#who got exposed to friendly fire

[fenris-vermir]

Terror alarm is an annoying for profit social media account masquerading as a news outlet. Their tweets don't cite any sources, and they lease out their "proprietary AI" to conservative outlets, namely Fox News. Their opinions should not be taken as fact.

actually, poisoning the people and land with toxic weapons is great, as long as it's Our side doing it

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

roommate! dick grayson teaching you how to suck dick... cause you're an eager learner, and of course friends help eachother out and all that!

word count: 1.8k

You felt embarrassed to say the least.

But Dick was the last person you should feel embarrassed to tell. Or to ask, persay. He was your best friend, your roommate and your closest confidant.

So why did you feel so anxious?

You had kissed before, a few times after a couple drinks (sometimes even sober), it was all innocent fun. He was your first kiss- and he almost seemed flattered when you asked him to teach you that. So why wouldn't he react the same when you asked him to teach you to give head?

You were anxious, some of your other girlfriends were talking about their experiences while out for dinner and drinks, but you had nothing to contribute.

You didn't feel left out, moreso… just innocent.

Which was almost funny to say, considering you had your nipples pierced, and Dick had done so much as to feel them. You weren't oblivious to sexual activity, you just hadn’t found anyone you had really wanted to… partake in it with.

But then there was Dick. Whenever you were around him (every single day) you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach, and honey like liquid fire pool to your lower core.

He had that effect. He was charming and handsome, sweet and kind. What was there not to like?

No- you had your mind set out on this. You were sure it wouldn't be weird.

Maybe a little awkward, but what would be the worst that could happen? You’d retreat back to your room and smush your face into a pillow for a few hours with embarrassment, Dick would tease you and urge you to come out- you’d apologise and it would be like nothing had ever happened.

Or, you’d learn how to please a man.

So either way, there was Dick Grayson interaction.

He had seen your boobs for christs sake. Although to you, it wasn't so much sexual as it was… friendly. Or something along those lines.

So after a few deep breaths, you tossed your phone somewhere in the mess of your bed, peeling yourself up from the blankets and tugged down your oversized sleep shirt. You had stolen it from Dick, and though it was quite large on you, you instinctively tugged it down to attempt some form of modesty.

But who were you kidding? You two were past that point.

You creaked open your bedroom door, peering out to the dim blue glow of the living room. Dick was sprawled on the couch, nothing but plaid pj pants on as he watched some old movie you had little interest in. But anything he liked, you wanted to try.

So you shimmied out, trying not to make too much noise as you tiptoed over to where he was spread. He heard every little creak of the floorboards though, so it was no use. That man could hear everything.

“Hey sweetheart. What's up?”

“Can I watch with you?” you asked softly, and his smile instantly widened, and he patted a spot on the couch next to him. “Get over here sugar.”

You giggled at his cheesy pet names, sitting down- trying not to sit too close in case he wanted some distance. But that wouldn't do for him.

“What are you afraid I got cooties or somethin?” he teased, wrapping an arm around your middle and tugging you in close, so you were snuggled right in his side, breathing in his scent. You hummed softly, praying he didn't notice the way your nipples had hardened at the contact with his body (he did, of course), and the way your breath seemed stuck in your throat.

You were way more anxious than you needed to be. It was a simple question.

You held off for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the film, but mainly peering up at his face, the way his eyes seemed to darken in the moonlight that filtered through the loft windows. His arm was wrapped around you, hand tracing little patterns back and forth on the exposed skin of your arm, making you shudder- goosebumps leaving in his wake.

You clenched your thighs together tightly, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest, to which he grabbed and placed to his lips, kissing each fingertip as if it were made of the finest china.

Finally, you gathered the courage to spit out.

“Doyouthinkyououldteachmehowtoblowsomeone?” you sputtered out- words trampling over eachother so fast they wouldn't even be detectable if they were slowed.

His eyes widened, staring at you with utter confusion. “Come again?”

“Can you- I just-” you gave up, sighing, putting your head in your hands.

“Okay, promise not to laugh?” you asked and he nodded, face contorted into concern.

“I’ve just never given anyone head before. And I wanna learn just because… I don't know. I just want to know how to do it, in case I… need too? I guess? And I was wondering if maybe you could… teach me?”

Silence.

A wide smirk formed on his lips as he forced you to look into his eyes. Despite the embarrassment that flared in your cheeks, you obliged, doe eyes wide as you peered over at him.

“You wanna suck my dick?” he asked and you winced, shrugging.

“Okay well when you put it that way… I guess its not something friends do. I shouldn't have asked-”

“No, sweetheart, I want you to. God, fuck I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re sure you wanna do this though?” he asked and you nodded.

“I just… I feel comfortable with you.”

His cheeks tinged pink, making you giggle. “Well honey I’m flattered. And seriously, I mean it. I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It made him even harder somehow, seeing the shock in your eyes- seeing how obvious and innocent you truly were.

How you couldn't see his advances, he didn't know. But somehow, that turned him on even more.

“You wanna get on your knees for me honey?”

You nodded, sliding off the couch, thighs poking out as your shirt melted against your body. He bit his lip, groaning at the mere sight of you.

All pretty and eager on your knees, desperate to please him. To learn how to please him.

“You tell me if you want to stop at any time, or you're uncomfortable yea? No shame in that sweetheart. I want you to be comfortable.” he held your chin with his thumb, tilting it up to meet his eyes.

You were a shy one. He liked that though. “I know Dickie. Thank you, again.”

He almost scoffed. He should be the one thanking you. He smiled. “Good girl. Y’wanna take it out for me sweetheart? Don't go all shy on me now.”

You nodded, tugging down his pj pants, his cock hard and heavy- hitting his chest. “That looks… painful.” you whimpered, eyes looking up at him with concern.

“M’okay baby. Just needed you, is all. Always get like this around you. Especially when you trot around in my shirts.”

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around the base- eliciting a hiss from him. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes sweetheart. Gotta get it a lil wet for me kay? Spit on it.” he growled, and who were you to deny him? Looking up at him, you spit, letting drool and saliva trickle down, mixing with his precum.

“Atta girl. Just take the tip okay? Don't want you hurting yourself now.” he cooed and you nodded, opening wide as you slowly took him in your mouth, whining.

He already wanted to finish.

Holy. Fuck.

You were so fucking sexy it made him feel physically dizzy. Like the room was spinning.

“Thereee you go baby. Does that feel okay?” he asked and you moaned, trying to nod. “I guess you can't really talk that well, can ya? S’okay. House is finally quiet for a change.” he teased, grabbing your hair and forming a makeshift ponytail, slowly guiding you a bit deeper.

He’d train you so one day he could fuck your mouth after a hard day, have you waiting for him on your knees like you were now. But he was a patient man. For now, this was more than enough.

When your eyes started to drift close he tapped your cheek, jolting you back to look at him. “Keep your eyes on me sweetheart, there you go. You’re doing so good for me. Think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, his hand guiding you a little deeper, until he hit the back of your throat, making you gag. He moaned, guiding you back and forth, watching as your eyes started to tear up, drool coating his cock and spilling out the sides of your mouth.

“Atta girl. Aren't you a pretty picture?”

Your moan in response sent shockwaves through his cock, and he gripped your hair even tighter, speeding up his thrusts into your mouth.

“You don't even know how many times I’ve thought of this. Wishin it was your mouth wrapped around my cock instead of my hand. Even better than I imagined.”

Your cheeks heated at his confession, though you were past embarrassment now. His cock was down your throat for christ sake. You probably looked a mess, mascara streaming down your cheeks. But somehow, with the way he was looking and talking to you- you felt like the prettiest girl alive.

And god, did you ever love when he talked.

“Betcha you’ve thought about me with your hands down your panties, haven't you? Thin walls baby, I think you forget. It's cute though.”

He winked, and before you knew it, his thrusts were erratic, and warm liquid coated your tongue.

“Fuck, sorry honey. I should've warned you. You can spit, it's alright. You did so fuckin good.”

But you had already swallowed, sticking out your tongue to show him. Something like pride filled your chest as his eyes widened in shock, a little fuck me leaving his lips.

You giggled, getting up on shaky legs as you plopped back down on the couch beside him. “I did good? That felt good?” you asked.

“Baby that's the best head I’ve ever had. You sure you've never done that before?”

You shook your head. “Guess you gotta mouth on ya. Just wish you’d put it to use like that sooner.”

You laughed, grabbing a pillow and smacking his head with it as he teased you. “How do you feel though? You okay?” he asked, serious once again and you nodded.

“M’all good.” You were just proud you didn't puke- thank god. Dick was massive, especially for your first time- so you were so thankful he was gentle with you.

You’d take more next time, you were sure of it. “Practice makes perfect I guess.” you shrugged, implying there would be a next time.

He smirked. “Oh you little minx.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

important business ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove

word count: 2362

request?: no

description: she goes to visit him at work, and he decides her visit requires his undivided attention

pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, finger fucking, kind of voyeurism?, praise, multiple orgasms)

masterlist (one, two, three)

The sound of stilettos against the tile floors made Roman’s secretary’s ears perk up. There was only one woman who ever came to the Godfrey Institute.

(Y/N) Godfrey was already smiling as she came around the corner. It would look like a friendly smile to anyone else, it’d be friendly to the Institute employees even, if she wasn’t married to the owner of the company. (Y/N) was nice enough, but she had an intimidation to her as well. And Roman loved her so much that he would fire anyone who so much as upset her even a little.

(Y/N) leaned against the desk. “Hey Anne. Is Roman in? I got a text from him asking me to come by the office.”

“He’s in his office on a phone call,” the secretary, Anne, responded. “I can page him to let him know you’re here.”

