underground lair


Context - the party are dungeon-delving into a rather mischievous vampire’s underground ‘lair’. They spot a door at the bottom of a pit.

DM: There’s a ladder you can climb down.

Rogue: Okay, I’ll go down and check for traps *succeeds*

DM: The ladder’s fine…

Rogue: I reach the bottom and yell up –.

DM: … but as your feet hit the floor, you trigger the trap hidden on the ground. Fireballs explode from all around you and those on the ladder.

*4d6 fire damage*

DM: Roll to keep hold of the ladder.

*NPC companion nat 1s*

DM: Anton falls and …


 DM: … lands gently on the floor…….. triggering the trap again.

Party: FFS

*3d6 fire damage*

DM: Again, roll to keep hold.

*Ranger-druid fails and hits the ground*

Party: NO

*2d6 fire damage*

DM, gleefully: And again?

*Cleric fails and falls*

*1d6 fire damage*

DM, is far too happy: Once more?

*everyone succeeds and makes it down the ladder, but only because the trap is exhausted*

Party: *is totally wrecked and on its last legs purely because of fire and fall damage*

Rogue: *took absolutely no damage because of evasion* Well that wasn’t too bad. Let’s look at this door…

DM: The door is painted on the wall. You’re literally in a dead end pit.

Party: …………

Things the Phantom of the Opera does in the play:

  • Sings
  • Composes an opera
  • Kills a few guys

Things the Phantom of the Opera does in the book:

  • Sings
  • Composes an opera
  • Kills a lot of guys
  • Invents ventriloquism
  • Masters the art of illusions and sleight-of-hand
  • Carries out a series of political assassinations in Persia
  • Builds two (2) palaces so renowned for their beautiful and ingenious architecture, his clients attempt to murder him
  • Builds robots
  • Builds an underground lair with a torture chamber as elaborate as anything in the Saw movies
  • Uses a lasso to strangle anyone who discovers his identity

the funniest thing about the institute using synth crows to watch your every move up on the surface is that at some point your dickhead kid has to realise that his parent is more interested in building intricate turret systems, having a phenomenal amount of great gay sex and becoming a melon farming trade baron than they are in finding and visiting his boring underground nerd lair.


possible triggers, read/reblog with caution. nsfw metions. change pronouns as you seet fit!


❛ You weren’t answering you’re phone! Why do you have a bat?! ❜
❛ I thought you were a predator! ❜
❛ We’re actually doing this? ❜
❛ You’re the one always bitching that nothing happens in this town! ❜
❛ I was trying to get a good nights sleep before practice tomorrow. ❜
❛ Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one. ❜
❛ Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for? ❜
❛ Huh, I didn’t even think about that. ❜
❛ And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here? ❜
❛ Also something I didn’t think about. ❜
❛ Okay, let’s see this thing. ❜
❛ It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf. ❜
❛ A wolf bit you? ❜
❛ I heard a wolf howling. ❜
❛ What do you mean “No, I didn’t?” ❜
❛ How do you know what I heard? ❜
❛ Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? ❜
❛ I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-Nerded by you. ❜
❛ It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. ❜
❛ I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things. ❜
❛ Smell things? Like what? ❜
❛ So, all this started with the bite? ❜
❛ What if it’s like, an infection? ❜
❛ Like my body flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something? ❜
❛ You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this. ❜
❛ Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling. ❜
❛ Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me! ❜
❛ You’ve been given something that most people would kill for. ❜
❛ Where are you getting your juice? ❜
❛ So, you killed her? ❜
❛ Maybe it was my blood on the door? ❜
❛ I’ve never had a dream where I woke up like that before. ❜
❛ You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something. ❜
❛ Maybe you should stop pretending to suck just for his benefit. ❜
❛ Trust me, I do plenty of sucking just for his benefit. ❜
❛ Do you wanna hang out, like us and them? ❜
❛ You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork. ❜
❛ Once my heart starts beating again, yeah. ❜
❛ Start the car, or I’m gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth. ❜
❛ It was a different kind of bullet. ❜
❛ What am I supposed to do with him? ❜
❛ You faint at the sight of blood? ❜
❛ This house is like the frickin’ Wal-Mart of guns. ❜
❛ I don’t know whether to kill it or lick it. ❜
❛ You wanna do homework? Or you wanna not die? ❜
❛ We don’t go out in the middle of the night murdering people, do we? ❜


❛ Please let him go, and I’ll do– I’ll do whatever you want! Okay? ❜
❛ I swear. I won’t- I won’t see him again. I promise, never again! ❜
❛ I’ve got a missing teenage girl, and our K-9 unit led us here. ❜
❛ I’m sorry, I - I didn’t see anything. ❜
❛ Trust me, if he saw a naked girl outside a computer screen, he’d remember. ❜
❛ School fight? ❜
❛ Oh, no, sorry. I was just remembering, I actually have a morning practice to get to. ❜
❛ Just one more question. You guys get many grave robberies here? ❜
❛ Usually, they just take stuff like jewelry. ❜
❛ Okay, nothing else? Seriously? ❜
❛ I just said it was missing. ❜
❛ And you know what? Even if she did, so what? ❜
❛ It’s the most nutritious part of the body. ❜
❛ You’re the test case for this, so we should be going over what happened to you. ❜
❛ I mean like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know?  ❜
❛ Here’s a dollar. Go find another parking lot to die in.  ❜
❛ Now, I don’t want the same thing happening to some innocent girl. ❜
❛ So, police are organizing search parties for tonight. ❜
❛ Sign up, find the missing girl, you get an automatic A in my class. ❜
❛ Because we have a pretty good idea that she might be… you know, turning. ❜
❛ A unicorn. What do you think, dumbass? ❜
❛ What do you think she’s gonna do with a set of real claws? ❜
❛ Hey, you know, maybe they’re just here for the funeral? ❜
❛ I mean - what if they’re the non-hunting side of the family? ❜
❛ You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, ______? ❜
❛ You wanna take this little conversation downstairs? No? ❜
❛ Tell you what, you do the dishes and clean up the kitchen, okay? ❜
❛ I have my responsibility as a parent. ❜
❛ You know I’m gonna have to find a way to punish you though. ❜
❛ Well, that was your fault. ❜
❛ Shut up! It’s a scratch! It’s hardly even… ❜
❛ I have beautiful everything. ❜
❛ You wanna just make out a little bit? Just to see how it feels? ❜
❛ This new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you. ❜
❛ What did you see in the mechanic garage? ❜
❛ Did you notice that I’m paralyzed from the neck down in 8 feet of water! ❜
❛ Can’t you just trust me this once? ❜
❛ I’m the one who keeps you alive, okay. Did you notice that? ❜
❛ Sounds like the beginning of a heartfelt story, but I’m gonna pass.. ❜
❛ I thought you were psychic, bitch? ❜
❛ Dude, everyone in here is a dude. I think we’re in a gay club. ❜
❛ Man, nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses? ❜
❛ One more question– just one. Are you okay? ❜
❛ We’re just a bunch of teenagers. We can’t handle this. ❜
❛ Sarcasm is my only defense. ❜
❛ I have to ground you. I am grounding you. You are grounded. ❜


