i was trying to figure out how to make a joke about riding jim

Such A Joker (5/?)

Previous part http://jeromesxreader16.tumblr.com/post/148498775642/such-a-joker-4

Jerome x reader

Warning: SMUT!


(Y/N) POV:
Jerome quickly leads us back to the trailer and as we get closer I bubble with anticipation and excitement. As we get inside Jerome basically tosses me into his room and throws me on the bed with hunger in his eyes. Sure slow and romantic is nice once in a while, and honestly that’s all I expected from Jerome, but what do you know people surprise you.

Jerome pulls off his tie and grabs my wrists tying them above my head. I look at him shocked. Seeing my expression makes him laugh darkly and lean down to me. “Aw doll don’t be so surprised. Every nice person is a freak on the inside.” His lips connect with my neck sucking and biting leaving marks no doubt. He doesn’t waste his time sliding the black one piece off my body. The corners of his lips reach his eye in a evil smile.

He comes down to my lips kissing me softly and running his hands over my body, but avoiding the place I need him most. “Please Jerome.” I gasp out of lust. He smirks and looks up at me stroking my inner thighs. “What is it darling?” He asks in a sweet manor. “Touch me please. I need you.” I say looking at him with want and lust.

Jerome smirks and does what I beg. He places a finger on my clit rubbing it in small circles. Just this small movement has me throwing my head back in pleasure. Jerome slips one finger in me slowly pumping coating it with my juices. He adds another finger and lowers his head down as well to suck on my clit.

I moan loudly pulling on my bonds causing Jerome to chuckle. He adds another finger stretching me and making me feel even better then I already do. “Jerome!” I moan as I come close to my release. “Come on doll. Cum for me.” Jerome says increasing his pace and bringing me to my organism.

Jerome leans up kissing me hard and grinding himself on my sensitive heat. He pulls himself out of his pants and rubs his dick up and down my slit covering the head with wetness.

He flips us over so I’m straddling him and smirks at me. When I think he’s going to release my bonds he simply places my tied arms around his neck. “Go on babygirl. Ride me.” Jerome positions himself at my entrance and I sink down onto him moan as I do. I start moving my hips up and down trying to hold in my loud scream of pleasure. Jerome brings my lips up to his and kisses me heavily as I bounce on his dick causing us both pleasure. As I draw us both closer to our climax Jerome pushes me on my back and starts relentlessly pounding into me. I scream and arch my back. I’ve never been given this amount of pleasure before not to the point to make me scream.

He brings his hand up to my neck and holds it tightly. Not enough to close the air way, but just enough to give me pain. Jerome leans down to my ear biting it. “You like this don’t you? You like me pounding into you. You like screaming my name.” I moan at his words knowing they’re all true. “Cum for my (y/n). Come on doll.” He says his thrusts becoming sloppy.

Just a few more and my climax comes ripping through me. Jerome thrusts a few more times until he spills into me. We stay like this for a few moments just catching our breath. As he pulls out of me I lay limp still coming down. Jerome chuckles seeing how exhausted I am. “Did I really wear you out that much doll?” He asks with a proud smile. I nod my head laughing a long with him.

He leaves the room for a second by returns with a wash cloth and starts wiping my inner thighs from both our release. I sit up and grab his face in my hands pulling him to me and kissing him. He responds slowly moving his lips along with mine. “Now we need to talk.” He says pulling some boxers on while tossing me a large t-shirt.

“So how is this going to play out? I don’t know about you, but I know I can’t just forget you, but I also know you can’t come with me, and I can’t stay.” I lower my head sighing. “I could come see you in different locations. My dad, his girlfriend and I were going on a road trip this summer. I can line up the stops with yours and see you.” “And what are you going to tell your dad? Oh I’m going to the circus alone again?That’s never going to work.” “He doesn’t have to know. I’m gone all the time. He barley even notices. Just give me a list of stops and I’ll line them up.”

Jerome nods his head. “Okay I’ll have to send it to you, but summer isn’t for a couple more months. That’s a long time.” “When do you leave?” I ask scooting closer to him laying my head on his shoulder.

“Tomorrow at 12.” “Could I sleep over then? I can leave before you and the crew leave town.” Jerome smiles and kisses my head. “Of course you can.”

I grab my phone sending my dad a quick text saying I’m spending the night at Steph’s again. Throwing my phone to the side I curl up to Jerome. “Then it’s settled. We see each other as much as we can and then go from there. Deal?” I ask snuggling into him even more. “Not quite (y/n). There’s still something we need to figure out.” “And what is that?” “What the hell are we?” He asks looking down at me.

