" ― any philosophy, you'll corrupt. you'll stitch together any lie and tale, so long as it means you can kill in the name of something bigger than yourself. from what i've heard... you don't want a father. you want a GOD. "

[ mostly headcanon based portrayal of BARTON MATHIS, or THE DOLLMAKER from dc comics' new 52 run. private and semi-literate, as well as literate. written by autumn! the mun is 24, uses she/her pronouns and this account is 18+. mature themes such as serial killings, medical experimentation and malpractice, heavy violence, etc. will be featured on this account so please keep that in mind before deciding to interact. ]

a study in the themes of manipulation, loneliness as a destructive force, the dangers of ideology and the problem with establishing something as true, revenge, fatherhood, and the complexity of human relationships.

| CARRD | PROMPTS. | HEADCANONS. | CHARACTER STUDIES. |

its a scary thing to be under the impression that you were just going to have a nice date with a nice man one day, only for your world to be flipped upside down, and not even being able to do anything about it — but barton liked feeling like a god, and having control over whether someone lived or died, so here the man was: operating in the most well-known 'hideout' of his on a man he'd just met that night. or rather, someone he pretended to have only met then, because the dollmaker had been stalking him for a while in reality. it was usually transients, or people who were vacationing or visiting gotham for one reason or another, that barton targeted because they wouldn't be missed immediately; and he knew the family of the people would usually be at a huge disadvantage to try to do anything about their disappearance once it was noticed. if it was, that is.

a lot of their families were halfway across the world, and maksim's family was no exception, as he was all the way from russia visiting gotham for work (supposedly). after weeks of following the man around after finding out about him, the dollmaker had put on his best performance of 'mustering up' the courage to ask the other man out and for a while there, maksim was having a lot of fun just talking as well as dining out with barton. but it was whenever barton began to walk him over to where his motorcycle was after inviting maksim to do something else with him because he quote unquote 'didn't want the night to end' that disaster struck. suddenly, the russian man was being injected with something in the side of his neck, and he fell unconscious within just a few minutes of barton escorting him to his motorcycle to hold onto him with his arms wrapped around his middle.

now, the man was reduced to just a beeping on a monitor for the dollmaker as he kept maksim asleep throughout him taking out one kidney, then two to put on ice. it was whenever barton began reaching into his body for his liver that he turned off the sound for the monitor because he knew that maksim would be crashing likely within moments just from the shock of not having either kidney subsequently. and this was pure, unbridled evil. the dollmaker didn't know exactly when dr. rosen joined him in that hideout because truthfully, she had seemed to have stepped out of a closet somewhere or something judging by how she entered the operating room through the side. but what barton cared about most was making sure that she wasn't there to try to stop him, though maksim was already frankly a lost cause to him, as he placed a spare surgical drape over the man's face before crossing over to stand in front of the body.

being behind maksim did seem to be a bad idea as he rested a hand on the surgical table, the other grasping a scalpel hidden up and under his sleeve partially whilst he examined dr. rosen. miriel. ❝ you know, you're a long ways away from actually being in proper gotham, dr. rosen. were you waiting on me to come back here like a snake lies in wait for their next prey? or, did you come here for some other reason? i've had people that were more or less morally questionable come by to visit because they wanted an organ for themselves or someone they loved before out of desperation. and i've also had people come to me in exchange for information they might not be able to get from anyone else, though i'm no information broker and i would most certainly prefer medical supplies as payment for that kind of deal. ❞ the dollmaker tilted his head at miriel, looking at the monitor showcasing maksim's vitals only to see that he had indeed flatlined.

hello, anon — thanks for the suggestion, as i know that you were trying to be genuinely helpful here, but admittedly... no fast food places near me are hiring because trust me, if they were, then i would've applied to them already. but UHHH, yeah, people seem to be holding onto their jobs extra hard right now and are not quitting because of how rough the market is rn + once again, i knowww that you are likely just trying to be helpful anon, but i have applied to places like panera, a cookie place near me, and even applied to IHOP + several other food places and UHHH. yeah, mostly no response. so things aren't as easy as simply applying for these jobs and hearing back from them immediately like 7 times out of ten.

