#more jon is always appreciated :)

[inwinterhell]

As a female athlete myself, I just want to quickly appreciate how George R.R Martin writes his women who fight. It’s never, “she wanted to be a warrior so she worked harder than everyone and eventually she could beat all the boys.” He actually gives his characters strengths and weaknesses—as well as cultural ties to fighting— and he makes these traits enhance the already existing plot lines these characters follow. The mental game is also always just as important, if not more, than the physical game, which I’ve found is true in sports and probably much more true in actual life-threatening situations.

Arya is a small child. She’s nine, she’s skinny; she would probably never excel at being a knight, so instead she learns a different type of fighting. She’ll never overpower anyone, but she can be quick and sneaky and use her left hand which most people don’t know how to fight against. Also, I would argue that Syrio’s teachings about “looking with your eyes” were far more important to her than the physical part of water dancing. Most of the time she isn’t using her skills to directly fight people, but to run away, to spy on people, to catch food and survive. Syrio is her friend, Needle is Jon Snow’s smile, etc. Arya learning how to use her stature to her advantage is part of a greater connection to her identity and the people who helped her.

Brienne is stronger than most men, but she faces constant misogyny because of that (which is all too realistic). She constantly faces internal battles with her own self-image and harassment wherever she goes. She gets taught to use men’s pride and anger to her advantage:

“Old Ser Goodwin was long in his grave, yet she could hear him whispering in her ear. Men will always underestimate you, he said, and their pride will make them want to vanquish you quickly, lest it be said that a woman tried them sorely. Let them spend their strength in furious attacks, whilst you conserve your own. Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch (AFFC Brienne 7)”

Finally, “no chance, and no choice” is her most memorable line for a reason. It’s not her martial prowess that makes her a great character; it’s her bravery and honor.

Cultural ties are also so important to the reasons many women in the series fight. Asha is Balon’s last remaining child when all her brothers are dead and gone. Of course she knows how to fight and sail. Her tension with Theon is less about her showing off and more about her proving how much she actually knows her people while he doesn’t (of course that isn’t Theon’s fault but that’s a whole other post). The Mormont women learned to fight because they historically had to fight off invaders; the Sand snakes’ skills show their connection to Oberyn, etc.

Anyway I just love how George uses fighting to enhance his characters’ personalities and not define them. None of them are physically or mentally infallible, and none are exempt from misogyny. They just learned to do something that empowers and protects them despite society’s expectations. George’s writing of women is definitely not perfect, but this is something I really appreciate.

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[pucksandpower]

To the Moon and Back

Lando Norris x astronaut!Reader

Summary: not many people can say “I love you to the moon and back” literally … but you’re the exception

Based on this request

Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves 🫶

The roar of the engine echoes through the car as Lando revs the McLaren 720S Spider. You glance over at your boyfriend and can’t help but smile. His eyes are bright with excitement beneath his helmet.

“You ready for this, love?” He asks, giving your hand a quick squeeze.

You nod, adrenaline already pumping through your veins. “Let’s do it.”

As an astronaut, you’re no stranger to G-force. But taking a hot lap around the race track with Lando is a different kind of thrill. The track marshall gives a thumbs up and Lando eases the car out of the pit lane. He takes it easy for the first few turns, warming up the tires.

“How’s it feel?” He asks.

“Smooth,” you reply. “Can’t even tell we’re going 200.”

Lando grins. “Oh just wait.”

He floors it down the back straight, pinning you back against the seat as the speedometer climbs towards 320 kilometers per hour. The G-force builds as he brakes hard into the next corner, expertly controlling the slide.

You let out an exhilarated whoop. “Now that’s more like it!”

Lando chuckles. “Barely getting started, babe.”

The next few laps are a blur of adrenaline and speed. Lando dances the McLaren through the corners, braking impossibly late before powering out in a controlled slide. You relish the forces pressing you back into your seat, so similar yet so different from a rocket launch.

As you pull back into the pits, crowds of fans erupt into cheers. Lando parks the car and hops out, pausing to take off his helmet and run a hand through his curly hair before coming over to help you out.

“So, what did the astronaut think?” He asks with a playful grin.

You’re still catching your breath, heart pounding. "That was insane! What a rush."

Lando looks pleased, keeping an arm wrapped around you as you’re swarmed by fans seeking autographs and photos. Most want a moment with their favorite driver, but a few recognize you as well.

“She’s the astronaut girlfriend, right?” Someone asks.

You nod, giving a little wave. “Yep, that’s me!”

The fans seem impressed that you were able to handle Lando’s hot lap so easily.

“Wow, you took those Gs no problem!” A teenage girl remarks.

You laugh. “Well, I have some practice from launch and re-entry.”

“You must be fearless to be an astronaut,” adds an awe-struck boy.

“It’s intense for sure,” you agree. “But so rewarding.”

Lando smiles proudly, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “My girl’s a badass. Takes a lot more than some high-G corners to phase her!”

You laugh and pose for a few more photos before Lando regrettably has to head in to prep for free practice. After a quick kiss goodbye, you wander through the bustling paddock, enjoying the infectious excitement in the air on race day.

You’ve just grabbed a water bottle when you hear rapid footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

Turning, you see Lando’s performance coach approaching. He gives you a polite smile. “Got a minute?”

You nod. “For you, always. What’s up?”

He falls into step beside you. “I wanted to run something by you. Lando seems distracted lately during training and physio. Have you noticed anything off with him?”

You frown, thinking back over the last few weeks. Now that he mentions it, Lando has seemed a little distant at times.

“I have noticed he’s been quieter than usual,” you admit. “But I figured it was just nerves or fatigue going into the season.”

Jon nods thoughtfully. “Could be. I know he really wants to impress this year. But as his girlfriend, I thought maybe you’d have a better sense of if anything else is on his mind.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” you promise.

“Appreciate it,” Jon says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

You part ways and head out to the pit wall to watch the start of the race. But your mind is only partially on the action, thoughts preoccupied with concern for Lando. He’s normally so upbeat and energetic, but thinking back, you realize there has been a muted quality to him lately that is unusual. You wrack your brain trying to pinpoint if there was a specific incident that triggered this change, but come up empty.

After the podium, you pull Lando. “P3! What a freaking drive," you give him a quick kiss.

His eyes brighten momentarily. “Thanks, love. Feels good to start the season off strong.”

You study his face, wishing you could read his thoughts. “So … can we talk later? Maybe grab dinner in the city before heading back to the hotel?”

Lando shrugs. "Sure, I guess so."

You frown slightly. His response is lacking his normal enthusiasm. But the paddock is too crowded to dive deeper now. “Great, it’s a date!” You say brightly, taking his hand as you both head out to spray champagne. You’ll get to the bottom of this tonight.

After a flurry of post-race obligations, the two of you finally slip away to a quiet restaurant downtown. When the waiter steps away with your orders, you reach across the table to take Lando’s hand.

“So, what’s really going on?” You ask gently. “And don’t say nothing. Everyone can tell something’s been off lately.”

Lando sighs, avoiding your eyes. He runs his free hand through his curls. “It’s stupid, really …”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not stupid. Talk to me, babe.”

He’s quiet for a long moment before responding softly. “I’m worried I don’t deserve you.”

You rock back slightly, caught off guard. “What? Where is this coming from?”

Lando keeps his gaze down. “It’s just … you’re this badass astronaut. You literally go to space! And I’m just a guy who drives cars in circles.”

Your heart aches for the vulnerability in his voice. You give his hand another supportive squeeze. “Lando, you’re so much more than that. Yes, I love space. But racing is your passion and you’re incredible at it. You bring joy to so many people. That matters.”

‘I know, but …” Lando trails off uncertainly.

You lean forward, gently tipping his chin up. “No buts. You deserve the world. I’m the lucky one here.”

He finally meets your eyes. “Really?” The doubt is clear on his face.

“Really,” you confirm. “I fell for you, Lando. Not your job or your fame. Your kindness, your humor, your giant heart … that’s what I love.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “When you put it like that …”

“It’s the truth,” you say firmly.

Lando lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as the tension eases. “I’ve been in my own head about this for weeks. Should have just talked to you sooner.”

“Well, you have me now,” you remind him. “No more keeping worries bottled up, deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, lifting your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?”

