#green street

[vinnieswife]

Patching him after a fight.

Pete Dunham x reader

words: 680

author’s note: How much I love this prompt omg!

It’s well past midnight when you hear the familiar sound of heavy boots on the stairs, slow, deliberate, like each step costs him something. You’re already waiting by the door, nerves twisting in your chest, a first-aid kit sitting on the small kitchen table of his apartment.

When the soft knock finally comes, you’re quick to put your hand on the doorknob, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Pete stands in the dimly lit hallway, looking exactly how you feared he might, his face bruised, blood trickling from a split lip, and his knuckles torn and raw. His favorite jacket hangs loose from one shoulder, stained with dirt and some blood r.

“Hey, love,” he says with a faint, lopsided grin, trying to play it cool like always. His voice is rough, worn from shouting or maybe just exhaustion after the fight. You can’t help but sigh, both relieved and frustrated. “Jesus Christ, Pete.”

You move,and he steps inside, letting the door close behind him, his body sagging slightly now that he feels safe. He winces when he moves, confirming what you already suspected, he’s hurting more than he shows.

“’S not as bad as it looks, I promise,” he mumbles, but his eyes soften when he sees the worry etched across your face. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was waiting for you.” You guide him towards the worn out couch, helping him sit down carefully. He doesn’t resist,too tired and too sore to protest.

You grab the first-aid kit and sit on the small coffee table in front of him, your fingers already reaching for his bloodied hands. His knuckles are bruised and swollen, skin split. He watches you quietly as you clean the cuts with gentle, practiced hands, his breath hitching when the peroxide stings. “Hold still,” you murmur, as if he’s about to bolt.

“Ain’t used to someone fussin’ over me,” he says softly, almost amused. His lips twitch into a faint smirk, but there’s something tender in his gaze, something vulnerable he can’t quite hide.

“Maybe someone should,” you counter, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand with careful precision. “You’re not invincible, Pete.” He huffs a quiet laugh, letting you continue your work in silence. You tilt his chin up next, inspecting the gash above his eyebrow. It’s shallow, but it’s still bleeding a little. He watches you closely as you dab at it with a damp cloth, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Did you win?” you ask after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence, trying to sound casual.

“Course we did,” he says with that trademark cockiness, but his voice is softer, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. “Not a scratch on the boys.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the sense of pride warming your chest. “Idiot.”

His hand suddenly covers yours, stilling your careful movements. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is warm, grounding. “I’m alright,” he says quietly, as if sensing the storm of worry still swirling inside you. “I swear.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and press a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, how could the same hands that fight so fiercely, hold you so gently. His breath hitches again, “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging you up and into his lap despite his injuries. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him anchored.

For a long moment, you just sit there, your hands resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your fingertips. His grip tightens like he’s afraid you might slip away, even though you’re right there, safe and solid in his arms. You grab the damp cloth cleaning the blood on his lip, also cleaning the trail of blood down his neck. “I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper.

“I know.” His moves closer as his lips brushed against your temple. “But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

And in the quiet of your small apartment, bruised and sore but still standing, he found peace.

[the-home]

[geopsych]

Clearly the tree can’t read.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Best Elijah Wood movies and performances:

1. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Peter Jackson (2003)

2. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring - Peter Jackson (2001)

3. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers - Peter Jackson (2002)

4. Green Street - Lexi Alexander (2005)

5. Everything Is Illuminated - Liev Schreiber (2005)

6. The Ice Storm - Ang Lee (1997)

[arinaborevich]

31.01.2023 | Green Tbilisi

[windysaturday]

[uroko]

京都 貴船 // Kibune, Kyoto // Tomoko.M

[traurigtoby]

kyoto, japan

[ai-dream]

[bet-on-me-13]

Kitty was from Gotham.

So! Kitty was on her way to her old hometown to see what ever happened to her Dad.

See, she used to live in Gotham with her dad, mom nowhere to be seen of course, before running away to be with Johnny and subsequently dying.

