A cloud of grump, stomping his way through town. People will talk. Anytime someone mentions his trudging footsteps, you’d be out of that facility in a second. Your role in the commune was to help out in a multitude of jobs, which means endless hiding spots from the thunder that’s tailing you around. You knew that scurrying away from him means avoiding him for just a limited period of time. You knew that he’d end up figuring out your pretty little tactics like he’s always had, but it’s better than the alternative: confrontation.

An odd rush of dread coursed through your veins at the mere sight of him.

Everything came back to you in an instant. The thing is, there used to be a locked chest on the back of your head. A place where you managed to compress the terrible things you’ve witnessed and comprehended throughout all these years of surviving. All the death, vile gore, the things that teared away every inch of your humanity. It’s all jumbled up with the scarce romance and twisted affection you received in between. Your Pandora's box has grown dusty from the years you’ve spent in Jackson, draped by a blanket of comfort and pushed even further into where no one could reach. Sure, it’s unresolved, but at least you don’t have to look at that ugly part of you ever again.

Those steely eyes of his was the key and even without having him say anything, he’s unleashed the flipside of what you are. Alarms blared in your head. The red and blue lights flashing brightly in the gathering gloom of winter evening. He was trouble and you knew it.

You were quick to shut the door close again, but he was even faster in lodging his arms between the door and the frame. He didn’t push forcefully like he’s interested in breaking in. He’s just stopping you from closing the door, effectively creating a gap. Carrying heavy logs of wood and slabs of meat might’ve increased your strength by a bit, but Joel was no match for you. It’s impossible to beat him in the one thing he’s good at.

You gave up.

From your warm lungs came white clouds as you heaved in front of him, knuckles grown equally white against the edge of the birch wood. You looked up at him. He’s looking down at you and now you two are engaged in some fucked up version of a staring contest. Three apparent lines of horizontal wrinkles appeared on his forehead, then a couple in between his knitted brows. You could watch his rounded brown eyes droop, a gleam of hope flourished. He’s silently begging you to undo your resolve.

You gave in.

Your front door creaked open. The dense brick wall you’ve built for five consecutive years was torn away at his arrival. Brick by brick, little by little. Your bodies’ slight tilt to the side was your idea of a warm welcome into the heavenly space you’ve considered home. It’s infinitely better than the flat you owned in Boston. It’s a lot more personal; cluttered with old photographs, borrowed books, and lukewarm herbal tea. Most of it was just ways to fill the empty shell you’ve become. He took a step forward, then politely toed his muddy work boots off near your neatly arranged shoe rack. Wordlessly at that.

“Joel.”

The older looked back at your imposing figure, heart pounding against his ribcage at the trivial mention of his name.

“What are you doing here?”

You sounded distant, unlike the cheery version that came up to his doorstep the previous day. Yet your tone still reeked of the same old youth and innocence.

He swallowed thin air, hoping that it’d relieve the bitter taste on the back of his tongue.

“Your cookies.”

He uttered like it held some sort of relevance. When he’s met with a cute quirk of your eyebrow, he tounged the insides of his cheek. Nervous.

“It’s an offering, isn’t it?”

He questioned. Joel was unsure, you knew that much from the way he’s searching behind your expressive eyes.

An offering was a phrase you haven’t heard since you’ve last met him. Flashes of memories replayed like old film shot on an analog camera on the back of your head, blurry and vague. You remembered the heat of the summer, the busy chirps of cicadas. He joked about how you’d always bring him an offering every time you needed something. How it reminded him of a fat tabby cat who’d always bring him dead rats in exchange for tuna treats back in the day. You remembered how you sulked, all pouty, because he’d just compared your small gifts to a dead rat. He’d then comfort you and peppered heated kisses. Scruff against the smooth of your skin.

Why are you remembering all this?

“No, Joel. It wasn’t– I don’t.. I don’t do that anymore.”