“No bother. I’ll see myself in.”

Anyone else would be stopped immediately. No one else was allowed to interrupt Roman under any circumstances. But Anne already knew how this was gonna go. Asking to page Roman was only a formality at this point; a rouse of professionalism on both of their parts.

(Y/N) let herself into Roman’s office. He was sat forward, leaning against his desk with the phone in one hand, pressed against his ear. He glanced up as (Y/N) shut the door behind her. His face gave nothing away, but she knew it was his eyes to look at. They lit up the moment she walked into the room.

“Let me call you back, Paul,” Roman said into the phone. “My wife just got here.”

He hung up before hearing the response. (Y/N) raised a playful eyebrow. “I don’t think he’s going to appreciate you cutting him off like that.”

Roman waved away her comment. “Paul is an idiot who doesn’t know jack shit. Listening to him talk makes my brain melt, so I’ll take whatever excuse there is to not talk to him.”

“So, is that why you texted me? To be an excuse?”

“Of course not.”

Roman extended his arms, gesturing for (Y/N) to come closer. She smiled and crossed the room to him. He turned his desk chair to face (Y/N) as she moved around his desk. Roman wasted no time in pulling her onto his lap, moving her legs to straddle him. She was wearing a deep red dress that was knee length and tight to her body. It rode up her thighs as she sat on Roman’s lap, giving him access to cup her ass cheeks.

Roman’s lips found their way to her neck. Her eyes fluttered at the feeling of his soft lips kissing every inch of her neck. He found her sweet spot at the base of her neck, and began to suck at the sensitive skin. (Y/N) let out a moan. She quickly covered her mouth and pushed away from Roman as she remembered herself.

“Rom, we can’t!” she said. “We’re in your office. What if someone walks in?”

“Fuck ‘em. It’s my company. If they have an issue with me fucking my wife, they can start looking for a new job.”

(Y/N) wanted to be firm. It was definitely a bad idea to have sex in Roman’s office, in a building full of his employees who could walk in at any second. But also, it was incredibly hot to see how nonchalant he was being about wanting to fuck her in his office, as well as the general idea of fucking Roman in his office, was turning her on.

He picked her up suddenly, causing her to exclaim in surprise. He kicked the chair away from the desk and shoved anything in his way onto the floor. He placed (Y/N) onto the desk, shoving her dress up so it was bunched around her hips, completely exposing her lower half to him.

(Y/N) and Roman held eye contact as Roman lowered himself to his knees. She watched as he reached out to the intercom that had managed to stay on his desk. He clicked the speaker button and said, “Anne, cancel whatever I have scheduled for the next hour. Anyone comes looking form, I’m busy.”

Anne’s response came almost immediately, “Yes, Mr. Godfrey.”

“She definitely knows what’s happening now,” (Y/N) said.

“I’ll give her a big fat bonus for Christmas.”

Roman hooked a finger into her panties and pulled them to the side. She shivered as his hot breath hit her core. She was about to tell him not to tease her, but it seemed Roman didn’t intend on leaving her waiting for long. He dove into her like a starved man. His tongue immediately dove into her already wet pussy, darting in and out at a pace that was driving her crazy already. (Y/N) gripped Roman’s hair, still a little slick from the hair gel he had put in that morning.

He ran his tongue from her hole up to her clit. He wrapped his lips around the sensitive nub and began to slowly swirl his tongue around it. (Y/N)’s back arched in pleasure. She was biting her lip to try and stifle her moans. She nearly whimpered when he pulled away.

“Don’t you dare muffle those noises,” he told her. “I want the entire building to hear how good I make you feel.”

As if to punctuate his demand, he slipped a finger into her. (Y/N) gasped at the feeling. Roman smirked, satisfied with the noise. He went back to wrapping his lips around her clit while he fucked his finger in and out of her. It was nearly impossible to muffle herself now. To really make sure he got his request, Roman added a second finger and curled them to touch the spongey spot inside (Y/N).

She threw her head back and cried out Roman’s name so loud he was sure the entire floor could hear her. He smirked against her.

The lewd squishing sounds of Roman finger fucking her mixed with her moans filled the room. All of (Y/N)’s concerns about being heard or caught had disappeared completely. All she could think about was Roman; Roman’s tongue on her clit, Roman’s fingers inside of her, how badly she wanted to feel Roman’s dick stretching her out and fucking her ruthlessly.

“Roman,” she moaned. Her fingers curled tighter against his hair, grabbing at the roots and tugging harshly against his dark locks. Roman moaned into her at the feeling. “F-Fuck, I feel so close already.”

“Cum on my fingers then, baby,” he said. “That’s a good girl, let yourself go.”

Her orgasm ripped through her suddenly. She writhed against Roman’s lips, moaning and panting, Roman’s name slipping from her lips. He lapped at her, letting her ride out her high against his face.

When Roman pulled his fingers from her, she actually whimpered at the loss of contact. He stood from the floor, standing over her. He kept eye contact with her as he brought his two fingers to his mouth and sucked them between his lips. The dull ache of post-orgasm between her legs turned into an ache of desire as she watched him suck his fingers clean of her juices. His mouth and chin were still glistening with her.

He pulled her in for a kiss, and she could even taste herself on his lips. It was taking everything in her power not to rip Roman’s pants off right then and there.

As if reading her mind, Roman pulled away and started to unbuckle his belt. “Turn around and bend over the desk. Take your panties off, too, but leave the dress on.”

(Y/N) quickly did as he demanded. She slid her soaked panties down her legs and tossed them aside onto the office floor. She turned so her back was to Roman and bent herself over his desk, presenting herself to him. She heard the rustling of clothes as he undid his pants and pulled them down. Her heart was pounding with anticipation. She jumped when she felt one of his hands against her hip, then moaned upon feeling the hot head of his cock swiping through her folds. They hardly needed any further lubrication when she was already so wet.

He pushed into her at an agonizingly slow pace. She could feel every inch of him as she stretched out around him, until finally he was completely filling her. (Y/N) moaned at the feeling. Roman reached for one of her hands, intertwining their fingers together. It was a moment of sweetness before she knew what was to come.

Roman gave her just enough time to adjust to being stretched around him before he was ruthlessly pounding into her. The sound of his fingers inside of her had been replaced skin slapping against skin every time he thrusted inwards. With one hand, (Y/N) was still gripping onto Roman’s hand, while the other one was holding onto his desk for support. Not that she thought the desk was going to give much support since it felt like it was about to fall apart at any moment.

Through the haze of lust, (Y/N) managed to giggle at the thought. It was replaced quickly by a gasp when Roman’s other hand found its way to her hair and roughly pulled her off of the desk.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still roughly fucking into her.

“I-I was thinking about if w-we broke your desk,” she admitted. “It sounds and feels like it may just collapse from under me.”

Roman chuckled at the thought as well. “I guess I’ll just have to get a new, better built desk that can handle just how rough I like to fuck my wife.”

He pushed her back down so that her chest was pressed against the desk again. He put his hand between her shoulder blades, holding her into place. He looked down to watch himself pull out then disappear completely into her. Her ass jiggled every time his pelvic bone met her there. She felt so good, so warm and wet wrapped around him, fitting perfectly around his cock.

There were many things Roman loved about his wife, and one of the top things was how it felt like she was made for him.

The sounds she was making was music to his ears. The feeling of her wrapped around him was heavenly. He never wanted to stop fucking her. If he had a choice - and didn’t have a company to run - he’d spend his days home with her, fucking her in every room of their house, on every surface, until they were both worn.

Roman felt his high creeping up on him. He brushed (Y/N)’s hair off of her face so he could see her. She was positively fucked out, her eyes glazing over with haze and her mouth just hanging open.

“Do you think you can give me one more, baby?” he asked her. “I’m getting close. I want us to cum together.”

She lazily nodded her head. He chuckled. “Do you think you can do it, or do you want my help?”

“No,” she said. “I can do it.”

The hand that wasn’t still holding Roman’s reached between her legs to start rubbing circles into her clit. She could feel him as she pressed on her clit, almost like she was tightening around him. It wasn’t going to take much to make her cum again, but she still quickened her pace so that Roman wasn’t waiting long. Next thing she knew, pressure was building up in her stomach again.

“I’m close,” she breathed.

“Hold on, baby, I’ll tell you when.”

Roman took hold of her hip with one hand, never letting go of her other hand, and thrusted harder. (Y/N) was crying out in pleasure at the feeling of him abusing her g-spot. Through gritted teeth he told her, “Now.”

They let go at the same time, (Y/N) pulsing around him as he coated her walls. He buried himself completely inside of her, making sure not a single drop was wasted. (Y/N) laid her head against the hard wood of Roman’s desk, trying to regulate her breathing.

It wasn’t long before Roman, begrudgingly, had to slip himself from her. He helped her to stand up from the table, although her legs were still shaky. He took her into his arms and brought her to the couch he had in his office so they could both sit down. (Y/N) settled back into Roman’s arms and rested against his chest.

“So this is why you texted me,” she said after a few moments of silence. “So we could fuck in your office.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “Can a man not ask to see his wife just because he wants to see her?”

“He can, but the second I walked through the door you were all over me.”

“Can you blame me when you walk in wearing this - “ He pulled at the hem of her dress, which she had almost forgot she was wearing. “ - looking so fucking sexy?”

She giggled as she snuggled further into his chest. “I guess it is partially my fault. Especially when my plan was to walk in here and get your attention dressed like this.”

“You always have my attention. This definitely helped though.”

They both laughed. Roman kissed the top of (Y/N)’s head. She moved so she was facing him and could kiss his lips.

“How much time do you think we have?” she asked him. “Since you asked Anne to clear your schedule for an hour.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It definitely hasn’t been a full hour.”