I sit up and stare at him. “We definitely aren’t friends, not fuck buddy’s either, but we’re not dating. I mean these haven’t been dates.” “So what do we call this?” “Let’s just call it seeing each other. Not labeled as boyfriend and girlfriend yet, but still with the commitment. Sound good?” Jerome huffs and crosses his arms like a child. “I was counting on calling myself your boyfriend, but I guess this is fine.” He says in a joking way.

“It’s either this or I leave heart broken and never come back. Your pick Valeaka.” Jerome pulls me to him and cuddles me. “I’ll take it.” He mumbles into me. “Goodnight Jerome.” His kisses me head and tightens his grip on me. “Goodnight (y/n).”

Rant: The Killing Joke 2016 -- or -- How to Screw Up Barbara Gordon in a Single Leaked Image

Originally posted by spacealaddin

Let’s talk the Killing Joke for a second.


The Killing Joke, for those of you who don’t know, is my favorite comic of all time next to Superman: Red Son, The Long Halloween, Watchmen and Spider-Gwen: Most Wanted. I consider it to be a masterpiece and a work of art on its own that really brings an interesting take on my favorite villain of all time, and one of my favorite characters of all time: The Joker. So you bet when I heard they were making a Killing Joke animated feature, I was really REALLY excited for it. But then…then I saw the leaked image of Batman and Barbara having sex on a rooftop…



Let’s be honest, if you’re a fan of the comics or just a fan of Batman in general, do I even NEED to explain why that’s just plain disgusting and repulsive?

No. No I don’t.

However, I just want to bring some things up real quick that nobody has really brought up that I feel needs to be said.

Now, some of you on here have already stated that you already hated the Killing Joke before this, but now this is just adding fuel to the fire. And while I understand your frustration now, I’m going to defend the source material for a second. Specifically on the question of was the Killing Joke sexist? Absolutely not.

Barb getting shot in the comics and her remaining crippled, from what I’ve read from those who hated the comic before this whole shit-storm began, was that Barb’s strong character was whisked away in a single instant as she was immediately crippled. To that I say, no. The event of shooting Barb by the Joker wasn’t some edgy thing that Alan Moore wrote to show off Barb’s tits in some weird carnival ride straight out of Willy Wonka, nor was it reduce Barb’s crippling injury to a mere plot point. It was quintessential for one specific thing. Showing just how little the Joker cared for human life. The fact that he’d do such terrible, horrendous things to someone just to prove a point. But to be fair, some of you might say that that in itself is reducing Barb’s role as character to something that moves the plot along, but again. I say nay. If anything, it showed the strength of her character to persevere. Even though she got shot by the Joker, even THOUGH she was trampled over and stripped naked by him and his lackeys in an attempt to drive her father insane—SHE CAME BACK. She refused to sit on the sidelines and became Oracle. An asset that has kept Bruce alive many, MANY times.

Is it dark? Yes. Controversial? Absolutely. But let me ask you a question that recently has entered my mind as of late.

Would the Killing Joke had been better if the roles of Jim Gordon and Barb were reversed?

Like Joker shot Jim, after he somehow figured out who Batgirl was through some roundabout way, and put her through the carnival of insanity? Obviously it wouldn’t follow the exact same plot points. You could still have naked images of her father, bleeding and dying on the screen; but you also add a couple new things that’d really get her to go nuts.

I don’t have the answer, but it’s a question I ask all the same.

BUUUT that’s a whole different rant for a whole different time, as I’m noticing that my rant is kind of losing focus. The point is, I don’t think that the Killing Joke is sexist…that is, until I saw that goddamn image from the animated movie.

Aside from the obvious creep factors this clip adds on its own, as well as the lack of need for this kind of relationship at all, it is very obvious about what the creators are trying to do. They’re trying to raise the stakes for Batman. Make it more of a personal thing for him…LIKE IT WASN’T ALREADY?!

I’m sorry, but that excuse has to be the laziest goddamn excuse I’ve ever SEEN.

Bruce would ALREADY care about Barb because, 1) she’s the daughter of Commissioner Gordon—his best friend, arguably; and 2) She’s a part of the goddamn BAT FAMILY. EMPHASIS ON FAMILY. Meaning he sees her as a kind of DAUGHTER.

Making her a love interest does exactly what people who argued that the Killing Joke comic did before! OBJECTIFY BARBARA GORDON. She just becomes a very specific fuel to Batman’s fire to stop the Joker and add onto that good ol’ damsel in distress trope. A woman for Batman to avenge. So. What makes this different than the original? As I said. In the original, Bruce already DID care for Barb. There was a long line of history there that spanned, arguably, decades.