You laugh. “It’s always nice to hear.” Your heart swells with happiness to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

Just then your food arrives, and Lando insists you try a bite of his pasta. The conversation flows easily again as you trade stories and banter. With the worry lifted from his shoulders, Lando’s charm and humor are on full display. By the time you meander hand in hand back to the hotel, the moon is high in the sky.

Lando pauses outside your door. “Thank you for tonight. And just … for everything. You’re my whole world.”

“I love you to the moon and back.” You gaze at him adoringly for a moment before adding, “Now, I believe a celebration is in order for that podium today …”

You open the door and pull him inside by his collar as he laughs. As you kiss him deeply, you make a silent promise to always be the safe space he can turn to when doubts creep in.

You’re the luckiest girl in the world to be loved by this incredible man. And you plan to spend every day proving he’s worthy of the same boundless love … to the moon and back.

***

You take a deep breath as you stare out the small window of the shuttle, watching the Earth get smaller and smaller as you ascend into the sky.

This is it. Your first mission to the moon.

You’ve dreamed of this moment since you were a little girl, gazing up at the glowing orb in the night sky and imagining yourself walking across its cratered surface.

As an astronaut with NASA, you’ve completed years of intense training to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the rigors of space travel. But nothing can fully ready you for the surge of emotions that hits you now as your childhood fantasy becomes reality.

Excitement.

Awe.

A twinge of nervousness.

And above all, gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to push the boundaries of human exploration. To boldly go where only a handful of people have gone before.

You think of Lando. How his eyes lit up when you got the call informing you that you had been selected for this mission. How he immediately started planning a big celebratory dinner, inviting all your friends and family. How he held you tight before you left for quarantine and launch preparations, whispering “I’m so proud of you” and “I love you to the moon and back.”

Your relationship with Lando has always been anchored in mutual love, trust and encouragement. As a Formula 1 driver, he understands the demands and dangers of your job, the laser focus it requires. When he races, you’re trackside or glued to the TV, cheering him on. When it’s your turn to take the spotlight, he’s equally in your corner, hyping you up and telling anyone who’ll listen that his girl is an astronaut headed to space.

You chuckle thinking back to when you first met Lando at an Engineering for the Next Generation event. Him in his McLaren gear, standing out like a beacon in bright papaya. You in your crisp blue flight suit, NASA insignia shining. Sparks didn’t just fly, they erupted into fireworks.

Fast forward five years and here you both are, thriving in your dream careers, happily together and each other’s biggest fans.

Your daydreaming is interrupted by the voice of the commander crackling over your headset. “Prepare for trans-lunar injection burn.”

It’s time.

You watch attentively as the burn commences, adjusting the shuttle’s trajectory until you’ve escaped Earth’s gravity and are hurtling towards the moon.

The next few days pass in a blur of course corrections, equipment checks, meals, sleep, and anticipation. Then finally, the moment arrives. You feel the shuttle tremble as the engines fire, slowing you down until you achieve lunar orbit insertion.

For the first time, you’re gazing upon the entirety of the moon’s pockmarked surface rather than just a slice of it in the night sky. It’s simultaneously familiar and foreign, a world both near and far.

“We are go for powered descent,” comes the voice of Mission Control. The shuttle shudders as the lander separates, ferrying you and your crewmates down to the awaiting surface. Through the window you watch the grey, dusty terrain rise up to meet you. A perfect landing kicks up plumes of powder.

You’ve arrived.

Stepping outside in your bulky space suit, you marvel at the stark beauty surrounding you. The pitch black sky, dotted more vividly with blazing stars than you could have ever imagined. The rolling plains and hills in muted grays. The unfiltered rays of the sun overhead. And above all, the profoundly silence, unlike anything you’ve experienced on noisy Earth.

You bend down and scoop up some lunar soil, letting it sift through your gloved fingers.

The next two days pass swiftly, filled with collecting samples, setting up experiments, and traversing the alien landscape. Too soon, it’s time to depart. As the shuttle lifts off in a spray of dust, you take one last look at the moon’s cratered face, etching it into your memory.

Returning to Earth, you’re met with great fanfare. Lando wraps you in an enormous bear hug, his relief and elation at having you home safe and sound is infectious. “I’ve missed you so much! Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he holds you tight and refuses to let go.

At the dinner he’s arranged, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you regale everyone with stories about your lunar experience.

Walking in spaces so silent your own heartbeat sounded thunderous. The inexplicable lightness in your limbs from the reduced gravity. Seeing Earth hover above the horizon, a blue and white marble in the void. The sense of wonder at walking upon a heavenly sphere humans have gazed upon for millennia but few have ever touched.

“I’ve always loved you to the moon and back,” you tell Lando, taking his hand. “Now I can say I’ve literally loved you to the moon and back.”

You see his eyes widen as you pull out a small pouch and tip glittering gray dust into his palm — a moon rock. “A little piece of the moon, just for you,” you close his fingers around it.

Lando is momentarily speechless, touched beyond words by your gesture. Then a grin spreads across his face. “You are simply out of this world,” he laughs. “This is going in my trophy case for sure!”

Over the next year, Lando has the moon rock fashioned into a ring, which he wears on race days for good luck. Sure enough, he scores his first ever victory that season, a thrilling achievement after years of near misses and podium finishes.

Standing on top of the podium, Lando whoops and thrusts his trophy high. Then he gazes straight into your eyes and says words meant only for you. “This one’s for the person who has always loved me to the moon and back.”

You beam with joy, pride surging through you. In that moment, all the years of supporting each other through the highs and lows to follow your passions feel profoundly worth it. Because at the end of the day, whether it’s launching into space or racing on Earth, you’re always each other’s biggest fans, connected by a love deeper than any distance — even 768,800 kilometers to the moon and back.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Hello, I really a fans of your work and always waiting for the updates. I have a question, what happen if Y/n just ignore the batfam as Y/n also turn to superfam becoming their family. It also assuming Alfred A-Okay with it. Oh, also Y/n might be have relationship with one of the superboys and she love to cuddle with the lover. Well, that's just my wild imagination thinking about.

Oh well, I hope you have great days.❤���😘

Thank you for liking my work! If you're asking for part 4, it will come out soon and probably by the end of next week!

Well, I don't think Alfred would be totally a-okay with this and after a bit he would act to 'fix' the situation.

He wants you to stay at the Manor and be appreciated too by the Batfam even though they don't even know you exist.

He has tried before, talking about you to Bruce and the others but they always dismissed him with the excuse of being busy or forgetting about you the next day.

And seeing you giving up on being with your real family and finding love in another family that actually accepts you and he can't accept that.

You're supposed to be with him as the rest of the Waynes not with some alien family.

He would act like he supports you whenever you come to visit him since you mostly live with the Kents nowadays and come to the Manor to grab the things you needed since you were moving your stuff from the Manor to the Kents house.

After a while you start to come home, to come back to him even less before you just visit him maybe once a month before it turns into no more visiting him since you're busy with school, dance classes and the vigilante role you still have.

And Alfred hates it so he decides that he can't stand to watch his boys obsess over your vigilante persona when they can't even bother to notice you weren't living in the Manor anymore.

So he decides to call a family meeting without your knowledge and explains everything, who you were behind the mask and how dissapointed and ashamed that the people he raised didn't even acknowledge that you existed.

Their reaction, which were mostly of confusion before realisation bothered him but he stayed silent and used their reaction to manipulate them, make them think you weren't in the right place with the Kent family.

And after a week from that meeting, you started to receive texts from all the batfam and also kept seeing them everywhere, with Bruce at school or when you were patrolling the city.

He would always try to talk to you, which you ignored or gave him the finger while swinging away, preferring to not engage in his tries to connect with you.

Plus he would show up at your dance recitals when you never said anything to Alfred about them and he would always be right in first row with a smug smile since he knew you couldn't do anything.

Plus you already knew they knew who you were behind the mask, they said your name when you had your mask on so many times you wanted to punch their faces.

You had to skip a few days of school because Tim and Damian started to show up at your same highschool and sitting next to you in class, to which no one would say anything and it frustrated you since highschool was one of your safe places but not anymore.

You tried to ignore Dick and Jason's attempts at stalking you, not because it was noticeable since you never saw them but the spider sense made you aware you were being watched and after a bit you were able to notice them following you.

Yes you did feel proud since you didn't have any detective training like the others but still knew who was following just by using the things around you.

You vented your frustrations with Clark and Conner and they did help by letting you skip school and everything but you had to go back to school or it would affect your attendance and damage your reputation and curriculum for future colleges applications.

