Okay, serious discussion about s5e7 of wwdits. I have a lot of mixed feelings about it. The creatures fell into the uncanny valley, why did they choose the donut lady as a plot for nadja when it could've been with the guide, etc. HOWEVER, what I do appreciate about this episode is the meta commentary on how Nandor's culture is simultaneously erased in history classes and then mocked by museums. His culture, his writings, his garments.. almost everything about his history is completely misrepresented by the museum and all of his artifacts were stolen. He literally sees a pair of his underwear on display! He is looked at as an object, a relic of the past. The museum portays him as being unintelligent and frowns upon his writings. And that's based on their narrow understanding of him, Al Q, and his culture. The historians do not know Nandor of course, but they view him through a lense that chooses to only see him and his culture as unintelligent, subhuman even- because why else would someone write something like this? Or wear something like this? Or use weapons like this? It reminds me of those TV shows that theorize the pyramids were made by aliens. Because how else could the Egyptians have been capable of creating the pyramids? Surely they can't be intelligent enough! *eye roll*
Idk someone could probably use better words to communicate what I'm trying to say here, but I wanted to bring it to the table anyway. Oh, also Colin becomes the center of attention by acting like the stereotypical white professor who is more focused on feeding their ego than actually educating his pupils. And this ends up in Nandor being pushed out of the conversation. A literal metaphor for how whiteness obscures and diminishes other cultures and immigrant communities. Of course Colin did that just to feed off of the students. Because then he ends up replacing the museum display with a more accurate representation of Nandor (albeit for comedic effect). And then by taking back his horsie necklace. But.. everyone listened to Colin! And ignored Nandor! Lots to think about in terms of erasure, white washing, forced assimilation, how museums profit off of stolen artifacts and skewing history, etc.
Nandor is an immigrant to Staten island and he was forced to assimilate. Imagine how he must feel when he sees all these stolen artifacts in the museum, and plaques that inaccurately portray his culture and history. And people gawking at the clothes and weapons he proudly wore/still wears. This is a reality for many native and immigrant communities here in America and abroad. Being forced to view your culture, your way of life through the lense of the oppressor.
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so, Batman #147… rambling about the difference in how Zdarsky portrays the two current Robins
this is a fantastic run for Tim, and very much written like a return to form of what plenty consider the best dynamic duo, but even more so "the best Robin". once Damian's introduced in this run, Zdarsky really makes sure you still know that lol
1. "We don't need anyone else" VS "I need my family"
#147 clearly exemplifies the contrast, so i'll go through it first. Damian, having fallen for Zurr's lie and accepted him as the real Bruce, goes so far as to say in the very first page "We don't need anyone else." it's cold colors, machinery, and hollow declarations of "father and son" for these two.
towards the ending, Tim has deduced where the real Bruce is hiding and brings him food expecting Bruce's knack for self-neglect. it's all warmth, sunshine, and mutual understanding - also a cute back and forth of "Batman and Robin" between them. on top of this, where Damian isolates Batman & Robin from family, Tim is the one to remind Bruce about "helping each other." Bruce heartily agrees with "I need my family" for a weighty end.
along with this parallel, from #138 Tim makes it clear that even in opposition, he's only ever trying to help Bruce. Damian was still on the wrong side with Zurr-induced-Bruce here at the time too 😭
2. Tim's independence as both a hero and partner
Tim is written as the ideal Robin to Bruce's Batman, and has made Robin its own independent hero on equal footing rather than a sidekick - it's made in statements by both Tim and Bruce, and through the entire narrative. he takes initiative and tries to foresee what would ultimately help Bruce. beyond being great partners, there's many bits showing their emotional connection ("i'm scared of being lost, but i'm more scared of losing you, Bruce" hit me like a bag of bricks). tbh this almost could be a Batman and Robin run lol
added the first panel from #126 of Tim declaring he's his own hero outside of Bruce, proven plenty especially in his backups in #131-134!! the other panels are a few highlights from #128, #130, and #135 of the partnership between Tim and Bruce
granted it's Zurr, but Damian is mostly seen following orders and given pensive looking panels when there's something concerning. While Tim continued to represent Batman's ideals during his own solo quest to find Bruce, Damian doesn't question or take action against "Bruce's" sudden shift in ethics
Batman #134 Backup - Tim showing support toward Toyman VS Batman #146 - Zurr and Damian confront Harley as she pleads about her change of heart
another kiinda parallel in #147 is Bruce acknowledging Tim's hard work to become Robin compared to Damian who's out here going Batman and Robin/Father and Son. i don't think it's an intended parallel but just the state of continuing to show Tim in a better light - Tim put in the effort "to become the second-best Robin" while Damian is Robin because..."son." supposedly less effort on his part too, because LOA.