“Well, let’s use the rest of that time wisely.”

Before he could ask what she meant, (Y/N) was moving to the floor to kneel between Roman’s legs. He smiled, putting his hands behind his head as he watched her pull his still unbuttoned pants down again.

Oh yeah, I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

[meowmeowriley]

Ghost who isolates and alienates himself from the others, because he knows.

The team goes out for drinks and ask him along. He declines. Safer that way. Gaz and Soap play cards and ask him to join. He shakes his head. Can't let it happen. A friendly game of football is set up between recruits, one team offers him a spot. He walks away. It'd be dangerous.

He pushes his men, runs them into the ground. Offers a hand up after. Throws around a "good job", a pat on the shoulder, a "you should be proud of yourself" but he never lingers. Couldn't bear it.

Eventually, the offers of companionship cease. They forgo asking after him, even avoid him when setting up gatherings. Slowly they all move on. It hurts. It's for the best.

Ghost is aware of his lot in life. Though he craves comraderie, it isn't for him. He's got venom in his mouth. He will open it and the rot he inflicts will quicly spread through and consume any unfortunate enough to have been near him. He keeps others at arms length to protect them from himself.

***

Soap makes acquaintances, but not friends. He knows others but they don't know him.

He'll drink with the lads, but won't let himself have too many. Doesn't want to expose them to that. He'll roughhouse with the boys, but has to stop when things get competitive. They couldn't handle it. He'll shoot the shit with the best of them, but when things get too passionate he makes his exit. Doesn't want to frighten them.

He's compassionate; a lent ear, a spare shoulder. A trusted confidant and competent instructor, there's no doubt where his loyalties lie. And yet they no nothing about him.

Not his passions, his dislikes. Soap avoids talking about himself, doing anything that could loosen his inhibitions or get him riled up off the battlefield. He's done it before, and it never ends well.

Though he yearns to be known, to be loved, he's well aware that he'd ruin it if he let anyone close. His flesh is C4. Easily molded into whatever shape his comrades need, but with the right shock the imminent explosion is devastating. He doesn't want to hurt them, so he keeps himself in check.

***

Soap doesn't want to hurt people so he keeps himself in check, but he can't help but notice the man who walks through wreckage unbothered.

Ghost keeps everyone at arms length to protect them from himself, but he can't help but wonder if the man with fire in his veins might just be able to withstand the venom.

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[newobsessionweekly]

Fire and fight

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Crossover 911 x The Rookie

Tim Bradford x Buckley!firefighter!reader

Evan "Buck" Buckley x sister!reader

Summary: Tim finds out about the illegal fights and the complicity of your brother and Eddie.

Angst to fluff

Warnings: violence, injuries, illegal activities, not proofread yet

A/N: A little crossover, but it's absolutely safe to read it if you didn't watch 911. Had a little time to spear due to my excruciating back pain that forced me to stay in bed for 2 days (I didn't stay in bed, was just an excuse to not study, yesterday I deep cleaned my whole house + cooked)

Requested: no

Words: 3.5k

You sit at the worn wooden table in the firehouse, the sounds of laughter and friendly banter filling the air around you. Tim's presence beside you is both comforting and electrifying, his rugged charm and unwavering support a constant in your chaotic world.

You steal a glance at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way his hand brushes against yours in a subtle yet intimate gesture. You can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man who's become such an integral part of your life.

Despite the lively atmosphere, your mind drifts to the weight of the recent calls you've faced, the images of destruction and loss still fresh in your memory.

You've been together for months now, and though he knows you well, there are parts of yourself you've kept hidden, afraid to expose the darkness that sometimes consumes you.

As the team shares stories and jokes over lunch, Tim's eyes linger on you, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and concern.

"You seem distant today," he remarks softly, his hand finding yours under the table. "Everything okay?"

You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with the weight of your troubles.

"Just tired," you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "It's been a rough week."

Tim nods understandingly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Well, if you need anything, you know I'm here for you, right?"

You nod gratefully, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite your best efforts to keep him at arm's length, Tim has a way of breaking down your defenses and seeing straight through to the heart of you. It both terrifies and exhilarates you, this vulnerability you share with him.

Tim leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Hey, I was thinking," he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Why don't you sleep over tonight? Just the two of us."

Panic grips you, and you cast a desperate glance at Eddie, your close friend and confidant, silently pleading for help. Eddie meets your gaze with a knowing look, nodding subtly as if to say, 'Go ahead, I've got your back.'

Summoning a smile, you turn back to Tim. "I'd love to, but I promised Eddie I'd help him with Christopher tonight," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Eddie, who was sitting across from you, shook his head subtly before joining your lie.

"And I really appreciate it, Y/N. Thank you."

Tim's disappointment is palpable, and you feel a pang of guilt knowing you're the cause. Lately, it feels like you haven't had much time for each other, your duties pulling you in different directions. But you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth, to let him see the vulnerability lurking beneath your facade.

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his eyes filled with understanding.

"It's okay," he says softly, "We'll figure this out."

As the lunch break nears its end, Tim's gaze meets yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring you in the present moment. There's a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.

"Be safe, okay?" he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin.

And then, in a moment of unspoken longing, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that steals your breath away. Time seems to stand still as the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. It's a silent exchange of love and reassurance, a promise to weather whatever storms may come your way. In that fleeting moment, you feel a sense of belonging wash over you, as if all the pieces of your fractured soul have finally found their home.

As Tim pulls away, his eyes meet yours with a mixture of tenderness and longing. It's a bittersweet moment, filled with the promise of what could be and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But in that moment, all that matters is the warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips.

His forehead rests against yours, and you can see the love and concern in his eyes.

"You be safe too," you whisper.

As Tim leaves for patrol again, you watch him go with a heavy heart. The minute he’s out of sight, Eddie and Buck approach you with serious expressions. Eddie's arm is a solid, reassuring presence at your back as they guide you to the lockers, closing the glass door behind them. Their grave looks make your stomach churn.

Eddie is the first to speak, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I don't like this, Y/N. Lying for you, especially to Tim. He deserves to know what's going on."

Buck crosses his arms, his brows furrowed with concern.

"Seriously, you need to stop this. All of it. Think about what will happen when he finds out. I'm not sure which one he'll kill first."

You shake your head, trying to brush off their worries.

"If he finds out. And he will not, trust me."

Eddie steps closer, his eyes searching yours with a mix of anger and concern.

"How long do you think it'll take before he sees the bruises, huh? Dammit, Y/N, I see them."

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You see them because you know where to look."

Buck's voice softens, though his frustration is still evident.

"Tim's a cop, sis. A very good one if you didn't notice. He will find out and when he does—"

Before he can finish, the fire alarm blares through the station, cutting off the conversation. The familiar rush of adrenaline surges through you as the call to action drowns out everything else. You all move quickly, your argument momentarily forgotten as you slip into firefighter mode.

Eddie gives you a lingering look, his eyes filled with unspoken words, before he turns to head to the engine. Buck places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"We'll talk about this later," he says, his tone softer but still firm.

The end of the shift arrives like a welcome reprieve, but for you, it's just the beginning of another battle. Driving to the location of the illegal fights, your mind races with a mixture of determination and apprehension. The sight of Eddie's and Buck's cars parked nearby only fuels the fire burning within you as you approach them, your steps heavy with pent-up frustration.

"What are you doing here?" you demand, your voice tight with simmering anger as you confront them.

"Making sure you're okay," Eddie meets your gaze and furrows his brows as he speaks. "I don't want to see Bradford angry. He scares the shit out of me when he's happy..."

Your jaw clenches at the mention of Tim, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the repercussions of him discovering your secret. Pushing those thoughts aside, you shake your head stubbornly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

Grabbing a beer from a nearby cooler, you plop down on the trunk of a car, Eddie and Buck flanking you on either side. You crack open the beer and take a long sip, the cool liquid doing little to quell the fire burning inside you.

Buck leans in close, his voice a hushed whisper. "You need to quit these fights, Y/N. It's not worth it."

Eddie nods in agreement, "We're worried about you."

You take a long swig of your beer, the liquid burning a path down your throat.

"I can take care of myself," you mutter.

But Buck's frustration is palpable as he reaches out to grasp your hand.

"We know you can, but this isn't the way to prove it. You're risking your life for what?"

You pull away from his touch, your gaze hardening.

"It's none of your business," you retort, your tone sharp with irritation. "I don't need you to babysit me."

As your name echoes on their lips, the crowd erupts into cheers, their voices blending into a deafening roar as you step into the center of the makeshift ring. Surrounded by eager spectators, you feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on you, fueling the fire that burns within.

Your brother and Eddie watch you from the sidelines, their expressions etched with concern as you face off against your opponent, a behemoth of a man twice your size and weight.

Within the perimeter, surrounded by the thunderous cheers of the crowd, you allow your thoughts to drift away, consumed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. With each stretch of your limbs, the tension in your muscles tightens, fueling your determination to win.

The fight begins, and you move with a fluidity and grace that belies your size. You dodge and weave, your movements swift and precise as you deliver blows with calculated precision. But the man before you is relentless, his attacks coming fast and furious, each strike leaving a mark.

Blood trickles down your face, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as you fight back with renewed strength. Your fists fly, each punch landing with a satisfying thud as you refuse to back down. The intensity of the battle is palpable, the air crackling with electricity as you and your opponent trade blows.

In the midst of the chaos, a sense of euphoria washes over you, a rush of exhilaration that eclipses the pain. For a fleeting moment, you feel alive, untethered from the burdens that weigh you down. In that moment, there is only the fight, and the sheer joy of testing your limits.

Your brother's concern etches lines of worry across his forehead as he watches the fight unfold, his eyes darting between you and the towering opponent.

