#montoya family feels

[marmolady]

Estela's salvaged family photo.... It just gives me all of the feels; they look so happy. How often would such peaceful moments have had a chance to play out, especially with all of them together? How old would kiddo 'Stel be there, about ten? Tio Nicolas looks SO different here to his actual sprite.

But mostly.... How cute is kiddo Estela?!

[vinelark]

i'm semi-active on tumblr so you might have already answered sorry but how did you get into the batfam? I remember your mdzs works not thaaaat long ago so i'm intrigued (i love both/have been in both fandoms too!). i remember falling into batfam because i saw a pretty fanart of the batbros and i needed to know who they were..

i was lying awake one night around 3am silently scrolling through tiktok and there was one that was someone crying over a batfam fic, which was oddly random of the algorithm to put on my fyp (previously just dogs, lesbians, outdated book drama, and restaurant hosts reenacting customer conversations). i don’t for the life of me remember what fic it was, but i do know i opened it and despite it making zero sense to me (i was still at the “wait, there’s more than one robin?” stage of things) my 3am brain honed in on timothy jackson drake like my dog hearing the lid come off the treat jar. spent about five days jumping between the tim drake ao3 tag “just to see what’s there” and two dozen wiki pages giving myself a dc crash course. a week later i admitted i was actually invested and got myself to a comic shop. now they recognize me when i walk in the door 🥰

anyway i will always love mdzs. but my brain was primed for something new at that point and i think the “crafty genius with self-worth issues” part of my brain saw tim and immediately made room for another character.

[neverendingford]

.

[inkspiredwriting]

Love, Hate, and the Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves had always been known for his sharp mind and sharper tongue. Y/N, his girlfriend, was no different. Their relationship was a fiery mix of love and playful antagonism, a dynamic that often left the rest of the Hargreeves family in stitches. Today was no exception.

The siblings had gathered in the living room of the Umbrella Academy, the air filled with the scent of popcorn and the sound of laughter. Klaus had found an old box of family videos and insisted on a movie night, much to everyone’s amusement.

Y/N and Five sat on the couch, bickering over which movie to watch.

“I’m telling you, Five, ‘The Princess Bride’ is a classic!” Y/N argued, holding the DVD case up for emphasis.

“And I’m telling you, Y/N, if I have to hear ‘As you wish’ one more time, I might throw myself into a time vortex,” Five retorted, rolling his eyes.

Diego snickered from his spot on the floor. “Ah, the sweet sound of true love.”

“Viktor,” Y/N pleaded, turning to him for support. “Back me up here. ‘The Princess Bride’ is timeless, right?”

Viktor smiled, enjoying the show. “It is, but watching you two argue is better entertainment.”

Luther, munching on a handful of popcorn, chimed in. “You know, Five, for a guy who’s been through the apocalypse, you’re surprisingly bad at picking battles.”

Five shot him a glare. “And for a guy who’s part gorilla, you’re surprisingly bad at shutting up.”

Klaus, sprawled out on the other couch, giggled. “Oh, leave them alone, Luther. This is their foreplay.”

Y/N and Five both turned a shade of red, but neither was willing to back down.

“Fine,” Five said, crossing his arms. “We’ll watch ‘The Princess Bride’. But if I start quoting it sarcastically, you have only yourself to blame.”

Y/N grinned triumphantly. “Deal. And for the record, if you don’t cry when Inigo Montoya gets his revenge, you’re heartless.”

Five smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. My heart’s in perfect working order. Unlike some people’s taste in movies.”

As the opening credits rolled, the siblings settled in, occasionally glancing at Five and Y/N, who were now sitting unusually close, sharing a bowl of popcorn. The movie played on, and true to his word, Five couldn’t resist a few sarcastic comments.

“‘My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.’ Classic line,” Five deadpanned. “Really hits you in the feels.”

Y/N nudged him playfully. “Shut up and watch, smartass.”

Halfway through the movie, during the iconic fire swamp scene, Klaus leaned over to Diego, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Do you think they’re actually fighting, or is this some weird foreplay we don’t understand?”

Diego chuckled. “Given how they are, it’s probably both.”

Y/N threw a piece of popcorn at Klaus. “We can hear you, you know!”

Klaus caught it and popped it into his mouth. “Just saying, you two have the sexual tension of a rom-com.”

Five rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. “And you have the brain of a goldfish, but we still keep you around.”

Laughter erupted, and even Y/N couldn’t help but join in. The teasing was relentless, but it was also filled with affection. The Hargreeves were a dysfunctional family, but they were a family nonetheless.

As the movie reached its climax, Five found himself genuinely engrossed. He glanced at Y/N, who was watching with a look of pure joy on her face. Despite their constant bickering, he loved seeing her happy.

The final scene played out, and as the credits rolled, Viktor turned to them, grinning. “So, how was it, Five? Are you a ‘Princess Bride’ fan now?”

Five shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N beamed. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Klaus jumped up, stretching dramatically. “Well, this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime. Preferably with more popcorn and less bickering.”

Diego smirked. “Less bickering? With these two? Not a chance.”

Five stood, pulling Y/N up with him. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave these amateurs to their popcorn.”

Y/N laughed, following him out of the room. “As you wish.”

The siblings burst into laughter again, and Five couldn’t help but smile. Their love/hate relationship might be a source of endless teasing, but it was also what made them, well, them.

As they walked down the hallway, Y/N slipped her hand into Five’s. “Thanks for watching the movie with me, Five.”

He squeezed her hand, his usual sarcasm softened by genuine affection. “Anytime, Y/N. Just don’t expect me to quote it back to you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she teased.

And with that, they continued down the hall, ready for whatever adventures and arguments lay ahead, knowing that as long as they had each other—and the Hargreeves’ relentless teasing—they could handle anything.

[httpiastri]

more than enough – jmm21

you hate your birthday, but pepe is determined to change your mind.

genre: fluff/a little angsty/comfort

pairing: reader x college!pepe marti, ft christian mansell and sebastian montoya

warnings: uhhh anxiety and such ?? idk

word count: 2.6k

author's note: just like last year, this is merely a very self-indulgent birthday gift to myself (and a bit of a late birthday gift for a friend on here who confided in me about not liking their birthday either), so sorry if you don't relate but i needed to write this for myself despite how painful it was. not happy with how it turned out but, i had to get it out of my system. <3 (also not proofread because i will freak out likely aaaaa)

this is mostly a standalone fic but ig it kinda works as college!pepe so i put that there. i got this idea at my mom's birthday back in march but never actually wrote it until this last week... also loosely based on a tiktok that really spoke to me.

also! this doesn't really work with the headcanon of pepe, seb and chris all sharing an apartment, but i wanted it this way. i also wasn't comfortable including gaby or hermes, so i used the names nora and emma for seb's and chris's respective gfs. :)

"why didn't you tell me your birthday is next week?"

the question is innocent enough, only borderline accusing, but something tightens in your stomach nonetheless. you don't look up from the pot in your hand, however, instead continuing to scrub it with your dishbrush like it's no big deal. "who told you that?"

pepe chuckles as he makes his way over to your side, leaning against the counter as he looks at you. "emma," he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest. "going to answer my question now?"

"i must've forgotten to tell you."

"oh, come on..." your boyfriend shakes his head. "is there a reason i wasn't allowed to know? did i do something? do you not trust me? am i-"

"pepe," you say, his name followed by a sigh as you look over to him in hopes of stopping his rambling. "it's nothing personal."

"what is it, then?" he presses, eyes following your hands as they begin to rinse the pot he'd cooked your pasta in just a couple hours ago. "why don't you want to tell me?"

you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders before turning off the tap. "i just... i'm not a big fan of my birthday."

the biggest understatement of the year.

you hate your birthday.

for a number of reasons, really. some to do with your family and childhood; many to do with your own inner thoughts and feelings.

you hate how it reminds you of every bad birthday you had as a kid. you hate how it makes you hopeful that people will remember and congratulate you, because you hate how painful it is when they don't. you hate how you always get reminded of how little people seem to care, and how they always prioritize themselves even on what's supposed to be your day.

it's too much of a mess to explain to him right now – maybe, hopefully, one day you'll have the energy and courage to go through it all.

you hadn't forgotten to tell pepe; you had just been silently hoping he wouldn't address it, and that everyone else would forget, too. but apparently, you have a snitch in your friend group. "what do you mean?" pepe asks.

"i'd much rather not celebrate it." you place the pot on the drying rack, wiping your hands on your towel hanging by the stove before turning to him. "a lot of stuff regarding my birthday just makes me really upset. if i could, i'd just... make it disappear, honestly."

your eyes flicker to the floor, fingers nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. he can tell you don't want to get into it, and he won't push you. instead, he opens his arms wide, taking a step forward. you accept the offer instantly, arms wrapping around his waist as he pulls you close.

the air in your little dorm room isn't as thick as you had expected it to be when telling him all of this – but at the same time, you aren't surprised. pepe has always had a way of grounding you, making everything seem a bit easier. "i can't make it completely disappear, i think," he says, placing his chin on top of your head. "but i can pretend for you."

you hum contently, letting your eyes close for a few moments. "that would be great."

he remains quiet for a couple of seconds, but then he can't stop himself from talking again. "do you really not want anything? no party? you threw me that party for my birthday, i'd feel guilty not doing anything back."

"i did it because you had a fun time and you like those things, and because i enjoyed planning it. but i was really hoping i could skip all that," you answer, pulling away ever so slightly to look up at him with a sheepish expression. "i would honestly rather have dinner with you, emma, nora, sebas, chris... maybe get some takeout from that new indian place down the road?"

to pepe's ears, you sound more than just a tiny bit crazy – but your being so different from him is one of the things that attracted him in the first place. he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "whatever you say, love."

"where did your girl go?" emma asks the second pepe slumps into a free seat by the cafeteria table.

your boyfriend shoots a glance over his shoulder back to the serving line before setting his plate down. "they were out of rice so she's just waiting for a new batch," he says with a shrug.