But this makes her feel…lesser.

As though the only reason that the writers had for Batman to care about her is because they fucked on a rooftop. Because they share a physical relationship.

…WHAT?! And don’t get me STARTED on how creepy it makes Bruce look.

Granted, one could argue that it’s Ok because it happened in the comics one time in Batman Beyond, but to that I say this. Just because it happened in the comics, doesn’t mean that it’s good! This is something I’ve found myself repeating over and over again when it comes to adaptations and new comics that mimic the old arcs. Comic writers aren’t holy untouchable men who write the word of law. Take Frank Miller. Everybody and their mother loves the dude for The Dark Knight Returns and Sin City, but have you seen his other work? Have you READ Holy Terror?! You shouldn’t—the man is INSANE. He goes on this anti-Islamic, racist tangent that’s frankly as disgusting as it is appalling. And in the case of the time where Barb and Bruce had sex in the past…yeah, no. That was a stupid move too. It was only done to explain why Dick isn’t as close to Bruce anymore. Again, turning Barb into an object for the men to fight over.

And that in itself, is the problem I have. By doing this, rather than raising the stakes (which were the writer’s intentions, no doubt) they in fact, lessened them because you’ve turned a beloved character into a trope. And I know that seems odd, since I’m saying this after seeing a singly scene from a movie completely out of context but…it’s hard to read it any other way! As I said, the reason I’ll defend the Killing Joke comic is because it shows the strength of her character. But by doing this, you’re compromising it. But who knows. Maybe it makes sense in the movie and I’m not seeing it in context, as it was meant to be seen. But…I can’t shake the feeling that there’s no way you can put that in context and make it Ok. I’ll see the movie, mainly for Mark Hamill’s sake, but I go in skeptical. And if it turns out that my rant on objectifying Barb rings true, then I have one thing to say.

Shame on you, DC. If Batman v Superman wasn’t bad enough, you had to come along and forever taint my favorite comic of all time.

Radio to the Youth: Over and Out

The finale of the fic I have been writing about Jim Morita. Perhaps of interest to stoatsandwich, hansbekhart, bangawang, sonickitty, portraitoftheoddity a-social-construct.  There will be a sequel. The full story is posted here on A03. (Comments are love).



Seventy-five percent of German intelligence comes from intercepted radio transmissions. So you spend a lot of time learning to lie. Sometimes you send false broadcasts; often, on missions, you use sound equipment to broadcast the noise of troops larger than yours, to misdirect Hydra as to your location. At one point an officer who looks like Jack Palance comes up to your unit and goes,

“Hello, Captain America sir, can you please share with us the common songs you Commandos sing?”

“It’s Captain Rogers,” breaks in Barnes.

“You should see our kickline to The Star-Spangled Man,” Jones jokes, and Dugan says, “Yeah, we sing that a lot, but not with the same lyrics necessarily.”

The man who looks like Jack Palance goes, “We need to know because we’re going to be faking some radio traffic to confuse the Germans as to your location. We’re bigoted here, you understand, it’s Top Secret stuff. We’ve got ourself a Captain America of our own, you see. Ours can pick up tanks.” He smiles, like it’s a joke.

‘Bigoted’ means they’re in on the Plans. The stuff even you Commandos have to zip your lips about, to stay silent, the plans that come from high up as Eisenhower. They’ve been using that term since the leadup to the June attack on Normandy. There are several Captain Americas running around, of course. Only one is real, probably. But you never know.

Lies and libel. The Germans do a little radio skit of Captain America himself getting punched out by Hitler. It isn’t very funny. It doesn’t make you laugh. The Germans call Captain America a vaudeville nance.

Some of the things the Germans say are true.

A few months ago in a camp you heard–probably no one else did, just you and Barnes, who are both good at listening–you heard some soldiers going on about a queer who got the boot out of the army. Sergeant Barnes threw up right after he heard that. You looked at him. You thought: oh. You didn’t know what to say; what do you say about that? He’s been so friendly to you. You start to wonder about it. You wonder if he has Ideas about Orientals. You can’t help it.

Back home, you heard how after Pearl Harbor someone in Washington, D.C. cut down four cherry trees that were growing around the Tidal Basin, because they’d been a gift of Emperor Hirohito.

Captain America, the star-spangled man with the plan, has punched out Hitler over two hundred times. Steve Rogers, who is not Captain America, tells you about the USO tours at all of our prompting, and with suitable embarrassment. Sergeant Barnes in particular ribs him about it.

You wonder:

Why isn’t it ‘Let’s sock old Hirohito on the jaw?’

What bothers you is things like the Dr. Seuss cartoons, which show Hitler and Mussolini and next to them, just a figure labeled ‘Japan.’