"We should stop her," he insists.

But Eddie shakes his head "It's too late now," he replies, "They have to finish the fight."

Buck hesitates, his hand hovering over his phone as he weighs the consequences of calling your boyfriend. "I'll call Tim," he decides finally.

"Wait, Buck. Think about this." Eddie reaches out, his hand closing around Buck's wrist. "She'll hate us."

Buck hesitates for a moment, weighing his options, before relenting. "Tim's the only one who can talk her out of this," he says, determination in his voice as he dials the number. "She'll thank me later."

Tim arrives shortly after Buck's call, his expression a mask of concern and frustration as he rushes to your side. He had been about to clock out and change when Buck's urgent call came through, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios as he drove the streets to reach the location.

When he sees you, battered and bruised, a pang of heartache grips him. He's torn between wanting to hold you close and shake some sense into you. The sight of your pain is unbearable, and he struggles to contain his emotions as he approaches.

You're taking a break, sipping from a beer while Eddie inspects your wounds, his brow furrowed in concern. Though nothing serious, the bruises will leave their marks.

Despite the pain, you're all smiles and pride, reveling in the thrill of the fight. But when you catch sight of Tim, the smile fades from your face, replaced by a look of guilt.

"Tim?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Tim's heart clenches at the sight of you, the blood and bruises marring your once flawless skin a stark reminder of the danger you willingly put yourself in.

"No, what are you doing here, Y/N?" he retorts,"What are you thinking? How can you be so reckless?"

"I'm not reckless," you protest, "I like it."

"Look at yourself, Y/N," he implores, his gaze softening. "Do you like what you see? Is this really what you want?"

Before you can respond, the break is over, and the announcer calls your names, signaling the start of the fight once more.

"Gotta go."

Tim watches helplessly as you disappear into the crowd, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Despite his love for you, he knows he can't force you to change, can't protect you from the dangers you willingly face. And as he watches you disappear from view, his heart breaks a little more with each step you take away from him.

As you return to the center of the 'ring', determination burns bright in your eyes, fueled by a desperate need to prove to Tim that you're not in over your head. You know what you're doing, and you're determined to show him that you can handle yourself.

The crowd roars with anticipation as the fight resumes, but this time, you're ready. Every movement is calculated, every strike precise as you weave and dodge with a grace that belies your size. You're quicker, sharper, and more focused than ever before, fueled by a burning desire to prove your worth.

Buck's voice breaks through the chaos, his concern evident as he turns to Tim. "Why don't you stop her, man?" he asks, his eyes pleading for action.

But Tim shakes his head, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of pride and worry. "She hates you for calling me," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation. "No need to have her hate me too."

Eddie chuckles at their exchange, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Told you," he remarks, watching Buck with amusement.

As the fight reaches its climax, you find yourself on top, your opponent unable to keep up with your skill and determination. With one final, decisive blow, you send him sprawling to the ground, the crowd erupting into cheers as you emerge victorious.

As you collect your winnings from the bet, you make your way back to the three men, their concern palpable as they guide you to their cars.

Eddie pulls out the first aid kit, his hands gentle as he cleans up your wounds, his gaze soft with sympathy.

But it's Tim who captures your attention, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, searching for some sign of understanding, of acceptance, but all you find is disappointment.

In that moment, as you stand before him battered and bruised yet still standing tall, Tim's heart aches with a fierce love for you. He knows he can't protect you from every danger, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. And as he watches you, his resolve only strengthens, determined to be there for you no matter what.

As Tim pulls out his phone and dials Lucy's number, you can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over you.

"What are you doing?"

Tim ignores you, his focus on the phone call as he speaks in hushed tones. When he finally hangs up, his expression is grave as he turns to Buck and Eddie, who have finished cleaning up your face.

"Chen's taking a night shift. Can you stay here and make sure no one leaves before the cops arrive?" he asks.

Buck nods solemnly. "Yeah, man. Sure."

You feel defeated as you watch the exchange, knowing that Tim's disappointment is palpable. "Tim..." you start, your voice trailing off as you search for some way to reach him.

But Tim turns away from you, his heart breaking at the sight of your face. "I'm not talking to you now," he says quietly.

Turning back to Buck and Eddie, he issues his final instructions. "Chen will call you when they're close. You leave this place immediately. Understood?"

Buck and Eddie nod in agreement, their expressions somber as they prepare to carry out Tim's orders. As they make their way back, you remain seated on the trunk, swinging your feet like a child who knows they're in trouble.

Tim closes the distance between you, kneeling before you with a tenderness that breaks your heart all over again. Cupping your cheek with one hand, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft with tenderness. "You're coming home with me."

You nod silently, too defeated to argue. Climbing into your car, you follow Tim back to his place.

Tim closes the door behind you, his expression unreadable as he watches you from across the room. Sitting in the middle of the room, you feel like a child who knows she's in trouble, awaiting her punishment with bated breath.

Tim's hand rests gently at your lower back as he guides you to the couch, his touch both comforting and protective. As you settle onto the cushions, a sense of unease settles over you, your heart heavy with guilt and apprehension.

"Are you mad at me?" you finally muster the courage to ask.

Tim's expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his love for you shining through the worry and frustration.

"No, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried about you. I don't want to lose you."

He takes a deep breath, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he struggles to put his feelings into words.

"I don't want to lose you," he admits, "I fear enough when you're out on calls, taking unnecessary risks with Buck to save lives. I don't need to worry about your safety off-duty, too, especially when you're doing something as dangerous as that."

You listen quietly, absorbing his words as he speaks.

"But why?" he asks, his voice pleading. "Why do you do this?"

You hesitate for a moment, grappling with the weight of his question before finally finding the words to respond.

"It's extra money," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation. "And it helps me. When I'm out there, I don't have to think about anything. No more problems, no more pain. And when I win, it's the best feeling in the world."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the pain of knowing that you're seeking solace in something so dangerous. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"But, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with love and concern. "Those fights are not good or fun. And you shouldn't have to risk your life to find peace. I'm here for you. Always."

His words wash over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and protection. In that moment, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world filled with uncertainty.

Tim's expression softens as he looks at you, his eyes filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"If you really want to fight, you can do it with me," he offers, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and determination. "I know a thing or two about that. I might even let you win, but only if it means keeping you safe."

His words, though tinged with playful jest, carry a weight of sincerity that fills your heart with warmth. You feel the depth of his love for you in every word, in every touch, and you're overwhelmed by a rush of emotion.

"But seriously, Y/N," he continues, his voice soft but resolute. "You need to stop doing this. I love you, and I can't bear to see you getting hurt again. It kills me to see you like this."

"Wait," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "You love me?"

Tim's smile widens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I do, baby," he murmurs, "I love you. Even though you drive me insane and make me worry about you every second."

A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, a warmth spreading through you at the realization of his feelings. "I love you, Tim," you confess.

"But was it really necessary to call Lucy?"

Tim chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am a cop, after all," he replies, his tone playful. "I couldn't just walk away from that. And besides," he adds with a teasing smile, "I didn't have enough cuffs for everyone. Just for you."

You play along, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Oh, you gonna arrest me, Officer Bradford?" you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

Tim leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I have something else in mind," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "And cuffs might just help."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and as you lean in to kiss him, you're filled with a sense of warmth and belonging that only he can provide.

[gil-galadhwen]

Elrond X Reader (gender neutral)

After seeing a stunning floppy haired, battle midst Elrond in the new Rings of Power teaser trailer, I got inspired to respond to an ancient request in my inbox which has since myseriously disppeared?!

Anyway, the prompt was Tell Me What You Want from this list

Summary & Warnings: Elrond returns from the battle haunted and desperate to tell you how he feels about you… (closed door spice)

Word Count: 900+

Tell Me What You Want

Elrond and the others returned to camp in the dead of night. You weren't asleep of course. It was impossible when not only did the fate of your kind hang in the balance, but the fate of your greatest love did too. 

Elrond didn't know how you feel about him. You'd kept the desires of your heart hidden for years, holding it close as you watched him ready for a battle he may not return from.

Except he had returned.

You peer through the gap in your tent as the warriors are celebrated in their triumphant homecoming. Their smiles are bright and gleaming against their filthy armour. You scour the crowd in the dim firelight until you see him standing off to the side with his helmet tucked under his arm. His hair has grown longer over the many months, dark curls falling into eyes both familiar and haunted by something you don't recognise. 

Elrond smiles at every well wisher who passes him. Shaking hands, embracing and gripping the steel shoulders plates of his comrades until they crunched. You want to go to him, but you're somehow locked in place. Even as his eyes dart around the camp as though looking for something, for someone.

Looking for you.

You chide yourself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts. He's not looking for you at all. Why would he? You're barely acquaintances, nevermind friends. You’d certainly collaborated on projects for the king in the past and often sat together during formal dinners and gatherings. Even sharing a bed once when travelling back to Lindon after completing a quest for the king. You’d stopped at an inn that only had one bed, yet Elrond was ever the gentleman, ensuring you were comfortable with him there and never giving you more than a friendly glance. 

Except for the night he left for battle. 

As the soldiers prepared to leave, he’d sought you out and then wordlessly lifted your hand to his lips, pressing them to your knuckles. You’d been too surprised to speak as he held you there, suspended in a moment you thought would never come. Perhaps it was his way of saying goodbye, yet you watch him now, with a flicker of hope igniting in your chest that it had meant so much more.

***

The fires are banked and the once loud cheers and cajoling have quietened to a murmur as you finally emerge from your tent. The scent of burning cedar and honey mead lingers in the air as you meander through the thinning crowd of elves squeezing as much out of the festivities as possible before the sun rose on a new day, bringing with it new challenges, as is the nature of war. 