Your gaze grew pensive, wondering if he thought you're still the same girl you were. The same girl who’d suck his cock for a stupid periwinkle winter coat. There wasn’t anything wrong with prostitution, especially when it’s the only thing keeping you alive and well. It’s just that you’ve grown so much from that place. Your hair stopped shedding from the terrible diet you used to survive on, a bite of a dehydrated protein bar and tap water. Your cheeks were fuller, even when it’s still flushed with the exact same hues. You weren’t constantly freezing and jittering. Jackson shaped a new person out of a broken mold.

“I wasn’t.. implying on that. I was just– Well, I thought..”

He took a sharp breath.

“I thought you needed me.”

He confessed. Joel took another risky step forward, wooden boards creaking an ugly tone beneath his feet. You felt raw at his confession. The scabs were picked and yanked apart at every edge. There was nothing to hide your throbbing pain away with. No blankets of kind words. It bled quietly under his longing gaze. You knew where he's heading and no matter the name of the town it's nowhere good.

“I’m not the same girl, Joel.”

“I know, it’s just–”

“I don’t need you to protect me from anything. Do you think all my problems get solved when a big strong man shows up? Well, guess what–”

“No, I–”

“No. You listen to me.”

“I need you.”

You scoffed at what he said. A look of disbelief curved your eyebrows upwards and left your jaw slacked, as if you just heard the world’s stupidest joke coming from the world’s largest asshole. Did he really think sweet dolled-up words would help him get you right back in his lap? Ready for him to use whenever and wherever he pleases. Ready to get discarded once again as if you’re some sort of one-use paper cup in a shabby office. He took another step forward. This time, the light from the fireplace hit him in a way that made him look the same way he did five years ago. The glint of hope, the unspoken words, the twisted sense of belonging.

“Don’t say you need me when you leave and you leave again.”

You swore you could feel the agony making its way to the lilt of your voice. It’s bitter against the back of your throat. It didn’t matter that you were the one who physically left him when you disappeared out of Boston. He’s never even there to begin with. Not one inch of his heart was ever present when you were splayed out naked on his mattress, or when his fingers curled around your plush insides, or when your legs hooked around him, or when you told him how much he meant to you despite only being a quick fuck for him.

Silence fell over the both of you. You felt his frown and the way his warm ragged breath penetrated the cold air. You heard the ticking of your clock as you counted every second passing and the heavy, doubtful steps he took. You saw him curling a large hand against your skin to cup your cheek, testing the currents and seeing whether he’d managed to crack your resolve like he’d always have.

Everything felt so right. So familiar. Even when it’s wrong.

You’re crumpling, slotting right into the safe net he’s providing. A tear rolled down your cheek. The crowbar swung in slow motion, even when you’re doing everything to stop it. Joel Miller rendered you helpless. He made you feel like the girl you were. Then, like a poorly edited movie, there is no impact or sound of breaking glass, only a raining down of fragments sharp enough to pierce your firmness.

You sobbed. He cradled you in his arms, gently, like you actually mattered for once.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou fic #joel miller angst

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venompinks · 2 years

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Taehyun, HueningKai, Beomgyu for weverse magazine ♡

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cleolinda · 10 months

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youtube

When I was a child in the '80s, I absorbed some kind of cultural truism that disco was ridiculous, embarrassing, cheesy, a cultural relic to be mocked at every turn. Remember, I'm under ten years old at this time, and I still manage to get this impression. There was another, milder sea change when grunge overtook the hair metal of the late '80s, so I never questioned the idea that disco should be dead and buried. We like silly things, I thought in my 13-year-old wisdom, and then we get over it.

Then I saw The Last Days of Disco (1998) while I was in college, and suddenly I realized that disco was fun, and it was like—it was in the roots of—music I already loved. And the end of that movie also—hints? tells you? I can't remember how explicitly—that disco didn't just fade like most trends; it was killed off.

I watched a lot of VH1 in those days, the late '90s, with a little TV sitting on my tall university-issue dresser, its corner overlooking my computer desk while I struggled with piles of assignments. This was the heyday of Behind the Music, so it was great background TV. And then one day (1999) they ran a Donna Summer—the "Queen of Disco"—concert special. The video up there is the song that immediately became my favorite of hers. It’s just instant serotonin to me, any version of it. I bought the whole VH1 album on CD, and "This Time I Know It's For Real" may genuinely be one of my all-time favorite songs, now, still, more than 20 years later. You can hear the original version (1989) here (the backing instrumental that I just found today is lovely), but the live version ten years later, the video up there, has a really special comeback—joyous, gracious survival—energy to it.