second pic is from Batman/Catwoman The Gotham War: Scorched Earth, felt fitting to add since Tim mentions needing to "know everything" in both. and the humble brag. which ofc Tim believes Dick is the best!! but also. jic we didn't know Tim is the best current Robin sdfgh
3. Damian's blind loyalty as "Bruce's son"
there's a weight to the Robin title when regarding Tim, whereas Damian's "Robin" role is excess and counterintuitive. he's delegated to desperate sidekick to Bruce, as well as becoming an obstacle to the family. being Robin only seems significant to Damian in how it ties himself to his father, and his single Robin quality is a loyalty that's been written to an extreme fault. the only positive angle i could see this in is Zdarsky aiming to put Damian in a sympathetic light in how far Damian was willing to fall to stay by his father's side, hence, fooled by that nightmare story/confession. the problem with this is that we have not seen a single emotional connection between the two in this run, so why should we care about that relationship.
also, Damian constantly bringing up his position as Bruce's son just makes him look entitled? since Bruce rightfully expressed his claim of having the others as his sons too (with the unfortunate exclusion of his daughter)! so it's like a "lol you're not that special" vibe when looking at it from the outside?? ykw concerning #138, Damian saying "You're the one trying to destroy my father" also could have been in contrast to Tim saying "We'll help our dad" at the end.
Zdarsky seems to believe the only meaningful part of Damian being Robin is he's the son of Bruce, and not a single nod to any noble aspect Damian's achieved beyond that. we're constantly reminded of Tim's greatest hits as Robin, from taking on the mantle to pull Bruce out of darkness (#135, #138), mastermind a whole takedown (Gotham War: Scorched Earth), and always being on the same wavelength with Bruce etc. the entire run sings Tim's praise, and it's deserved!! my problem is how it's in stark contrast to Damian's portrayal of being the other Robin who's only special because he believes he's the greatest son and wants to be at Bruce's side.
so all this to say, if your fav is Tim YOU'RE EATING WELL!! personally as a chronic enjoyer of things, this has been an entertaining run! as a chronic enjoyer of Damian, it's definitely not for many of his fans at this point in time.
i did like this part!! his grin!!
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☆彡The sky longs to see the sun go down
Title from Fly by Bloodwitch
Summary: It’s a hot day today, but not hot enough to get a handjob from a certain best friend!
Notes: Is a crack fic supposed to be written this seriously. Forgive for some of the rambling and rushed writing it’s 4AM and I am running on sparkling water and belvita snacks. This was just for funsies ▼・ᴥ・▼
Cw: Male/Male, reader has cock and balls, some noncon mention, humiliation mention, sexuality denial, misoginy in one sentence, mentions of Ashley and Ada, OOC cause Leon’s a perv, mentions of fisting? Lol
Wc: 1,872
You tug at the hem of your sweater self-consciously, the combination of sweat and oil making you shudder. It’s gross; makes you feel like you spent hours stuck in a locked car without the windows down or proper air conditioning. Kind of like a dog or a baby, except it must be worse for them. It’s not like you’re actually trapped somewhere after all— not permanently. It’s just that your room’s AC is broken, and you lack the balls to call up a repairman due to fear of judgement.
What? It’s a scary thing. What if with one good look they take off running for the hills? It’s a possibility. One in a million, but still a possibility. Still, it’s so damn hot in here that you consider going through with it. Anything is better than sitting in your personal hell— even calling someone through the phone. Maybe if you still lived with your dad, he could have helped. Mom would surely say “do it yourself” and leave you hanging. It’s not like she knows anything about that stuff anyways, she’s a woman.