❛ I have to… I have to tell him.. ❜
❛ Do you have any other emergency werewolf contacts? ❜
❛ So, if you need to do that thing where we talk about me. ❜
❛ I don’t want a boyfriend. I want a distraction.. ❜
❛ And, seriously, an American werewolf in London? Like that’s not going to be a disaster. ❜
❛ Can we drive? Now, please? ❜
❛ All of them? How does that even work? ❜
❛ I have been looking for them the last four months. ❜
❛ Do you know what I want for my birthday? ❜
❛ Have you never done it before either? ❜
❛ We don’t like you. Now, shut up and help us. ❜
❛ So, I hope you’re comfortable saying whatever it is you were feeling straight to my face. ❜
❛ Okay, all right, now. Come on, no one died, alright? ❜
❛ Look, there may have been some maiming, okay? A little mangling, but no death! ❜
❛ I can’t take waiting around like this, you know? ❜
❛ My nerves are wracked, they’re severely wracked. Wracked. ❜
❛ What… like, why wouldn’t they chain them up in some underground lair or something? ❜
❛ They’re an Alpha pack, right? So, shouldn’t they have a lair? ❜
❛ Wait a sec, wait a sec– maybe they’re living there! ❜
❛ It’s not the first time you’ve gotten your hands dirty. ❜
❛ I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it’s over? ❜
❛ I just… I don’t understand the bank, though, okay? ❜
❛ I’m supposed to call you first when I find a dead body? ❜
❛ You called the police before you called me? ❜
❛ They’re too fast for us, for all of us. They’re too strong, too rabid. ❜
❛ And, just curious, is there a reason the gun is still pointed at me? ❜
❛ Well, there’s probably still some part of me that wants to shoot you… ❜
❛ Does anybody else want to rethink the plan where we just, uh, kill ‘em? ❜
❛ I just wanted to make sure you got in okay! ❜
❛ I know the inner workings of that force, alright? ❜
❛ You didn’t have to follow me home. ❜
❛ So, if these aren’t random killings, then what are they? ❜
❛ Come over to my place at nine. Plan on staying the night. I like to cuddle. ❜
❛ Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders? ❜
❛ It means my lack of sexual experience is now literally a threat to my life, okay? ❜
❛ You know who else is a virgin? Me. I’m a virgin, okay? ❜
❛ I need to have sex. Like, right now. Someone needs to have sex with me, like, today. ❜
❛ What do you want? You want to kill me? ❜
❛ We shouldn’t have come. I knew it. We shouldn’t have come. ❜
❛ Are you just following the bus, or are you planning on mounting it at some point? ❜
❛ How do you know it’s not from the archery team? ❜
❛ Cut off the head of the snake, and the body dies. ❜
❛ Just once, can someone try to come up with something that doesn’t involve killing everyone? ❜
❛ I’m telling you this because they scare the hell out of me. ❜
❛ Somebody’s been doing their summer reading! ❜
❛ Well, maybe we could do what normal people do, and knock on the door. ❜

A Dance...

[Context: We’re a party of 5, who’ve stumbled into an underground lair full of pretty nasty enemies. We’ve been playing for a while, and have finally managed to find somewhere quiet to pause to take stock of our situation. We’re stood near a door, deciding what to do next. One of our party is a human warrior, who is known for asking to do slightly wacky things in dangerous situations.]

Human Warrior: (tries to peek through a keyhole to see inside a room, and rolls a natural 1.) ‘Whoops!’

DM: ‘You lean on the door, and it swings open! You stumble into the room, stopping only when you hit a table, and you hear the door slam shut behind you, trapping you alone in the room with four bandits! They aren’t pleased to see an intruder, and draw some rather nasty looking weapons’.

Human Warrior, immediately after DM stops talking: 'Can I do a provocative dance on the table to distract them?’

DM, slightly incredulously : 'I mean… I guess? Roll me a 20 and you can do that.’

Human Warrior: (rolls his first 20 of the entire campaign)

DM: (pauses for a good ten seconds, then sighs loudly) You climb on the table, and begin to dance. The bandits, rather out of character (pointed look at the instigator of the whole thing) put away their weapons and watch you dance.’

Human Warrior : 'If I roll another 20, can they all pass out at the brilliance of my dance?’

DM: (stares, then says) 'Sure. Chances of that happening are slim’

Seconds later, the DM is sat with his head in his hand, four unconscious bandits, as our human warrior celebrated his second natural 20 in 2 rolls. Everyone else round the table is in hysterics. Our warrior now introduces himself to NPC’s as a 'Legendary Dancer’. Our DM has outlawed anything dance-related.

The Types and Why the Repair Man is Here

ISFP: They lost a game of monopoly they were really invested in and punched a wall in anger.
ISFJ: The book character they loved died and they threw their book out the window… then jumped out after it having regretted it immediately.
ISTP: Their friend had only wanted to roast marshmallows, but they got so entranced by the fire they couldn’t help but set the house ablaze.
ISTJ: They were trying to redecorate their house and knocked over a lamp, which in turn fell over and made a hole in the wall.
INFP: They had a mild existential crisis about whether or not they exist, then tried to walk through a wall to see if they were a ghost.
INFJ: They were trying to solve a crime that had happened across the street and went all-out with the reenactment.
INTP: They forgot they had food on the stove, went on tumblr, and the whole house caught on fire.
INTJ: There was a minor structural error in their underground office/lair and the whole thing collapsed.
ESFP: They have a crush on the repair man and decided the only way to get them to come over was to smash the windows.
ESFJ: Their dinner party got out of hand. Maybe letting ENTP cut the cake wasn’t a good idea after all…
ESTP: They got really drunk and thought it would be a good idea to dance on the table.
ESTJ: They discovered it was cheaper to knock down the wall themself and then call a repair man than hire a contractor.
ENFP: The woodland creature they snuck into the house clawed all of the walls and cabinets.
ENFJ: They had this whole party planned for their friend and long story short there was an incident with the rental tiger.
ENTP: They decided to test out online make-it-yourself weapons and it went terribly, terribly wrong.
ENTJ: The police found out about their ambitions to take over the world and confiscated their notes and trashed their apartment.


Zinn’s Secret Underground Lair / Laboratory - The Falls in Maguma Jungle, Guild Wars 1

Zinn was one of my all time favorite NPC’s in the original Guild Wars. His interactions, especially with G.O.X. always made me laugh. After completing the new Flashpoint achievement to find all of his recordings… I couldn’t resist popping back into the original game to pay him a visit. 