But one fateful day, you went to a mission with Conner and Clark since they needed a third person but couldn't bring Jon since he was busy with school, so you went in his place.

During the mission you got ambushed, Conner and Clark were at disadvantage since the attackers (not sure on the term, the people that attacks) somehow had kryptonite weapons.

Plus you were also fighting, using the tasers and also the objects around you like rocks or trees.

Yes, you did throw a tree at a group of them and you also got Clark telling you not to do it again. Did you listen though? No.

As you were fighting you suddenly got stung by something in the leg, and when you touched the spot where it hurt you saw a small dart there.

You opened your mouth to call for Clark or Conner but someone covered your mouth and held you as you fainted while Clark and Conner had to flee since the attackers were too strong with the kryptonite.

The last thing you saw was the smiling face of Dick before completely giving in the drug you got injected in your body, not hearing them fight about who was gonna carry you in the batmobile.

[816wdc]

😍 lando x fem!reader with the prompt

"Can you preheat the apartment? I'm on my way home. "

- "what are you, banana bread?"

Maybe she's cold like allllll the time, even in the summer (it's me, I'm her)

chilly ✹ ln4 x reader

hello anon ^_^ thank you for the request! i kinda flipped the dialogue because i thought it flowed better, but lmk what u think :) this is officially my first f1-related writing ive put out into the world, so comments are greatly appreciated!

word count: 475

notes: mostly casual dialogue, not proofread. about a phone call between reader and lando! no use of y/n. i also dont think its explicitly stated reader is fem, so take it how you will!

It was freezing.

Not really, of course. It was June, in London, in one of the worst heat waves ever recorded. But you’d spent all day in the office, which had its aircon on blast to accommodate for the heat. You can’t really blame whoever was in charge of that, really. It was over 30 degrees out and any sane person would be boiling.

And yet, here you were, trembling even as you signed off for the day and pulled out your cell phone. It was a ritual, at this point, to call Lando once you were off work. Going through the motions of pulling up his contact and hitting ‘call’ didn’t even require your attention anymore.

Lando’s voice crackled to life almost immediately when the call connected. “Hello, darling. I was wondering when you’d call.”

A soft smile bloomed on your face just at the sound of his voice as you stood from your desk and gathered your things. “Hi, Lando,” you reply. His infectious joyful energy seeped into you even through the phone, and a little laugh could be heard as you continued to speak. “It’s been so cold in the office today, but I’m on my way home now.”

A content hum came from the other line. “Finally. Feels like you’ve been gone forever.” An amused exhale escapes you at that. “You won’t be cold once you step outside, though. Boiling today, innit?”

You groan, the stickiness of the air clogging your lungs as soon as you step outside. “Yes, I’m outside now. I’m sure you’ve got the air on in my apartment. Can you just… grab me a blanket that I can wrap up in once I’m home?” 

The question embarrasses you almost immediately after it leaves your lips. Complaining about how hot it is, then asking your boyfriend to grab you a blanket seems silly. It kind of is. “The aircon is always freezing. I don’t care how hot it is outside,” you say, a whiny lilt as you talk over Lando’s squeaking laugh.

“Wow. Over 30 degrees out and of course you’re asking me for a blanket,” he starts, though he’s still laughing more than he is talking. “But yes, darling, I will preheat the couch for you with tea and blankets.”

A real laugh comes from you as you approach the entrance to the tube station. “Preheat? What am I, like, banana bread or something?”

Both of you were laughing now, Lando’s coming out broken as you waited underground for your train. “Banana bread sounds fantastic. You’ve made me hungry, now! Ugh, done me dirty. Jon won’t allow that,” he groans.

Another hum from you as the ticker board says your train is only a minute away. “Okay, okay. My train is here. I’ll be home in ten, my love. See you.”

“Right. See you soon, you loaf.”

let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞

Pairing Frank Castle x Reader [friends → lovers] 

Summary A fresh start with no more loose ends—that’s what you promised yourselves. But when a quick outing stretches longer than expected, dread creeps in and reveals how deeply you care for Frank when he’s finally back by your side [3.7k] 

A/N First time writing for Frank. Deeply appreciate Jon Bernthal’s embodiment of the character ♡

The rain hasn’t stopped by the time the van eases into the parking lot, where the water on the ground reflects the cherry-red motel sign shining against the night. It makes no difference to you—lips parted, head tilted against the passenger side window—until Frank gears into park and taps your thigh with two thick fingers. 

Your eyes flutter open to tiny droplets pattering on the outside of the cool glass. That’s when you notice how still the world has grown. No more potholes, smooth turns, or periodic swells of acceleration to pass other cars who thought they had all the time in the world. 

After cutting the engine, he runs a heavy hand down his face and tips his head back, disheveling the back of his dark hair against the headrest. It’s gotten longer. So has the coarser hair of his beard. He never asked for your opinion, nor had you mustered the courage to give it, but the look suited him, as if it was innately right. As he briefly closes his eyes, he misses the way you turn to study his profile, noting how the bridge of his nose catches the glow of the lights outside.

A satisfied hum escapes you as you stretch out your legs, drawing his attention back your way. He blinks observantly, eyebrows set in that eternal furrow that makes him hard to read. But you know he’s alright—content. There’s no other reason not to be. A couple hundred miles ago, he’d tied off one final loose end, and the world went silent for the first time in a while. It was over. No more living ghosts breathing down your necks. You and Pete Castiglione were free to start a new life, be whoever you wanted to be. That’s what you told yourselves. 

Clearing his throat, Frank shifts in his seat and reaches into the cup holder, tossing the room key into your lap. “Room 103. There’s two queens,” he tells you. “I’ll grab the bags.” The finality in his tone suggests he won’t entertain any alterations to the plan.   

You reach down to grab your crossbody. “Can I get this one, or is it too much?” You’re trying to be funny. He waves you off, mumbling under his breath, but there’s an undeniable flutter in his gut when you smile at him before hopping out of the van. 

He purses his lips when you break into an amusing little jog, eager to escape the rain and key into the room. A muted yellow fills the space as you flip on the lights. No sooner does he watch you peek through the curtains like a groundhog popping up from its burrow. It’s hard to make him out, but you swear you can see him chuckling from behind the windshield. 

It’s impressive how he manages to carry both your belongings in one trip. He hums in appreciation as you hold the door open for him. Rather than dumping everything in the main walkway, he trudges the extra few steps to where more space opens up, and a small bench rests beneath the full length mirror hanging on the wall. 

The air is thick, as it always seems to be at motels, but the citrus undertones suggest recent cleaning. You stake your claim on the bed closest to the bathroom, ready to settle in. The wrapper of a meal bar crinkles as you dig it out from your purse. 

Frank’s own mattress squeaks as he plops down onto the foot of the bed and lays back, tucking his hands behind his head. The movement makes the hem of his hoodie rise up just enough to reveal the light trail of dark hair leading down from his belly button. It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world, but you’d be back on the road in the morning headed for central Virginia. 

A modest house in the Blue Ridge Mountains awaited, courtesy of one of his buddies who lived further north in Quantico. Of all the other options, it seemed like a promising place to find your footing away from the endless bustle of New York City. 

“Frank?” He looks over at you. “Thanks.” For everything, you want to add. 

“No worries,” he says. A few moments pass of the rain slowing down outside. It’s a lulling sound that masks the quiet gurgle of your stomach. 

Eyes closed, Frank hears you begin to peel open the bar you’re holding. It’s one of the protein-packed ones that are supposed to taste like chocolate, but always end up too chalky. It’d been a while since the late lunch the two of you had. 

“I’ll go get you something hot.” He sits up. “Passed a few places coming in.” 

You can see how drained he is from driving. It’s in his voice, the slump of his shoulders. “This’ll tie me over for the night,” you insist.

He looks at you with partial belief. Frank was the type who could get caught up in the task at hand and go without eating, if it wasn’t for your reminders. Earlier, he’d brushed over his hunger, only to sit down across from you in that cramped diner booth and inhale his hamburger and fries as you watched with amusement sparkling in your eyes. That look often spurred him into a spiel about how he could get by on a handful of nuts every few hours if he really wanted. 

But there was no such talk this time around. The food was good and hearty, and he enjoyed sitting down and sharing a meal without having to look over his shoulder. There was also something special about the way the sunlight streaming through the windows caught your eyes. 