She thought it would be better for her dad, not having another mouth to feed on a tight budget and not having to deal with their constant arguments every day. Looking back on it though, that might not have been the best idea. She hadn't even left a note, and for all they argued he did care about her enough that her disappearance would distress him.

But that was fine, she was going to check up on him right now!

He wasn't dead yet, she knew that much thanks to the Kid letting her access the Records of the Realms, but there was apparently some kind of Complications with his File which made it hard to pin down exactly how he was doing and where he was. So right now she was just wandering the streets of Gotham looking for him.

And guess what? No she still hadn't found him yet, he was suprisingly hard to track down. But she did find her apparent BROTHER!

Yeah, apparently sometime after she ran away, he had gotten himself another kid! He was too old to have been a bio kid so it was probably an adoption, but he definitely had a Connection to her Dad, the same kind that all parents and their kids have on their souls.

Well, if he adopted a kid that was fine by her, after all she always wanted a little brother (the Kid didn't count yet), but she kinda wished she had known before now!

She was gonna go introduce herself!

...

Tim was having a very weird day.

Well, it was a normal day for the most part. It became a weird one when a teenage girl walked up to him and introduced herself as his Sister, asking where their Dad was.

This wouldn't have been too distressing, Tim looked fairly average by the standards of Gotham and it would be easy to mistake him for another person with black hair and blue eyes.

The Distressing Part was that the girl in question had green hair, paper-white skin, and blood-red lipstick all covering a face he knew all too well. He saw it every time he had a nightmare about that night.

This Girl was the Joker's Daughter.

[designwdrash]

shades of green. . .

[vinnieswife]

secret account

pete dunham x reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: Dave and Swill secretly film pete’s sweet moments with you and create a ig account.

Pete’s lads have always been a chaotic bunch, but Dave and Swill are on another level. What starts as a regular Saturday in Pete’s garage—a bit of darts, some banter, and you trying to clean up their never-ending mess—takes an unexpected turn when you catch Dave holding his phone up, grinning like an idiot.

“What are you doing, Dave?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Just making memories, love,” he says innocently, but you don’t buy it for a second.

Swill, sitting on the hood of Pete’s car, cackles. “He’s been filming you and Pete all day.”

“What? Why?”

“‘Cause you two are sickeningly cute, that’s why,” Dave says, showing you the screen. There’s a video of Pete handing you a cup of tea, but the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room—makes your chest tighten even though you see it every day.

You groan. “Dave, delete that.”

“No chance,” he says, and Swill chimes in. “We’re making an Instagram account. Couple goals, innit? ‘@PeteAndHisGirl.’” You totally thought that they were kidding.

Pete finally looks up from under the hood of his car, wiping grease off his hands. “What are you two on about now?”

“They’re filming us,” you say, glaring at Dave and Swill.

Pete just shrugs. “As long as they’re not filming me dropping the bloody engine block, they can do what they like.”

That’s all the permission they need. Over the next month, Dave and Swill are relentless. They film everything—Pete brushing a strand of hair out of your face, the way you laugh at his dumb jokes, how he instinctively pulls you closer when you’re sitting next to him. One morning, you catch Dave recording Pete making you a cup of tea, smiling to himself like it’s the most important job in the world.

“Honestly, you two don’t even realize how you look at each other,” Dave says when you try to protest.

By the end of the week, they’ve posted half a dozen videos to the account, set to soft acoustic music and cheeky captions like, “Find someone who looks at you like Pete looks at her.”

At first, it’s just the lads who follow the account, leaving sarcastic comments like:

“Pete’s gone soft.”

“Where’s my cup of tea, mate?”

“Can’t believe we’re mates with a living rom-com.”

But then, something strange happens. One of the videos blows up—a clip of Pete handing you a wrench while you help him in the garage. The soft smile in his face and the shine in your eyes. By the next morning, the video has thousands of likes and comments.

The video blows up overnight. By the time you wake up, Dave and Swill are buzzing with excitement, practically bouncing as they burst into Pete’s garage.