Sitting up with a groan, you pass a hand over the bed sheets you were just laying on, cringing when moisture collects on your skin. It’s even worse when you look back and see the massive patch of sweat in the shape of your body on the bed. It’s like a crime scene. A nasty, sweaty crime scene. Enough is enough. You really can’t take much more of this. You feel like you’re dying, and no it’s not an exaggeration. This is why you prefer winter over summer. Sure, it gets cold, but honestly you’d rather freeze than melt into a puddle of goo.
First your sweater goes, then your shirt, then your pants, then your socks and shoes. You strip it all until you’re standing completely naked in the middle of your room. It’s not like your roommate is here. Well, he is, but he’s showering. Asshole got to the bathroom first before you could. The water has been running for at least thirty minutes now, and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit. Whatever though, right? Leon is Leon. He’s a greedy bastard, no matter how much he denies it. It’s like, just because you’re friends doesn’t mean you get to be pushed around and shit.
Just ‘cause it gets your heart fluttering and your blood flowing to places that are better left unnamed doesn’t mean you like it. (read: yes it does).
Somehow, it’s only getting hotter in here now. Getting somewhat desperate, you walk over to open the window beside your bed with a huff, having to crawl over the mattress to do so— which leaves you in a rather suggestive position. One that, due to your focus on the heat, catches Leon’s attention as soon as he walks in. Maybe you’d have focused more on the sound of the shower turning off if you weren’t so damn busy. Anyways, Leon isn’t so dignified either. He wears nothing but a thin towel around his waist, skin glistening with water droplets and moisturizing lotion. It’s not a gay thing, he promises that. Can’t men look good too?
The first thing his eyes land on is the way your ass juts out, back slightly curved as you used whatever strength you could from your upper body to slide the window up. Although he’s never particularly been interested in men, you’re his best friend. That’s different. He’s been friends with you since like… childhood. That’s enough time to make him forget about the junk between your legs. Though, it’s pretty hard to do that now when he’s staring straight at it. At least your cock is smaller than his. He’s just been standing there staring like a weirdo with nothing better to do. He gets an idea when his cock starts to kick, blood rushing to the thick length, making it stand tall at attention. He’s always wanted to try anal.
You finally get that window open after some grunting and huffing, hoping the small draft of fresh air would be enough to cool you down. With a sigh of relief, you turn only to come face-to-face with your best friend. Leon watches with a subtle smirk as you yelp and scramble to shield your bare body with the blanket left draped over the bed. It’s almost pitiful. And somewhat offensive? You’ve been friends for years, but you can’t even stand being naked around him? Some friend you are.
He snatches the blanket away with a quick hand, the movement making the towel around his waist fall and bunch around his legs. Now they’re both naked. “What?” He huffs, “Never seen a guy’s junk before?”
He knows that’s not true. You know that too. You’ve seen a guy’s junk before. Just not your best friend’s. Confused and embarrassed, you still try to cover yourself up with your hands, cupping them over your crotch. “What’s wrong with you?” You glare, shooting Leon a scowl. “You couldn’t have knocked or something?” You try not to stare, you really try. But it’s staring right at you. His dick. Uncircumcised and honestly a decent length. It’s not like it’s monstrously big or something, that’s ridiculous. Not that you’d mind if it was. Death by huge cock would be a nice way to go.
Leon rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s acting so damn nonchalant, as if his dick isn’t twitching against his tummy, begging for attention. “Really? I could have sworn this was my place too.” He doesn’t hide his staring, not at all. You can see as clear as day that his eyes are looking directly at your crotch, examining closely. It’s a stare that could almost come across as judgmental, and that makes your cheeks heat up with humiliation. Sheepishly, you shut your thighs, dipping your chin so you could peer up at Leon through your lashes.
“Yeah, well…” You trail off, unsure of what to say at this point.
“You know,” Leon butts in before you could even finish your train of thought, “you have a nice cock.”