“Really, Frank. It’s been a long day,” you say as he stands and makes his way to the door. There was no stopping him when he made up his mind. “I can come with you.” That earns you a disapproving look, and you sigh your defeat. “Drive safe, okay?” 

“Yep.” 

The rain subsides shortly after he slips out the door. To avoid the risk of falling asleep, you decide to take a shower, considering yourself lucky that the warm water doesn’t run out after the first five minutes.

By the time you dry off, moisturize, and change into old pajamas, Frank hasn’t returned. When you peek out the window at the sound of an engine, it ends up being construction workers. Despite how much you try to will it away, a familiar sense of dread settles in your gut. It only roots deeper upon realizing that he’d left his BlackBerry behind on the bed. 

Time continues passing by. 

•••

Red and blue police lights appear blazing in the distance in a showy glow. Frank watches from the inside of a family-owned pizzeria, where beautiful candid pictures adorn the walls. The air is rich with the scent of parmesan and garlic, but his face is fixed in a scowl. There’s bruising beginning to develop on the apple of one cheek, and a thin bleeding slash on the other. A few chairs are overturned while tables are askew. 

Under different circumstances, maybe in a different life, he would’ve been able to appreciate the homey charm of the place without trouble finding a way to fall at his feet. The universe had deemed him as the only alter fit to handle it. 

The woman behind the counter, stout with a long ponytail, nearly collapses in relief as the wailing sirens draw nearer. Frank’s jaw ticks in irritation at the whole ordeal. Other customers who were once inside have either left or are now standing watch from the parking lot. 

Frank turns to look down at the two young men sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. The masks have been ripped down from their faces, and it’s clear they’ve been roughed up. Despite feeling Frank’s gaze, they refuse to meet it. 

Off to side stands another employee who’s around the same age as the men on the ground. He’s holding a wad of napkins to his bloody nose and can’t keep his eyes from flitting to Frank with reverence and gratitude.  

“Hey,” Frank barks to the seated men. “When they bust up in here, you don’t run, you hear me? Cause I’m gonna be out there and you won’t even make it to the next lot over,” he says. “If you wanna come in here and be tough guys while your buddy’s trying to make a living and do better for himself, then you own it.” 

Their nostrils flare in frustration, but they don’t dare open their mouths. He can see the misplaced anger of his own youth coursing through them. 

“Whatever’s going on between you…you talk it out, yeah?” He looks between all of them. “One bad decision, and your folks will be crying and snotting in a courtroom while some guy with a gavel calls the shots.” 

As the police cars turn into the parking lot, Frank walks over to a table and picks up the carry out bag of food he’d ordered. 

“How do I get outta here?” 

Both the long-haired woman and the young employee point to the back hallway where the bathrooms are, watching him disappear as if he were never there at all. 

Frank makes it to his van as the police enter the pizzeria. In the rearview mirror, he can see the two men standing from the ground with their heads hanging low. Sighing, he pats down his pockets for his phone with the intent to call you. Nothing. All he can do is curse under his breath and start up the engine. 

The No Vacancy sign is switched on when he makes it back. He sees you staring out the window, but you slink back into the room as if the sight of his return was all you needed. A mix of guilt and frustration stir in his chest when you don’t let him in. He has to dig out the key and do it himself with his free hand, the carry out bag crinkling with his efforts. When he slips in and shuts the door behind himself, you’re standing a few yards away. There’s a palpable intensity as you study the afflictions on his face. 

Your body wants to fuss over him and push him away all at once—for leaving his phone, for scaring you, for coming back looking like he’d sought out yet another fight. Most of all, you feel foolish for believing that there was ever a chance at normalcy. There was no rewriting the curse that all the trouble in the world fell at Frank Castle’s feet so he could set things right. 

Unlike eight months ago, when you thought he was bad news, you can’t imagine losing him. You wouldn’t survive it. That magnitude of that fear cloaks itself in anger and puts a target on him when it’s the last thing he deserves. 

“What the hell, Frank? You can’t be serious right now.” 

Your piercing gaze is muddled with a myriad of emotions, and he can see them all. He stops the knee-jerk reaction that almost makes him raise his voice and go on about how he didn’t ask for anything that transpired within the past hour. How happenstance wasn’t within his control. How the whole idea of the two people like you finding a sense of normality was probably closer to a fairytale. 

He doesn’t get into it because he loves you. Even though neither of you have ever said it aloud. It was an unspoken truth, written between the lines of the fact that you worked each other’s nerves, but knew how to sooth them even more. Chasing after a fairytale would be worth it with you. 

“Let’s just eat, yeah? Can we do that?” 

He brushes past you to put the food on the small table. You track his movements, watching as he takes out a few small boxes. There’s wings, garlic knots, mozzarella sticks—a variety so you can take your pick and get your fill. It was never really too late for pizza, but he knew you would complain about the layers of cheese grease so close to bedtime. You’re not even sure you have an appetite anymore, but he motions for you to come sit and you can’t say no. Your eyes follow him as he goes to wash his hands, wishing you had it in you to scream. 

There’s only two chairs and your knees knock beneath the table when he sits down. As you nibble on a garlic knot, you stare at the dried blood on his cheek and the forming bruise. 

“Please tell me what happened.” Your tone is lighter than before.

Frank squints briefly then wrinkles his nose, gears turning in his head. Similar to when he walks into a new room, his gaze tracks around different points of your face, as if he’s trying to piece together what he wants to say as he assesses where you are. His thoughts are always written in his expressions even if they aren’t entirely clear. 

“It was nothing,” he says. 

“Nothing, Frank?” 

Nine times out of ten, him coming back to base camp bearing signs of a fight meant that he’d either taken care of everything or it was time to bounce—no in between. There’s no urgency that suggests the latter, so he must be telling the truth. The events of the night have pissed him off more than anything, like a side quest he couldn’t avoid. As much as he dreaded playing it over in his head for the sake of relaying it back to you, he can see that you need it. 

“Alright, look.” Frank waits for your attentive nod to continue. 

“It was a couple of kids. Came in all loud, making a scene,” he starts. “Long story short, they gang up on their buddy who works there.” Your eyes drift to his lips as he talks, watching the way he wets them every so often. “Everybody starts freaking out, some suit who looks like Mayor LaGaurdia calls the cops.” 

He shakes his head like it was all a big mess. “And I’m not about to sit there and watch this kid get the snot beat outta him, so I get up and do somethin’ about it.” The righteous indignation in his tone stirs an admiration within you. He notices the shift in the way you’re looking at him. 

“What?” 

You shake your head and bite your lower lip. “So you broke them apart?”

He nods. “One of ‘em got a lick in, pulled out a pocket knife,” he says. “Then I shook both their asses up and made ‘em sit ‘til the cops came.” 

“You pulled your punches.” 

“I pulled my punches,” he confirms.

This wasn’t the story you were expecting, but you’re grateful for it nonetheless. Frank breaking up fights and setting kids straight was something you could live with—better than dealing with crime rings, crooked feds, and personal vendettas. 

A wave of rowdy laughter soon erupts from somewhere in the distance. When you look down, you realize the two of you have made your way through more of the food than you were expecting. Frank wipes his hands off with a napkin and leans back in his chair, watching as you do the same. 

The silence is intimate. Frank’s knees are still pressed against yours. He looks like he wants to say one thing but changes his mind to another at the last minute. “I’m gonna go grab a shower, yeah?”  

“Yeah,” you mimic the quick, New York way he always clips the word onto the end of his sentences.  

He’s never minded your teasing. Every time he thinks he’s gotten away with masking his amusement, you always catch a tell that gives him away. This time, it’s the twitch of his nose as he stands up to throw his stuff away. You file it away in your memory. 

“Hey, Frank?” He looks over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was scared.” 

“I know.” 

Later, the lights around the mirror provide a Hollywood-esque glow as you stand at the sink brushing your teeth, one hand braced on the counter. The rest of the bathroom is sectioned off behind a door, so you feel the lingering steam from Frank's shower as he steps out in his sleep clothes, drying off his hair. The air smells like the complimentary soap, light and fresh. You absentmindedly shift to make room for him as he drapes the towel around his neck and leans close to the mirror to assess his face. 

Now that the blood is gone, the cut looks less imposing. Unphased that you’re bumping shoulders, he reaches for his own toothbrush. 