"okay then, let's be quick before she gets here," emma speaks up again. "what are we doing for her birthday? it's just a few days away, but i think we can pull something off."

"me and seb were talking about throwing her a surprise party," nora says, looking over at sebastian who's nodding excitedly.

pepe, however, lets out a dismissive sound and swats the air with his hand. "no, forget about that," he says, stuffing a spoonful of pasta into his mouth. "she doesn't want any of that."

nora snorts. "what? of course she does."

"you know, pepe," emma counters, eyebrows raised at the spaniard. "every girl will tell you that she doesn't want a surprise party. don't bother, i don't care, you don't have to do all that for me! but in reality, we're all secretly craving it."

pepe considers her words for a few moments; maybe there is some truth in them after all. maybe all you did was try to act modest, to put the idea in his head so he would make the right choice.

but you weren't the one to bring up the subject – he was. he remembers clearly how you were doing your very best to avoid talking about your birthday at all, and the memory of how tough of a subject it seemed like to you is still etched into his mind. he thinks you were so brave to confide in him like that, and so he needs to stand up for you. he can't dishonor your trust.

"trust me, guys. she really doesn't want it." he ignores the groans of the people around him, taking a few sips of his water before continuing. "can't we all just grab some dinner on saturday instead? maybe that new indian place?"

"works for me," christian joins in. "how about presents, then?"

"right, are we all buying something together, or separate gifts?" emma fills in.

pepe shakes his head yet again. "i don't think she wants that, either." his words are followed by a long silence, which makes him unable to hold back a chuckle. "just paying for the food should be enough."

nora sighs dramatically, the palms of her hands pressing into the sides of her face. "and i'm supposed to just trust you, huh?" she asks and pepe merely shrugs, focusing back on his food. "hope you're not messing with us here, marti."

"i have no idea what he said, but he usually is," your voice spreads through the group as you finally take a seat at the table. "fill me in and i'll help you decide if he's just being annoying."

"i was just telling them about what mr. peterson said yesterday," pepe says quickly. "about what he'll do to everyone who fails the exam."

you throw your head back laughing, nodding instantly. "oh my god, that was hilarious. so, it started with someone on the front row asking about..."

pepe loves birthdays. his own, too, but mostly he finds himself looking forward to his friends' birthdays and longing to celebrate the important people in his life. he loves picking out gifts, planning celebrations, and making sure everything is perfect. it just comes naturally for him to be caring and detailed in that way.

but while pepe eagerly awaits your birthday, you couldn't even come close to feeling the same way.

most years, you spend the weeks leading up to your birthday dreading it, and the day of your birthday crying, because your birthday reminds you of everything you try to forget year-round.

pepe wants to make the day perfect for you, but he also obviously doesn't want to do too much. it's a hard task, but he's set on making it work – and the first step is getting a cake.

his first thought was to get you something huge, something to properly convey what he thinks you deserve and how much he loves you. though, it didn't take long for him to realize that something like that would be way too much for you. instead, he settled on a more basic yellow cake with some kind of white coating that the lady in the bakery recommended to him, and dropped by the grocery store near campus to buy sprinkles and a bunch of candles.

the end product is a little messy, but created with so much love, and pepe knows you're going to adore it. what he doesn't know is how he managed to keep you away from his refrigerator and the surprise hiding in it all night yesterday, but it doesn't matter – all that matters is that you're currently still sleeping soundlessly in his bed, with no clue of what's going on over in the kitchen.

pepe's hands are trembling slightly as he lights up the candles; he is a little nervous, he will admit, but he's also excited at the same time. he can't wait to see the look of surprise on your face, so he hurries up and places the cake on a tray along with two cups of coffee.

he silently curses at the way his bedroom door creaks when he pushes it open with his foot, but thankfully you don't move a single muscle. he carefully scoots over to the side of the bed, sitting down next to you and balancing the tray in his lap. he reaches over with one hand to your cheek, thumb tracing along your skin, fingers settling under your jaw. "mi amor," he whispers, a soft hum leaving his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. "happy birthday."

it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the sunshine lighting up the room, but when they do, they can't help but focus on him. the goofy grin on his lips, the messy hair, the-

the cake on his lap.

you push yourself up to sit in bed, rubbing some sleep out of your eyes. you're mistaken, surely? you're still half-asleep, you must've imagined it...

but no amount of blinking makes the cake disappear. the little flames of the candles swaying in the air, the single drop of stearic rolling down the side of a candle, the rainbow sprinkles sticking to the top and sides of the cake – it's all very real.

pepe was so sure this was the right way to go. but seeing the tears begin to seep out of the corners of his eyes makes him horrified. he messed up.

he knew the sprinkles would be too much. and that amount of candles, what was he thinking? he definitely went overboard.

"oh my god," he says, instantly placing the tray on the bedside table before scooting closer to you. "i'm so so so sorry, i thought you would like it... i don't know what i was thinking. here, let me-"

you shake your head as he begins brushing away your tears with his thumbs, and to his big surprise, you chuckle. "don't be sorry," you say, letting out another laugh when you see the confused expression on his face. "i do like it. a lot." you reach up to take his hands in yours, bringing them down to the bed and intertwining your fingers. "it's just... very emotional, for me. as you can see."

he also chuckles now, and he thinks he understands – even though seeing your happy tears is more painful than he'd expected. "okay," he says with a nod. "so..." his eyes flicker back to the cake.

"yes, please. i mean, what could be better than a sugar rush first thing in the morning?"

pepe would've been so happy to shower you with presents to express how much he loves you; it would've made him so proud to invite all your friends to a big celebration, to show you how much you mean to all of them, to change your idea of a birthday. but this – sitting together in bed, eating straight from the cake (no plates needed), pressing sugary kisses to each other's cheeks – is another form of perfect.

he just hopes you think it's perfect, too.

hearing you tell the stories of how you needed to bake the cake for yourself if you wanted one as a child, how you always made sure to buy yourself a gift because the risk that no one else would get you one was too high, and how you always needed to plan out your own parties breaks his heart – but hearing you open up like that also means the world to him. he understands that it's all buried so deep inside of you, but there's nothing he wants more than to help you heal and to prove that you can have much better and bigger birthdays than that.

but for now, a little cake in bed and a ton of kisses will have to do.

baby steps.

"chris, will you pass me the chicken korma?"

he leans over the crowded couch table and holds out the takeaway box to nora, who takes it into her hands and thanks him. "that one is really good," you tell her through your mouthful of bread, nodding to your friend.

"what's the verdict, then?" sebastian asks from his seat over on the couch. "i need a rating from the birthday girl, one to ten."

"food? ten," you say, taking a sip of your soda. "company? ten."

birthday? eleven.

the whole day has been much better than you'd expected; from your wake-up this morning, to the lunch date you shared with pepe over in town after a cute walk along the river, to having your closest friends all gathered in your living room for you. you don't even mind the way your buttcheeks are already starting to hurt after sitting on the floor for too long – you knew you should've invested in more seating for moments like these – because all of this is worth it.

"agreed," pepe chimes in from next to you. "especially about the food."

"speaking of which," says emma. "was there any bread left?"

you're quick to jump to your feet, already turning towards the kitchen. "garlic or plain?"

"ooh, garlic! thank you!"

pepe hurries off the floor right after you, making up some excuse about getting a new spoon for one of the sauces, but no one even bats an eye. you hear him enter through the door, and you smile instinctively. "how are you feeling?" he asks when he reaches your side, hand finding the small of your back as you rummage through the takeaway bag. "is this all enough?"

"it's more than enough. so much more." after pulling out the garlic naan from the bag, you reach up to the side of his face with your free hand, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "best birthday ever."

you seal your words with a feather-light kiss to his lips, and he's still smiling when you pull away. "you promise?" he asks, eyes searching through yours for any slightest hint of insincerity or uncertainty.

"i promise." another kiss, followed by a gentle hum, and he visibly relaxes. "thank you."

"no, thank you." for opening up, for letting him do all this for you. for existing. "only happy birthdays from now on, okay? i will make sure of it."

"it could never be anything other than a happy birthday with you around."

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think grrm cares about elia? honestly the only reason i want young griff to be aegon is bc he's her babyboy :(

i think he genuinely cares about all his characters to be honest! and some of what we have gotten of elia speaks to a sympathy for what she went through. for example, when the artist Paolo Puggioni was depicting Rhaegar crowning Lyanna, these were the notes George gave him-

Jon Arryn and Robert and Lord Hunter joking a moment before what was happening dawned on them, Ned watching as Rhaegar was about to stop in front of his sister, mad Aerys glowering in the distance, Elia stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong, Jon Connington probably looking vaguely sad, and so on.

Not only that, but we get a pointed non Dornish pov on how tacky Tywin is about the whole thing-

"Prince Doran comes at my son's invitation," Lord Tywin said calmly, "not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children." Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, "But Lord Tywin, wasn't it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?" None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

And of course, the entire Dornish plot enters the scene because of Elia's murder. One of the defining scenes of the series is Oberyn's fight with the Mountain after all and Oberyn is careful to make sure everyone knows exactly why he's so angry-

The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. "EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised.

I definitely understand some of the doomerism surrounding Elia. Especially post show, where the Dornish plot is just completely and totally botched, and loses it's center - but the thing is the center is Elia. That's why the Dornish plot made sense; she is important to their narrative and cutting this down means it was a story without a heart. I don't think George gave Oberyn his Inigo Montoya moment just for funsies; he did it because he's writ a story that revolves around a family's hunt for justice for her murder and what that hunt means, what justice even means in this situation-

But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name."

And while I love to bash the show, I do think they did a good job adapting this scene. I can't find the gifset that talked about it of course but during the fight, he very explicitly turns his back on the Mountain to look right at Tywin. He knows damn well who gave the order, everyone knows, and he lays the blame right at Tywin's feet where it belongs.