“Huh?” You stammer, mouth dumbly shaping an ‘O’ out of shock. Did he really just say that? Were your ears deceiving you? Well, obviously not, since he repeats himself without a care in the world.
“I said you have a really nice cock.” Leon nods, as if he were some sort of penis reader or something. It kind of reminds you of those competitions they would hold at fairs. What pig is bigger? Well, in this case, which cock is nicer? Now vote! Honestly, it brings you an odd sense of warmth knowing your best friend would vote for you in that case. Enough about cock comparison and voting though, you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you feel warm hands grab onto each of your thighs. What the fuck is he doing now? You don’t think your best friend would touch you without your explicit approval (not that you’d mind), but he’s getting oddly touchy.
“You know,” Leon clears his throat awkwardly, struggling with social ineptitude just as much as you were. “I hear guys touch their friends sometimes… just for fun…” As he speaks, his hands gently push yours away from your crotch, the thick pad of his thumb running a slow line towards your penis. Immediately, your heart jumps so high you swear you feel it in your throat. You wouldn’t say no to this. Not really. It’s a tricky situation, but who wouldn’t want their dick rubbed by their bestie? Especially one known for his good-looks. A few seconds of thumbing at the base, and he finally wraps a hand around your length, squeezing lightly.
“Woah!” You gasp, breathing coming out hitched and ragged. It feels good, so good. The combination of adrenaline and pleasure might be too much. Honestly, you’re way more worried about what you’re saying. What kind of imbecile says ‘woah!’ while getting a handjob by their best friend? You, that’s who. Judging by the slightly amused look on Leon’s face, he thinks you’re an idiot. But you’re the idiot he’s jacking off, so who’s really the embarrassing one here? All you can hear is the slow schlick schlick schlick of his fist pumping your meat, the noise wet and sticky due to the amount of precum you had produced in a short amount of time.
Yeah, you’re not lasting at all. Who fucking cares? You’re getting your dick beat! By your best friend!
You groan into the palm of your hand, pathetic moans and whimpers escaping you within every second. Man, you’d be a good pornstar. Maybe you should consider it; college debt would be paid off much easier. Hips tilting forward for more, you watch intently, taking in every detail. Leon’s no different, he’s just as enthralled. Dare he say he’s finally getting what he’d dreamed of. Assuming dreaming about jacking your friend was normal. Maybe he’d try sticking this same hand up your ass later. He dreamt about that too at some point. Maybe he just likes you or something. That thought is weirder to him than all the other ones though.
His arm is starting to get tired, but he doesn’t slow down or anything, he just picks up pace. Fisting your cock is just as straining as when he lifts weights at the gym, and he considers doing this instead of working out every weekend. Easier to do and cheaper. Sure, he’s got all the money he could possibly need, but $30 for a gym membership that he has to pay for monthly is too much, even for him. He tightens his grip a little, squeezing rhythmically once he feels your cock starting to twitch and jump, signaling oncoming orgasm.
“Ah! Fuck! There… there!” You practically whine, back arching and hips bucking weakly, the muscles in your belly tightening and relaxing as wave after wave of pure, unbridled ecstasy washed over you. Who knew a handjob could feel this good? From someone else, that is. The ones you give yourself don’t match up. Leon obliges, continuing with his set pace and watching as thick spurts of cum splashed onto his hand, the enthusiastic bursts soon turning into lazy, creamy drools down the slit of your cock. He thought it’d be kind of gross to get someone else’s cum on him like this, but seeing how dazed and disoriented you looked made him smile, and that’s what counts. It’s not all that bad.
Curious, he brought his cum-coated hand up to his face, tongue lolling out to lap up one swipe of the mess. It smells musky, and tastes… peculiar. Not bad, so that means your diet is good at least. Just kind of salty and sticky, if sticky were a taste. There’s no other way to describe it really. He had remembered the taste of Ada’s cum and Ashley’s from when he had eaten them out before when they were dating (separately), but theirs also had variety. Anyways, instead of thinking like some cum connoisseur, he waits for you to finish panting and whimpering like some overheated dog before speaking.
“So, my turn?”
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