You’ve never paid any mind to how heavy-handed he is while he brushes, but it stands out now that you’re right beside him sharing the same sink. Perhaps it only appears that way, but you force yourself to bite back a teasing comment as you move on to floss. Frank just stares at you in the mirror with a soft, tired look in his eyes that makes your insides feel all fluttery. You’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing it—or maybe he knows perfectly well. 

After he’s ditched the towel and the two of you are making your way to your respective beds, you bring a halt to his movements by wrapping your arms around him. It’s an awkward angle at first because you come at him partially from the side, partially from behind. But he adjusts himself so that your chests are pressed together as he wraps an arm around you—just the one initially, taken aback by your embrace. 

“Okay. Oh, boy,” he chuckles in that low way of his that playfully denotes trouble. 

You’re not sure why you made the move. As he adds his other arm, it occurs to you that there are too many motivations for there to be just one. Affection seldom looks like this between the two of you—maybe once every blue moon during notable partings or close calls. The seamless way you melt into him says otherwise. It’s as if relishing his warmth and the steady constant of his frame was all you were made for. The possibility doesn’t even offend you. You keep holding him and he keeps holding you. 

“You okay?” he asks after a while, smoothing his wide palm up your back. 

You nod before slowly pulling away. “Sorry, I’m just…” You touch a gentle finger to the center of his chest as he looks at you with that familiar furrow between his brows. “Glad you’re back.” Glad he’s still alive.

“Where else would I be, huh?” He taps your chin with his knuckle. “I walk out any door without you, best believe I’m making it back some way somehow.” 

You nod because you don’t trust your voice anymore.  

He gives your chin another affectionate tap. “Alright then. Bedtime.”

•••

A small sliver of light slips in through the slit in the curtains, casting itself onto the lower portion of Frank’s bed right over his feet. Even after staring at it for what feels like forever, you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes and surrender to the grasp of sleep. Yet the steady rise and fall of Frank’s chest continues on like some sort of miracle. You wish you were close enough to feel it for yourself, and when that pull doesn’t go away, you push the covers off and tiptoe over to his bed amid the dark.  

When the other side of his mattress dips, he thinks it’s one of those half-waking dreams until your leg brushes against his in your attempt to join him beneath the sheets. He immediately shifts to accommodate you, tugging more covers over to your side even though there’s already plenty. As he moves, you can smell the familiar scent of his skin and feel the weight of his proximity. 

“Thought you were—thought I was dreaming,” he rasps. 

With the way your heart has begun hammering in your ears, you’re surprised you can hear him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, you’re okay, sweetheart.” His voice is thick, but not from tiredness this time. 

Both of you remain still after you’ve settled, scared that moving would shatter this sweet reality that had been woven together by fate. The warmth of his body calls out to you, but you don’t indulge even though you want to. That hesitation doesn’t last long. The moment he reaches out, you press yourself back against his chest. He lets his hand come to rest over your stomach as he tucks his nose into your head, breathing you in. When you relax further into him, his fingertips venture just beneath the hem of your shirt to grace the soft skin above your waistline. The gesture is achingly chaste. The two of you fall asleep just like that. 

Morning seems to come soon, sunlight spilling into the room around the closed curtains. The light is tender in the way it bathes the charming color palette of the room. Frank’s eyes flutter open to find that neither of you had shifted much during the night. You're further away, but his arm remains draped over your middle. He doesn’t know that you're awake—that you’ve been awake. 

The first thing your gaze fell on was the alarm clock nearing nine o’ clock. You’d slept in way longer than usual, especially for what was meant to be another day on the road. You can’t bring yourself to mind. 

It isn’t until Frank withdraws his arm that you finally allow yourself to shift. The sheets rustle in a tell-tale sign that he’s stretching, and you roll over in time to see him on his back with his arms extended, knuckles brushing against the headboard. You scoot closer, resting a hand on his chest after he lowers his arms and tucks the one furthest from you behind his head, bicep flexing. 

Neither of you say anything, but there’s a quiet sense of acknowledgement—of seeing and being seen. With a lone finger, you draw lazy shapes over his pecs through the fabric of his shirt as he slowly blinks down at your hand. And as Frank turns to press a kiss to your forehead, he reckons he could get used to mornings like these.  

-

♡ Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

[sunnie-angel]

Candy Necklaces

jason todd x gn!reader

ao3 link

summary: you and jason get matching necklaces

tags: implied smut

rating mature (mdni) | wc: 0.5k

Jason would love seeing his initial around your neck, but he would secretly love wearing the first letter of your name even more. The necklaces are an anniversary gift, the two of you picking them out together. The letter pendants are small, on a chain longe enough that it can easily be tucked out of the way and into clothing if needed. You don’t mention how he goes a little teary eyed as you fix the clasp around his neck, the way his arms come around your waist as he leans down to kiss you slowly. The next few weeks you keep catching him staring at your chest and the little J that rests there, a little catch in his breath every time the glint of gold catches his eye.

It becomes a habit for Jason to play with his necklace. Pinching the pendant between his thumb, running it back and forth on its chain. There’s a warm glow in his belly at this proof of affection. That he’s yours and you’re his. It never really goes away, that feeling. It’s why he hates taking it off so much.

The only time Jason ever takes off his necklace is for patrol. Just the thought of losing it, of having it get torn off during a fight, is enough to open up a yawning cavern in his chest. Every night that the Red Hood appears, Jason adds his necklace to yours for safe keeping. Likes seeing the two necklaces together around your throat, safe, and knowing that you’ll watch over this part of him until he comes home.

Jason gets a little obsessed with watching the necklace swing as he thrusts into you. He gets a little hypnotized by it, moving his hips and body to get it to swing in different ways. You have to gently tug on his pendant to bring him back to you, pull him into a kiss. He’d make it a habit to kiss you silly, then trail kisses down your neck. His favourite look for you is wearing nothing but his name around your neck and you deserve to know exactly how much he appreciates it. He loves mouthing at your metal J where it rests on your sternum, glued to your skin with the light sweat of exertion.

Nearly six months later, after an anniversary date for the night you met, you present Jason with a little white box. Inside are two matching T pendants, the same kind as your necklaces. You tell him, “I think my name looks lonely without a “Todd’ after it.”

It takes him three days and a comment from Tim to figure out that that was you proposing to him. Sends him running for his favourite (civilian) leather jacket and the inside breast pocket where he’s been carrying around a ring for months.

“Were you serious?”

“…You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that Jason.”

“About making your last name ‘Todd’.”

“Oh, always.”

“Then I’ve got a question to ask you properly.”

The two of you wear your matching jewelry to the wedding, the Ts added to them. And if Jason fucks you a little harder, a little sweeter, at the sight of a JT at the hollow of your throat and the ring on your finger, well, that’s for you to enjoy.

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

Chapter 3

The Wayne family was going through a bad time, everyone noticed it, one of its members was showing strange behavior, this did not escape the attention of the family of detectives, no matter how discreet and secretive the youngest of the family may have been. to hide what he was doing, in any case, it did not prevent suspicions from being aroused around him.

Some discreetly tried to get information out of Damian about why he disappeared, like Dick and Barbara.

Others attacked them with facts, like Jason and Tim, but Damian only gave them a few clever words to annoy them and ignored what they wanted, the next option they followed was to investigate or spy on the boy.

His father, Bruce, concerned about the recent attitude of his son, who disappeared without a trace, especially at night or on his days off, tried to talk to the boy.

But he only received an angry face from his son, he was even more surprised to notice that the boy's eyes had resentment.

Damián wanted to go see his sister and little niece, he really tried, but there was something that stopped him, it wasn't his annoying family who wanted to interfere in his life, nor his brothers who were trying to spy on him (he was able to lose sight of them with some tricks), but rather a little half-Kryptonian boy, who kept following him around to spend time together.

When he appeared at your door and you opened it, you weren't expecting to see him with another boy behind him, one who certainly matched Damian's aptitude.

It seems that your brother did not realize that the boy was with him, because when you greeted the other boy, he was surprised by his presence.

You invited them in, they were a little more joy for this lonely house, your daughter and you were not enough to make the house a very happy place, they did what they could, but even so you could feel that more life was missing. the lonely house.

You left the children at the dining room table, next to Alice, sitting in a baby chair between the two children.

“Okay I'll bring cookies and milk, please don't cause a mess” you warned the children as you walked towards the kitchen “and take care of Alice” you looked at your brother, he nodded at your request.