@demisexualhale sorry you had a rough time today. have this au that i saw you talking about after i creeped on your blog. it’s… uh. probably not what anyone involved thought it would be. but i hope you like it? 


sterek. 2k. spy au. warnings: i know nothing about spies, secret criminal organizations, or technology in general. just roll with it.

“I’ll pay you twenty bucks to hum the Mission Impossible theme while I do this,” Stiles muttered, fishing an exacto knife out of his tool belt. He fit it under the very edge of the ID scanner and, with a flick of his wrist, popped it off like a dream.

“You could pay me twenty thousand and I still wouldn’t do it.”

“Spoilsport.” Gently pulling all the wires out into the open was the easy part; it was identifying the right one to snip that was going to be the tricky part. Would it kill all organized crime syndicates to stick to one universal standard?

“Try the yellow wire. Third from the left.”

Try?” Stiles repeated under his breath. “We’ve been planning this job for weeks and you want me to go in with ‘try’?”

He could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the earbud. “Cut the wire, agent.”

Keep reading

Cosmic Child [pt 4] (Jason Todd X Reader)

A/N: I took some painkillers and a nap so I’m feeling a little better! I’d written ¾ of this before my surgery so I decided to finish and post it! I had too many good ideas running through my brain for this series so I really wanted to write them out regardless of my bleeding gums HAHA. So here it is!

Jason Todd woke up with you in his arms. You were clutching to him firmly, your face nuzzled into his chest. He hoped his pounding heart wouldn’t disturb you as you slept.

It’d only been three weeks since they found you in their front yard but there was an undeniable attraction Jason felt towards you regardless. You were so naive and innocent, so interested even in the most mundane aspects of human life; but you were also extremely intelligent, your knowledge of the galaxy was so great and the pace at which you picked up on human behaviour was quick.

Jason glanced at the clock and noticed it was still extremely early, he knew no one in the manor was awake yet. Deciding to get a few more hours of sleep, he held you closer to him and fell asleep promptly.

“Todd, Alfred would like to know if- what the-” Damian was about to knock on his adoptive brother’s door only to discover that his doorknob had been destroyed; as though it had been melted but since has cooled down. He frowned in disbelief before pushing the door open with surprising ease.

The youngest Wayne walked into the room casually before letting out a gasp at the sight before him. “Father!” He yelled, waking both you and Jason up, as he scrambled out of the room.

You’d woken up with a start before recalling the incident that happened hours ago. You found yourself engulfed in Jason’s arms, your cheek pressed against his chest. He was warm and comfortable; you had no desire to leave your little cocoon of happiness.

“Good morning,” Jason said, his voice raspy. “Thank you for… everything,” he continued, looking at you with tired eyes.

“You’re welcome,” you responded with a yawn.

A moment passed with neither of you moving away from each other; both Jason and you were unwilling to leave the comforting presence of the other. However, eventually, Alfred’d called everyone down for breakfast so you had to break away from him.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Jason said as he stood by his bedside and stretched, his shirt lifting up to reveal his bare stomach; a sight that made you look away and blush. “Dick, his friend and I are going out for dinner later, do you want to join us?”

You felt a rush of excitement, realising that you hadn’t stepped out of the manor ever since you’d arrived on Earth. You then nodded in response, a joyful expression on your face.

Unfortunately, your excitement as short-lived as Bruce was extremely against letting you leave before discovering the full extent of your abilities. After Damian’d informed him about the doorknob, he instantly contacted the League, updating them on your now much more dangerous status.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) but I can’t let you leave unsupervised until we discover the extremity of your abilities,” Bruce said during breakfast, feeling a tinge of guilt once he saw your crestfallen face. He knew it was unfair to keep you indoors for so long but he couldn’t risk you hurting yourself or others with powers you didn’t understand.

“But she won’t be unsupervised,” Dick spoke up from across the table, mouth full of cereal. “Jason and I will be with her the entire time.”

“That’s not very comforting, Dick.”

“C'mon Bruce,” Jason said, looking at your disappointed expression, “it’ll just be for a few hours. Look, we can even get her some new clothes since all she has now are from Babs and Steph.”

“… Fine, but only for a few hours. Tomorrow I’ll bring (Y/N) to the League Watchtower for some tests.”

After breakfast, everyone went ahead with their respective plans, leaving you alone with nothing to do.

You sighed in boredom as you sat on the couch in the empty living room. All the others were in the Batcave, discussing some recent crimes that’d happened in Gotham.

You’d known about their vigilante personas just a few days after arriving on Earth, they’d decided to spill the beans after you discovered the Batcave by accident. You had walked in on Dick and Tim changing out of their respective outfits. It was an embarrassing moment you’d never forget; since it was technically your first embarrassing moment.

Out of sheer curiosity, you decided to go to the Batcave, hoping that you could observe how the boys did their jobs. It was rather fascinating to you, this idea of secret identities and vigilantism.

As you entered the underground lair, you could see Dick sparring against something humanoid but not exactly human. You walked closer, joining the rest of the men by the side who were watching the fight. It was a robot that, from what you could tell, was totally destroying Dick.

“What is that?” You asked your adoptive human father, standing between him and Jason.

Without taking his eyes off of Dick and the robot, he replied, “it’s something Alfred and I created. We’ve implemented all the fighting styles we could come up with into the robot. It’s virtually impossible to defeat but it’s really good for practice- end match!” He yelled at the end as Dick fell to the ground, bruised up quite badly. The robot responded instantly and stopped moving.

As he left the arena of sorts (a large square of safety mats on the floor), Jason went in and took his place. Your heart started to race, but for what, you didn’t know. Was it excitement? Or fear?

Regardless of what you felt, you watched the fight anyways. He did rather well, a lot better than Dick actually, but the match had just begun and you spoke a little too soon.

A good seven minutes passed and you could see he was faltering, he was good but not good enough. He was valiant, though, just like Dick, and kept fighting.

“He seems to be doing a lot better than last time,” Bruce Wayne commented, side glancing at you, “I wonder why.”

Bruce then turned to Tim and whispered something to him, you could’ve heard it if you wanted to but you were too focused on watching Jason. You did notice, however, Tim walking over to you. He looked rather nervous but before you could do or say anything, he hugged you. He was a little taller than you, so your view of Jason was suddenly obstructed. However, you could hear him suddenly grunting and gasping a lot.

He was distracted; but why? You managed to catch a glimpse of him, he was on the ground, about to get punched in the face by the indestructible robot.

Running purely on instinct, within a split second, you’d managed to escape from Tim’s grasp and shielded Jason with yourself.

You could feel time slow down as you held your hand up and starlight emitted from your fingers. This time it was much brighter and felt much more deadly. The metal hand collided with yours and it disintegrated into dust instantly. The dust looked familiar to you; it was the remnant of stars after they died- stardust.