Not only that, but Ned thinks about Elia quite frequently. Ned nearly pulled out of the war specifically because of what happened to Elia and her children, and feels justified in keeping Jon a secret because of it.

Ned rose and paced the length of the room. "If the queen had a role in this or, gods forbid, the king himself … no, I will not believe that." Yet even as he said the words, he remembered that chill morning on the barrowlands, and Robert's talk of sending hired knives after the Targaryen princess. He remembered Rhaegar's infant son, the red ruin of his skull, and the way the king had turned away, as he had turned away in Darry's audience hall not so long ago. He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.

Elia is what drives Oberyn, Doran, and Arianne. Elia is a driving force in the themes of justice and vengeance throughout the story. I'm not saying she's George's favorite or anything (he has gone on record being like "my favorite child is tyrion" after all, lmao) but I do think he is invested in continuing to explore the way her murder affected Dorne and the repercussions of Robert forgiving Tywin and Gregor for their crime.

[santanasaintmendes]

“typa girl that make me drop dead on the floor. . .”

“this is the only girl that i love and adore, this is the type of love that you can’t ignore. .  .”

wc!: 1.8k

sebastián montoya x driver!reader

warnings: arvid lindblad is done with sebastian being oblivious (in a funny way), let me know if there are any other warnings

type: fluff mainly, sebastian in denial 😔

requested by @pha55ed

a/n: im so sorry this took forever to finish! I have a million other things i’m also doing at the moment and i only for the chance to write this yesterday! I hope you enjoy xx sorry again!

Developing a crush on his teammate was definitely not on Sebastian’s to do list for that season. It had crept up on him so unexpectedly it hit him like a truck to say the least. He'd always had a liking toward you ever since you both became teammates this season. But that had just been a friendly mutual liking, but this?

Absolutely different. 

The first time Sebastian ever met you was at a meeting at the Campos Racing headquarters during the break. He’d been called down to meet his new teammate that would be joining him and Pepe for the next coming season. He hadn’t heard much of her but that she was guaranteed to add more competition to the grid. As Sebastian entered the building that had become like a second home to him over the last year he passed the front desk, greeting the lady there. But just as he was about to go up the stairs he paused, attention caught. At the glass window he saw a girl waving up at something. He frowned, she was getting frustrated, that’s when he realised that she thought the giant window panes were the sliding doors. 

He chuckled to himself before walking to the doors and sticking his head out, the girl was cursing at the window with an agitated look on her face. Her eyebrows knitted and hands balled up as she shook her fists angrily.

“Looking for the doors?” he interrupted, you turned to him eyebrows raised, the anger disappearing from your face instantly. There was a long moment of silence before the two of you burst out laughing. He recognised you from the Instagram post Campos Racing has posted when they announced your join to the team.

“Day 1 and I’m already embarrassing myself.” you joked, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you joined him inside. Sebastian let a smile overtake his face as you stuck out your hand for a shake. 

“I’m Y/N L/N.” 

He took your hand and shook it.“Sebastian Montoya.” he grinned from ear to ear. Your face lit up and that’s when Sebastian knew that you were sure to be a great teammate. 

You guys had been halfway into the season when Sebastian invited you over for dinner with his family. Neither of you thought much of it so you agreed, it was just dinner . . .  with his family. To be fair his Mother had been the one to ask him to invite you over for a meal, so on a Wednesday when you’d both been on the flight out to Barcelona he invited you for dinner the next week. 

By that time the two of you had gotten to know one another pretty well considering the fact that you were both teammates and spent a lot of time together. But Sebastian liked you so it was fine. . .  not like that, well he wasn’t really sure yet. But when you came over for dinner that week he knew he felt something for you, he just wasn’t sure exactly what. 

Maybe it was because his mother absolutely adored you or that you got along well with his sisters or that you complimented his father’s cooking. He didn’t know. 

“Ahora entiendo por qué hablas tanto de ella.” (Now I understand why you talk so much about her).

Sebastian’s train of thought was crashed by his younger sister Paulina who was wiggling her eyebrows at him from across the table, a giant grin on her face. Sebastian quickly glanced over at you, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that you were still talking with his Mother and Father. His other sister Manuela nudged him playfully, “Estas tan enamorado, dios mio.” (You’re so in love, my god.) she grinned, looking over at you who was still oblivious to their little gossiping.

He shook his head. 

Was he in denial?

Perhaps, but his sisters most certainly didn’t need to know that. You guys were friends, nothing more, nothing less. He was trying his best to remain professional, for both of your sakes. If you guys were to be a couple it would certainly raise a lot of questions and create unwanted drama. Maybe it was better that you both just remained friends.

“No sean chistosas.” (Don’t be silly) he scoffed, but Paulina rolled her eyes, she knew better. 

“Somos tus hermanas, sabemos más que tu. Y yo se cuando estas enamorado.” (We’re your sisters, we know more than you. And I know when you’re in love.) she batted her eyelashes at him all knowingly, being the annoying younger sister she loved to be. 

Sebastian looked over at you. Whatever these things he felt for you were sure to go away soon, he was sure of it. 

Watching as you helped his Mother wash the dishes or play fetch with his dog certainly didn’t help at all. The way you smiled and your whole face lit up when you looked over at him made his stomach do flips and his heart felt like it was going to shoot out of his chest and fly away. He felt like a 5 year old girl when he was around you. Yet he still wouldn’t admit he had feelings for you. It all seemed too weird, too foreign to him. And it definitely didn’t help that his friends insisted that he had a massive crush on you. 

Pepe looked down at him as if disappointed, his hands on his hips and a disappointed scowl on his face. 

“What?” Sebastian asked, his arms folded across his chest as he leant back into his chair. 3 sets of eyes stared at him as if he should’ve known exactly what they were talking about. 

Dino sighed and met eyes with Arvid who was sitting next to him.

“What’s it going to take for you to admit you like her?” Arvid asked, clearly wanting to get straight to the point. Sebastian frowned, “Who?’ he asked, making all his friends groan. 

“I will quite literally punch you in the face if you’re being serious right now.” Arvid warned with an eyebrow raised. 

“Okay. . . fine. But I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

“Bloody hell this is going to be harder than I thought. Someone hold me back before I throw him through the window.” 

“Wait, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He’s just kinda hopeless with girls. We can help him though, right?” Pepe asked the others, ignoring Sebastian’s offended frown. The other boys nodded in agreement, mutters of yes’s passing around.

“You have to ask her out.” Dino looked at Sebastian, his face dead straight, giving him a scare. He never thought his friends would take this so seriously. To be honest he wasn’t even sure how he got into this situation.

“Uhhh, I don’t think so.” he laughed nervously, looking around at his friends.

“What do you freaking mean, I don’t think so?” Arvid asked, clearly getting agitated by the minute. “Have you seen the way you look at her, or should I say have you seen the way she looks at you? It’s like you hung up the freaking stars or something.” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Look, even if I did ask her out, what if we break up? What then?” Sebastian asked, there was a moment of silence. 

“Well that’s just a chance you’ll have to take.” Pepe said slowly, instantly cringing at how bad it sounded. “Yeah no. Never say that again.” Arvid told him, Pepe winced. 

“Duly noted.” 

The three boys looked at Sebastian who had never felt more distressed in his life. He most certainly knew that he liked you, it had just happened he wasn’t even sure how. It was all making sense now, why he would linger around after sim racing just to talk to you. Or arrive at the same time as you to races just to see you. 

He now knew, he liked you. 

He liked everything about you, the way you smiled, the way you laughed, the jokes you telled, he liked you. And it had been obvious to everyone but him. Hell even his sisters had known it before him. 

“I do like her,” it felt so relieving to finally admit it out loud, “and I think I want to ask her out.” he admitted slowly. 

“Asi es!” Pepe clapped him on the back, a giant grin on his face. 

“Go find her now.” Pepe told him as he pushed the trailer door open, everyone’s jaw dropped and their eyes seemed to pop out of their heads as you stood at the door. Like a deer caught in the headlights you were frozen. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation, you just so happened to pass at the wrong time. 

“I was . . .  was going to knock. . .” you trailed off, meeting Sebastian’s gaze who was still stunned. 

“Well, my job here is done. I’ll leave you to it.” Arvid stood up and saluted Sebastian before passing you and disappearing. “Have fun.” Dino smiled, winking at Sebastian as he patted your back and followed after Arvid. 

“I know I said I’d be with you through everything but I’m not staying for this, sorry.” Pepe joked as he ran to catch up with the others, leaving the two of you in silence in the trailer.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Sebastian blurted out, you frowned. He felt like he wanted to run out the trailer door and never look back. 

“No wait. I mean, I did but you’re making this 10 times harder by not saying anything.” Sebastian looked at you helplessly. You couldn’t help but laugh at how lost he seemed to be. You’d liked Sebastian since the day you met him, everything about him just seemed to pull you in. His humour, his looks, his personality, his dumb jokes that weren’t funny at all. The way he was with his family, you’d never seen a guy so close with his siblings before. And it only made you like him more.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to say anything.” you said as you took a step closer to him, unable to keep a smile off your face. Sebastian chuckled, “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?” he said as he pulled you closer to him.

“I do, actually.” you joked, as you locked eyes with him. They looked like shiny pools of honey under the sunlight that peeked through the trailer door.  Your hand came up to his cheek as you admired his eyes, his arms slinked behind you and around your waist as he pulled you closer. 

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Sebastian murmured sarcastically, his face inching closer to yours. 

“Why thank you.” you whispered as you closed the gap between you, catching his lips with yours. If only the two of you had confessed earlier- 

“LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO!” a voice screeched with a gleeful laugh, making the two of you turn around, frowning. Three heads peeked out from behind the trailer door, Pepe with a giant grin on his face before he got hit over the head by Arvid. 

“Well now you’ve ruined the moment.” he scowled. 

“Sorry guys, go back to kissing.” 