“What are you doing here?” Damian questioned Jon.

“I was curious to know where you were going in such a hurry,” the boy tried to defend himself, not wanting to make Damian angrier.

“Well, you shouldn't have done it,” he looked at Jon with annoyance, and then diverted his attention to his little niece, who smiled at him and started playing with the boy's fingers.

Jon just silently observes the situation he got into, who always had a brusque attitude to everyone, even his family, treating the two people in this house with a lot of appreciation and affection. How was that even possible?

“Hey, that woman is you… “Sister,” he pointed to the place where you had disappeared.

Damian sighed, letting this boy know his secret put him in danger, one wrong step by Jon and everyone would know about you, he didn't want his father and brothers to find out about you, one because it would be annoying if they stole your attention, another because you could have lived in the mansion and grown up with him, but it was not possible because of the neglect they gave you.

"Look Jon, I'll tell you the truth, but everything that happens in this house and even what I say you will keep secret." He saw the super child again, he knew he had to silence Jon, it was better to leave him without doubts and that you keep the secret, than hearing him ask about you on his missions and risking the others finding out.

The boy hesitated, because what Damian was doing was a secret, but even so, his curiosity piqued him and he wanted to know. Your kind and gentle attitude towards the two children and even the cookies that you would bring them made the boy's curiosity arouse more. He wanted to know. more about you.

“It's okay, I promise.”

Damián knew that he was going to regret what he told Jon sooner or later, but he already revealed everything, their history together and the relationship they had, the things they did when he visited your house, the games he had with his niece, the delicious food you prepared for him, the movies and board games you played, at some point he started bragging about you to the other child.

Jon wouldn't admit it, but he was jealous, he wanted the same thing that Damian had with his sister, his feeling intensified, when you brought them some cookies that looked delicious, and when you sat next to them and they started talking about different things, see how lively you were and the kind smiles you gave them, even more so when you played a board game with them.

He also became attached to little Alice, she was very adorable, at one point he noticed that the baby smiled at him when she saw him and tried to get the child to pay attention to her, you were holding Alice so she wouldn't get hurt on a play mat while the and Damián were playing with the little baby.

It was a real shame that you weren't his sister, he really wanted that... maybe he would find a way to make you part of the family.

He also became attached to little Alice, she was very adorable, at one point he noticed that the baby smiled at him when she saw him and tried to get the child to pay attention to her, you were holding Alice so she wouldn't get hurt on a play mat while the and Damián were playing with the little baby.

It was a real shame that you weren't his sister, he really wanted that... maybe he would find a way to make you part of the family.

Maybe he can convince his friend of that too without him getting angry, he already noticed the conflicting feelings that Damian felt when he mentioned his other family's relationship with his sister, something strange was happening.

He knew for sure that if his parents knew you they would also adore you like he was doing now.

Little Alice would also be loved, he knew it, not only because of the similar appearance they had to him, which he believes is a coincidence because you also had a certain resemblance to his features, he assumes that the baby is similar to him, because of the mix of her father and yours, also because of how adorable the baby was and her smiles, along with the small actions she made and warmed her heart.

It was funny the twists and turns that life takes.

One day you decided to leave your safe home and get away from your perfect and safe little town, when you got one of your friends as a babysitter, to take care of your baby Alice, while you went out to buy some things.

It wasn't easy separating from your daughter, they were always together, you felt like you were away from her for a long time, longer than a day actually lasts.

You went to visit Gotham City, you needed to do it, it wasn't just shopping, but also work.

It was lucky that Damian wasn't going to visit you that day, nor was Jon, the new boy who started visiting you since you met him. You had no complaints about the two boys' visits, you just wouldn't have an excuse to give them if they saw you right now. .

Speaking of the new child, it seemed strange to you that your baby was also friendly with him, just after seeing him once. Did you think it only happened with your blood family? You verified the theory with Damian, the baby loves him as soon as she saw him, not like other of your acquaintances with whom she never got along quickly.

It was a crazy theory but very valid in your situation, because when you visited some distant relatives on your mother's side, your baby did the same, getting along with them instantly.

Wearing a wig and a giant trench coat that covered your entire figure.

Just a short stop at a place with your other two acquaintances, a quick intervention to a patient who needed the Alice project in his life.

When you finished you quickly left and decided to continue with your day, weighing that the remorse for what you had just done would still be present, but it seems that with all the times you have put it on other patients it helped you get used to it.

If they knew the reality, many would judge you, but it didn't matter anymore, you decided to do this for the good of your daughter.

Everything for your little one... your only ray of sunshine

Jason had to patrol this day, he wouldn't have any complaints about that if he were alone, but he didn't have to take care of the demon spawn.

It would be easy, if the boy didn't see him with a murderous face, every time he said something, lately his attitude changed a lot more, it was already a little difficult to deal with him before, but now, he didn't know if he would be able to hold out before wanting to point his gun at Damian.

Suddenly he lost sight of the boy, great now he would have to look for him so he wouldn't get into a dangerous situation. I look for him in many places, they were lucky that this day there were no attacks from villains, only a couple of rookie criminals.

He visited some places, until he saw the child again.

About to reprimand him, he noticed that the boy was distracted by watching something.

When I looked at that address, I noticed that it was not something but someone, a woman, with black hair, average height, light skin, and wearing a trench coat.

She was someone normal to him, until she wasn't anymore... in a small move from the woman who was so entertained in the street book store.

She saw his features better, that face, it made her nostalgic to see him.

He didn't know the reason, but it had to do with something from his childhood.

The memory of a girl, he knew the cover very well, it was that of his favorite novel, he saw her sitting in an uncrowded place in the library, just her sitting next to the window, which illuminated everything around her with a beautiful light, Give her an angelic appreciation and passify the girl.

Something told him that he should remember, he should do it...

hahaha the protagonist is more inclined to have platonic yanderes than a romantic one, all obsessive little children. His little army will grow, I'm sure of that.

I think someone can like supers without knowing it....

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm always over the moon (Lando Norris)

A look into your and Lando's little life moments

Note: english is not my first language. It's fluffy, so you know I pratically melted (and am now feeling single in about seventeen different levels)✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions accident drop of a glass and possibility of injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Today's training session was particularly hard, Jon having Lando run a considerable amount of kilometres more than the usual distance followed by a weights session. By the time he was finished his cryotherapy session, he was more than ready to go home and snuggle up to you in the sofa.

Setting his keys on the little bowl by the door, Lando left his shoes on the coat cabinet by the door before walking to the ensuite bathroom where he heard noise from.

"I'm home, baby", he said, crossing the corner and resting his body on the side of the door, watching you rub product on your face.

"Hey, Lan", you smiled at him through the mirror, putting the lid on the pot you were using and storing it away.

Approaching him, you laced your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls ay the nape of his neck, "how was your session?", you wondered before kissing his lips.

"It was a killer, Jon set out to push me to the limit today", he hummed, hands finding your waist and holding your body close to his, "and you?", he checked.

"I worked all day, finally finished the prototypes for the next Quadrant campaign, then I worked out and I was just finishing my shower when you arrived", you added.

"I should've come home earlier, I could have joined you in there", he smirked, lowering his head to your neck and kissing the skin softly, earning your giggles as you squirmed.

"You're tickling me", you smiled, curling yourself closer against him, "but it's alright, baby, we'll do it another time".

When you separated yourself from his slightly, Lando noticed what you were wearing, "ugh, baby, I don't know what would be better, getting home when you were in the shower or this", he complimented.

"What do you mean?", you scrunched your eyebrows, looking down at your outfit. Because you had moisturised your whole body, from head to toe, after your workout, you decided to put on your tiny pyjamas shorts and one of Lando's t-shirts, the bottom piece fitting your thighs loosely while his t-shirt fit snug on your hips and chest, the fabric leaving little to the imagination. Even though he knew everything it kept away, he loved the way your curvilinear body looked in his t-shirt.

"I love it when you wear my clothes, they look so good on you, too god even", he nibbled on your ear lobe, hands tapping your thighs so you knew to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

"I thought you were too tired, baby", you brushed the curls away from his eyes, "I am, but that doesn't mean I won't spend the evening glued to you", he winked, carrying you to the sofa in the living room, laying you both down and wrapping you both in a blanket.

"Can't have you feeling cold, baby", he mumbled, fixing the blanket before his hand travelled under the t-shirt and settled on your tummy, making you hum in content, "I love you, baby", you cooed.