If anyone would as you you’d say yeah Hirohito’s an ass, but it’s that they don’t even ask that. They just talk about the Japs.

Anyway. It’s not like ‘Let’s sock old Hitler on the jaw’ isn’t pretty silly anyhow. Even if people like Private Paul Welch seem to believe in the myth. People do: they believe in the Star-Spangled Man with the Plan. You do. Even if he is a vaudeville nance.

After Sergeant Barnes falls, the Captain goes very quiet.


You all help him look. Unlike usual, when he (and Barnes) would circle back to check up on the rest of the Commandos, who aren’t quite as strong on the march, he just forges ahead. You are all hard-pressed to keep. You try your best anyway. But there’s nothing. Just snow falling through silence.


You’re a medic with no body to tend. There’s nothing you can do.

There’s nothing you can say.

You try to keep up. But even Captain America can get frostbite, you reckon. At some point Phillips steps in, orders him to stop the search. Phillips’s voice on the radio is hollow. Cap starts to talk then. He rages over the radio while you listen. He sobs. He stares at you for a long bleak instant and you realize: Barnes told him you knew.

Some of the things the Germans say are true. The Valkyrie is real. The Germans do have secret weapons.

You do think about your girl back home. You went a little wild, maybe, one night looking up at the faraway stars, listening to the cold clarity of radio chatter in the 100-meter band. It was a good night for one hundred meters, and you could hear from far away. You could hear the British joking around: Miller promoted to full sergeant request full complement of beer stop.

You wondered if Miller really existed. You wondered if it was false traffic to confuse the Germans.

So what happened was this: you wrote a letter to Mika and asked her to marry you, and she said, Jim, I can’t think straight where I am. I’m afraid of making a fast decision. I love you, but I can’t even see your face clearly at night anymore. I want to hear your voice again before I’m sure, I want to touch you. Please, Jim, let’s wait. Please, Jim, let’s wait until after the war.

At the time you felt as if something inside you had been very gently wound up and put away, like a coil of radio wire twisted tight on its spool.

But what you think reading between the lines now is this:

You think of what Sergeant Barnes said. He said to you, six weeks before he died, standing outside of an inn in Hungary, he said, I just don’t make plans. You realize: Mika is afraid for you. She is afraid a promise will be an end. She wants you to keep on going, even with your heart half-broken open, so you’ll make it through, so you’ll have something not to fight for, not an engagement–the same word you use for battle–not an engagement. Not something to fight for but something to listen for. An ongoing plea, a whisper that will keep on sounding in your ear. Please Jim. Please Jim. Be careful. Wait. Let it be real. Let me see your face. You realize: maybe, for you, there is hope.

Not for everyone. But for you.

The thing about plans is this: they never do pan out the way you want them to. You ride along in them like riding along in a car that is halfway falling apart. Just barely holding everything together, praying, and losing parts all down the road and putting them back together and hoping like heck you will make it to the place you want to go.

Some of the things the Germans say is true, but they don’t even have half the story.

What songs do the Commandos sing? asked the man who looked like Jack Palance.

There were many. You were a regular barbershop septet. But after Captain America goes down with the Valkyrie, the song you sing is Auld Lang Syne. It’s a Scottish song but it doesn’t matter where it came from. It doesn’t matter. What matters is your voices, their clumsy harmony, and the wish, carried high, high up in the cold air, bouncing between radio waves, a message heard far away, a song sung by so many people in so many places, for so many reasons.

How I converted my mom to TJLC and made her not a casual viewer and instead now she writes meta and makes train jokes, a tale by wellthengameover

It was my grandmother who originally made me watch Sherlock about 15 months ago because she watches the show and was always telling me to. I didn’t actually want to because I’m an obstinate snob, but I thought it would give me something to talk about with her besides her gardening committee, so I went for it.

At this same time, I made my parents watch Sherlock, too, so that they wouldn’t steer my grandmother back onto the garden committee topic. That was spring/summer 2014. (It should perhaps be noted that I am in college and thus had to long-distance force my parents to watch Sherlock on DVDs from the public library.)

It was almost exactly a year ago that I Convinced My Mother Of The Truth. Here’s how I did it:

I trapped her in a 4 ½ hour car ride so she couldn’t get away or pretend like she had more important things to be doing, which is of course a blatant lie as there is nothing more important than TJLC. My dad resisted learning this much about a television show but was forced to by being in the car at the same time, and thus has come to See The Truth but not truly to Care.

This car ride was, in fact, to visit my grandmother. Strange how these things play out. What do we say about coincidences?