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

a pretty ambitious ask, but let's go:

suppose, you are now in charge of writing a dual story for stephanie brown and helena bertinelli. it can be a mini, a standalone, a comic series, or an entire run. you can use any version of them (as in, any alias or any particular storyline) and it doesn't have to align with the current dc storyline — simply, the floor is all yours. it can have connections to blunt trauma but it's not necessary. you can also revisit any past storylines and rewrite them newly for this dual story.

how would you go about this? what ideas and themes would you like to explore? or would you like to aim for more of a buddy vigilante adventure action thing?

(this is meant to be lighthearted and a roundabout way of me asking what sort of purple power comics you'd like to see more of, heh 💜💜)

Ooooo. It'd be a miniseries (4-6 issues), sort of a sequel to Blunt Trauma. I'm calling it Huntress/Batgirl: Blunt Instruments.

Dustin Nguyen is on pencils. It's set in the Batman: Reborn era. The Birds of Prey are broken up and Bruce is "dead". Stephanie is still established herself as the new, wild-card Batgirl and Helena has been vigilante-style globetrotting with bestie Renee Montoya. They're both feeling a little out of place and little lonely but won't admit it. They're both actually struggling with their complicated feelings over Bruce's death but won't admit it. They're both struggling with the open question of who they will become after this hard reset. Sky's the limit now right? So why doesn't it feel like that?

"Blunt instruments" is gonna be a phrase they've both heard Bruce use to describe them; undisciplined, heavy-handed loose cannons, ill-fit for vigilante work.

I wanna get to the bottom of what kind of heroes Helena and Steph are. What can they do just as well as Batman? (combat, crime-busting know how...) What can they do that Batman can't? (being more human than idea; approachability/intuition with people, viewing Gotham from a socially-concerned lens, lives/work outside batman-ing, faith/spirit, unpredictability...) What really drives them? (Helena as a teacher & Steph as a nurse) What's Gotham mean to them? (as people who live there and breathe the same air, instead of living in an ivory tower) To do this, they're gonna have to reckon with something close to home that raises old sins and old demons.

It's gonna be a mob story, drawn in the style of film noir but more playful. No super-powered threats. The antagonists are the Gotham Mafia, specifically the Inzerillo Crime Family who are primarily involved in racketeering and headed by an old-fashioned, "Mustache Pete" called Boss Enrico. The Inzerillo's secret weapon will be a young woman, Steph's age, who is the Boss's adopted daughter. She's an incredibly gifted assassin with a point to prove. She's desperate to "make her bones" and establish herself in a tyrannical, male-dominated space which ostracises her.

While they'll mostly be beating up male mafioso no-names, I also want Huntress and Batgirl dealing with youths and female spouses getting involved in the rackets; criminal receivers, runners for drugs, racketeering vandals and arsons, or even murders of those who dishonour the Family. I want these "complicit innocents" to have agency, and I want Helena and Steph get that (and get them).

I want them to deal more with the social ramifications of organised crime which Batman stories neglect. Lost kids, broken families, debts, addiction, incarceration, sexual exploitation, over-policing, police brutality... Things you can't just slap "Wayne Foundation" onto as a fix. I wanna show how better equipped these characters are with reckoning with more socially-concerned themes.

I also wanna really draw out their shared antiauthoritarian bent. The authorities, cops, and even Batman (Dick) and Robin will be barriers as they fight, dirty if they have to, to bring down a despot don with far reaching tentacles. What have authority figures ever done for them? They're used to flipping-off authority.

In a sense Batman, as an idea, that gave birth to Huntress and Batgirl/Spoiler and also represented to them a distant, disproving, unpleasable patriarch. Who are Helena and Steph in a world without God Batman? I want the story to be an answer. Batman will always influence who they are but who says they can't be independent and distinct in their own right.

Supporting cast. Their "mothers" will both show up to stir the pot, and by "mothers" I mean Catwoman and Dr. Thompkins. Oracle, and to a smaller degree, Misfit will help out on the case. I want them to come off as part of a (complicated) community, however alone they may feel.

Also, they're both only going to use their signature piercing weapons (crossbow and trick-batarangs) in the final issue, as a kind of we're not blunt instruments after all huh?

We're not getting a happy ending, but they'll come out with a hell of a lot of respect for one another (and hopefully themselves).

[richwater]

Hello everyone I hope you are well ^^, Im Lía and

This is my character Alvaro Montoya :

In simple words, Alvaro is a doctor and outlaw of almost two meters, he usually plays the role of strategist. A lifelong friend of Hosea, this cultured and charismatic man is one of the few capable of facing Dutch without hesitation.

Other data about him ^^:

Alvaro is the warm giant of the camp. At 52 years, he has spent most of his life alongside Hosea, being one of the oldest members of the gang and one of the few who can fearlessly face Dutch. A doctor and surgeon, his knowledge is not limited to medicine; Alvaro is a cultured man, skilled at talking about any subject, and known for his deep, charismatic voice that wins over everyone around him, although he saves his native language, Spanish (Argentino), for his sarcastic or sincere comments, although generally he is a man without a filter regardless of the language.

Despite his leadership skills comparable to Dutch's, Alvaro is genuine in his concern for his people, offering genuine loyalty without expecting anything in return. He is a lover of risk, games of chance, and an eternal joker who allows himself to flirt with men and women when alcohol loosens his tongue, displaying a fun and light side that contrasts with his usual seriousness. His bond with Hosea is special, a deep and unspoken love that goes beyond friendship and defines a fundamental part of his life in the camp. Although his missing finger on his left hand, lost in a knife game against Hosea, could seem like a reminder of his risks, for Alvaro it is, rather, a trophy of his loyalty and of the outlaw life he chose with those he considers his family.

He place in the hierarchy:

mostly his average interactions with Dutch :

(Usually he is more honest but this time he didn't feel like talking)

Mostly his average interactions with Hosea:

That's all for today ^^ I hope you are well, hugs ^^.

[setokaibapetty]

Fic Friday 5 + 1 Roundup: Civilian

Some fics where a hero/villain is a civilian (having never joined the business or having left it).

in this world that runs fast (be happy with me) (AO3) - “Keigo, buddy, bestie, idiot.” Rumi stares at him with palpable incredulity. “You ate mystery food you found in your fridge and just went to sleep afterwards? You’re lucky you woke up!” Obviously he’s fine enough; he’s made it all the way to his lunch break with no issue. Rumi punches his shoulder, angry that he’s not treating this as gravely as she is. “Do you still have all of your organs?” 

the bridges you burn (AO3) - "a series of loosely connected fics where deku joins the hero public safety commission instead of pursuing heroics, and eventually becomes its next president"

First and then (AO3) - "One ordinary night, Jason Todd meets a world-renowned mercenary in the kitchen. And decides that the best action is to offer some tea. After all, he is raised by a British butler."

An Unexpected Find (AO3) - "Jason didn’t mean to adopt a Talon. It just sort of happened, after he found him hiding on the fire escape outside of his apartment and in clear need of help. Now the bar where he works has never had a better protector, plus it’s great to have the company at home. If only they didn’t have the looming threat of Batman finding out hanging over their heads, everything would be perfect."

Got Your Back, Got Your Lies (AO3) - "While Tim's always felt a bit like an outsider, even with his family, he's never been sure why, and now that he's got a bodyguard following him around the feelings even more apparent. Oh, and he's kind of got a crush on the Red Hood."

Bonus: Honey Dripping (AO3) - "So, Tim has two choices from here on out. He can continue on as he is, live in plausible deniability and have Lieutenant Montoya and her task force dog his every step once he's out in the field… or he could throw her a bone, and give her a push in another direction. Tim will most likely still be dogged around when he's on the field, but he can make it so that the officers are a little more sympathetic towards him. All right. If Tim’s going to pull things completely out of his ass, he might as well have some fun with it."

[theflashjaygarrick]

Hi! I just saw your post about asking for help getting into DC comics and oh man do I need it. I went down a couple of rabbit holes on Reddit on what would be the best place to start, but there’s no comprehensive list regarding all of the bat family in the Batman story. Instead it’s bits of the storyline of that makes sense. I’ve read a few of the “beginner comics” like First Year, The Long Halloween, and Dark Victory. But I’m not really sure where to go from there. I’m trying to find the story chronologically, which I am starting to realize that it’s a hard task haha

Any help would be greatly appreciated!

Sorry for a late response:

Chronologically for the Batfamily is very very hard. This is not a definitive list but hopefully it will help

Iconic Batman Arcs:

Knightfall (I haven't read this but it's considered one of the Batman runs of all time according to others)

Bruce Wayne Murderer/Bruce Wayne Fugitive (Iconic 2000s batman arc)

No Man's Land (The Batman event at all time where Gotham is levelled by an earthquake, a good look at many iconic Batman characters such as Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Helena Bertinelli, Renee Montoya as well as Cassandra Cain's introduction)

Ram V's Detective Comics Run (this is really recent and only just finishing next week but I have loved it, it's a operatic and gothic take on the character)

Paul Dini's Batman run and Hush (haven't read this either buy ive heard really really good things)

Under the Red Hood (Return of Jason Todd)

Other Batfamily recs

Batgirl 2000 (definitive Cassandra Cain Batgirl run)

Batgirl 2009 (Stephanie Brown as Batgirl and a lot of fun)

Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood (Phenomenal character study of Helena Bertinelli as Huntress)

We Are Robin (an introduction to Duke Thomas and just a really good comic)

Batwoman: Elegy (epic introduction to Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne's lesbian cousin and vigilante)

The Boy Wonder (not technically canon but a well written exploration of Damian and the robin title)

Batman: Urban Legends (a batfamily anthology series so a bit hit or miss at times but a whole lot of fun)

Catwoman by Brubaker and Cooke

You might have noticed I dont have a lot of recs for the robins and that's because I haven't gotten around to reading a lot of their solo comics. Everyone else feel free to comment below for more recommendations or to critique my own.

Hope this helps!

[marmolady]

Grandchildren: Beatriz

Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART THREE.

Word Count: 3496

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, ​@mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading!