Watching the whole concert, I got it. Why the fuck did I ever think disco wasn't amazing? It was always the kind of thing I loved; we had all just been pretending that it was embarrassing glitter trash.

And then I found out why we were pretending. From densely-footnoted Wikipedia:

Disco Demolition Night was a Major League Baseball (MLB) promotion on Thursday, July 12, 1979, at Comiskey Park in Chicago, Illinois, that ended in a riot. At the climax of the event, a crate filled with disco records was blown up on the field between games of the twi-night doubleheader between the Chicago White Sox and the Detroit Tigers. Many had come to see the explosion rather than the games and rushed onto the field after the detonation. The playing field was so damaged by the explosion and by the rioters that the White Sox were required to forfeit the second game to the Tigers. [...] The popularity of disco declined significantly in late 1979 and 1980. Many disco artists carried on, but record companies began labeling their recordings as dance music. [...] Rolling Stone critic Dave Marsh described Disco Demolition Night as "your most paranoid fantasy about where the ethnic cleansing of the rock radio could ultimately lead". Marsh was one who, at the time, deemed the event an expression of bigotry, writing in a year-end 1979 feature that "white males, eighteen to thirty-four are the most likely to see disco as the product of homosexuals, blacks, and Latins, and therefore they're the most likely to respond to appeals to wipe out such threats to their security. It goes almost without saying that such appeals are racist and sexist, but broadcasting has never been an especially civil-libertarian medium." Nile Rodgers, producer and guitarist for the disco-era band Chic,

(who survived the disco era to make half the music I loved in the '80s)

likened the event to Nazi book burning. Gloria Gaynor, who had a huge disco hit with "I Will Survive," stated, "I've always believed it was an economic decision—an idea created by someone whose economic bottom line was being adversely affected by the popularity of disco music. So they got a mob mentality going."

The DJ who ran the whole thing, Steve Dahl, complains that it was VH1 itself—you know, those Behind the Music specials I was watching—circa 1996 that labeled the whole debacle as bigotry when it so totally was not, you guys, and he is so tired of defending himself. But I'm gonna tell you, Steve, I don't really care. Maybe Disco Demolition Night was your fault; maybe you were just a part of something so much bigger and uglier that you couldn't see the whole size of it. Can you draw a direct line from the weird bigoted vitriol directed at those dance records to Ronald Reagan, elected the very next year, not giving a single fuck about the AIDS crisis? You probably don't want to, but I will.

And I don't care because I can look around the U.S. right now and tell you, nearly 45 years later, people are trying to demolish a lot more than disco. The Club Q shooter was sentenced to life in prison just a few hours ago. It's Pride Month, and we're all sitting here holding our breaths. That's a terrible way to end a post about a beautiful happy song I love, I guess, unless you turn it around and say, that should have been the whole point of this post in the first place. Listen to this song and think, people wanted to destroy this music, this sound, this joy for some reason. They want to stop people from just living their lives, from dancing. And yet, disco is still here. It was there in 1979, and it was there when Donna Summer released this song in 1989, and it was there when she returned in 1999. The Queen of Disco passed away in 2012, and it's still here. I feel a lot of joy when I listen to this song, but I don't think I'd ever thought about it being the joy of grooving with something just because it’s beautiful, the joy of just being here, still.

#donna summer #music #video #disco demolition night #queer history #lgbtqia+#club q shooting #aids crisis #pride #pride for one thousand years #I feel really hesitant about the turn this post took but #if the dots are there you gotta connect them #long post #music discussion

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theadmiralslegion · 8 months

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Katoberfest 2023!

This year’s Katoberfest will be held October 22-29, 2023.