.

"Alright, let's get to work!", Lando clapped after setting the last box on the living room floor.

When you moved all of the things you wanted to Monaco, Lando insisted you should bring your favourite books, reasoning that the apartment should also have some of your things instead of just his helmets for decoration. So, three boxes were shipped with your favourite book collections and stand alones and, you and Lando took the afternoon to organise them.

"I get this can be boring for you, Lan, I can do it myself if you want to go stream or just game", you added, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"Absolutely not, baby, I want to help you! So, how do you want this?", he asked as he looked at what was in the boxes, "do you want to do this by colour? Genre? Date? The ones you've read and the ones you haven't read yet", he suggested.

"We can go a bit with the colour schemes you already have with the helmets", you tried, looking over at the colour palette the books made up.

Wiping the shelves one last time, you sat on the floor and handed the books over to your boyfriend, guiding him through the order and way you wanted to display them.

"Oh, I remember this one - I read it to you the first time I spent the night at your place! You didn't want to seem weird and admit you needed to read a little before going to bed and thought you could go without it for one night!", he smiled at the memory, "Little did you know that it was another one of the things that attracted me to you and I was more than happy to read to you", he winked, leaving you flustered as you handed him the next book, "very smooth, Mr. Norris", you blushed.

"I like to keep you on your toes", he chuckled, "next, there's room for that big collection there", he pointed to the eight books that shared the same design, "might be a tight squeeze, but I think it's fine", he muttered as you handed him the books.

By the time you finished, the living room looked like a good mixture of you and Lando. The books added a pop of colour and softer tone along with the new picture frames you scattered.

"It looks great", Lando said, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "our home is coming together nicely", he kissed the side of your head.

.

"They can spend the day, of course I don't mind", you smiled as you out the cutlery away in the drawer.

"It's your home too, baby, just wanted to make sure you're fine with it", Lando reasoned as he wiped the counter.

It was still weird to refer to the apartment as your home, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Closing the door and moving to the cups drying on the counter, you grabbed a tea towell and started drying them before setting them in the cupboard.

"I'll make sure to not make too much noise, or I can go and work at the café down the street, it's - shoot!", you cursed as the glass slipped from your hold, falling on the floor and shattering into little pieces.

"Careful, darling, you might hurt yourself more", Lando urged, stretching his arms and helping you stand where there were no glass shards.

"I'm sorry, I thought the towell wasn't that slippery", you said as Lando scanned your hands for any cuts or injuries, moving to your feet and ankles.

"It's okay, baby, I don't care about the glass, I care about you", he kissed your fingers, "there's a little graze here", he pointed to the small nick on your skin, "go wash it off while gather these", he kissed your cheek and looked for the broom.

Making sure he had sweeped all of it and then passing the vacuum cleaner just to make sure, Lando finished putting the glasses away as you stood by the door, "it's fine,Y/N, we'll go to IKEA and get a new one", he conforted, "now, are we ready for bed?", he wondered as he held your hand as you walked to the bedroom.

.

"My shoulders are killing me, I think I slept funny", you mumbled, trying to find a good position against the office chair, Lando's look questioning your movements.

"Are you in pain? You should've said something", he tutted, hands coming to rub the muscles along your shoulders and neck as Ria went over the latest filming plans.

"Y/N, are you okay, girl?", Ria asked, concerned at the faces you were pulling, "are you sure he's helping you rather than making it worse?", she teased.

"Hey!", Lando yelled, "I'm trying to be a great boyfriend, making sure she's feeling well and taken care of! I think that's jealousy", he smirked, poking his tongue out at her.

"It's feeling good, handsome, especially right there", you groaned, earning a whistle from Max.

"If you guys need a room, I'm sure they can find something relatively kept away!", he laughed, luckily missing the pillow your boyfriend threw at him, "no need to resort to violence, guys!".

"Bring that pillow over here, please, I actually need it", you asked him, taking it from his hands as he quickly walked away, "what, are you afraid I was going to make you trip?", you giggled.

"I don't know, the two of you are never up to any good!", Max raised his hands in defense as Lando kissed your forehead, "He's just jealous because we're a great team and P isn't here with him".

.

Weekends with no racing and no plans quickly became your favourite because you were able to spend as much time as you possibly could with Lando, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult.

When Lando woke up like clockwork, he stretched his neck just enough to watch you sleep cuddled up to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much Quadrant had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer.

Carefully getting up to not wake you up, Lando kissed your cheek soflty and made his side of the bed, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head one last time before he went to the ensuite to change into his workout clothes.

Heading to the kitchen, Lando filled his water bottle and grabbed a pre-workout snack to take to the home gym. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications Jon had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up, following up with some weights and then stretching.

He was all sweaty when he walked back into the bedroom, ready to have a shower when he heard the sheets ruffling, "hey, baby, good morning", he smiled, "you can go back to sleep, I just need to take a shower, I'm sorry I woke you up", he pouted.

"Morning", you yawned, "I'm going to shower with you", you smiled sleepily, getting up and joining him in the ensuite.

Leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, Lando got the shower started, making sure the water was warm as you both liked before stepping in with you, letting the water wash away before you grabbed your shower gel, lathering it on Lando's hands and then on yours as you both helped the other wash off, stealing kissing and caresses along the way.

When you got back to the bedroom and dressed in lounge wear clothes, you were ready to have breakfast, finding the overnight oats in the kitchen, "I don't mind if you want to eat something else", Lando offered.

"These are good, I don't mind it", you said, "but I am going to make my latte because my brain can't go without the caffeine", you scrunched up your nose, earning his giggles as you turned on the coffee machine.

"Can I have a little sip, please?", Lando asked once you frothed up the milk, "of course, here baby", you encouraged, bringing the mug up to his lips and having your hand form a shell under it just in case it spilled.

Lando was left with a little foam moustache, earning a giggle from you as you kissed him, "my little frothy man", you cupped his cheek before kissing him properly, "I love you, Y/N", he whispered, pulling you into his embrace.

.

"You pick the movie, I have to go pee", you said to your boyfriend, letting him walk inside the living room as you continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For tonight's plan, you and Lando decided to stay in and cook together, wanting to enjoy the small task without rushing or heating up something from his meal plan, still making something healthy and approved by his team.

When you got back to the living room,

Lando had his Spotify app on the TV, a slow song you recognised from his brother's wedding playlist ready to play, "would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?", he asked, kissing your knuckles before looking up at you, eyes sparkly as you replied, "yes, I will", you smiled, allowing him to push you flush to his chest, slowdancing in the living room once he started the song, your head in his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Everyday I thank my lucky starts that we met, that I was bold enough to ask you out and that you've stayed with me all of these years", he broke the silence as he unattached his lips from your temple, "and I never want to loose this, little touches, giggles, wins and losses, all of it", he smiled.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, Lando", you cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as he smiled, "I can only hope you feel as happy as I do when I'm with you".

"Darling, with you, I'm always over the moon", he giggled, kissing your lips softly as he stumbled you two into the sofa, roaming hands and tongues battling eachother as a night of love and passion unfolded.

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Part 3 (One of Us) of 'Never Took The Time (To Forget)' previously known as 'Hopper Adopts Steve But Make It Sad'

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition), part 3, Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 4.2 (Robin's Boy), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

Here's a bit more for you filthy animals 😘

Much like he's come to expect from the small soldiers these children have fashioned themselves into he's not surprised when they come pouring out of whichever of the twins' rooms they shoved themselves in like codependent sardines. He's not surprised by the looks of anger and disappointment and confusion. Claudia Henderson's kid -Dustin- looks on the edge of tears with a grim set to his mouth that reminds him of when the kid's mom is beyond words in her slow-burning fury. El and Will have matching looks of disappointed confusion.

What he's not expecting is the way Mike and the younger (usually more volatile) Sinclair are holding onto an incensed looking Lucas. Lucas who has always been the polite one when it came to addressing adults and the one to preach caution and thinking plans through. Lucas who has been quiet and withdrawn since Hop came back, spending his days at the edge of Party affairs when not helping in the rebuilding efforts around town or sitting at Max's bedside.

"What the fuck, Hopper?" The kid spits out and that seems to snap the rest of The Party into action. Will goes to join the two holding Sinclair back but Dustin starts near incoherently yelling in that screechy pitch only that kid seemed to be able to hit about bullshit cops and useless adults and to let Lucas go. "He idolized you, man! Would tell us all the time that you were 'one of the good ones' that if we ever needed anyone and he wasn't there, to find you. That you would take care of us because that's just what you did for people. Because you were good!"