__________________________

2060

Taylor placed down a plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat alongside her heavily pregnant daughter.

“I know it sucks for you to not be able to fix everything,” Liv said, looking up to her mother with a grateful smile, “but don’t think your tending to my cravings isn’t appreciated.”

Liv was some seven months along, her belly huge and rounded. Heavy bags under her eyes gave away her lack of sleep, the worrying that had kept her awake long into the night. Her unborn baby, a daughter, had long passed the danger period where a miscarriage was a high risk, but she would not truly relax before the infant was in her arms. After all, the last time… the baby had been four months along, she should have been okay…. Most days Liv felt she was barely functioning, even with all the support her family, and Jeimy, could offer.

“I’ve felt so awful,” Liv admitted. “I let the blonde fade out… I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean--?” Then Taylor realised. The blonde streak Liv had always dyed into her hair… making the point of having at least a bit of her look like the mom she had no biological link to. “God, Livi, you don’t have to keep doing your hair a certain way to prove our relationship to me!”

Liv winced. “See, I know that logically, but it’s not about logic, it’s about feeling. It’s been since I was so little, it feels like I’m throwing something away… something important.” She sniffed and looked away, lost in a dark place. Was there anyone she didn’t feel she’d let down?

“You’re carrying a lot, sweetheart. Let that one go.” She tenderly stroked her daughter’s short hair. “If it makes you happy, keep in the blonde, but do it for you, not out of any fear of hurting me. I’m secure in myself, and in my role as your mom… so take that load off, all right?”

“I’m just… finding it hard. Harder than I expected, which is stupid, I should’ve known I wasn’t ready for this….”

Taylor kept stroking her fingers through Liv’s hair. There was nothing she could say that would take away the fear, or the grief that still lingered.

“Some people believe,” she said quietly, “that the soul doesn’t fully attach itself to the body until the moment of birth. If the baby’s born sleeping, the soul waits for another little life. I don’t know if it might help… to imagine a piece of Avis might be with you and Beatriz now.”

Liv’s eyes grew wide and watery. “I want her with us,” she whispered. “More than anything.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel… I feel guilty sometimes even just for being excited about Bea coming. And I feel guilty that I’ve got this far carrying Bea when Jeimy had to go through that loss….”

“Sweetheart,” Taylor said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “You both went through it. It’s different, but your grief is real. Jeimy loves you, and they love Bea.”

Liv wept and snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, taking comfort there until her tears slowed.

“Mom… there’s something else. I need to check you’re okay with something….”

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” Liv wiped her face, righting herself a little, so she could look her mother in the face and read her. “We’d really like to use ‘Estela’ as Bea’s middle name.”

“Beatriz Estela Montoya? That’s pretty. That’s really pretty, swetheart. You were worried I’d be hurt?”

“I know we named Andi after you, but ‘Andromeda’ isn’t your actual name….”

Taylor laughed, and kissed Liv’s head. “Is this to get out of naming a dog ‘Draco’? You silly goose, didn’t I just tell you I’m secure in what we’ve got? Bea’s name is beautiful.”

Liv breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks-- we really like it.”

“She’s going to be really touched.” Taylor stroked the side of Liv’s face, adoring her. She could be a worrywart, her girl, but with what life had thrown at her in recent years, Taylor couldn’t blame her. Through it all, Liv was strong and kind, giving more of herself than she probably should, but somehow retaining her joie-de-vivre, her sparkle, dulled though it was on the darkest of days. “I love you, Livi,” she said. “I love you so much.”

And she hugged her, willing herself to somehow lend strength and courage where her daughter needed it-- if only it were that simple.

“It’s going to be okay.”

_________________________

It was pointless to keep checking her phone-- the message and ring tones had been set to blaringly loud so nothing could possibly be missed-- but that didn’t stop Taylor.

“Who you talking to, Grandma?” Andi asked, peering over Taylor’s shoulder.

Taylor hastily put it beside her on the floor. “No one, no one! Promise.”

Young Sol belly-crawled along the rug towards his grandma, then put himself in her lap.

“Hey, kiddo-- don’t worry, you’ve got my attention.”

“How many hours does it take for a baby to be born? They’ve been at the hospital all day!”

“Well, it depends. Sometimes, a baby will be in a big hurry to get out and it can happen in a couple of hours. Sometimes… it could even be a couple of days.”

“Days!” the two kids said in unison. It always tickled both Taylor and Estela that the two had an almost twin-like connection, their births only two days apart and inseparable since. Andi had often said ‘we basically are twins’ and no one could convince her otherwise.

How would another child fit into this dynamic? From the early days, Andi had been fascinated by her unborn sibling, talking about her constantly, while Sol barely seemed to register that a mammoth change was afoot. Until now, with his mom and nanay in the hospital, and not coming back until they had a baby to bring home.

“But,” Taylor added quickly, “last time your mom had a baby it was only five hours after she got to the hospital that Andi was born, and usually it’s faster once the mom’s already had a baby.”

“So, baby Bea could be being born right now?” Andi asked, reaching for her grandma’s phone. “And then they’ll ring and tell us?”

“She could be. And yes, they will. We’re just going to have to be patient.”

Andi huffed out a frustrated exhale. “Being patient is so hard! I wish we knew what was happening.”

“I know, mija,” Estela said as she came into the room with a plate of cocadas-- just how her mom used to make them. “Trust me, we’re all going a little crazy waiting for news. It’s just something we’ve gotta deal with.”

A tasty treat easily placated the easy-going Sol, who hummed to himself as he chewed, still sat in Taylor’s lap. Andi, though, wolfed hers down in what felt like seconds, and went straight back to asking after her mom and nanay. It was a challenge and a half, Taylor had to admit, to entertain two five-year-olds when one was completely incapable of thinking about anything other than the imminent arrival themselves.

Estela gave her wife a look. An understanding, ‘it’s driving me crazy too’ look. An ‘I’m with you’ look.

“Solito,” Estela said, determined to be distracted from worrying, and to have the kids distracted from worrying, “go and grab some paper and pens-- we can make some ‘welcome home’ posters for baby Bea-- good practice for your writing.”

Sol jumped up immediately, almost clocking his grandma in the chin as he got to his feet as was his enthusiasm. Reading and writing was a new skill, and one he was mighty proud of. He ran off, and as was typical, Andi was not far behind him.

It was hard not to be brought back to the kids’ mom learning to read and write. Liv had started a bit earlier, keen as she’d been to keep up with the older Reggie-- with whom she was inseperable. Liv would forever play with her alphabet fridge magnets; she took them with her from La Huerta, to San Trobida, to the States. Estela didn’t have any regrets about that rather fast-changing period in her daughter’s life… they’d given what stability they could, but it had never been possible to have a single true ‘home’. For these kids, though, home was San Trobida, a vastly different place to that the young Liv had known, and for Estela, it was barely recognisable as the war-torn country she grew up in. For baby Beatriz as well, the civil war and the horrors that came with it would just be a story told by her abuela, and a history lesson as she went through her schooling, as distant and irrelevent as the 2020 pandemic and dial-up internet.

Good for her.

Then Estela perched herself on the edge of the couch, only half-relaxing, for she could need to spring to action at a moment’s notice.

As if it had been waiting for the kids to leave the room, Estela’s phone rang, and she was up on her feet in an instant.

“Jeimy?” she asked too loudly. You’re gonna have to calm down…. She put the phone on speaker, though Taylor was right up by her ear so it probably wasn’t even necessary.

“She’s here-- they’re both doing great!” Jeimy cried down the phone, almost garbled in their excitement.

“The baby’s here? The baby--” Of course, the baby. Estela just laughed as relief and flooded her body. “Congratulations, Lorito,” she managed to get out. “Oh my god….”

“Pretty much what I said!” Jeimy laughed, ecstatic. “Beatriz is here, and she’s just divine.”

“Oh, Jeimy,” Taylor said, “you know it’s torture I can’t send you a hug down the phone, right?”

But even with the distance she could feel the happiness that radiated forth, and knew the same would be received. Then, the inevitable happened, and Taylor had to contend with tears streaming down her face. Her baby’s baby was here-- there was no way she wasn’t crying.

“H-how was it? Quicker than last time at least.”

“Everything went smoothly; I almost can’t believe it. It’s like… it’s like all the tension’s gone now… the scariest part is over. Liv’s feeling a bit wrecked for talking right now, but she’s happy. So, so happy.”

“Can we… can we tell the kids?”

Jeimy laughed, giddy. “Yeah, go ahead! We’ll get you to bring them down to the hospital soon-- we can’t wait to see them, just want to make sure Livi rests a little first.”

“Just… enjoy the peace and quiet with your little baby, okay?”

“And kisses for everyone from us, all right, mijo?”

“I’ll see to it-- I’ll see to it. You’ll give the kids a big squeeze from us as well! Love you-- love you-- bye!”

Estela hung up the phone and squealed, pulling a laughing Taylor into her arms for the tightest of hugs.

“We’ve got another granddaughter!” Taylor wept.

________________________

Liv’s eyelids were heavy as she watched the babe’s chest rise and fall. Their little Beatriz had made it earthside. There was no doubt in Liv’s mind; there would be no more babies for her and Jeimy. She couldn’t handle the rollercoaster. It would be her, and Jeimy, and Andi and Sol, and Beatriz… and that was all she’d ever need.

Safe and swaddled in her crib, an arm’s reach away from her exhausted mother, Beatriz had drifted off easily. Even bruised and swollen from the delivery, there was so much character in her little face.

“She looks like Sol did,” Liv whispered. “Not quite as much hair.”

At Liv’s other side, Jeimy was serene, sat up against their pillow. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nine months,” they admitted. “It’s nice to breathe again.”

“I know the feeling,” Liv said. “At this point I’ll welcome the sleepless nights with open arms-- I’m just so relieved to have her here.”

Jeimy scooched closer and stroked Liv’s face. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

Liv looked up at them with a loving smile. “Very sore, very tired.”