Everyone in the room froze.

Jason was still behind you, on the ground, eyes widened at your sudden appearance and what you’d done. You were breathing heavily, hand still glowing with pure deadly energy. Dick, Tim and Damian’s expressions all looked the same; shocked and slightly fearful. Bruce Wayne simply smirked.

“Let’s end today’s training,” Bruce finally spoke, ending the silence. He gestured at Dick, Tim and Damian to go back up to the manor before he, himself, walked towards you and Jason. He kneeled down, taking a bit of the dust and rubbing it with his fingers. “This isn’t metal, not anymore,” he looked at you, “what is it?” He didn’t look angry, as you’d expected, but rather very intrigued and… impressed?

“It’s stardust,” you replied, throat suddenly very dry, “it’s what happens to a star after it dies.”

He nodded before standing back up and offering a hand to you, you shakily accepted his assistance as he helped you up. Jason got up, as well, an indescribable look on his face.

“I’ll talk to you about some stuff later,” Bruce said to his second oldest son, “but first I’ll need to tell Alfred his robot just lost a hand,” he chuckled. “No hard feelings, (Y/N),” he patted your shoulder. Then he left, leaving you and Jason alone.

Jason coughed to clear his throat, “so,” he said as you turned to face him, “you saved me, again.” He referred to the night before. He looked happy, staring at his feet, but also a bit… awkward.

You stepped closer to him before hugging his torso, you were still shaking with shock and nervousness. You were dangerous; you scared yourself. He wrapped a hand around you, you shuffled a bit closer, brushing against his upper thigh, when he scrambled backwards.

“Are- are you alright?” You asked, fear rushed through your veins, did you hurt him? Was he scared of you? You could feel a moistness in your eyes; your heart constricted painfully. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, no!” He replied, his face was now contorted with worry, “you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, I just-” he struggled to choose the words he wanted to say. He sighed before approaching you, “I’ll just be brutally honest… I was turned on by what you did and now I have a problem I need to fix with an eternal cold shower.”

fic; if scully were that stoned

standalone; pg-13; msr & Gunmen; warnings for drug use; Scully gets high with the Gunmen. The Fed bursts in.

For @sunflowerseedsandscience, who said the words, and I quote: “@wtfmulder you HAVE to write this. Get high first if it’ll inspire you, but we NEED this.” So I did.


The moment the universe came into existence it knew it was destined for greater things. From a speck, a dot, the end of the first sentence ever truly spoken, it grew. It fed on itself, as it continues to do to this day: fattening up on particles, feasting on the waste and then expanding ever more… yes. It feasted…

Oh, hell! I’m starving. Where is Byers with that pizza, and how long have I been sitting here? Alone, no less, gaping like an idiot on the love seat. Why would they leave me here… oh. That certainly explains it. It appears that the cushions are stuffed with clouds and I am no longer afraid heights. I’m not sure I could be convinced to ever leave. I’ll become one with the Gunmen. We were all once so hairy and stooped, millions of years after emerging from the water. Most of us have evolved since then.

I’m being harsh. But Langley cheats at Monkey Ball, and Frohike is a narc. Byers orders his pizza without cheese. Can you blame me?

The grinding of my stomach curbs my pipe dreams of squatting in an underground lair. There’s food in here, somewhere, the godawful neon dairy goop they use on every sandwich –

Fuck me running that’s Mulder. Oh, Mulder. Oh, no.


“Mulder,” I smile. Why on earth am I smiling, and why can’t I stop? Without any approval on my part I erupt into giggles so high pitched and goofy I momentarily separate from my body to watch it all from the margins. Instead of feeling embarrassed I fixate on his forearms.

“Scully,” he says, sitting down, and oh it’s so fond I can feel myself melting. We both smile so little, I suddenly realize. I rarely ever see that face. I think of all the things we have to smile about. We most definitely have all of our limbs. I reach for one of his, leaning into warm, clean-scented space.

“You’re here to arrest me,” I say quite seriously, wiggling to sit up straight.

“We are on the clock,” he nods. “It’s my duty as a federal agent.” He reaches his hand up to touch my head, still smiling.

“What are you doing?” I ask, closing my eyes. It feels a bit like a massage, but as soon as I press into his fingers he pulls them back.

“Checking for brain injuries,” he replies, moving his knees away from mine. “But it appears that I’m the one who’s in a coma. And clearly coding.” And then I see it in his eyes, a hardening that chills my bones. He pats my thigh and stands up.

“We tried to tell him you weren’t here,” pouts Byers, who is already too morose when stoned. “But he saw the footage.”

“You’re taping me?” I gasp. They couldn’t be. What would they even – I don’t want to know, so never mind that.

“He’s talking about the outside footage, you standing at the door,” Frohike says gruffly, standing in the corner with his arms crossed. Frohike, who says he hates the smell but likes me, who makes everyone mulligatawny when delivery cuts off. Langley picks at something on his t-shirt. Bickering commences.

I ignore the conversation while I study Mulder’s expressions, of the few he actually has… I don’t think I ever quite know what Mulder’s thinking anymore. I’ve got no evidence and he’d deny it, if asked. But I think he looks hurt. He looks like a puppy that’s been kicked and dressed up in a leather jacket. An ember in me sparks up like the cherry and I consider dismissing him, like he dismissed me. I consider ditching him.

But the spark dies, maybe numbed by chronic good vibes. I follow him out of the lair. As we expand and collide and move on into infinity, we grow apart…

We sit in his car for some time, his head on the window, one hand immobile on the steering wheel. Mulder has – he has such nice hands. Groomed but strong and meticulous. When he talks with them they go wild. His hands suit him very well.

It only takes a few minutes. That’s a record for us. The tension leaves his body and another smile changes his face, this one smaller than before but more real.

“Dana Scully,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “You are weeeeell and truly stoned.”

“Just a little,” I assert. But I can’t stop from laughing, and he teases me all the way back to Georgetown. Your eyes are as red as your hair. You were holding a can of Cheez Wiz, Scully. You smell like sophomore year at college. You smell like most of my sources. Halfway through the trip, I turn to him gravely.

“I think this is the perfect time to discuss something I’ve been meaning to bring up for awhile,” I say, taking wicked pleasure in the way he just barely slumps in his seat, lasers of discomfort shooting off at all angles.

“I uh, I don’t think this is a good… I mean… you’re not…”

“It’s time to tell you what I truly believe about the existence of extraterrestrials,” I whisper loudly.

He barks out a piercing laugh and grabs my hand over the console, twining our fingers together the whole ride back. Always expanding, always growing apart, but how we fill that infinite space…

Have a happy humpday! NSFW Raph smut


The quiet was deep and welcome, the lack of noise a cherished balm on her overworked senses. The constant stimulate of the city was something she’d grown used to long ago, but these rare moments when she slipped underground to find the lair unoccupied – save Splinter – were treasured. Not that she minded the company… but it was nice to enjoy the silence from time to time, and there was next to none of that when the boys were home.