I started with other aspects besides TJLC to get the idea of “the surface level narrative is tricking you and you are falling for it and Steven and Mark are probably laughing at you right now on their way to the bank.” I started with M-Theory. I started with what is, in my opinion, the least controversial point of M-Theory, and certainly the one that began the earliest: Mycroft is under Jim’s thumb.

She was initially skeptical of Mycroft being under Jim’s thumb, but willing to consider it after she had rewatched the points of the show I mentioned as evidence. At that point, I moved on to Mary is Moran. Once suggested to the fact that Mary was a villain who worked for Jim Moriarty, a sleeper agent planted on John based on the sniper Colonel Sebastian Moran, my mother felt this was obvious in hindsight, accepted it immediately, and in fact felt rather stupid for not noticing earlier.

(It should be noted that my mother is familiar with ACD and read the stories to me when I was a kiddo. The only point which I remembered of ACD when I began watching Sherlock was that The Hound of the Baskervilles was really scary and my whole family was going to be eaten by a giant dog, so you can see how old I was. Anyway, the point is that my mom knows ACD, and also that John cannot possibly stay permanently married to Sebastian Moran, so the “but John is married” argument was toast before it even began.)

This was the point at which I embarked upon TJLC. It should perhaps be noted that my parents live in a college town and work at the university, which is a major school for the hard sciences, in the state that was the second to legalize gay marriage in the US, and in fact their two closest friends that I know of are both not straight, and are thus perhaps already not your average viewers. If you think about this very much, you can probably figure out where my parents live. I must ask you not to attack their house; they have two cats.

But back to the tale.

I told her not to argue until I was done with my points. My first point was that this show is about the humanization of Sherlock Holmes, and a pretty obvious way to do that would be to have him in a committed romantic relationship, possibly with a kid. My second point was that there is no happy ending to this show that does not include John moving back into Baker Street, and having their relationship simply return to just exactly how it was in S2 at the end of the show is just not how stories work. Things and characters have to change and develop, and Sherlock and John are already about as close as you can platonically get. I then had her rewatch the tarmac scene, for which she soon admitted she could not think of another option for Sherlock’s aborted sentence than “I love you.”

At this point, my mom was skeptical not that they were in love, but that the show would “go there,” as I believe so many were initially. I then reminded her that this show is produced in Britain, not in the US, as liberal Americans have this idea of Britain as a haven where everyone is finally socialist and Pure, and that the BBC is not funded the way most American TV stations are.

Then I brought up “Softly, softly.” This was the beginning of the end, as it were. At which point we arrived at my grandmother’s, quite late, and went to bed. When I got up the next morning, my mother’s first words were: “If they don’t get involved, this show is the worst example of bashing gay people I can think of,” and thus she came up with Gay Or Trash all on her own and another joined the ranks of TJLC.

At which point I made her read The Train Meta and now my own mother makes train jokes every time we discuss this show. Which is daily because, since then, my mother has been solely responsible for:

And about half responsible for and totally on-board with everything else.

The moral of this story is, fair reader: like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, you should use TJLC carefully or it could change your life and your own mother will make jokes about Sherlock sucking John off. But in all seriousness, my mom is 100% TJLC, 100% this show is dirty as fuck, 100% John is bi, 100% Sherlock is smoll and John is trash, now has a tumblr to read TJLC meta (so she’s probably going to see this eventually and complain), was TBH shocked and confused to learn that there are other ships, and has, on at least one occasion that I know of, watched Johnlock fanvids in her free time. And I suspect bottomlock but I haven’t actually asked as she is my mother. Also when we were at my cousin’s wedding, one of the vows sounded a lot like “the problems of your past are your business; the problems of your future are my privilege” and my mom wouldn’t stop glancing sneakily at me until we were both laughing and trying to hide it and thus everyone in our family thinks we cried at my cousin’s wedding. Which TBH is better than the truth. So now you have two meta writers for the price of one.

The End.

You're My Fool

> Dedication to troyes-button-nostrils for giving me the idea of continuing Only Fools.

“Troiiiye!” Connor yelled as he finished buttoning up his shirt. 

They were running late. Connor knew he shouldn’t have let Troye drag him back to bed. But Troye could be really irresistible.

“I’m going!” Troye exclaimed as he came out the bathroom. Putting on his belt as he looked around for a sock.

“I swear this is all your fault.” Connor sighed, putting his suit jacket on.

“You’re the one who couldn’t control yourself. Got you being my fool like usual.” Troye joked, pecking Connor’s cheek as he put the newly-found socks.

Connor rolled his eyes at the comment. It wasn’t his fault that he was completely head over heels in love with the younger man.

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