#this is me (as a journalist)

[cryptocism]

It would have taken another immortal to keep up with him.

so i haven't read the books but i did read the Devil's Minion chapter and this part made me laugh out loud:

[fanaticalthings]

Give me crime lord!Jason who's actually on good terms with the batfam. Not only would it actually be helpful when it comes to missions surrounding underground/illegal operations (Jason would be able to retrieve way more insider knowledge) but also I think having a supervillain family member that you're chill with is just untapped comedic potential that needs to be taken advantage of.

---

Damian gets into a petty fight with Bruce, and the next day, instead of waiting for Bruce to pick him up from school, he calls Jason, who shows up in full Red Hood regalia and just rides off with Damian.

Of course everyone at school sees that Wayne's son just got snatched by Gotham's most notorious crime lord, so ofc when Bruce gets there, sees Damian missing, and hears a series of panicked whispers about a gun slinging, criminal biker riding off with a prince of Gotham, Bruce immediately knows what's up and just sighs, already anticipating the many publication companies he's gonna have to bribe to stay silent.

---

Sometimes, they need Jason's help with intercepting certain illegal trades within the underworld of, not just Gotham, but just common areas where shady businesses are most prevalent. And when Bruce requests that Jason brings evidence of said illegal shipments to the cave, Jason will smugly respond with "I can, but it'll cost ya"

And Bruce is all exasperated like, "Jason, please, this mission's been going on for a month, I just want to get it over with."

And Jason's just looking down at the crate of smuggled materials, recognizes that it's highly sought after by many rogues (maybe it's machinery parts or rare chemical substances, etc) and ofc Jason's about to be petty as hell when responding to Bruce:

Jason: I don't think you have any idea how valuable the stuff I have is. If I sold this myself in my part of the underground, I'd make a fortune!

Bruce: Jason

Jason: Butttt, if you're not willing to pay me for this, y'know, despite being a billionaire, I guess I could just auction this off to another willing client

Bruce: Jason

Jason: I hear Lex Luthor's been cookin' up something new for Superman. I wonder if he'd be interested?

Bruce: Son, please.

Jason:

Bruce:

Jason: I'll give you a family discount.

And it's just a back and forth of this EVERYTIME. And Jason only does it when he's collaborating with Bruce. None of the other bats have to deal with Jason demanding money.

---

There was one time, during a Wayne gala where practically ALL the kids (except Jason, dude's still legally dead), had to show up. And around halfway through, the Red Hood just crashes through the skylight and then just fucking kidnaps Bruce Wayne, in front of everyone. And of course the gala has to be cut short.

Meanwhile, Bruce, in Jason's custody: I CANNOT believe you, son. WHY of all times would you do this? You are GROUNDED, I don't care if you don't live with me anymore, this is just UNACCEPTABLE-

Jason, completely ignoring him, holding up a tablet with news article headlines about this incident: Bruce, look at this shot they got of me crashing through the ceiling, I look fuckin' badass

And then when the fam (in costume) come to "save" Bruce, in a blink and you'll miss it moment, Bruce catches Cass and Jason whispering something to eachother in the corner and them fist bumping before Jason books it out of there. He can already feel a headache brewing.

And generally speaking, I feel like the batfam could be way more efficient with this arrangement. You got the regular team of bats, investigating from above, as well as being able to infiltrate socialite environments as Waynes. Then you got Jason, who can keep an eye on all the lesser exposed and lucrative activities whilst he keeps the underground businesses under his control. I feel like it would be a win win situation that would be hella interesting to see explored.

[gallusgalluss]

4 YEARS OF BUGSNAX!

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Watching this man and his misfortunes like a sporting event.

plus a closer look at these cause i legit pulled an eye muscle drawing them...

[whaliiwatching]

diagnoses u with fanfic tags

yeah i caved. welcome spideysona

their universe is 1990s san francisco. by day they work as a struggling writer for the bugle, sort of following in the footsteps of (movie-adjacent) eddie brock; by night they’re spider-scrawl, fighting systemic injustice, writers’ block, and the occasional mad scientist invention. his world is less rife with supernatural evils than most, but he’s also fucking with the government and corporations and all, so it balances out

their unique thing is that they have, like, shitty meta clairvoyance in the form of inherently understanding tropes, clichés, story structure, etc. like if cinemasins/wins were a superhero. they were approached to join the society because miguel thought they’d be chill or even helpful with canon events—unfortunately scribble here is not whatsoever into following rigid plot structure for the sake of unnecessary thematic suffering, saw the plot twist a miles away, and peaced. but not before snagging a day pass so they could watch atsv in person

they never take off their mask, and no one knows their name—he says it’s because he doesn’t want to lose his identity in a sea of spider-people, leading most to theorize that san-fran-spidey is some flavor of peter parker, but who’s to say for sure? the doylist reason, which he is in fact aware of, is that i don’t know either lol