There are seven days of prompts + a free day:

Sunday October 22: Only One Bed or Kat Survives AU

Monday October 23: First Kiss or OTP

Tuesday October 24: Cuddling for Warmth or Cold Space

Wednesday October 25: Mirror Universe or "I knew you were trouble"

Thursday October 26: Academy Era or Kat in the 32nd Century

Friday October 27: Accidental Child Acquisition or Mission Fic

Saturday October 28: Where is Katrina Cornwell right now?

Sunday October 29: Free Day

There are extra challenges:

1. The Katrina: post every day 2. The Cornwell: combine both of the day's prompts into one work 3. The Vice Admiral: set this playlist to shuffle and create a work inspired by the first song that plays 4. The Admiral: create one work that includes at least five of the fifteen available prompts.

There are no requirements or limits to any medium (e.g. word count, art style, length of vid or pod, etc.).

You may answer as many, or as few, as you like and there is no specific format. The prompts are jumping off points and may be considered in universe or meta. Answers may take the form of essay, discussion, fiction, artwork, bulleted lists, gifsets, vids, vlogs, comics, whatever! It is also fine to answer prompts on a different day than that which corresponds with the prompt (if you miss it, or it is simply easier for you). There is no right or wrong way to participate! The purpose of Katoberfest is to celebrate Admiral Cornwell, not create work or drama.

When sharing on social media, tag your posts #Katoberfest2023. We will reblog and retweet all tagged posts.

The AO3 Collection is available here.

Any questions, do not hesitate to ask!

-Anika (@pixiedane) and Liz (@liz-squids)

#katoberfest #katoberfest2023 #katrina cornwell #admiral cornwell #star trek discovery #fanwork challenge #star trek challenge #please reblog

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queseraone · 3 months

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Alright, positive, silly, happy fluff incoming...

-Pick a song you think would be Chenford's wedding song

-Assuming The Rookie is on the same timeline, how does Tim Bradford feel about Taylor Swift being at Football games?

-Where would Tim and Lucy go for their honeymoon?

-Knowing we were robbed of getting everyone's reactions to the secret dating era, who do you think would have had the best reaction? My money is on Angela, but you may have a different opinion.

-Do you think Tim picks out a ring for Lucy by himself, or enlists help?

-Do you think Lucy will move into Tim's place, or will they get a new place of their own?

-In the future, Lucy goes into labor with their first child. Who is Tim's first call to?

-We know Lucy has called Tim 'babe' a few times. What do you think Tim's pet name for Lucy would be?

-And, lastly...the most important question here!! Does Tim go with Lucy to see Barbie, or do the boys go see Oppenheimer and the girls see Barbie?

Sorry, this got way longer than I expected it to😅

Whoa um, okay, was not expecting this! These are so random and fun hahahaha

I'm terrible with songs, especially on the fly. Can I be corny and say my wedding song? Because, frankly, it fits and it's wonderful and classic ("Ain't No Mountain High Enough" by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell). Oh! Maybe "You Are the Best Thing" by Ray LaMontagne? Such a gorgeous song, I'm obsessed. Yes, that. (But truthfully I picture them having a super small simple wedding - like for them it's about the marriage and making it official more than a wedding. So may not even have things like a first dance or anything. Just a "let's get married" moment at lunchtime on a Thursday.)

I feel like Tim probably doesn't know who Taylor Swift is? 😂

I see them doing a fairly low-key honeymoon. Something cozy, like a cabin in the woods, and/or something with an element of adventure.

Oh man, Angela knew (jk, everybody knew, those fools were terrible at hiding it). Hers is certainly the reaction I wanted most because I love her relationship with Tim, and, again, a bookend to their early conversations would have been so nice. I think there's a great element of playfulness to their friendship, so she'd probably tease him a little, but they're alike in a lot of ways. When they feel, they feel BIG and they care deeply for their people. I also think Nolan would have been hilarious, because he seemed entirely oblivious to the entire thing.

By himself. After all, he knows her so well. Plus I don't think he'd tell anyone - the only exception would be if Angela somehow guessed and forced his hand.

In terms of logistics, I won't be surprised if he moves into her place, even though it makes no sense in reality - why squeeze into an apartment when you have a whole ass house, plus KOJO. Tim's house and Lucy's apartment have such different vibes, so I think if we actually see them moving in together, it would have to be a new place - they'd need a legit set!