Worth it, she thought, and she turned back to once again admire the little life she’d brought into the world. Oh my god, you are worth it.

____________________________

“Surely, no parent of a newborn in history has ever thought ‘oh, let’s have a party-- I could use some further disruption of my sleep patterns!” Aleister proclaimed. “And yet,” he added, “here we are.”

“I think ‘party’ is a strong word,” Taylor said. “Just a little get-together; good company, barbecue, and some fruit punch.”

Jeimy came over and hugged their uncle-in-law, welcoming him into the backyard, set up with lights and tables. “We’re not completely crazy; doing this at home means Liv and I can bolt upstairs with the baby and hide away at the drop of a hat. And if anyone was gonna disturb us, Mama ‘Stel would sort them out. Besides-- we’re not entertaining or anything, hence having everyone bring a plate and do their own dishes. Surrounding ourselves with love, but with as little of the hassle as possible.”

Aleister chuckled. “I can’t say I don’t still think you’re quite mad but… I see some of the appeal.”

Jeimy met his eye. “It means a lot Reggie coming home for us. I can’t say how much Liv’s missed him.”

“However all-singing-and-dancing the technology may get, it’s never the same as in person, is it? I hope it does Liv good,” he said sincerely. Aleister had been close to Liv all her life, for she and his own child Reggie had been something of a dynamic duo since before either could remember. She was his niece and he loved her, and through her mental health struggles he’d wished he could do more. It had been easier to be there for Estela, knowing that his support had helped her to be there for Liv. Reggie, he knew, was the healing balm that old Uncle Al could never be.

Thankfully, in the minds of the two parents of the new baby, the gathering had been able to be kept small and quiet-- certainly by the standards set by their ever-growing extended family. Naturally, Estela and Taylor were there, and Rosa with toddler Leo. Diego had made the trip from La Huerta a week prior, an additional support for Liv and Jeimy. Sean and Jake’s son Michael, proud donor uncle to baby Beatriz, as well as Liv’s older two children and Rosa’s unborn baby, was along for the fun; he’d taken up position as Chief of Fun and was keeping Andi and Sol out from their exhausted parents’ feet. His fiance and Michelle and Quinn’s youngest, Conor, was there to offer him assistance with the kids. Reggie was the guest of honour, the reason this whole thing was even happening-- and his sisters with their respective families, and Aleister and Grace rounded out the guestlist.

The back door swung open.

“Here she is!” Liv cried, stepping out with, cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of baby in a puffy floral dress and a great big bow.

Michael turned to Jeimy and laughed. “What happened to the ‘gender neutral’ thing you were doing?”

“Hey. Flowers are for any and all genders.” Jeimy rolled their eyes teasingly. “Anyway, we gave up with the unisex name-- Spanish names are so damn gendered-- so thought ‘screw it, just put her in dresses if we like them’.”

“She looks cute,” Michael said, “but she’s gonna have to grow into that bow.” He held out his arms. “Cuddle with Uncle Michael?”

Liv chuckled, and carefully passed over the baby. As little Beatriz was placed in his arms, Michael absolutely beamed. There was no doubt he’d be as besotted over this kid as he was Andi and Sol.

“Damn, she’s cute!” he exclaimed. “You people are making me want a baby so bad. I’m pretty lucky to be a ‘donor uncle’ in the meantime, hey?”

“And we really appreciate it,” Liv was quick to say. Michael had basically given her the family she loved so much, and there were simply no words for what that meant. What was more, he’d given Liv’s Mama Taylor a genetic tie to her grandchildren-- a sort of link she’d once only dreamed of. Their family was unconventional, but in Liv’s eyes, it was all the more wonderful for what had been overcome to bring them to this moment, together. “It’s gonna be a pretty good excuse to get out to La Huerta regularly once Rosa’s bub’s here. We may have to tag along now and then-- I’m not having you usurp my position as ‘coolest visiting relative’.”

“I hate to break it to you, Liv,” Michael said, shaking his head in feigned sorrow, “but Jeimy sings, plays guitar, and has a talking parrot. You’ve never had the top spot to begin with.”

“Dude-- I can take my baby back---”

“Geez, touchy much! At least I know when I’m beat.”

“Just enjoy that cuddle, I’m pretty sure madam’s gonna be in high demand this evening.”

Content that her baby was in good hands, Liv felt comfortable enough to move a few feet away to check up on her older two. They’d blown her away with how they’d taken the new arrival in their stride; Sol was easy-going as usual, but Andi she’d been more concerned about, demanding as she was for fun and attention that simply was not in as high supply these days. But Andi doted on her baby sister, and was forever clamouring to be involved and help out. Now, the twosome had apparently roped Uncle Conor into a game of horsey-ride, with Andi was putting her newfound maternal side to use in steadying two-year-old Leonel with her hand as he had his turn, and Sol ripping up handfuls of grass to feed their new ‘pet’. Liv took an exhale and relaxed. Her little family was surrounded by love.

Then she turned, and there was the face she’d been desperately yearning to see.

“Reggie!”

“I told you, I’d be here, I’m not sure what all the fuss is abo--”

Liv flung her arms around her cousin, her best friend, and squeezed him with all her might.

“Steady on! You always have to be over-the-top about everything, don’t you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but he kissed her the top of her head as she cried against his chest. He hugged her back, and gave a trembling exhale. “Now that I have you in person; congratulations.”

Liv came away to rub her teary eyes with the back of a hand. “I knew you were coming and everything, ‘m just a bit hormonal for this!”

She put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, righting herself, then looked up at Reggie with a massive grin. He’d been with her through it all… both their spouses had been pregnant at the time, but she and Jeimy had lost their Avis, while Reggie and Mariama had brought home their healthy and bright Olivette-- named in tribute to their bond. Even struggling with parenting a newborn as well as his other two kids, Reggie had always found time for his old cousin, and it was a rare week that would pass without a call between London and San Trobida.

“How have you been?” he asked, “And don’t give me sass because I know childbirth can be godawful….”

“You really think I’d sass you?”

“Sure as bloody hell you would…. But are you doing all right? Other than obviously being touched in the head to have a blasted party of all things so soon after bringing a baby home. I just… I’d like to know you’re doing well.”

“We’re adjusting to the new normal,” she told him. “I’m adjusting… slowly but surely. And there’s grief that’s coming up, but I expected that. Mostly… I’m caught up in loving my baby girl, and so, so damn thankful that she’s here.” She grinned. It was as though she couldn’t think about her little Beatriz without doing so. “Do you wanna meet Bea? She’s having a cuddle with Uncle Michael right now.”

Reggie’s eyes lit up. “I did come all this way, I won’t not say ‘hi’. Actually, I may have promised Sammy and Ange that I send a few photographs-- it’s almost as though the need proof I’m actually here and taking meeting the new little cousin seriously.”

Liv laughed. “I’m sure we can manage that!” She took him by the elbow. “Come on-- you flew all the way from London, you get to skip the cuddle queue.”

And she took him to get acquainted with the baby, beaming as she walked him through a backyard filled with the smiling faces of the people she loved so much-- all there for her. Soon, they’d gather together, and raise a glass; to family, to good times, and to Beatriz Estela Montoya.

[sophsicle]

Ooooh I saw you answer that question about writing advice and became curious: do you write “original” fiction as well as fanfiction? (love that for you either way). Love your fics btw. Kill Your Darlings is my absolute jam 🥰

I do yeah!

i don't really do anything with it but it does exist!

i shared the first chapter of one of them on here a while ago i think? i can't find the post now but i'll throw it down below if you're interested! Also thank you im so glad you like kyd!!!!

Ram

I think my father made the trees without mouths on purpose. For if they could talk, all of creation would know his secrets. Of course, in the end, perhaps it is better not to know. Kinder for him to keep us in the dark. Knowing is an anchor, it will drown you. That is why, on quiet days, you will hear the distant sounds of forests weeping. 

There’s a disturbance behind me. Nothing loud or startling—a slight rustle, a breath, the scrape of a leather boot. It is subtle and that is why I do not trust it. Never trust anything that is trying to be quiet. Without thinking my hand goes to my bow, an arrow in place by the time I turn around. 

Montoya laughs, holding his arms up, mocking me. He is dark, my brother, all the way through. 

“Scared, Ram?”  

I know instantly that I did not catch him. He wanted to be found. 

“No,” I answer flatly, “just prepared.” 

Montoya laughs again, bleeding an ease that I have never been able to find myself. Perhaps it is the sort of thing that comes with age. Though when you’re thousands of years old how much difference can a few centuries make?

“Your arms must be getting tired brother,” he says casually, and it is only then that I realize my weapon is still drawn. With reluctance I lower it, returning the arrow to the quiver on my back. 

“Why are you here?” this time I cannot hide my irritation.

“I could ask you the same question.”

I give him a flat look. Of all my siblings, Montoya has always made me the most ill at ease. There’s something about his eyes that leaves me wary. They are gapping holes that you swear will swallow you up and never set you free. 

“You are a terribly dull conversationalist Ram, has anyone ever told you that?” 

I don’t take the bait.

“Tsk tsk, what would father say about these manners huh? You’ve been spending too much time amongst the trees brother, you’re starting to turn into one.”

Not all my siblings can fly. My younger sister, Cartha, has gills instead of wings, and my brother Sye hates having his feet off the ground. But most of us, in some form or another, find ourselves in the sky. Montoya’s wings are large and crow like, hardly subtle or practical, but then, neither is he. Even now they create enough wind that I can feel myself fighting not to be pushed backwards. My own wings are small and white and sprout from my ankles.  

“Well,” I say finally, “if that’s all.” I turn my back on him, a dangerous move I’ll admit, though to his credit, Montoya has never attacked the family. He did, however, kill our sister’s cat once. 

I can hear him following me, hear the beating of his great wings. The noise grates my nerves. He is insufferable and there is nothing I can do about it. Sure, I could fight him, I’m good with a bow, but in truth, my brother is stronger. Besides, a fight is what he wants. It tickles him to make me angry. That’s his whole game. 