As a Scribe to King Gil-galad, you're free to move anywhere within the camp. You feel a strange mix of peace and anticipation when you reach the row of tents reserved for the king's most revered soldiers, but it occurs to you that you have no idea which is Elrond's. Then suddenly he’s there, standing in front of you with an expression of such pure relief on his face that your eyes start to sting.

“You are well, my lord?” you ask, cringing at how formal you sound.

“As well as can be.” Elrond smiles weakly in return. “And you?”

He sounds different. As though the usually reassuring tone of his voice has been stripped away, leaving behind a weariness you find almost overwhelming to witness. He takes a step towards you and you reach for him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as his own wind firmly around you, holding you close. You feel his lips press to the exposed skin of your shoulder where your robe has slipped down. You hear the words he whispers into your skin like a litany… 

I missed you. I missed you. I missed you…Meleth nîn…

My love.

You pull back to look at him. He’s removed his armour and bathed, his wavy hair still damp and mussed.

“I missed you too,” you say, taking his hand in your own. “Which tent is yours?”

***

As soon as the flaps close on Elrond’s private tent, you come together as though magnetised. The kisses are hotter than the flames of the campfires. They burn deliciously, branding your skin so that they feel permanent. Like invisible tattoos. 

You fall together onto the low bed and you release a giggle when you find yourself straddling Elrond, but then you stop when you see the way he’s looking at you. Has he always looked at you this way, you wonder. It’s everything you've ever wanted, but what of him? He’s always been so sweet and polite.

And alone.

Has he wanted you all this time, like you’ve wanted him?

“Tell me what you want,” you say, breathless and willing. “I’ll give you anything.”

Elrond’s eyes glitter as he slowly tugs on the tie holding your robe closed.  The fabric pools around your waist and you feel your skin warm at the exposure. At the vulnerability of being like this in front of him.

“I want you just like this,” he says. Tilting his hips so that you feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. 

“I want us to join and then never be parted–” the words become caught in a net of emotion and he looks away.

Tears begin to well as you bring your hand to Elrond’s cheek in a caress. You do not speak again, but an understanding passes between you as you give the revered soldier everything he wants.

You like this.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

ParkRanger!Reader and Hybrid!141 Hc’s

This can really be interpreted as platonic or romantic, depending on how you look at it, but I just think it would be hilarious to be a fire lookout or one of those people who stays in the tall towers in a park for months on end.

Sure, maybe some of the wildlife was a bit too friendly, but that was just normal, right?

Like that burly bear that lived in a cave nearby, occasionally migrating, but never attacking you when you accidentally crossed its path. It got along oddly well with the other wildlife, well, except for the other male bears, who seemed to not respect its territory. You’d nicknamed it “Price”, because of how much money the park had to pay each year due to the bear mauling the electrical system sometimes.

Or the buck that would wander around sometimes, one of the prettiest deer you’d ever seen in all honesty. It was a wonder it hadn’t been devoured by some other animal yet. But it would sometimes let you give it secret little pets, even if the park discouraged any interaction with wildlife. You’d nicknamed it “Gaz”, because of the incident where it had gotten into a barrel of gas for your generator, and you’d had to rush it to a local vet.

The shaggy stray wolf that hung around was a bit odd, too. Blond fur hidden underneath grey and black patches, with keen eyes that you seldom noticed before it moved. It never let you pet it, but sometimes in the middle of the night, you’d be out on a trail, and you both would catch eyes. Or it would give little growls in warning to you, of whatever else lurked these woods. You’d nicknamed it “Ghost”, for obvious reasons.

And last, but certainly not least of your strange menagerie of animals, was the honey badger. It looked normal, other than some strange spots of hair sticking up that looked like some larger animal had tried to groom it. It snarled at anything, but as long as you didn’t get too close, it would happily trail behind you on whatever path you were taking for work. It was mischievous too, getting into your food and belongings in your backpack. You’d nicknamed it “Soap”, because, in the middle of the night, you’d woken up to find the thing in your tower, drinking some liquid soap. It had run before you’d gotten it to a vet but seemed fine a few days later.

Your odd little group of animal friends seemed weird, obviously, but you’d just chalked it up to them being exposed to park rangers and humans more often than normal wildlife. That was, until, one night you went out late to fix your generator that had run out of gas, only to hear footsteps crunching behind you, and whirling just in time to see a middle-aged man you’d given a fine earlier for setting off fireworks in the forest, holding a thick log, ready to smack you with it.

Rather, he was going to smack you with it, before he was tackled to the ground, and multiple fists began beating him into the dirt.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching as four men, bare as the day they were born, slowly got off the unconscious man’s body.

One shorter man with a mohawk, one pretty one with browned skin, a taller one with a gruff beard, and the tallest, a grumpy-looking man who was built like a brick wall. They stared back, at least moving to cover themselves for your sake before the man with a mohawk and a stupid grin on his face spoke.

“Been wanton’ to bea’ his head in for a while.”

His chin jerked to the unconscious man, now bleeding everywhere in the grass.

You sighed, knowing that you were in for a long night.

(might write a fic for this?? lmk if I should)

[andcars]

★ 𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗖 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 maxiel , rbr x vcarb admins au

THE RBR AND VCARB admins have been getting real friendly on social media recently . the fans very much notice it

TAGS . . . # daniel ricciardo/max verstappen , alternate universe — not racing drivers , max is the red bull racing social media admin , daniel is the visa cashapp rb social media admin , established relationship , outsiders pov , slight suggestive content FIC STYLE. . . # social media au (twitter , instagram , tiktok )

— this one is dedicated to my baba <3 might continue this as a series

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dannyricciardo Who will I be tonight... 🤔🤫 #VCARB #thatsthequestion #lol

sebbettel NOW... WHY IS BRO HOT

baddassformula the fact that this is the face of the man who's been flirting with the rbr admin

lexandra_tbh REDBULL ADMIN REVEAL WHEN!?!

condiified whoever the rb admin is, they're a lucky person

justinn_case Does he go to the races as well?

dannyricciardo Have to give the live updates! 🥳

emrac3 FUCK OFF I WATCHED HIS VIDEO BEFORE

justaninchi_shutup i wanna devour this man

webberspider fuck redbull i support vcarb

dannyricciardo🤣 Yeah... Fuck Redbull (👀)

bearmansbear WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

realnamegucci lolll why'd you expose yourself like that

dannyricciardo Don't wanna join in?

realnamegucci not trynna get myself fired mate

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci and 923 others

Had a nice vacation! Work 💪

View all comments

realnamegucci why do u look like that

dannyricciardo Like your boyfriend?

realnamegucci fucking idiot hahahah

multiplyer ???? MY STALKING IS NOT IN VEIN

victoriaverstappen Bring my brother next time, he sulks too much

realnamegucci idk what ur talking about

dannyricciardo @ victoriaverstappen Duty noted 🫡

kennybeer Who's here after the TikTok reveal 👀

ubercrashesinf1 holy shit bro is Really fucking hot

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realnamegucci

liked by @ dannyricciardo @ teamredline and 1,143 others

fun stream today 👍 sorry had to leave early guys

View all comments

dannyricciardo I was sad when it ended but became happy when I remembered you're coming to me ♥

realnamegucci no i'm going to work

dannyricciardo To me! 😚

realnamegucci why're you like this loll 😂

lukecraneofficial Could've won the race with you

realnamegucci can't be the only good driver in this game 🤣🤣

dannyricciardo Look so good playing racing games 🙏Got me praying on my knees

realnamegucci ew lol

dannyricciardo You say that now...

victoriaverstappen There are children in here!

multiplyer the flirting is crazy i'm going to find something i know it

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci and 112 others

My favourite part of working

View all comments

jarnoopmeer Calling HR for this

realnamegucci lost focus and had a workplace relationship? lol

realnamegucci i told you not to post that picture!

dannyricciardo I can't when my boyfriend looks this good 🤩

janicester Why're you so whipped

dannyricciardo LOVE!

multiplyer JACKPOT! HE'S WEARING A REDBULL SHIRT!

multiplyer can't believe it took me to 2019 to find this picture

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dannyricciardo

liked by @ realnamegucci @ multiplyer and 6,524 others

Didn't mean to reveal you, @ realnamegucci but... I always did want to show you off to the world ♥ ♥

View all comments

realnamegucci if i get fired for this it's your fault

dannyricciardo Maxy, pretty sure everyone knows we are deeply in love

realnamegucci i didn't... hahaha 🧡

ubercrashesinf1 @ multiplyer is the real goat in this

dannyricciardo Such a 🕵️‍♀️

multiplyer ON GODD AHHHHH

cloudszz1 this is gonna be part of the ricksf1addiction iceberg

dreamsncars CONGRATULATIONS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE!! EVEN THOUGH THEY'VE BEEN PROBABLY AT IT FOR YEARS NOW

mclaren Happy for the couple! or something

realnamegucci you're next la***

mclaren NOOOOOO

realnamegucci next time tell me before you're gonna out yourself and me to everyone... but also sure ig ily2

dannyricciardo HE SAYS HE LOVE ME! MARRY ME PLEASE!

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments !    by andcar

[spawnofbhaal]

A take I've been seeing at times (which is valid, people interpret things differently) is that Rook will know the "real" Solas more than the Inquisitor did (even a romanced Lavellan) and . . . I personally don't agree. Solas the god is just as much of a mask as "I'm a simple apostate" Solas. Solas' followers in Tevinter Nights and the comics know him as Fen'Harel, but they don't know him as a person. Iirc in one of the comics (the Blue Wraith or Magekiller series maybe?) a follower of his calls him "master," which is anathema to everything Solas believes in. How much your character (Inquisitor or presumably Rook) gets to know the real him depends on the effort they put into it and the empathy they show him.