its quiet. and although one might want to normally avoid the cliche of saying 'too quiet,' well... barton tended to do his more twisted work in silence — music could sometimes get a little bit too stimulating at times for the doctor during careful 'procedures' like this one, as it was. it actually wasn't often anymore that barton did technically illegal body modifications like this for somebody else, but the woman had paid him a hefty amount of cash to basically do an experimental surgery on her that would ideally 'boot out' her current competitor as the prima ballerina and have the company look to her instead, though there was a reason that other doctors had turned her away whenever she suggested modifying her body to be able to be the perfect ballerina in theory. svetlana, which was the woman's name, wanted for her legs or her feet to be permanently altered to make this happen.

and any ethical doctor would turn her away for that reason, but barton was not an ethical doctor. this led to him coming up with plans to surgically dislocate and reseat both of her femoral heads in their acetabular sockets at a permanent 90-degree external rotation, which would theoretically create effortless, perfect 180-degree turnout without requiring any muscle engagement (because the femoral heads would be fused them in place with bone grafts). this would have an extreme effect on her daily life, however, as svetlana wouldn't be able to physically move her legs to close them and walking would become awkward for her, as well as stairs being virtually impossible to walk up and down. not to mention svetlana's hip bones would begin grinding bone-on-bone within months and that would require barton's intervention to stop.

but after trying to explain this all to her, she said that she didn't care how her life would be effected, she just needed to become the top ballerina in her company and now. so, barton told her he could also harvest tendons from cadavers and then graft them in series to her hamstrings as well as her hip flexors to allow her to do leg extensions that can reach well past 180 degrees. and that brings us to now, with barton doing both surgeries on a desperate, clearly preyed-upon ballerina in his workshop with the only sounds in the area being him cutting as well as the heart monitor beeping rhythmically. he soon became aware, though, that he wasn't alone as an old friend made themselves known by simply walking in through the front door and greeting him. mami. barton had to admit that he really wasn't expecting other people to come in at the moment, considering it was an odd hour even for emergencies...

but here she was, standing before him. the doctor put down the forceps he was using to expose svetlana's foot tendons as they were quite literally visible now via him cutting into the back of her arch, a pair of hemostats clamped around blood vessels in her foot to control her bleeding as well as he rose a bloody gloved hand up in greeting to mami, ❝ mami... its been quite some time since we last saw each other. what brings you here? i have to continue working on this surgery to get it done, as you can imagine, but i can talk and work. ❞ barton said this as normally as if he was doing completely legitimate surgeries in his clinic instead of doing them in his workshop, with the creepy dark and damp atmosphere to it. they were in a building that was once just a literal boat storage shed outfitted to be more of a serious-looking clinical space.

the little freak in question:

"There is a monster truck show in Bludhaven" Lestat started. "And I was thinking since I will be vacationing in Gotham we could go. We as in you, Jack and I" A first real outing with his son, big step. "We watched them on TV in the night you were called away. I am not sure if the young man enjoys them or was humouring my enthusiasm but, yeah think about it? Could be a fun evening out?"

barton had been called away that night because, as it turned out, they needed a general surgeon to fill in for another doctor at the hospital to do an appendectomy — and so off the doctor went after putting on his scrubs as he knew that pretty much everyone would be expecting him to wear them in the hospital. that is just what all of the healthcare workers did there, but of course, while he was gone and busy cutting into someone in an operating room... his kids, their kids, were still around and most pertinently? that meant jack, as he was still a fifteen year old boy until september, which meant that he remained full of curiosity rather than viewing the world more cynically. or, perhaps it was just his extroverted nature that drove him to 'spill the beans' around lestat about everything he'd been working on with his guitar and pick his brain about music, too?

either way, barton knew that the two had a discussion about music because jack had told him, and he had stolen a few of the reeses chips ahoy cookies that he was eating too late at night now. he was just in the middle of eating one when his partner came into the bedroom then, and he had to quickly surmise whether he could finish it, as who really knew when the other could turn it on him to talk? barton for sure paused what he was watching then, though, (forensic files, as it turned out) before clearing his throat at the mention of a monster truck show. he seemed fully tuned into what lestat was saying from the get-go next, tilting his head as he let a small smile form on his lips, ❝ hmm. well, it sounds like it could be fun to me. and as a bonus, not dangerous. ❞

barton held up an index finger casually as he put the cookies he was eating off to the side, running a hand through his hair for a moment. he thought to himself that he would need to know what day it would be ahead of time, of course... not only to make sure he took time off but that it didn't fall on a full moon day, too. barton let out an amused chuckle at how lestat described him watching it on TV with him because he could remember a phase like that for jack, ❝ ooh, honestly, his love for monster trucks was probably just re-activating in real time from when he was like ten years old. he thought the stunts were so cool, and for a while there, he wanted to be a stunt-man because of what he saw on the TV with them. ❞

breeding kink prompts.