[polepositioned]

not to senna/schumacher post on main but do you ever think about this picture

[ nicola larini and schumacher being told that senna was in critical condition ]

or this clip of michael being asked if equalling senna meant much to him

do you ever think about the fact that michael was in denial when confronted with senna's death and only admitted to accepting it two weeks after the fact. do you ever think he would have felt guilt realising he watched senna sustain his injuries a few corners ahead during a seemingly "innocuous crash" whilst chasing him. do you ever think, retrospectively, that he felt like he shouldn't have won at imola. do you ever think about the fact that even in death senna continued to dominate headlines, eclipsing schumacher's win. do you ever think about the fact that schumacher and senna would occasionally meet after races to discuss where they had gone wrong/where they had lost speed. do you ever think about schumacher realising that would never happen again. do you ever think about the love that was there.

because i do.

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[gauntletqueen]

When a non-horror game has a horror section, I often find it a little more effective or memorable than a full-on horror title's horror, in a way. I think that's because, for characters in fiction, they usually don't know they're about to experience a horror story, so they aren't mentally prepared at all. As the audience, we know that when we boot up Silent Hill, we're gonna see some scary stuff and can mentally prepare accordingly. But when some innocuous children's platformer or RPG or whatever suddenly throws genuine horror elements at me, I'm taken out of my comfort zone much more roughly since I don't expect it at all. I think that's neat :>

[fictionadventurer]

My idea for the dumbest Christmas movie ever: A film about Jack Frost and his poet brother, Robert.

[smutinlove]

PLSPLSPLS I NEED JASON WITH A GIRL WHO IS LIKE A JOURNALIST/PHOTOGRAPHER AND THEY MEET AT ONE OF BRUCES GALAS AND SHES PART OF PRESS AND SHE IS THERE BEFORE ALL THE GUESTS ARRIVE AND SHES JUST QUIET AND FOCUSED AND HES LIKE HONED IN ON HER HNNNNG i’m passionate for this if you can’t tell.

The camera's strap hung around your neck. You could feel the weight of the white tote bag that you clutched tightly. There were three security guards who skillfully guarded the door. As you made your way for the door, one of them asked, "Who are you?"

You showed him your I.D., and they let you in. Perks of being a journalist. You were greeted with luxurious and well-placed decorations. The caterers had just arrived too. There were soft tunes playing, ranging from a delicate guitar to an exciting piano solo.

You quickly grabbed your camera and took a candid shot of a few caterers and DJs'.

You moved forward. Paintings littered the walls of the venue. It was beautiful. You grabbed your camera once again and started taking pictures.

But little did you know that one of the sons of Bruce Wayne was watching you intently. His gaze didn't stray away from you.

He watched as you worked. Whether it was taking pictures of the venue or jotting down notes in your notepad, he watched you with a smirk on his face and a goal in his heart.

Jason bit his lip. With a determined look on his face and a goal in mind, he walked over to you.

Currently, you are taking a few more pictures of the venue for coverage.

"Hey," you heard a low voice pang from behind you. You gasped and let out a shriek, dropping your camera to the floor.

As you turned around, you saw a familiar face. Jason Todd. You had once written an article about the Wayne family, even diving into some of the more personal things.

"Hi—hello," you stammered. Jason grinned. "Did I scare ya, pretty? Oh, I'm sorry." He bent down and picked up your camera, handing it back to you.

You hesitated before taking it. "I'm Jason," he introduced. "I know," you muttered quietly. You told him your name and smirked. "Pretty name for a pretty lady."

You blushed.

He leaned in. "You're really pretty; I'd love to take you out," Jason confessed. Your eyes widened.

Honestly, he seemed really sweet and genuine. But you weren't that type of girl. "But I don't know you enough, Jason."

He smirked. "What do ya wanna know, love? I'm an open book." Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

At some point, you did not know how things escalated this fast. At first, you two were having a friendly conversation, talking and laughing about shared interests. Then, after Jason begged you to stay at the gala, you and he got drunk together.

Strange, huh? Well, after that, you and he danced more than you could count. (And would probably be the main topic. Son of a billionaire and a journalist: Friends or Lovers?

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[ef-1]

I am one of those people that's usually like "under no circumstance do you have to hand it to r/formula1" but I simply have to hand it to r/formula1 in this instance.