“Why so gloomy brother?” he asks, flipping onto his back as he pulls up beside me. I have never heard him be anything but taunting and cruel. I wonder if there was a time when he was not like this, but Hario assures me that there wasn’t and she is the oldest. Still, I find it hard to believe. After all, why would father create a son so hateful?

“I’m always gloomy,” I retort, keeping my gaze forward. 

It is spring, the sun setting and lighting the sky on fire with oranges and pinks. They reach out like fingers from the horizon, as if desperate to hold onto the day. 

“Well that is certainly true. Our melancholy little Ram,” he says in a baby voice that makes me want to spear him through the throat.  

“If I am melancholy what does that make you?” 

“Jolly?” 

I cannot help myself, I laugh. The idea that anyone would describe Montoya as jolly is too much for me.

“No, you’re right,” he says, sounding not at all offended. “Jolly is perhaps too dull a word, I am witty.” 

I look at him, brow arched. “Witty,” I repeat flatly. 

He grins, or perhaps sneers is more accurate. “Certainly wittier than you.” 

“Certainly.” 

“And our dear brothers and sisters.” 

“Certainly,” I repeat, though my jaw is clenched and my nails have begun burrowing into my palms. 

“I expect that is why father holds my opinion in such high regard.” 

“Not as high as Hario's.” The small flash of anger in his eyes is satisfying, though he maintains his smile. 

Hario is undeniably our father’s favourite. In truth, she is my favourite too. I have never been very good at getting close to people, but I have always felt comfortable around her. I can speak to her, tell her things in a way I can’t tell anyone else. 

“Not as high as Hario's,” Montoya repeats, the mockery from earlier melting away, revealing something much sharper. Much more dangerous. He might play at pettiness but I know that, in reality, he is far more sinister. “For now, anyway.” 

I stop abruptly, as though an invisible wall has suddenly appeared in my way. When Montoya finally stops too, turning to face me, I see a glint in his dark eyes. He’s won. Gotten the reaction he wanted. Snuck himself under my skin.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. 

“Ooh,” he is clearly enjoying himself, “have I hit a nerve?”

When he smiles I swear he has the teeth of a wolf, and in the setting sun they sparkle. I do not know why my father made him, why he poured all his ill will into this one creation and then named it son. A common misconception is that because there are gods there must also be demons. If I am the creator of all, my father always says, why would I create evil? Yet staring at Montoya now, at his black eyes, and pointed teeth, the sky ablaze behind him, I do not struggle to understand why the humans believe in a devil. 

“Do not make idle threats brother,” I say, attempting to keep my tone level. 

I’m playing right into his hands, I know, but I’ll not have Hario threatened. Not by anyone. He smirks, eyes running me slowly up and down before he moves forward, pausing just close enough that I can smell his breath.  

“I promise you,” his voice is so quiet it’s nearly carried away by the wind, “my threats are not idle.” He pauses, before laughing. “Brother.” 

His great wings flap, disturbing the trees below us as he flies higher in the sky.

“Father wishes you to know that he was much displeased that you missed his last banquet,” Montoya shouts as he continues to rise. “If I were you, I would not miss the next one.” 

I watch as he grows fainter and fainter, becoming nothing more than a black blip in the distance. I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I do the anger in me will unleash a hurricane. Quite literally. We are, all of us, me and my brothers and sisters, in possession of an affinity for one of the four elements: air, earth, water, fire. My element is air, Montoya and Hario both master fire. 

I force myself to take in several deep breaths, stretching out my hands which have cramped from being clenched so hard. There is a rage in me that I fear, I don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there, but it sits always in the corner of my chest. I have worked my whole life to suppress it, to keep it locked up inside me so that it can never hurt anyone else. Most of the time I succeed. But Montoya brings out the worst in me. 

I take another breath, the sun is almost gone now and the sky is navy blue and made of velvet. Slowly I start moving again, without really knowing where. I dip lower to the ground so that the tops of the trees brush my skin. I run my hands through them, they are cool now that the sunlight has fled. There shouldn’t be anyone out here to catch me, I’m miles from the nearest human site, but I keep a watchful eye on the ground anyway.

I have always hated my father’s banquets, even in my first days of life. There are too many beings, too much noise, and the way they all look at me…I take no pleasure in the power my father has given me, in the authority that comes with it. The other creations stare at us, or bow, offering up gold and wine and sometimes blood. I cringe at the thought. I have never once felt worthy of the deference they show us. In fact, it makes my skin prick and itch. I am not a leader or a ruler, I never have been. I prefer to watch from a far. In truth, I have always gotten the distinct impression that I am somewhat of a disappointment to my father. 

I close my eyes and drift for a moment, letting the air hold me like a pair of arms, cradling me in the night sky. There is sweat covering my skin, it drips slowly down my arms and legs and the side of my face, sending shivers across my bones. I breathe in again, slowly, listening to my heartbeat, to the expansion of the lungs in my chest. Somewhere a dog howls and a bird cries out. Their voices are faded by distance but they linger long after they are let loose. Hanging in the air just like me. This is where I am happiest, alone in the dark.

This is where I belong.

Edward

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. I don’t know how she could have. But I suppose, ultimately, it’s of little consequence. She brought with her a dowry too good to refuse, one which provided the Kingdom of Presado with enough ships and gold that it could boast of having the largest naval force this side of the world. And in return, her people gained the loyalty of my grandfather, one of the greatest military commanders alive, an excellent ally. Love was hardly considered. It never is. You cannot win a war with love, you cannot build palaces or feed hungry mouths with love. So why do we persist in the belief that it is so very important to our happiness? Why do we speak of it in the context of marriage and family when we know that it is so rarely present in either of those establishments? 

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. But I know that I certainly didn’t. 

I usually don’t bother with such thoughts but, staring at my own wedding contract, I find them hard to avoid. They say she is beautiful, the princess who is soon to be my wife, but then, they always say that. What use have I for a beautiful wife anyway? Mistresses are chosen for their beauty, I would rather my wife be clever. 

“She’s not a fanatic is she?” I ask my advisor, Rufus, as I look up from the pages in front of me for the first time in ages. My mother laughs and I meet her eye, grinning. Rufus simply looks startled. He’s a small man, with tuffs of hair coming out of his mostly bald head, and eyes that protrude so far from his face you fear they will fall onto the floor. He is wildly clever though. He was significantly under valued by my father, probably because he is in possession of a conscience. Skittish and odd he might be, but his loyalty lies firmly with the realm. A rarity, I have found. 

“A fanatic, your Majesty?” he squeaks. “What-er-what do you mean?” 

“Oh you know,” I wave my hand impatiently. “The type who never drinks or dances or laughs. Who always has their knees bent before some alter or another. Who cannot breathe without fearing for our souls.” 

My mother is shaking her head. As a child I loved to make her laugh. It was not a difficult task, my mother, for all her heartache, is a woman with a happy disposition. 

Rufus blinks his great eyes at me. “As far as I’m aware, sire, she possesses a perfectly…adequate…level of piety.” He looks to my mother for help but finds none. 

“You are going to be the death of him, Edward,” she says instead. 

My grin widens. “Come now, it was a fair question was it not?” I turn to Rufus knowing full well that he will splutter, unsure of what to say. And he does just that. “I don’t want to be stuck with a bore now do I?” 

“There are slightly more important factors to consider here my son, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

I am. Painfully so. I must marry Princess Analeigh whether she is a humourless hag or not. As with my mother and father, the alliance is a good one, and we are too weak to survive without it right now. Still, knowing all this, I cannot help but hesitate, especially when I see my father’s handwriting on the pages before me. He orchestrated the match, wrote most of the contract himself. But however unconcerned I may appear on the outside, I have spent hours pouring over these words and, grudgingly, I can find no fault in them. 

I sigh, resigned, stretching out my hand and dipping my quill in ink. 

“You’ll sign?” Rufus sounds half-relieved and half-shocked. Clearly he expected me to be more trouble. I try to hide my amusement. I know that my reputation is that of a scoundrel. A spoiled youth who drinks and gambles and whores. They think me ignorant. They think me incapable—the great men who have gathered in this court over the years. I don’t mind. Let them underestimate me. It will make it all the easier to knock them down.

My hand hovers over the parchment, the quill threatening to drip. I look back up at my mother, she is all in black, in mourning. It doesn’t suit her. Even in death my father is controlling us. What we wear. Who we marry. 

“This is the last time,” I don’t know why I say it out loud. I suppose to make the promise feel more real. He will not pull our strings again.

“The last time, your majesty?” Rufus asks, looking between us in utter confusion. 

My attention is not on him though, my eyes locked with my mother’s. She does not even flinch. 

“Yes,” she says, knowingly. “The last time.” 

I nod, returning to the contract while Rufus’s distress continues to mount. He has missed something, he knows it, and he does not like it. Finally, I let the quill touch the parchment, my hand moving swiftly along the familiar path of my name. 

“There,” I say, feeling the opposite of relief as I lean back in my chair and push it away from me. “It’s done.” 

Not my best line, I’ll admit it, and not even true. This is only the beginning. For a moment I think I catch a glimpse of my father hovering in the corner of the room—just the tail of his robes as he storms out the door, followed by the grizzled noise of his laugh. In my memories he is always old—old and bitter. I swallow, blinking the ghost out of my eyes as I sit up straighter. I do not know if I will make a better king, but gods, I hope I make a better man. 

“Excellent,” Rufus mutters, gathering up the papers. “Excellent, excellent, I’ll deliver these to the envoy and then things can proceed.” He slides from the wooden chair, the table nearly as high as his chest and when he bows his upper half disappears completely. 

“Your majesty,” he says as he re-emerges, “with your leave…” he looks towards the door. 

“Yes, of course, go about your business Rufus.” He starts backing away before the words are even fully out of my mouth, moving so quickly that I am shocked he does not trip. After the door closes we sit in silence, my mother with her eyes on me and me with my eyes on the far wall. 