Also, the circumstances of Inquisition facilitate Solas being able to show his true personality quite well. He *has* to interact with people rather than distancing himself from them the way he did before the Conclave and after Corypheus' defeat; he is exposed to views that differ from his that he can't resist speaking against; he can form true connections with others he befriends or falls in love with. He tells romanced Lavellan they saw more of him than most, and that he would not romance them under false pretenses and pretend to be someone he isn't. I take these statements at face value because I think his writer is trying to tell us Solas is genuine with romanced Lavellan (as they have said to fans in the past). The man who loves telling stories, who hates tea and loves frilly cakes, who kisses with tongue, who lights his own coat on fire sometimes, that is the real Solas. The Inquisitor just has to pay attention to see it.

While someone's history is an important part of who they are, and I'm sure we will discover a lot about Solas' past in Veilguard, a person is also not entirely defined by their history. Solas' past and present godlike power is also not what defines him as a person. The impression I got from Trespasser is that even though Fen'Harel is an important part of who Solas is, at the center of it all, he's just a man. Fen'Harel was a title forced upon him, as Inquisitor was forced on our protagonist. I don't think Solas' entire personality is going to change just because he's taken on the mantle of Fen'Harel again now. And I don't think he will be entirely transparent with Rook, not unless they work hard for his trust over the course of the game. I actually expect Solas to start off as more cold and closed off than in DAI because he isn't in a situation where he has to act friendly.

I somewhat resent the implication that Solas as he has already shown himself to be in DAI is not the real Solas, that romanced!Lavellan only loves him as the apostate hobo when the whole point of the romance is Lavellan seeing past the disguise. And Lavellan learns the truth of him being Fen'Harel in Trespasser (Lavellan can even piece it together by themselves before they confront Solas!!!) and can still be in love with him ("If you had just told me;" "I loved you. Did you really think I wouldn't have understood?"; "I would have had you trust me"). Honestly, I think that's why the romance works at all: Solas was in a situation where he could show his genuine personality, and that's what Lavellan falls in love with. Not an idealized humble woodsman, nor a powerful godlike being, but a flawed, conflicted person. I don't know how it gets more "real" than that.

[docholligay]

I can't express enough how much having connections in your PHYSICAL, LOCAL community will help protect you. This is true always, but bears repeating right now.

People who care about you, a person they look at, will make small (and large!) Moves to help you.

I was fired years ago for being gay. You know who worked to find me something quickly? A guy who routinely voted for that kind of thing to be legal but LIKED ME PERSONALLY. We weren't even close, we just chatted all the time casually. But he thought I was friendly and funny and he didn't like me PERSONALLY getting fucked over.

"Doc i refuse to engage socially with people who would vote for their own anxieties over my freedoms" cool, this is advice, not a commandment. Do what you will.

But I've lived a lot of life, and people liking me, who can physically help me out, is probably why I'm here today. It's how my great grandparents survived. It's how my grandfather got out of front line work in the military--a general LIKED him when they met . I'm talking to a lawyer who is currently being talked into helping jill and I close up leaks that might be exposed if our marriage is dissolved.

Cultivation of a large personal acquaintance list is also a kind of survival.

[cherryfennec]

On the topic of Power-Ups, let's talk Fire Flower (personal headcanons under cut)!

The Fire Flower is one of, if not, the most known Power-Up from what I've seen. Even though I'm quite a fan of it myself I'll admit I never thought too much about it. So after giving it a good thought here's what I got:

General headcanons;

Fire Flowers are very adaptable plants, however they naturally originate from the Darklands, which so happen to be where they grow the most. The heat eminating from the magma is perfect for them to thrive during the initial stages. Since wielding fire isn't too rare of an ability for Koopas (more specifically some of the subspecies of Koopas) they're mostly perceived as weeds, so it's not much of an issue if someone plucks them. Unless you're an outsider. Something might be considered useless but it's a problem if the enemy wants to exploit it. Because of this a bunch of the main fields will have patrols just in case a mustachioed human, or two, happen to be sent to collect a supply. They usually consist of Fire Bros who protect and even tend to the flowers. Rumours say that with some luck it's possible for a normal Koopa to inherit fire abilities after being exposed to a Fire Flower for extended periods of time but it hasn't been scientifically confirmed.

The Fire Flower is a multiple use Power-Up. Once activated it lends it's energy to a single user, then proceeds to hibernate and slowly regain heat overtime. The process can be sped up exponentially by placing the flower near a heat source like lava or a fireplace.

Mario and Luigi specific headcanons;

It took some time for the brothers to initially get hang of releasing energy without overdoing it. It's easier to ignite something, rather than put it out. Eventually with some guidance from friendly koopas they managed to become respectable fire users. That is until the events of Superstar Saga happened.

For Mario, getting the Firebrand only enhanced his abilities. Focusing energy became very easy, a second nature even. Shaping fire, directing it, managing it's temperature. Easy peasy for a guy like him! It wasn't a suprise that the Fire Flower quickly became his favourite to use soon after. When used with the technique he can truly show off his mastery over the element!

Luigi however... got it rough. The Thunderhand, notable for giving it's user affinity for manipulating electricy, drastically reverted his progress. These two elements just unfortunately don't mix. The fire he started to produce was unpredictable and unstable. There was no guarantee if it'll fly in the right direction nor how much power it'll pack. He's been practicing ever since to not accidentally go overboard.

Mario's fire tips and tricks aren't helping too much but at least he's trying.

Some of the stuff I said here could change with me adding details in the future but right now this is the general idea. It might not be completely original but the thought of making this seemed fun. Thank you to whoever read this, I hope the blocks of text were understandable!

In conclusion the Fire Flower is one of the more reliable, common and useful Power-Ups. Getting a good amount of them can be a hassle but in the long run it's worth it, especially if they're used to make your own farm. It's uses can range from warming up the house to battling evil. Mario is the "fire master" of the group and Luigi, with the peculiar way magic reacts to him, is a walking proof of the statement: "elements don't mix".

Few bonus headcanons!

[issybee06]

Discombobulated

Discombobulated

(adj.) emotionally confused or uncertain

……………………….…………………………………………………

The mission wasn't supposed to go this way. It was a B-ranked mission that took the two teams four days in the middle of the Earth country to complete, and they were just on their way home.

Kakashi should have foreseen this somehow, despite being just a Chunin with no Dōjutsu to see into the future. He still should have been prepared.

They all should have.

The enemy had strung on them when they were at their lowest, chakra exhausted from a previous battle.

Kakashi hadn't seen the man grab you, nor had he seen the blade covered in poison being stabbed into you, all he saw was the expression of pure terror Rin had on her face as she witnessed the scene.

He heard though, the screams of Kushina as she raced to you. The cried of Gai as Genma held him back from running after his sensei. Minatos calls to head to the cottage a mile back.

Now here he was, standing in the doorway of the Cottage as Rin and Kushina frantically tried to save you.

Obito, Genma, and Gai sat on the porch, eyes trained forward in horror. If you died… you'd be the first friend any of them had lost.

Kakashi, he didn't turn away. He watched as Rin, with tears streaming down her face, dug through all her medical bags searching for her antidotes.

He watched as Kushina grabbed a kunai to cut open your shirt and sports bra, and he watched as Minato held your hair back as you leaned over the shitty old kitchen table to throw up your own blood.

Your face, sweaty and flushed from the fever that was beginning to rise. Your pretty eyes that he had caught himself looking at were blinking tiredly. Your hair was wet, stuck to your face and knotted around your head.

Kakashi couldnt look away.

You were still pretty, he thought. Even if you looked like death.

Minato had to force him, pulling him away from the scene as Kushina pulled the fabric from your front, exposing the wound.

“You don't want to see this.”

Good Minato, who despite dealing with three kids in the middle of the war, still tried to keep them somewhat pure from the horrors of this world.

Kakashi, as soon as he turned away, knew you were going to die.

You had been insignificant to him for most of your lives, just another face in the classroom you two had shares.

You were nice, he knew that, but being nice got people killed and he was certain you'd die if you ever got into a battle. Back in the academy, you were quiet, nice, and friendly but insignificant to him.

You had changed since he had graduated before you, and left you to grow.

You turned into a fighter, not as good as Gai but you were above average. You fought with everything, all you had and it impressed Kakashi how much you grew.

Being Kushinas student must have done you some good, because you also held a fire similar to hers.

Maybe that’s why you had rushed to Genma, fighting the enemy that had knocked him out.

Maybe that’s why you had cut the man’s face, scarring him.

Maybe that’s why you were grab by your throat, held down and stabbed with the poison covered blade.

Maybe it was because now you were dying on a rotting table inside of an abandoned cottage in enemy woods.

Maybe it was because you were stupid, rushing to save your friend with no consideration for your life.

Maybe that's why he had grown to love you more than a teammate.

You used to be so insignificant in his life, but now you were everywhere.

*first post, might make this a series!*

[smiley-mcdoggington]

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR 3 MONTHS TW STANCEST TW FADE TO BLACK BEFORE THE SMUT BECAUSE IT'S TOO LONG TW ORIGINAL CHARACTERS TW ABO TW SEXUAL ASSAULT (mild and fictional tho)

Familiar streets scrolled by, ones Ford hadn't seen since he was twelve in the back of his Pa's car. Ma's thick scent blockers chaffed under his turtleneck. Stanley had said there would be no problem with their presentation, that his coach was 'cool' and if he let Stan stay in the ring, he would let Ford rejoin. Ford had his doubts, but he didn't voice them.