She glanced briefly at her phone, noting the time before setting the device aside again, her attention returning to the book in her hand. They would likely be returning soon.

Then, as though conjured by her thoughts, the distinct sounds of their voices carried through the tunnels, shattering the solitude. She frowned. Judging by the volume and tone of one voice in particular, something had happened.

Uncrossing her ankles, she swung her legs down from the arm of the couch, turning and pushing herself into an upright position as she marked her page. Placing the novel aside, she glanced at the entrance and awaited their arrival… and the imminent storm she could hear approaching.

His anger was palpable, rolling off of him in waves as stalked into the lair, the others giving him a wide berth. His chest was heaving, muscles tense, eyes murderous as he glowered at his older brother. Time seemed to crawl to a stop as the two stared at one another, each daring the other to say something, do something. Finally, after what seemed a tense eternity, Raphael curled his upper lip in disdain and turned away, moving swiftly toward his room. The door, a thick sheet of metal he’d rigged up with some salvaged hardware, nearly rattled off its hinges when he pulled it shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous space like thunder. She wouldn’t have been surprised if someone topside had heard it.

Calmly, soundlessly, she stood and followed after him, slipping into his room and settling herself on his bed without a word. He was pacing, he always did when he was upset, and she thought to herself – not for the first time – that he was incredibly enticing when he was mad. His eyes practically glowing, wide jaw set and tense, sinew and muscle rippling beneath his scaled skin like waves. But she didn’t say it. She never said anything in situations like these.

No… these situations called for patience. He would reveal to her what he needed in due time.

Sometimes he needed to vent, to voice the vicious thoughts that raced through his mind. And she would listen, mute and unjudging, as he expelled his frustrations verbally. Other times he wouldn’t say a thing. He would simply continue to pace, her presence alone seeming to calm him, until eventually he would come to sit by her, sighing deeply and soaking in her nearness. And sometimes, when he was truly riled, he needed another kind of outlet. Somewhere to direct all of the emotions churning inside him like a hurricane.

It seemed like this time it would be the latter.

He stopped quite suddenly, turning to pin her with his stare, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing as though back-lit by the fires of hell. The look he gave her was full of madness and greed, and she understood, pushing herself further onto the bed and leaning back as he approached. The large male prowled over her like some rabid demon, taking in a lungful of her sweet scent. Acceptance, anticipation, surrender. Desire pooled low in his gut, making him growl deeply, and he gripped the front of her shirt.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he stared into her eyes, watching her pupils shrink and dilate.

“Yes,” she whispered, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the chains that kept his fury in check.

The fabric gave way easily in his strong hands, falling to ragged pieces around her. She held tightly to the sheets as he divested her of the remainder of her clothing, his motions violent and hurried. When she was bare before him he pulled back, rising up onto his knees to stare down at her pale flesh. Her breasts trembled with every shuddering breath she took, taut stomach clenching, long legs splayed delightfully for his pleasure. She looked divine, like some kind of sacrificial maiden laid out for a hungry beast. When the smell of her arousal filled his head, he decided he felt every bit the part of the ravenous creature.

He bent, taking one final draught of that heavenly aroma before pressing his mouth against her glistening center, drinking deeply of her excitement.

She arched against him, withholding the sharp cry that threatened to erupt from her lips. He was not quiet in his enjoyment of her, sampling her slick flesh with fervor. His tongue was insistent, teasing her clit until she shook before slinking lower to collect the fruits of his labour. Again and again… bringing her to the brink before denying her, until she could hardly breathe, the pleasure so immense it was choking. When he finally ventured deeper, spearing into her with that wide, talented tongue of his, she came, unable to stop the shriek of delight that clawed its way up her throat. He didn’t pause as she thrashed against him, holding her in place with a steely arm across her hips. He brought her to second climax soon after, and a third. When he finally pulled back she was reeling, twitching as she descended from her mind-numbing high.

Her wetness was everywhere; her thighs, the sheets, his lips. Good. She was ready. He glanced up the length of her beautiful body again, divesting himself of his gear and armor. When he lowered himself over her again, carefully keeping the bulk of his mass from her as he settled between her legs, he purred into her ear, “You look like a fuckin’ angel.”

She laughed a little at that. She was no angel. A fallen angel, perhaps… she was hardly pure. But for him… for him she could be one. She would be a light in his darkness, the guiding hand that led him to absolution. She didn’t know if she would be getting any rest tonight, or even tomorrow… it would depend on the level of his anger, but she would endure. That was what he needed, and that was what she would provide.

His thrust was sudden and not at all gentle, and she thanked whatever god was listening that he’d prepared her so adequately. The feeling of him inside her was one she didn’t think she’d ever grow accustomed to. It was overwhelming, a sensation that was just as much pain as it was pleasure, and the masochist in her revelled in it. A part of her needed this as much as he did, this brutal release, succumbing to the darkest of passions. He moved her with his hunger well past the morning hours, time slipping into nothingness as he sought and found his peace within her, announcing his completion with a deafening roar.

She lifted a hand to trace his jaw, their tired eyes meeting, and she gifted him with a breathless smile.

He watched her for a handful of seconds, seeming to drink in the expression with a sort of wonderment before slanting his mouth over hers in a kiss that was both deep and slow, his wordless proclamation of gratitude. Thank you for enduring. Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying with me. A hundred ‘thank yous’ passed between their lips, unspoken but heard.

She thanked him in her own way, too, small kisses littered across his face and neck, down his arms and chest. Thank you for your passion. Thank you for coming to me in your time of need. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me help you. She didn’t think he quite realized what she was doing yet… but she imagined that one day he would.

**Apologies for the lack of regular smut, as of late… hope this makes up for it**

Little ones

(posted this to the wrong blog at first sorry!)


He knew he couldn’t give her everything she wanted, He knew that one day she’d realize that the world outside the sewers had more to offer. Though watching her dart across the busy streets and duck in and out of little shops picking up things here and there made him a little curious. Mikey followed you with each step you made, curious as to where you might have been going as today was normally a day you went volunteering. The running around finally stopped when you walked up the stairs of the red bricked town home, the vines crawling up the side and children’s toys scattered in the tiny front yard.

The door burst open to a group of small children that jumped and grabbed at your legs, your sweet laughter rang out like bells across the quiet street. He watched from a building across the street as he could see you handing out the items you bought to each child, watching you practically glow. It seemed like minutes when in reality it was hours of watching you smile and be happy for once. Not the he didn’t think you were unhappy but Mikey knew that you had been hiding something from him all this time. Deciding to head back to the lair before he somehow got spotted he gave you one last look paired with a cheeky grin as he headed back to the underground.