Genny so she can let Kojo out? I've honestly never thought about this one!

Maybe "baby," but that's tricky because we heard him call Isabel that, so idk. I'd say either that or "babe"? (I want him to call her "Luce" but I wholeheartedly refuse to use that in a fic until it's canon)

Barbenheimer for the win! (Also Tim would go anywhere with Lucy)

These were cute 😊

#asked and answered #sarcasticbella0809 #chenford

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haiku--di--aliantis · 3 months

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Eccomi: sono venuta nel tuo ufficio a fine giornata per dirtelo e per darti me stessa... Dai, ascoltami... Ho un dannato bisogno di sentirmi violata da te. Voglio piangere di passione e dolore per te: ho preso una vera sbandata. Non stupirti e non resistermi! E poi, come ti permetti di essere così educato e corretto, con me? Sono una brava ragazza, amica di tua figlia; ma tu devi essere rude.

Ti desidero violento, esageratamente cafone. Voglio che tu mi prenda per i capelli o i fianchi e mi strattoni. Che mi butti su quel cazzo di divano e che mi prenda a sberle, come si prende a ceffoni e si manipola l'impasto del pane. Legami. Pizzicami i capezzoli. Calati i pantaloni e mettimi al mio posto, cioè con le orecchie appoggiate al tuo interno coscia. Sii brutale, non il signore elegante di sempre.

Ordinami di aprire la bocca e ricevere tutto il tuo cazzo di cinquantenne, bello dritto e desideroso di sborrare in questa diciottenne con le tettine di marmo. Giù, dentro la gola. Tutto, fino alla radice. Fami sentire donna di piacere. Dimmi che mi pagherai cinque euro, perché neppure come puttana valgo qualcosa. Trattami da zoccola.

Mortificami. Dammi fortissimi schiaffi sulle chiappe. Educami a te. Dimmi pure che certe cose non si fanno, ma possiedimi. Infila le tue dita nel mio buco del culo. Una, due o quante ne vuoi. E se urlerò di dolore, tu infilaci pure il pugno. Senza badare alle mie proteste, ai miei tentativi di spingere via le tue mani. E alle mie lacrime di dolore: sarà invece una gioia, per me.

Addomesticami. Rendimi mansueta e finalmente domata: una bestiolina giovane, tenera e cotta di te; desiderosa solo che tu ti sfoghi su di me. Voglio il tuo cazzo ovunque. Dovrò essere lo sfizio segreto di questo bell'uomo: sposato, fedele fino a stasera, maturo, affidabile e serio. Considerato un esempio nella professione e in famiglia. Ti voglio.

Sono giovanissima e mio padre è tuo ottimo amico. Ragione di più per fottere sua figlia in modo selvaggio. Lui sogna per me un bravo ragazzo. Tu intanto rompimi la fica e sborrami sul seno e in faccia. Papà mi ha detto che stasera viene a casa una coppia di amici di famiglia con il loro figlio mio coetaneo. Lo conosco.

È sicuramente un bravo ragazzo: studioso e sportivo. Anche molto bello, come dice mamma. Il possibile candidato al ruolo di principe, di mio dolce e futuro compagno. Secondo i loro progetti. Ma io ora sono contenta: finalmente sono riuscita a succhiarti il cazzo e ho ingoiato la tua sborra... Tu adesso però tirami due o tre schiaffi in faccia e scopami in modo selvaggio.

Prendo le tue mani e me le metto tutte e due nel solco anale: stringimi a te e mettimi un dito in culo, mentre mi fotti. Mordimi il seno, fammi male e fammi venire come la giovane troia che sono merita. Aaaah... si... così: era ora! Baciami... Cazzo, che bello! È entrato tutto e tu ora finalmente mi scopi fortissimo. Sei un treno. Vecchio porco che altro non sei... Non ti lascerò in pace, lo sai...

Aliantis

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Thursday's child (David Bowie)

youtube

#haiku di aliantis #Youtube

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