barton couldn't recall the last time that mapplethorpe had said such a thing to him during sex; so, to say that he was a bit pleasantly surprised that his husband liked being bred would be accurate. though this just translated into the doctor pounding into mapple even quicker as he found it refreshingly hot. the whole night he had spent with his husband had admittedly been nothing short of fantastic though... because who wouldn't like sitting through watching about two of the star wars prequels with him while eating some really good italian food with him? well, actually, don't answer that but barton knew that none of his kids were 'geeks' enough to watch them all with him and that is one reason why he loved mapplethorpe. right whenever they started the third movie was when barton decided to pause it to makeout with the other because, hello, but didn't the other look super cute in his pajamas?

and that brings us to now, as things had naturally escalated between them from there, to where barton had a sheen of sweat settled over his skin because things had gotten heated between them while his mouth suckled at another spot of mapple's neck to leave a hickey there. it was like before he knew it, then, that the other was encouraging him to go on and cum in him as barton told the other that he was getting close. the doctor settled both of mapplethorpe's legs up to officially have him be in a mating press as he panted repeatedly, pistoning in and out of his partner while the daybed creaked below them like crazy, ❝ ough... baby, you really want me to make your belly swell, don't you? that's so sexy, my god. don't worry, i'm going to give you every drop of cum i've got, okay? ❞

barton purred this to the other before he leaned down to capture his lips in his, ultimately sucking on the other's bottom lip as he felt it; the coil that had been twisting in him finally releasing with his orgasm, which he deliberately stopped thrusting through halfway so he could fill the other up. the other's warmth around him and his muscles clenching around him milked him good, he thought, as he disconnected his lips from mapplethorpe's to look down to see some cum was dribbling down from his husbands hole. barton spoke in a breathy tone as he felt like he was floating, ❝ oops. it looks like you're overflowing a bit, mapple, but that's nothing i can't fix by doing this. ❞ barton used a finger to scoop up the cum and push it back into mapplethorpe's entrance, the other no doubt feeling the intrusion of his finger before pulling it out.

'sacred and terrible air' prompts.

barton — or rather, the dollmaker, because he was wearing his mask and garments that went along with his villain persona — had to hold back a laugh whenever the other complained the way he did about 'this country.' i mean, he could imagine that the other would have some choice words about there being a bar within a bar designated specifically for villains and/or merc's in the east end, but was he expecting that? not really. barton supposed even vigilantes that had been in the 'fight' for a while could get tired of the city being so lawless at times, but honestly, he liked gotham b̲e̲c̲a̲u̲s̲e̲ it was lawless. hence why he wasn't a vigilante, among other, much more obvious reasons. and the only reason he felt obliged to bring the other here was because he was being forced into it, of course, as it seemed his daughter would always be a soft-spot for barton.

but could one truly blame him for that? barton had already gone through a lot of trouble to have her record of being in arkham once wiped clean from even the most secure of databases, so it would not be preferable for matilda to end up in there again. plus, although he knew that his daughter could protect herself at the end of the day, arkham was also one of the most dangerous prisons masquerading as a rehabilitation clinic that he'd ever seen. so here he was, directing this vigilante that stood out like a sore thumb to a certain friend of his, even though he knew that vincenzo would likely not forgive him for this... ever. but it was between his daughter and him, and due to the fact that barton needed his family like he needed all four of his limbs, he was now selling the gun-for-hire out. with that said, though, barton had sent vincenzo a text while trapped in the other's car that would alert him that something was going on.

and that was the best that he could do for his friend at the time, was send him a 'get out of the bar' text when they had pulled up to the bar because that was the only time he wasn't looking at barton like he suspected him to do something crazy. which, honestly, was fair. barton looked at the other before raising an eyebrow at him beneath his mask, secretly keeping an eye out for vincenzo, ❝ you mean you don't like the excessive consumerism and super unempathetic people that pretty much encompasses america? i can't say i'm entirely shocked, because it does suck especially if you aren't part of the one percent, but eh — what do i know? i'm just another cog in the machine. ❞ he shrugged his shoulders humorously then to get the point across that, yeah, he could understand why someone would hate it... but also?