    The Lair was quiet when you walked in, Mikey was playing a video and Donnie was in his lab but the other two were nowhere to be seen. Mikey noticed you out of the corner of his eye and paused his game to engulf you in the biggest bear hug he could. You smiled up at him all knowingly you were dating a ninja and you were trained by his master, you noticed Mikey had been following you all day and you even tried to shake him off! Though you knew he wouldn’t have lost your trail. You knew what was coming though as he sat you down and slowly took your hand, it was quite unlike Mikey to be not bubbly but you knew there was times when even the happiest had to falter.

“Who were those kids? Why were you there babe?”
“My cousin runs a daycare, I adore helping her out someday. The kids are just the sweetest! They love to hear my ninja stories, don’t worry I always leave out the part where you guys are turtles.”
“They made you so happy…”
“What can I say, I love kids?”
“Angel cakes I can’t give you what you want…”

He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet around trying to hold back a sniffle as he came to terms with what you could possibly say,

“Mikey…I know what I need from you. I need you and that’s all that matters! I love kids but maybe it doesn’t mean that I want my own right away. Helping out with the daycare is enough for me and I’ll never get tired of it. In the same way I won’t ever get tired of you, I know who I’m in love with and I know what comes with that. I’m prepared to love you with all my heart, relationships make compromise don’t they?”

There were no more words exchanged as he tackled you into his arms and tossed you on the couch, peppering your skin with little kisses causing you to shriek with laughter. Both of you knew that together you’d be better, after all you had a long way to go!

Originally posted by alltheturtlegifs


Several of Christine Daaé’s costumes are transformational ones. 

Meaning, the same top can be used with different other pieces, so the costume can be transformed with minimal offstage costume changes. 

One example: Christine starts out in the Hannibal bodice, in the role of a dancing slavegirl. By adding the grand gala skirt she instantly becomes Queen Elissa. By removing the skirt and adding the dressing gown she’s Christine in the process of changing, whisked away to the Phantom’s underground lair. Same basic bodice, three different costumes. 

Keep reading

Cosmic Child [pt 6] (Jason Todd X Reader)

You didn’t know how long you’d spent in space, just flying aimlessly. The galaxy that was once your wonderful home felt dull in comparison to what you had on Earth. You desperately wanted to go back but you knew you wouldn’t be able to face Jason.

As you flew around, you could see your tears forming a trail behind you. It was such a strange thing to cry, you knew humans did it when they were either too sad or too happy. You wished your tears were those of joy and not the complete opposite.

After a short while more, you stopped flying, and chose to simply float in place, a distance away from Earth. From the direction of the sun, you could tell it was about morning in Gotham. You wondered if they were looking for you; if they care; if Jason’d remembered who you were.

You hated the painful sensation in your chest every time you thought of Jason. Previously he made you feel giddy and happy but now it was as though he’d betrayed you. You wondered if perhaps he didn’t want you anymore because you weren’t beautiful enough. Or maybe he never wanted you in the first place.

Deciding that you wanted to fly a little more, you took off, eventually finding yourself in front of a huge structure - a headquarters of some sort. Curiosity got the better of you as you found your way in.

Bruce Wayne’d returned from working late to his two eldest sons sitting in the living room silently. Dick was glaring at Jason, his arms crossed, posture stiff; and Jason had his head in his hands as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Boys, where’s (Y/N)?” Bruce asked as he approached them, he looked around, perhaps you were in bed?

“She ran away.” Dick stately simply, his voice was venomous, it was dripping with anger.

“What?” Bruce responded in disbelief. “Why? Where is she now?”

“Off the radar,” Dick replied, “I tried tracking for her using the Batcave’s computers, but I can’t seem to find her. It’s like she disappeared from Earth.” As he spoke, he continued to glare at his younger brother, as though expecting him to say something, as well.


“I fucked up.” Jason leaned back into the couch, staring up at the high ceiling, his hands were shaking. “I drove her away, Bruce.” Jason proceeded to explain himself, as he did previously to Dick on their way home from dinner. As much as his adoptive father wanted to be pissed at him, he could empathise.

“Well,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “we can only hope that she returns home. If she really isn’t on Earth, we can’t do much to find her as of now… you boys should go to bed.”

Jason’d fallen asleep quite easily but staying asleep was rather difficult.

As he dozed off, he began to have his usual nightmare of the Joker but this time it was a bit different. He watched as the mad clown beat his young self up with a crowbar but the more he swung the crowbar down, the more his younger self began to change. Eventually, Jason found himself watching you take his place.

“(Y/N)?” Jason said in disbelief as he tried to reach you, to shield you from the clown prince’s torture but his legs couldn’t move. He could only watch helplessly as you were slowly getting killed by the madman.

Jason woke up in cold sweat, his breathing was heavy and uneven, his hands shook as he ran his fingers through his soaking hair. He sat in the darkness of his room, his eyes unknowingly stared at his door; he hoped to see you rush into his room like the night before, to hug him tightly and end his nightmarish suffering. However, you never did.

Superman and Wonder Woman were, needless to say, extremely surprised by your sudden presence in the Justice League Watchtower. They’d went running towards the apparently threat after the building’s intruder alert went off, only to find the girl that Bruce Wayne’d recently adopted just standing in place.

Using the records of you that Bruce’d sent them, they confirmed your identity and welcomed you with open arms. They asked you why you came alone.

“I had no intention of coming here,” you said sheepishly, “I was flying around when I spotted this place so I decided to come in.”

“Does Bruce know that you’re here?” Superman asked, he wasn’t intimidating as you were told, he was rather friendly, actually. You shook your head. “In that case, we’ll have to inform him about your arrival,” he looked over at Wonder Woman.

“Stay here, (Y/N),” the Amazon Princess laid a hand on your shoulder, “we’ll be right back.”

As you sat in the huge facility all on your own, you wondered if you were being a nuisance to them. If they were here, it would mean they had something important to do but now with your presence they most probably would have to hold off whatever they were doing. You felt your heart drop and a wave of strong emotions wash over you once more. You wondered if you were ever going to get used to feeling sad.

After tossing and turning for another hour, Jason decided to head to the Batcave. The indestructible robot had been repaired and upgraded, maybe getting plummeted by the thing would make Jason feel a little better.

As he shuffled into the underground lair, he could hear Bruce talking to someone. Jason stopped walking and listened carefully.

“What’d you mean she’s in the Watchtower?” Bruce asked in utter disbelief. “How’d she even get there?”

“She simply wandered in out of curiosity,” Jason heard the voice of Wonder Woman. His throat tightened as he came to the realisation of what - or who - they were talking about. “Anyways, Clark and I noticed she looks rather sad, I suggest you come over to bring her home.”