“Mate, you’re famous!” Dave shouts, holding his phone aloft.

Pete glances up from the engine he’s working on, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “What’re you on about now?”

Swill shoves the phone in his face. “Your love life’s gone viral. Look!”

He squinted at the screen. There it was: the wrench video, captioned, “This is love in its purest form,” with numbers you couldn’t quite process. Over a million views, hundreds of thousands of likes, and a flood of comments scrolling too fast to read.

Pete frowned deeper. “This? This is what people care about?”

You peek over his shoulder and immediately notice the numbers: over a million views, tens of thousands of likes, and comments pouring in by the second.

“This is the most wholesome thing I’ve seen all week.”

“The way he looks at her?? I’m crying.”

“This is what I want in life. Where’s my Pete??”

“I don’t even know these people, but I’m invested in their love story.”

Pete shakes his head, muttering, “World’s gone mad.”

You’re about to agree when Swill scrolls to another clip they’ve posted—this one of Pete absentmindedly tucking your hair behind your ear while you’re both sitting on the couch. The caption reads, “When he thinks no one’s watching.”

Pete groans. “For the love of—why’re you filming us when we’re just sitting there?”

“Because it’s cute!” Dave says, grinning. “And apparently, everyone else agrees.”

“Oh my God,” you said, covering your face. “You actually posted these?”

“We’ve been posting them all week,” Swill said, completely unapologetic. You stood there feeling equal parts flattered and mortified. “You two are unbelievable.”

Pete sighs, turning back to his work. “You’re making me out to be some sappy bloke. They’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

You lean over to kiss his cheek, smirking. “Pete, you are soft.”

His lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Don’t you start.”

Curiosity got the better of you. “Let me see.”

Dave handed over his phone, and you started scrolling. There were dozens of videos, all set to either soft love songs or cheeky captions. Every clip had thousands of likes and hundreds of comments.

“This is the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Pete handing her a wrench like it’s a bouquet of flowers. I’m done.”

“Find someone who looks at you like THIS.”

“They don’t even realize how in love they are. I’m crying.”

Pete leaned over your shoulder, reading in silence. He muttered, “The world’s gone mad.”

You kept scrolling, finding comments on the hair-tucking video:

“This man loves her with his whole soul. You can see it.”

“Protect them at all costs.”

“Can someone write a book about these two? I’m begging.”

Finally, you landed on the account’s page and it had over 100,000 followers.

You turned to Dave and Swill. “A hundred thousand?”

They looked far too proud of themselves. “People love you two,” Dave said with a shrug. “You’re what the world needed. Pure, real love.”

“This account is my new comfort place.”

“If they ever break up, love isn’t real.”

“I showed this to my boyfriend, and now he’s trying to act like Pete.”

Pete finally puts down his tools, exasperated. “Alright, that’s enough. You lot need to get a life.”

“Too late,” Swill says, grinning. “We’re in too deep.”

Despite Pete’s protests, you can tell he secretly doesn’t mind. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he pulls you into his arms and grumbles, “At least they’re posting the truth. I do look at you like that.”

You smile, leaning into him. “And I look at you the same way.”

For all his grumbling, Pete doesn’t delete the account. When you ask why, he just smiles, setting the phone down and pulling you into his arms. “Guess if the world wants to see it, I can’t be too mad. As long as they know you’re mine.” And honestly, you don’t mind sharing a little piece of it—as long as Pete’s still just yours.

[ysociety]

[rejectingrepublicans]

He’s a US citizen born and raised in Tex-ass. He served in the army and even did a tour in Afghanistan. Republicans lie about everything.

[goryhorroor]

my top 30 favorite horror movies

[marejadilla]

Keita Morimoto | 森本啓太, “Isolated Echoes”, 2023, oil painting. B. 1990 Osaka, Japan. Based in Tokyo and Toronto. "As we didn't know it" exhibition, November 11 - December 22 (2023)