Stanley had one hand on the wheel and the other rested on his thigh, a tight t-shirt on and with his head cocked just slightly, leaving his bare neck exposed for Ford without even noticing. If Ford weren't so on-edge he might have done something about it.

That was another thing. Stanley refused to accept he was an omega, he acted the exact same, as if he'd never presented at all. Whimpered apologies about not being an alpha were completely forgotten, it seemed. It might make sense if he was attempting to look like an alpha but he didn't smell like one and he didn't seem to notice, either. Pa said he was asking for it - Ford wouldn't go that far, but he really wished Stanley would start taking preventative measures.

The car slowed to a halt. "Here we are!" Stan chirped in front of the ugly utilitarian building. "I talked to Coach last time, said he was cool with you scouting the joint before you make the call, I know you probably wanna think it through, but Coach's got a good lineup! I can show you some of my stuff, ah?" His eyes were practically sparkling. Ford should probably watch his matches more often, even if their old coach wouldn't be as generous as his brother made it seem, Stanley looked so excited to put on a show for him.

Ford smiled at him, lacing his fingers over Stanley's on his leg for a moment. "I'd love to see you." He said, and the car got hotboxed with pleased omega pheromones.

"Whelp!" His brother shouted in the tiny space, face ruddy and an attempt not to smile crumpling his face. "We should get going!" He left the car like it was on fire, and Ford followed him quietly into the building.

It was just as weirdly damp as he remembered, what he didn't remember was the alpha funk that permeated the whole place. Ford felt like he was following Stanley into a lion's den, he checked his blockers and stuck close to his twin, who didn't seem to notice the smell.

"Coach!" Stanley cheered, waving down the older man sweating through a wifebeater. He looked much sadder than when they were children. "I brought Stanford!" He said, bringing attention to him from the man but also all the other sweaty teenagers in the room. He kept his chin down.

"Hey! It's tweedle-dee!" Coach said jovially, walking over and slapping Ford on the back. He reeked like an alpha, Ford almost took a step away. "Jesus, kid, no wonder you want in boxing, a stiff breeze would blow ya over." He laughed, and Ford glanced at Stanley, who seemed just fine with the man this close to them.

"Um. Yes. I've only come to watch Stanley, for today." He said, and the friendly humor faded from the older man's face.

"Yeah, your brother said that." He said as if judging Ford. "Guess you're really desperate if your nose isn't in a book by now, huh?" He joked, though he didn't sound very amused.

Stan slapped his coach on the back with as much gusto as the coach had slapped Ford. "Eh, you know him. You got a good lineup for me tonight though, right? Gotta show him what your coaching can do." He redirected, a jovial smile that nearly copied the man's earlier expression.

The coach smirked, throwing a shoulder over Stan that itched very close to the exposed glands on his neck and shaking him. "You know it, Pines - I've gotta put you on your ass at least once tonight, even if I gotta get in the ring myself next to all those rutheads." He joked, and Ford stared at the arm on his twin until it left.

"Ha! You couldn't beat me if you tried."

"Big talk, kid, but I ain't seen any proof. Now get changed." He said, shoving Stanley further into the glorified warehouse.

Ford followed Stanley, who gave him a questioning look.

"If I'm going to be joining this gym I'll need to know where the omega change rooms are." He said.

Stanley looked lost. "There ain't any, there's just the one change room." He said, and Ford stopped in his tracks.

"What?" Ford hissed. "Aren't there alphas here, Stanley? Do you change in front of them?"

"Yeah?" Stan said easily. "Where else?"

"Stanley!" He exclaimed in a whisper, eyeing the other teenagers in the ring and on the bleachers. "What if one of them... You know...? It's not safe!"

"I've been changing in front of these guys since we was like ten, Six, get a grip."

"You get a grip! First you wear that obscenely tight shirt, then you refuse scent blockers, then you let some old alpha throw himself at you, now you're telling me you change in front of a bunch of unpredictable teenage alphas? Do you know what happens to omegas like you, Stanley?!" He muttered furiously.

Stanley looked like he'd been struck, before shaking it off. "You're worse than Ma, Stanford. Just calm down..."

"No! Stanley, do you want to get attacked? You're an omega! Why won't you get it through your head?!" He whispered.

"Because you said I'm a good boxer, so I'm go a keep on being a good boxer! I'm not an alpha, I'm not even trying to be one," He said with a pointed look at Ford's covered neck. "but I'm gonna keep on doing what I gotta do, Stanford. For the both of us."

"I don't want this Stanley, I don't want you risking yourself--"

"I ain't risking myself, they's the ones at risk, would you just watch me make some damn rutheads eat the mat and believe me? I got this." He said, searching for any give in Ford's expression.

Ford knew if he made Stanley choose, he would choose him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind, but Stanley looked so eager to be here of all places, and with him in tow.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you." He said firmly.

"Fine, Ma, but nothing past first base in front of the guys, would ya?" He said, completely - well - mostly misreading Ford's intent with following him.

The change room door was blue now - it used to be a flaking-off vomit green when they were younger, and Stan and the other kids would goad eachother into licking the black mold peeking out behind the paint. Ford had licked the door once in an attempt at comradery, he was not proud.

Inside reeked even more heavily of alpha, a sour smell he didn't think he would ever be used to, no matter how often his omegan classmates seemed to gush over it. Stan's locker was near the door, he clicked his lock out of place while Ford studied the room.

They were staring. Six boys, secondary gender unidentifiable under the mildewy funk of the room but certainly not other omegas. Most of them were looking between Ford and Stan as if silently trying to figure out something.

Stanley had his shirt off when one of the boys approached, stopping about a meter away from them. "Pines! Man, is this the brother you're always going on about?" He said, the smile on his face looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, that's Stanford! You might be seein' a whole lot more a him." Stanley said, shucking his pants while he talked to the guy. Ford inched himself between the two just slightly.

"Ah shit I'm bein' rude. Mark Fischer, nice to meetcha." He said, offering a hand to shake. Ford kept his hands firmly behind his back.

Stanley snorted, putting Ford in a gentle headlock that put Ford's face close enough to his chest to feel the wirey chest hair on his cheek. "You'll get used ta him. He's just protective of his poor waify omega brother." He snarked, and Mark Fischer snorted, before his eyes widened.

"Oh shit, you another beta? Thank fuck, man, your brother reeks enough as it is." He said, and Ford kind of wanted to maul him.

"Alpha, actually." Ford said firmly while squirming out of Stanley's hold, before realizing he had no way to back it up.

Fischer seemed disappointed, but he quickly went back to looking at Stanley. "We had a pact, man."

"Yeah yeah, cry about it, at least he knows to wear his blockers so I don't claw his eyes out sharing a room with him." He said, rolling with Ford's lie like second nature.

Fischer snorted. "Now if only you'd wear yours."

"And deny the people what they want? Never." Stanley gasped, mock-affronted.

Ford watched the back and forth like a tennis match.

"Pines!" His coach barked from outside. "Get moving!" And Stanley grabbed his gloves.

"See ya in the ring, Pines."

"See ya on the mat, Fischer."

Stanley still didn't have a shirt on when he left the change room, Ford following him like a child lost in a grocery store. Was it really necessary to go topless? He could have sworn he saw people wearing shirts. He watched the muscles in Stan's back move as he strapped his gloves on.

Stanley shot him a smile. "Just watch me up there, yeah?" He said, before climbing up into the ring with practiced ease. Ford went over to the bleachers and sat in his old favorite spot right at the highest point.

Across from Stanley was another teenager - sweaty, awkward, and about Stanley's size, if a little thinner.

Their coach stood in the middle, spouting off the usual speel that Ford remembered from when he was much smaller.

Then he left the ring and clapped. "Go!" He said, and the other teenager came out swinging. Ford watched his twin duck and weave around his opponent, sending jabs at every opening.

Ford discovered that Stan was actually quite good at boxing. He remembers when they were little, a year too young to be joining but Pa had lied on the forms, Stanley pinned under larger and older kids and weakly trying to slap at them with his gloved hands while Ford made himself small on the bleachers so maybe they would forget when it was his turn.

But when Ford had grabbed a book on his way to the car, Stan had given him a look very similar to a sodden puppy in a cardboard box, so Ford had nothing to watch but people beating eachother up. Once Stan was off the ring, he immediately lost all interest, instead watching Stan drink water and then playfully jab at the others waiting at the bottom of the bleachers. Stanley didn't sit down with his friends, though, instead going up to Stanford.

"... So?"

"So? When are you on next?"

"Fight after next, Coach wants to ring me out today." He nudged Ford with his sweaty shoulder. "Gotta make sure you enjoy the show, ah?"

Ford hummed. "You did take that other guy down pretty quickly. Who are you fighting next?"

"Depends on who wins this one, and from the looks of it it ain't Fischer." He said, gesturing to the front just in time to watch Stan's friend get decked. The guy on the other side of it had to be at least half a foot taller than Stan and the thinnest one there, he punched hard, though, and under his baggy clothes Ford didn't know if he would see ribs or muscle or both.

Stanley kept Ford entertained with idle chatter, but Ford couldn't quite take his eyes off the one his brother would fight next. He wondered if he was an alpha.

Then Stanley was back up and going over to the ring with a quick pat on Ford's shoulder.

When the Coach barked at them to start, Stan immediately surged forward. Ford didn't remember all the terms, but he knew the other guy was defensive even if Stanley looked small next to him in a way Ford hadn't seen since Crampelter finally stopped growing and they caught up.

Stanley gave the other guy a solid left hook that had him stumbling, and Stanley looked over at Ford to make sure he was watching, a proud beaming smile on his face. Ford didn't know how Stanley managed to look so adorable while beating the hell out of someone.