(Disclaimer I think it's important to remember that r/formula1 is male dominated, very prone to censure and very hostile to dissent before we pay them any credit. Also very important to remember that in 2022 the r/formula1 banner and icon was the Ukrainian flag and "no war" for MONTHS with multiple pinned threads for Ukraine- which is fine and honourable btw- but nothing for Palestine because it was too complicated and political ig🤩)

They've banned the sharing of Twitter links in light of Elon's mask off Nazism and I actually think that's a great move. I know it might not seem like much, and it isn't on a macro level, but it will 100% have an impact on the F1 community. Whether I like it or not, r/formula1 is a big deal in F1. It's the single largest F1 community in the world with 4.8 million members; motorsport journalists and paddock insiders and media personalities lurk on there all the time, and that's a fact. Multiple Skyf1 hosts have stolen stats and observations word for word from there, multiple accredited journalists have asked the mods to take down posts, multiple permanent paddock members have identified themselves to comment and defend themselves on there. This will absolutely force the hands of F1 journalists towards other platforms. It's a known fact that if you want attention and reach in F1, you can readily access it through r/formula1:

The subreddit is basically telling F1 journalists that if you want access to all these eyes and ears: get off Elongated Muskrat's app and I think that's a rare r/formula1 W actually

[astraystayyh]

kpop stans literally have no backbone LMAOOO when skz gets hate for collaborating with more and more zionists because as we can see they are VERY well welcomed by stays, dont come crying. what a useless fandom. literally we had one job and it’s to NOT platform a zionist and an israeli settler but nooooooo 💔💔💔 people are losing their jobs and students are being arrested for protesting against israel but 90% of stays cant even boycott ONE song.

it’s not a coincidence that zionists are infiltrating kpop i need u to PLEASE utilize ur critical thinking skills and realize that those zionist brands/artists/companies are looking for new audiences to gain since they’re being shunned away. this is only the beginning this isn’t a matter of supporting skz alone PLEASE

it could’ve been you born in palestine and it would’ve been your people and family and friends and loved ones that are genocied. and then you’d be the one asking people to not platform zionists and to shame them but oh well. good luck living life being this fucking spineless

[bucksboobs]

Sorry to be 911 critical during a positivity event but it really is such a poor writing decision for Madney’s second baby, their first since they got married, to be an accident. They should have decided together that having a child was worth the risk instead of having fate decide for them. Maddie’s story has always been about her own agency and taking her own life back so the ability for her choose to have a second child would have been so much more powerful than the contrived drama of her coaxing Chimney into giving her permission to have it. It just feels like a major misstep out of line with where Maddie and Chimney should be at this point.

[slythereen]

helmut marko becoming a shooter for oscar as soon as he becomes oscar piastri leclerc… you can’t convince me that the very first “oscar is lestappen’s adopted son and this is my favorite family” post wasn’t from helmut’s burner account

[girlsdads]

https://www.tumblr.com/girlsdads/762007245755170816

It looks like daniel is peeing

em!!! you put this in my brain and i promptly had a crisis, so of course i had to give Max that same crisis, and somehow this became 1.3k 🫡

cw: (consensual?) voyeurism, romanticized peeing

Practice gets red-flagged early on. Max doesn’t see who is in the barrier as he slowly passes, just knows it isn’t Daniel. He’d been assured of that down his radio almost instantly, though he hadn’t asked. He thinks it must be team protocol to tell him this, that it’s not his teammate in the totaled car. Still, Max flushes bone-deep, feeling too exposed, too obvious. Feeling like they know, everyone must know, his brain turns to goop around Daniel and he never catches himself in time.

He trails Daniel to his driver’s room anyway, knowing how it looks. Daniel grins over his shoulder at Max, starts skipping ahead, makes Max chase him. Warmth blooms in Max’s belly. He may be always following behind Daniel, but Daniel is always looking back.

Daniel shrugs his race suit off his shoulders, lets it hang open around his trim waist. The humidity has stamped dark patches on his white fireproofs where he’s started to sweat through. Max closes the door behind himself and stands there awkwardly, trying to think of something to say that will make Daniel laugh, trying not to make direct eye contact with Daniel’s sweaty armpits, lest he shove Daniel against the wall and stick his nose there.

What happens instead is much, much worse.

Daniel is making a beeline to the bathroom, thumbs hooking into the elastic over his flat pelvis. Max’s vision tunnels, the air in the room seeming to close in around him with a swoosh.

“What are you doing?” He hears himself ask, stupidly.

It’s obvious what Daniel is doing. He’s shimmying his hips side to side as he nears the toilet, wiggling the Nomex down. He’s left the door wide open. He stops and smiles at Max, blinding. “Gotta drain the snake, as they say.”