“I don’t know if she’ll want to return, after what happened between her and…” Bruce sighed, “I’ll try to convince her to come back. Give me a few minutes.” He cut the connection off.

Jason was frozen stiff, his heart was pounding wildly. He didn’t know what to do, should he just wait for Bruce to bring you back? Or should he-

“Jason. I know you’re here,” Bruce said as he prepared the Zeta Beam to the Justice League Watchtower in space. Jason wordlessly walked out from his hiding spot. Bruce looked at him expectedly, “are you coming or what?”

A while had passed and all you’d done was wait patiently for Superman and Wonder Woman to return. Though you were silent, your mind was running wild. You realised that the more you were alone with your thoughts, the harder it got to handle them. You kept recalling the dinner with Jason, how beautiful the waitress looked, the way Kori and Dick looked at one another; the way Jason avoided looking at you the whole night. Self-consciousness and sadness began weighing on you once more, tiring you immensely. You knew some humans had it worse than you but you applauded them for being able to stay so strong; at least on the outside. You believed that you weren’t strong, neither were you beautiful; you wondered if you would be able to survive any long with human kind if you were to stay this way forever.

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. Many footsteps.

“(Y/N),” the Princess of Themyscira said from behind you, “Bruce is here to bring you home.” You turned around but felt your entire body froze when you saw who else was there. Jason.

“I-” you opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, you wanted to go home so badly but seeing Jason made you change your mind. Was it normal to be repelled by someone this way?

Jason took a step towards you but Bruce held out an arm to stop him. “(Y/N),” your adoptive father said, “Jason didn’t do what it seemed like he did. Let him talk to you once we’re home, alright?”

You nodded stiffly but stood your ground. Bruce held out a hand, offering it to you, “let’s go home, (Y/N).”

Before you could even take a single step towards him, the entire facility began to flash red. “Intruder alert. Intruder alert.” A mechanical voice repeated before a bright light blinded all of you for a split second.

A moment later, the alerts were turned off and the light faded away to reveal a glowing being.

“My child,” the Titaness Asteria said, holding her arms out in front of her, “I’m here to bring you home.”

“How… how did you find me?” Your voice was soft and breathless; you had a sudden desire to collapse into her arms.

“I was hopeless at first,” she replied, her voice was loud and confident, “but then I felt a strange presence flying in space and alas I’ve found you. Come, my little one, let’s return home.

You found yourself losing control of your own movements as you took slow steps towards her, one of your hands reaching out, waiting to grab hers. You knew you didn’t want to do with her, you wanted to stay on Earth with your human family - your real family.

Bruce, Superman and Wonder Woman could only watch as you seemingly made your choice. They wanted to call out to you, plead for you to stay but they found themselves frozen under the domineering eyes of the Titaness. They stood no chance against her, simply her presence was terrifying enough to make them stay put.

Jason, though he as intimidated as the rest, knew he couldn’t let you go. Letting you leave would mean he could never apologise for what he’d done; it meant he would never see you again. He’d only known you for such a short period of time but, God, his heart ached at the thought of not being able to spend more time with you.

Your fingers were so close to brushing against Asteria’s, but before you could take your final step towards her, a large hand grabbed your other arm. The sudden warmth that rushed through your body made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. You turned around, your eyes met Jason’s; he silently pleaded for you to stay.

“My child,” Asteria’s voice was now demanding and fierce, “don’t let the human man fool you. You will not be happy with your human ‘family’ on Earth. Your real family is with the Gods.”

“I…” you could feel the Titaness’ presence pulling you towards her but for some reason you could resist it unlike before. You continued to stare at Jason, his hand still gripping onto your arm like his life depended on it.

“Please…” he pleaded softly, “stay.” You could feel your heart flutter and your eyes begin to burn with tears. Even though part of you still believed that he wanted nothing to do with you, you could sense the sincerity and desperation in his voice; and for now, that was enough.

Jason could see you slowly turning to walk towards him, he glanced at the Titaness behind you and noticed that she was about to lean forwards as a last resort to take you back. Jason clenched his jaws as he saw red and instinctively pulled you towards him, letting you fall into his arms. He held you tightly and glared at the Titaness who was now seething at him.

Asteria realised finally that you’d succumbed to mankind and knew that you’d made up your mind. “I shall respect your wishes, my child, though I’m sure the gods won’t be happy with this,” she spoke as you faced away from her in Jason’s embrace. When he’d pulled you towards him, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him like it was the most natural thing you could do. “Well, perhaps Aphrodite will be pleased,” Asteria shot another disdainful glare at Jason before she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Thank you…” Jason choked, his voice was strained, “thank you for staying.”

Analyzing Ratigan

A few months ago I wrote a post briefly analyzing Jafar from Aladdin. Now I want to talk about another Disney villain: Ratigan from The Great Mouse Detective (or Basil the Great Mouse Detective, depending on your region).

Just as Basil is based on Sherlock Holmes, his arch-nemesis Professor Ratigan is based on Holmes’s arch-nemesis Professor Moriarty. Both Moriarty and Ratigan are described as “the Napoleon of crime” by their respective rival detectives, and like his human counterpart, Ratigan is supposed to have his fingers in various underworld pies. As Basil says more than once during the film: “There’s no fiendish scheme he wouldn’t concoct—no depravity he wouldn’t commit.” Indeed, according to the lyrics in his introductory song, Ratigan’s criminal résumé includes drowning widows and orphans, apparently for sport.

I must say that I find Ratigan a more interesting character than Moriarty, who was essentially a scowling shadow invented by Doyle to throw Holmes down a waterfall. Ratigan is no scowling shadow. He is bursting with personality and neuroses, and besides being a genius he is also a showman.

Ratigan was animated by Glen Keane and voiced by Vincent Price. He towers over most other characters in the film because, whereas they are mainly mice, he is an enormous sewer rat. Although he is dressed in a three-piece suit complete with a cape and gloves, the fabric bulges as though its seams would rip apart from his massive body underneath. Every scene that he is in, he dominates, and not just physically. He has a craving for recognition and intimidates his minions into treating him as though he were royalty.

He has built his lair, appropriately, underground inside a wine cellar, in an empty cask, and this cask he has transformed into a palace. It has tiled floors, red carpets, a fountain flowing with pink champagne, and even a throne. The Crown Jewels—the actual Crown Jewels—are piled against one wall, plunder from the human world above. Perhaps these were stolen during the “Tower Bridge Job,” a previous caper that Ratigan mentions; in reality the jewels are housed in the Tower of London, close to the Tower Bridge, and have been for centuries.

Inside this lair, Ratigan is king. It is an illusion that he has carefully and consciously built for himself. One step outside and he is back in the grimy cellar, but inside he can wear a crown and robes and his minions, under threat of death, will rush to light his cigarettes and literally sing his praises.