Then the other guy swung while Stanley was looking at him, and Stanley went down. Ford was up out of his seat and running down the bleachers immediately, but paused when the Coach put one of his grubby hands on his shoulder, stopping him.

Stanley got back up swinging, his coordination was shot - concussion, skull fracture, brain bleed, death - but he managed to knock the other guy right back, actually cackling while blood dripped from his nose.

He looked insane.

He looked hot.

Stan had all the grace of a feral cat, at this distance he knew the other guy was definitely an alpha, but he was slowly being pushed back by Ford's twin. The other guy was trying to pin him but he couldn't get an inch.

He threw one pathetic punch that wouldn't even reach Stan's head - but his glove was open, thumb out, and Ford watch in slow-motion as he tried to scruff Stanley. It didn't even matter that all it did was pinch one of his scent glands, Ford didn't even know where he was until he felt Stanley squirming in his arms.

He was in the ring, and the alpha was out, flat on the solid concrete floor while Coach was yelling. Ford's entire body was buzzing when Stanley got himself free, immediately ripping his gloves off and grabbing Ford, dragging him out of the ring and out of the building while Coach made the other guy say the address and who the president was.

Stanley's normal clothes were still in his locker, he got in the car anyway.

Ford scrambled into the passenger seat immediately, trying to get a look at Stanley's face and see if he was mad but his eyes kept going back to the beginnings of a bruise on his neck. He wasn't sorry but Stanley was white-knuckling the steering wheel and staring out the windshield.

"... Stanley?"

His brother took a deep breath, and burst out laughing.

Ford hesitantly smiled at that. At least he wasn't upset. His brother ran a hand down his face, covering his eyes, still laughing. "Fuck, Sixer, what was that?" He cackled, and a drop of blood fell down from his nose to stain his teeth.

"I don't know, I just reacted." He said simply, chuckling along.

"'Just reacted' he says, holy fuck Stanford I think you scared that guy's balls back into his body." He joked, and Ford was starting to get concerned by him still covering his eyes.

"Are you okay..?" He asked, eyeing the fresh red bruise again.

"M'fine, just didn't expect you to show me up in the ring for once." He teased, wiping his eyes on his arm and trying to hide it by punching Ford's shoulder at the same time.

Ford reached out and cupped Stan's cheek, turning him to face him. "Stanley, are you okay?" He repeated.

Stan refused to look at him, face red and crumpled and breath irratic.

Then there was a knock at the window that startled both of them. They looked over and saw Fischer with Stan's gym bag.

Stan rolled down the window. "Thanks, man, don't wanna go in there when Coach tears a strip off my ass for bringing in the stray cat over here." He joked, gesturing at Ford. Both of them heard the shake in his voice it seemed.

Fischer shoved the bag through the window. "Coach ain't mad at you, we all saw what he pulled. His mom's head won't keep him on the team after this one. If it does we just kick him out, run the place ourselves like Lord of the Flies, right?"

"Whatever, nerd." He rolled his eyes.

Fischer put his hand on the door. "Listen, Pines, everyone on the team is with you except the assholes, don't worry about em - practice is cancelled anyway." He glanced at Ford and then leaned closer. "Maybe calm your ruthead brother's jets, ah? I think Coach had to call an ambulance." He nudged Stanley's shoulder, looking too amused for it to be actual advice.

Stanley chuckled at that. "Sure thing, just watch it with the hitting, yeah? You've seen my brother's the protective type." He teased, rubbing his shoulder like the tap wounded him. Ford sat up straight, and Fischer did look genuinely alarmed for a second before coughing into his hand and backing up. It did things to Ford.

"Sure, man. See you next week?" Fischer said awkwardly.

"You know it!" Stanley replied, starting the car and rolling out.

His brother glanced at him once they were out of the parking lot. "Hear that, Six? Guess I gotta cool your jets." He said, somehow making the least sexy phrase into an innuendo. Ford didn't know what that meant but he was in.

Ford hummed. "We have the rest of the morning to ourselves now, it would be wise to make sure we spend the time burning calories - need to keep consistent, after all." He said lowly.

Stan hummed. "I think those are sexing words." He put his foot a little harder on the gas. "Wanna go to our cave?"

"Absolutely."

[two-white-butterflies]

do i wanna know? | m33

Description: Max Verstappen begins dating Tony Stark's daughter.

Pairing: max verstappen/nepo-baby!reader

y/n_stark: happy father's day, so much to be thankful for ✨ tagged: tony

192 comments 182,390 likes

tonystarkisasigma: #1 alpha male

maxverstappen1: Happy Father's Day - f1forzaferrari: ariana what r u doing here 💀

schecoperez: ¡Feliz Día del Padre! - ilikesmootheis19: BYEE WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE

danielricciardo: pls tell ur dad to give me a seat 😇 - y/n_stark: will do!

yukitsunoda0511: happy birthday

alonsohamiltonworld: friendly reminder that tony stark owns redbull and alpha tauri, that's why the drivers are kissing his @ss

Y/N STARK ALLEGEDLY DATING AN F1 DRIVER. by deuxmoi (podcast)

Deuxmoi: So allegedly a famous billionaire superhero nepo-baby is dating an F1 racer. My bets are on Y/N Stark, because her dad is the only superhero with kids. As for the F1 racer, we're not sure - some people in my dms say that it's Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc or Max Verstappen.

y/n_stark: first time in the redbull garage, totally in awe ✨

928 comments 128,349 likes

maxverstappen1: 💙🧡 #OrangeArmy

landonorris: aww missing you here - ynfans: YA'LL BE SAYING IT'S CHARLES, DANIEL AND MAX BUT IT'S OBVIOUSLY LANDO BYEE

tony: ❤️🔥

ynfans: a thread on how y/n stark is dating lando norris

Y/N was in England the same time Lando was in England. (picture proof: she's the one who took the photo)

2. Lando commented "aww missing you here" to her post 3. They would make a cute couple. I rest my case.

9 comments 100 likes

carlandoisbae: bitch bffr

grimes49r: "(shes the one who took the photo)" girl just kys 😭 they're obviously not dating

y/nfans: ok, if she's not dating lando then she's dating charles ya'll stfu because idgaf

avengersassembleconspirancy: I'm praying for the driver that manages to date iron-man's daughter.

10 comments 1,293 likes 12 retweets

peterparker1001: praying for max verstappen 😁 - ynismymommy: I CHECKED HIS PROFILE? HE INTERNS FOR TONY STARK, AND THEY'RE LIKE CLOSE CLOSE 😭 - ilovecaptainamerica: someone is getting fired 💀🤣

y/n_stark: since the cat is out of the basket 🤷🏻‍♀️💕 tagged: maxverstappen1

2911 comments 292,201 likes

maxverstappen1: 🧡💙

peterparker1001: really sorry mr verstappen 😕

starkfashion: how did ur dad react? - y/n_stark: we'll know in a few minutes 💗💕

tony: I feel sorry, - peonysandsuid: me too, she deserves better -- tony: for Max

maxverstappen1: Cheers to more laughter ✨ my lucky charm ❤️ tagged: y/n_stark, tony, redbullracing

819 comments 912,384 likes

carlandolover: bro tagged his entire family 🥶

verstappenleclercbonus: bro isn't scared of tony stark 🥶

y/n_stark: handsome and spectacular 💕

danielricciardo: aww cheers mate 🥂

lokiandthorareinnocent: bro said, i'm the boss now 🥶

AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY EXPOSING MY BEST FRIEND'S RELATIONSHIP?

I, student, M have a friend - 23, F, and she's been in a relationship with a very famous guy for over a year now. She's very private and lowkey with all the things that she does. Now, instead of using my alternate account in commenting something - I used my real account and their relationship got exposed. She tells me that it's perfectly fine and that she doesn't blame me but I feel really bad. AITA?

3 upvotes

aragornofmirkwood: nta divorce the alternate account

benelopecruz: if she says that she doesn't blaim you, nta

maxverstappenisnomber1 max verstappen after pulling tony stark's daughter

starkfamily99 tony stark after a broke man *worth $60 million* dates his daughter

starkfamilyisworld how i imagine tony talking to max: "100 Million, stay away from my daughter"

y/n_stark: SMASH. WAIT WHAT WAS THE GAME?

193 comments 293,129 likes

y.nbutterflyworld: this is how i know tony stark is a good dad 😭 his daughter's type is SO far away from what he looks like. Sis has no daddy issues fr 😭

next part

[in-art-be-liv]

Reference by @adorkastock

"Contrary to popular belief, the gesture now known as 'finger guns' was not invented by Vax'ildan. Some people theorized it could be the doing of Lord DeRolo himself, as he is considered to be the inventor of the fire weapon, the 'gun', that inspired this gesture. But those who met the Lord of Whitestone know he's not the type to make silly gestures with his hands, especially mimicking the use of the dangerous weapon of his invention. No, surprisingly, witnesses account report that we have to attribute the first

appearance of this gesture to Keyleth of The Air Ashari, the Voice of the Tempest herself. [...] It might sound strange, but it shouldn't come as a surprise since Lady Keyleth was Lord DeRolo's best friend, and it's not hard to imagine that from a friendly jest between the two, the gesture came naturally to the Lady, as a friendly form of mockery.[...] Nevertheless, after the invention of the finger guns by Keyleth, it appears that Vax'ildan started making great and frequent use of it. This should come as no surprise since he must have been frequently exposed to it, as Keyleth's romantic partner. To Vax'ildan we can then attribute the popularization of the 'finger guns' and eventually justify why they got associated with Bisexuality (see chapter 4, where we discussed how Vax is the most famous Bisexual in Exandria)"

- The daring trails and tribulation of Sir Taryon Darrington