“You look worried.” 

I snort. “Do I? Oh dear, I hope I don’t start to wrinkle.” 

She smiles, but I can tell she will not be so easily placated. “Edward?” 

“Mother.” 

She arches her brow, she has the incredible ability to look at you so thoroughly you feel your skin has been taken off and your insides entirely exposed. 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I rise and move towards the window. It is beautiful today—spring has come and the gardens are in full bloom. How I wish I was out hunting instead of caged up in here signing away my life. 

“The church will not be happy,” I say finally. 

“The church?” my mother responds after a brief pause, “Or Addison?”

“Is there a difference?” 

Another pause. I bring my finger up to the glass and begin to trace along the lines. My family’s crest has been meticulously woven through every inch of the palace, the windows no exception. 

“He agreed to the match,” my mother says finally. 

“Yes, but he will not be pleased that I signed it without him.” 

“No,” and I think I hear the slightest hint of amusement in her voice, “he will not.” 

In the last few years of his life, my father had a change of heart in terms of religion. Since before memory the people of Presado have prayed to the Solistic Church. A religion which believes the world was created by four gods who were masters of the elements. Ignis was always my favourite, the god of fire, who watched over battles and was considered the most clever of the four. I still pray to him, though my father’s laws forbid it. The laws that are now my own. 

The trouble really began with his last campaign in the North where a large clan of nomads have claimed territory. My father dreamed of being a conquerer King, dreamed of reclaiming the deserted northern territories from the barbarians. But this turned out to be far more difficult than he expected. 

He returned from the first campaign with only a third of his men, most of whom were injured. Things did not improve from there. After five years of loses and increased violence on the border—for the nomads had begun burning the keeps of the northern lords in retaliation—the nobles pushed back. We’re done, they declared, we will send you no more support, no more troops, no more gold. They were not willing to be wiped out for the sake of one man’s glory. Even if that man was the king. 

My father responded in the only way he knew how—with violence. Executions. Most heavily levied in the North, for they were the loudest denouncers of the war, being the ones closest to the fighting. There was peace with the nomads before, the would argue, can we not return to that? So, of course, my father hung their commanders, their sons, and, sometimes, the lords themselves. In truth, we were on the brink of a civil war when Addison appeared. No one is quite sure where he came from, there had been whispers for a few years about a counter religion but no one put much store in it. Then one day he was here, at my father’s side. He promised men and money, all he wanted in return was a reformation. My father agreed. After all, what had the old gods done for him?

“Edward?” 

I jump at the sound of my name, but I don’t turn around. My fingers still pressed to the glass in front of me, through the coloured panes I can just make out the green grass and manicured trees. 

“Mother.” 

I know the face she’s making even without looking at her. Calm, refined, but with worry in her eyes. And sadness. I sometimes wonder if he put that there, my father, if before him she was all light. I hope that now that he’s gone she will be again. 

“You cannot solve all the worlds problems in a single afternoon my son.” 

I nod as I hear her rise, feel her hand squeeze my shoulder as she passes by on her way to the door. 

“I’m not trying to solve the world’s problems,” I say as I hear it close, “just ours.” 

[keepthedelta]

i actually thought you were a mclaren fan. at least a ferrari hater at least. sorry if thats not the case

i can see how you could have come to that conclusion, but tbh i don't think i'm really either.

it's true that i do pray on ferrari's downfall almost constantly, but it doesn't come from a place of hatred, it comes from a place of thinking it would be the funniest possible outcome for ferrari to flop again and again and again. also i have publicly stated that i think the person to get ferrari their next wdc should be kimi antonelli after several years of coming close but not quite being successful with merc in a mirror of kimi raikkonen. i feel very strongly that only non-believers should be allowed to win in a team as religious as ferrari.

i do also really love a lot of the old eras of mclaren. it's not so much about them as a team as it is their drivers, but i really do love the years of prost and lauda, prost and senna, hakkinen, montoya raikkonen hamilton alonso button etc. i think they were really really great years of racing with really great drivers, and as deranged as ron dennis clearly was as a person, i do think he was a very good team boss.

i also think that the team themselves are worthy of some praise this year. it's really quite difficult for a team to lift themselves from the midfield back into race winning contention, let alone wcc contention, and there are obviously a lot of people at mclaren who have worked really hard to do that over the past few years. i do think they should be criticised for a lot of their other actions, particularly the way they handled lando's wdc contention, and i will never be anything but a hater of "papaya", the hideous shade of orange that they wear (which isn't even papaya coloured), zak brown's weird american family friendly pc-ness (but they can still welcome trump), the way they try to frame themselves as supporting women in motorsport but then have lando speak about it rather than one of the women racers actually on their roster (including rally raid icon cristina gutierrez, one of only two women ever to have won dakar) and a lot of their other pr.

i've been an f1 fan for a long time, and i think that generally speaking f1 is best enjoyed when you like individual drivers rather than teams

[httpiastri]

https://www.instagram.com/p/DDffhWkTSjQT9c5GRqDrbHOMf2Gt50_u6SwcfM0/?igsh=MWN6bGxqd2xjOGtnZg==

About the whole cheating thing

it's a private acc but i started following them and i assume you mean the mini & montoya post? not gonna include everything but these screenshots:

the thing is… i love the montoya siblings but the "we wouldnt defend him if he cheated" thing? i dont buy it. the internet knowing the truth is more important than your own family? as if. even if that part were to be true, do we think seb would just tell them like that? idk i know theyre close but i dont buy it. 🤷‍♀️

ALSO! something that really irks me is the whole "Hermes told me the tiktok was not about them" thing. MAKES NO SENSE. if that actually is true, then GOD i'm so mad. you can't just post something like that and think people won't assume that it's true?? what even??? and she also reposted a bunch of tiktoks about cheating etc (i saw it myself, they're probs still there). if seb actually didnt cheat and she just did all that anyway to be dramatic and so on…… she will have to fight me

abt gabrielle: i feel like ebba is more reliable then him so i trust her. she seems like such a genuinely sweet girl, i have never seen any red flags etc from her, so i trust her fully. so so upset about what happened to her, but shes so strong so she will get through it :((

[zahri-melitor]

New 52 Bat Comics: What to read

Claiming everything in this 5 year period is irredeemable is a long ask, and there’s both some stories in here that are important in terms of ‘where things happen’ and others that are just genuinely entertaining reads. I enjoyed myself on multiple occasions as I worked through this period, and I'd like to put a spotlight on those occasions.

Here’s my suggestions of what to pick up if you are interested:-

Batwoman, particularly J.H. Williams III’s run (#1-24). If you have any interest in Kate Kane at all, this picks up immediately following Rucka’s Elegy storyline in ‘Tec, and only has the smallest levels of retcons built in to update from pre-Flashpoint (Cameron Chase gets a character reset, the DEO is slightly different, there’s a chunk of alluded to backstory with Renee Montoya that’s been shaken up by Montoya losing a lot of her history). Marc Andreyko’s run should have been better than it was – he handles the editorially-mandated Kate and Maggie breakup in a way that’s very familiar if you’ve read Andreyko’s Manhunter, but never manages to achieve a particularly interesting plot. I would however suggest reading the Batwoman Annual written by Andreyko, even if you stop at Andreyko, as it ties off the Williams III story.

Gotham By Midnight: Gotham police’s secret magic division, where Jim Corrigan, as the Spectre, is dealing with supernatural threats. Exactly the sort of minor series that gives more depth to Gotham as a city.

Detective Comics #30-44: Francis Manapul and Brian Buccellato’s run on ‘Tec and the guest story from Ben Percy (Terminal 1&2) is probably my favourite mainline Batman storytelling of all of n52. It’s very police force based, rather like Rucka and Brubaker’s runs in the early 2000s. It’s focused on Harvey Bullock, but in a compelling way. They handle the concept of Batman, both from Bruce and from an outsider’s perspective, in a way that reminds me of some of the best Batman storytelling. The first two arcs are better than the third, for the unavoidable reason that Jim Gordon’s Batman in the third arc. Ben Percy’s Terminal 1&2 is a genuinely compelling airport disease outbreak story, and unlike a bunch of these types, holds up to read post-2020.

Arkham Manor: Despite what the title might make you believe, this is a delightfully fun story. Come for ‘what happened when Arkham Asylum fell into a hole in the ground’, stay for possibly my favourite Victor Fries characterisation ever. Next time anyone tells you Bruce Wayne doesn’t care about the rehabilitation of criminals, remember he gave up his HOUSE so they had somewhere safe to stay and he convinced the cops and psychiatrists to let Victor Fries live in an igloo on the Manor lawn basically for enrichment purposes.

Gotham Academy: look, if you want a lighthearted school story about teens that dips into some of the weirder mythology of Gotham without getting too bogged down in it? This is a fun read. There is definitely bonus when you know various other Gotham properties well, but at heart it’s just a magical/meta-filled school.

We Are Robin: I really like this as a story fleshing out Gotham and what Robin as a concept means to the children and teens of Gotham. Duke’s great and this solidifies a lot of the characterisation Snyder gave him and really grounds him with a backstory, but Riko Sheridan is also sparkling off the page with potential.

Batman & Robin, #1-23. Frequently frustrating, this is probably the best balance of writing of Damian in n52 and of Bruce’s feelings towards Damian. The 5 issues immediately after Requiem really set out for me the difference in discussion of death of a child between 1989 and ALPOD and 2013 and Damian’s death. I also think this contains the best writing of Damian actually struggling with his legacy as a ROBIN and with his feelings as the youngest child of the family.

Robin: Son of Batman: this in contrast is more of a look at Damian’s backstory PRIOR to his first appearance in Gotham and dealing with his feelings and penitence for his actions with the League of Assassins. It’s good if you want a whole-hearted attempt at balancing the inherent contradictions between “Damian’s existence and childhood is a betrayal by Talia that is hard to forgive” and “Talia as a complex character who loves her son”.