The Great Mouse Detective is a strange Disney film in that it only has three musical numbers, and two are sung by the villain. Ratigan claims the spotlight even here, actually recording one song on a phonograph to play during Basil’s intended execution. This is diegetic music—it’s being performed “for real” inside the story—illustrating just how highly Ratigan values theatrics.

“Besides being a great villain, he is playing a great villain,” Vincent Price once said in an interview about the character. That hits the nail on the head.

Almost everything that Ratigan does is a performance. The interesting thing is that he doesn’t want the performance to end. He wants it to replace the world around him, and masking one reality with another is a theme that runs through the film.

When Basil first appears, he is dressed in red robes and a mask with a Fu Manchu moustache—a nod to similar disguises that Sherlock Holmes would wear to infiltrate places like opium dens. But then Basil removes the mask and he is Basil again. Later on, he and Dawson (the film’s Watson equivalent) wear more disguises to try blending in with sailors at a “seedy pub.” This time it is Ratigan who tears Basil’s false moustache away with the sarcastic remark, “Really, one would hardly recognize you.”

Ratigan wears a similar disguise, although he would never admit it. All his gestures are affected. Despite his hulking frame, he walks with tiny, mincing steps, sometimes even on tiptoe, with his clawed feet crammed into too-small shoes. He extends his pinky—a classically snobbish mannerism. And when he disarranges his hair during an outburst, he is quick to comb it back into an orderly shape with his fingers. Under no circumstance does he wish to appear as anything less than a perfect gentleman. But this isn’t his true nature: it is a mask hiding the rat underneath.

Ratigan’s species is codified in the film to represent his brutal, animalistic personality, in contrast to the mice. No matter how he might dress, no matter how charming he might attempt to be, he cannot escape being a rat. Everyone can see through his disguise as easily as they could see through Basil’s sailor costume. 

Using different animal species to represent different personality types is something that’s been done in many stories. Sometimes the conceit works. Sometimes it has unsavory implications, suggesting that one “species” can never accomplish what another “species” might. And sometimes, as in the famous comic Maus, the conceit breaks under its own weight, and we see how ridiculous it is to lump all Jewish people together as mice, all Germans as cats, all Poles as pigs, etc.

Ratigan’s characterization as a rat is what motivates his villainy. He will commit any crime to scramble into a higher social standing. He will kill his own subordinates if they refer to him as anything except a mouse. But he cannot change his species. This almost seems like essentialism until you realize that the mice in the film do not oppose rats with an easy one-to-one correspondence. Some mice are noble like Basil and Dawson, but others are criminals like Ratigan. Some, like the patrons in the pub, are gamblers and drunks with violent tempers. The film also features two lizards: one is Ratigan’s henchman, and the other is an innocent performer in a variety act who gets pelted with rotten fruit by a boorish audience.

In the end, the miniature animal-world in The Great Mouse Detective is just like the world in Maus, where characters cannot be pegged as good or bad based on their species. And yet Ratigan, like some people in the real world, does have essentialism ingrained into his mindset—ironically about his own species. The problem isn’t that others can’t accept him as a rat. After all, he has loyal followers, and even Basil acknowledges him as a genius. Rather, the problem is that he cannot accept himself as a rat.

This identity crisis is what fuels his penchant for theatrics. His grand scheme, which he spends the movie plotting to accomplish, is to replace the mouse queen with a mechanical duplicate. He would then control this duplicate and rule the realm by proxy. It is another disguise—another identity swapped, in this case the queen’s identity—and once again, nobody is meant to recognize it as a disguise. It is supposed to be the truth.

Of course the scheme fails. Basil sabotages the duplicate, whose robotics come to pieces before a very public audience at Buckingham Palace. And once again everyone sees through Ratigan’s false appearance.

The film’s climax is set inside Big Ben. I half suspect that the sequence was inspired by The Castle of Cagliostro, which also has its climax set inside a clock tower where the characters scramble amongst moving gears. Something that many people don’t realize is that the Big Ben sequence is an early example of computer animation. Computers were used to model the clock’s interior three-dimensionally, allowing the camera to move more freely through such a complex environment, and a mechanical arm actually sketched the sequence frame by frame with a pencil onto paper. As though it were being printed. Then the animators drew the characters superimposed over the computer-illustrated backgrounds.

I love this sequence. It’s one of my favorites in any movie. It has almost no dialogue—just low music building slowly to a crescendo as the gigantic gears click and echo inside the tower.

At this point, Ratigan has lost everything. His plot has been exposed, his henchmen have been killed or captured, he has been outwitted, and his cape is lodged in the clock gears as he watches Basil escape higher into the tower. His only way to free himself and pursue his nemesis is to shred his clothing apart, destroying his civilized persona, and climb the clock on all fours.

The moment when he finally snaps is perfect. Everything around him is clockwork, smoothly and rationally operating, and illustrated via the computer animation with a draftsman’s precision; but then the camera cuts, and cuts again, closer and closer to his enraged face, until you can actually see the angry pen strokes scratched into the paper. There’s no more extended pinky, no more mincing gait, as he lunges forward with a physical looseness and power he’s never displayed, fangs bared, claws out.

The confrontation atop Big Ben is meant to mirror Holmes’s confrontation with Moriarty over the Reichenbach Falls. Once again, I have to give the point to Ratigan. He really is a great villain, and it’s a shame that The Great Mouse Detective isn’t more widely known.

the infinite space-time curve of pennywise the dancing clown

obviously @pyrrhiccomedy and I don’t have a perfect relationship, but I do want to mention that the actual biggest argument we’ve had in the past six months was over how Pennywise eliminates the waste of the children he consumes. 

it got, as our more heated discussions often do, a little bit away from us.

she: look, i’m not saying he pulls down his clown bloomers and takes a shit in his underground lair–

me: he doesn’t eat the kids though, he eats their fear!

she: he literally ate a kid in the first scene of the movie, emily

me: yeah but he sucks them into his deadlights, he just wants their fucking–essence, or whatever! he only scares them so they taste better–

she: okay so you admit they taste better when they’re afraid, that means that something is actually being eaten, there’s actual flesh to taste–

me: fuck


me: no listen, listen, okay maybe, but the deadlights are like–it’s like a black hole, what would actually happen to the body of a preteen if it got sucked into a black hole??

she: it’s–

me: you’re the science one, you know kids can’t live in a black hole!!!

she: that doesn’t–oh my god that doesn’t make any sense, black holes don’t work like that, none of that works like that!


she: babe, are you suggesting that Pennywise is a singularity?


anonymous asked:

Here's how you win his heart: go to his dressing room after his big night through secret passage ways in the theater and appear in his mirror. sing to him and bring him through the mirror, then guide him through the catacombs of the theater until you reach your underground lair across the lake. romance him through the music of the night

Michael: One problem, I don’t think we have any catacombs.