Who is saying this other than you, Max wants to shoot back, knows he should match Daniel’s cheeky tone, rib him a little then leave the fucking room like a normal person. He hears the wet pop of his own bottom lip dropping open, feels the weight of the words against his larynx, but is struck completely dumb watching Daniel pull out his flushed, soft cock.

Max has of course seen Daniel’s dick before, it would probably be more weird if he hadn’t, like he was purposely trying not to. But the handful of other times have only been glimpses in his periphery, nothing like this. Like this, close range and staring openly because Daniel knows Max is there and still he didn’t close the door, Max can see everything.

The double-stacked waistband of his briefs and fireproofs is tucked up snug under his balls. Max can see where the dark, stubbly hairs are starting to grow back, on his sac and around the base of his cock. Daniel has joked before, about manscaping, but to see the evidence of it like this is dizzying. Max wants to go to his knees and pull each ingrown hair free with his teeth.

Daniel holds himself loosely in his left hand, the ruddiness of his shaft clearly visible through the gaps between knucklebones. The head is peeking out past the circle of his index finger and thumb, fat and flushed a little darker than the rest of him. Even soft, his cock looks heavy and full. Max’s mouth floods with saliva and he sucks it back with his cheeks pinched in, hoping Daniel won’t hear the wet slurp.

His skin feels hot. He’s stuck like an ant under a magnifying glass in the sun, his insides incinerating as he watches an arc of piss flow from the gorgeous tip of Daniel’s cock, noisily splashing into the bowl.

Daniel groans, his chin bobbing down toward his chest like someone cut the string that was holding his head upright. Piss hisses out of him, harder now, like he’s pushing it. It is so loud and the walls are thin—anyone lingering nearby must be able to hear, to know. Max wishes he could put up a forcefield, shelter them both inside where only Max can hear the sounds Daniel’s body makes.

It is all over so quickly. The stream trickles to a stop and then Daniel is shaking off the last little dribbles before he’s tucking himself away. Max feels a pang in his chest like grief—he hadn’t finished mentally cataloguing every angle of this moment, needs the image 3D printed into his brain so he can remember forever. Daniel will probably never speak to him again after this, will certainly not let Max anywhere near his bare cock once he turns and sees—Max is hard.

Daniel is shrugging back into the shoulders of his race suit and Max is standing there tenting his own, mortifyingly obvious. Max braces for whatever awkward joke Daniel will try to make to mask his disgust, as he faces Max finally.

He watches Daniel notice. He watches his eyes go slightly bigger and rounder, watches his jaw tick like he’s going to drop it. His gaze feels like a physical weight. Max’s dick throbs once, twice. There is no way Daniel cannot see.

Daniel says nothing, in the end. He smiles at Max, easy as anything, as if Max isn’t a complete freak of nature with a boner from watching his teammate take a piss. He even claps Max on the shoulder as he passes on his way out the door, doesn’t seem to catch how Max sways, knees wobbly, under his touch.

And then Max is alone in Daniel’s driver’s room. Alone and hard and—fuck, a realization burns through him—Daniel didn’t flush.

Max lurches forward before he can stop himself. His foot catches on some part of the floor and he stumbles, nearly going to his knees right there in front of the toilet.

It should be mostly clear, with how they are supposed to be staying hydrated, but apparently Daniel is not doing a very good job. Max has to steady himself with one hand on the wall as he stares down into the bowl, dazed. The water is tinged an unmistakable yellow. It hits Max viscerally, that Daniel has bodily functions and that he did one of those right in front of Max, was comfortable enough to not care if he saw. It’s unbearably intimate in a way that Max can’t think too hard about or he’ll forget how to drive his car, probably. He thinks, wildly, that he wishes he could live inside Daniel’s body, surrounded by all the microscopic things that make him him. He wants to kiss every single one of Daniel’s cells and thank them for keeping him alive.

Even more wildly—he wants to massage his bladder from the inside, tell it he’s sorry it had to get so full, that Daniel should never have to hold it for too long, that he could always if he cannot wait tell Max to go to his knees, and Max would, anywhere, tip his head back and open up for everything Daniel has to give—

Max rips his layers off, feeling frenzied. Elastic stretches around his thighs as he squats lower, his cock now leaking bare over the bowl full of Daniel’s pee. He had foregone underwear earlier, the crotch of his fireproofs now absolutely soaked through with precome. It will be cold and sticky around his cock and balls when he gets back in the car, he will have to drive again and feel it and he will think about Daniel and his dehydrated piss and the sound he made when he let go—

Max comes, shaking, aiming his cock so that it splatters into the bowl, milky white swirling with yellow. Max and Daniel together, like it should be always.