"Lucas, chill out man." Mike pants though he's also glaring daggers at Hop.

This is where Joyce (god bless her) decides to step in. "Lucas, honey-" She says with her soft voice and big wet eyes and that warmth she seems to infuse into everything she touched. "It's complicated. There's some things you just don't understand and-"

"No! You two don't understand! Steve is GOOD. He's good and he cares and he takes care of everyone else and he always kept us safe." The kid seems to be losing some of his steam, pulling at his friends less and resigned to shaking in barely contained fury. "He gets hurt and he gets back up and he apologizes for taking a fall in the first place! He's just Good."

"I know he's been good to you kids and I appreciate that, I really do Lucas." Joyce says, her voice a little stronger, that steadiness returning. "Sometimes people in our lives can do bad things to others and we don't see it because we care about them and that's not always a bad thing. But we have to remember that the people who were wronged are allowed to be upset and that's normal to feel and-"

"You mean like Jonathan?" The room goes quiet. Will looks resigned but not surprised by Lucas' question but the rest of the kids look just as confused as him and Joyce. "Did you really think Steve broke his camera -in the school parking lot of all places- for the hell of it? Did you seriously never question it?"

Hop feels something twist in his gut. He had been so caught up in the search for Will and wrangling a frantic Joyce that he hadn't paid any attention to small-town squabbles like two teenagers having it out in the school parking lot, the destruction of personal property or what might have triggered it. He looks over the kids' heads to see Jonathan and his stoner buddy standing just outside his door. The friend looks confused but Jon is looking at his mom who hasn't noticed him yet like a man preparing himself for the gallows.

"Mom." Joyce's eyes snap from where they were locked on Lucas up to her oldest son. "Mom, I-"

"What are they talking about Jon?" It's quiet. Quiet and scared because everyone in the room knows that whatever secret reason Lucas (and maybe Will?) seems to be the only one to know Steve had for picking a fight isn't going to be good. Jonathan's mouth opens like he's going to say something but no words come out. "Honey, what did you do?"

"He took pictures of Steve and his friends the night Barbara Holland disappeared."

"Will?" all eyes except Lucas' (who is still glaring daggers at Hop) are on the two brothers. One scared and almost pleading the other disappointed and resolved.

"He hid in the bushes and took pictures of Steve and his friends with Nancy and Barbara. There were pictures of Barbara at the Harrington place before she died and he never told anyone. But there were also-" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes like he can't look at his older brother who has hung his shaggy head under everyone's heavy gaze. "There were pictures of just Steve and Nancy. Alone together. In Steve's room."

There's a sharp gasp that he thinks came from Joyce but he's too busy watching the young man he's come to consider a son. His head is still lowered and his shoulders are curving in on themselves as he shakes off the hand his long-haired friend tries to place on his shoulder.

"Oh baby," Joyce's voice is wet again. A tone of horrified disappointment to it that Hop has only heard her use when talking to or about one other person. "Tell me you didn't."

"Then he-" Will clears his throat like this one is what gives him pause. "He was caught developing the pictures in the school's darkroom. All of the pictures. And he had zoomed in on Steve's window. Nancy was the center of the shot." The kid's eyes flit over to Mike (who is now turning an interesting shade of red as he glares at Jonathan) before he blushes and looks at the ground, "She uh-"

Lucas does not seem to share Will's newfound hesitance in the face of an enraged Mike Wheeler. "Most of the upperclassmen argue if she had a bra or not but they all seem to agree she didn't have a top."

"Oh my god." Everyone was frozen as Joyce began to crumble. "Oh my god." He reached out to catch her, her nails digging into his arm through his shirt sleeve as she stared unseeing at her oldest son.

Jonathan started forward. "Mom, I-" a hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. "Will, please, I need to-"

"Just stop, man." Lucas sighs. "You started this shit, you gotta deal with it before you hurt someone else besides Steve."

"I didn't mean to hurt Steve."

Hops feels himself frozen to the spot in a way he's not used to anymore these days. His mind is working overtime picking out all of the charges that could have been pressed even against a boy of 15/16 if any of the kids in Harrington's inner circle had told an actual adult about the situation. The veritable legal hell that would have been brought down on Joyce while searching for a son legally assumed dead.

"Is that what you told yourself when you helped Nancy cheat?" And it just kept getting worse.

Joyce gives off a whimper and the kids gathered make varied sounds of shock and disgust.

"They were broken up."

"Were they? Cause everybody at school and half the town seems to all know about you and Nancy disappearing together when Steve was still calling her his girlfriend and then you all showed back up to school, Steve beat to hell again and Nancy hanging all over you. The basketball team STILL talk about it."

He's heard enough. "Alright, that's it!" He yells out over the children yelling and Joyce demanding answers and Jonathan's friend trying to say something about there being some sort of explanation. "This doesn't help us help Steve."

Lucas shakes off the loose hold Erica and Mike still had on him and crosses his arms as he rolls back his shoulders and tilts his jaw up to fix him with a glare. The kid's stance is almost arrogant but Hop can't help but notice the way he rests his weight on his off side, his shoulders back and his posture straight without his chest puffing out ridiculously like Hop is used to from teenage boys gearing for a fight.

"I think you've helped enough, Hopper." It's quiet and biting and he lets himself have a moment of grief for the childhood these kids lost, and the fact that he's almost positive Lucas didn't pick up this easy confidence from anyone else in their monster fighting club but Steve. "You and Mrs. Byers want to play nice now cause you feel guilty and that's all well and good but what happens when Steve does something else you don't agree with without explanation? Or he and Jonathan or Nancy get in another fight? When we finally get rid of Vecna and the Upside Down for good? What happens when you don't feel guilty anymore?"

"I can't make any sort of promise you lot will believe. And lord knows I'm pretty shit at keeping them anyways. I just want to be able to try."

"He mourned you, you know. When we were told you didn't make it." That weight is back in his chest. "He held himself together around us but there were- there were moments we could tell. He and El really bonded over that. Over you. Over losing you."

"I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. You didn't want to know."

"There's no way I can make you believe me. That I want to fix this."

"We want to, Hopper." Dustin butts in, placing a hand on Lucas' shoulder and limping up next to the other boy. "But from what you and Mrs. Byers were talking about... There's just a lot that makes a lot more sense and it doesn't inspire a lot of faith in either of you."

"We need to discuss this as a Party."

"Okay."

"That means letting us take care of it. Steve's one of us and you hurt him."

"I understand."

"So you and Mrs. Byers have got to wait till we say you can talk to Steve. That he's ready for it."

"Now, kids-"

"No they're right, Joyce. We fucked it up on our own and- and he trusts these little shits more than he trusts us right now. We've gotta do the same."

Joyce sighs, "Fine."

She's not happy about it and honestly neither is he. But if the last few years and his stint in a Russian gulag and the subsequent escape taught him anything it's maybe he needs to trust his people to do what they need to do.

The kids scurry back to whichever of the Twins' room they came from, led by a newly determined and involved Lucas and a furiously muttering Dustin. Jonathan and Joyce make their way to the kitchen and Hopper decides he's going to let them have that conversation in as much privacy as they can with a house as full as theirs.

Hopper sits in the living room, runs his hands through his hair that's finally growing out and pulls them down his face before resting his chin on steepled fingers. He hates sitting and waiting and relying on someone else for the next steps. But all he can think about is the sound Steve made. The look in his eyes. The pride in his voice the last time he heard him say, "My Hop."

That's it!

He stands up so fast his bad ankle protests and his knees pop. He limps to the front door, yelling out to the house that he has to go, has something to do. Calls out he has his walkie and that El needs to be ready on time. Then he's out the door.

Part 4.1

More coming soon! Hopefully! Work went from an active team of about 12 to 5, not including the managers we lost ssssooo... Yeah fun times. 🙃

So here's a tag-list, hope I didn't miss anyone. Feel free to yell at/with me in the comments or ask box. If you see your old tag in my list tell me your new one so I can fix it.

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @katdeerly @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @rocochen20 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus

[theotherpacman]

got s1 is really a very faithful adaptation of agot, with only minor divergences. sometimes I really love the little details in the book that the show doesn't have room for, but sometimes I like the decisions the show made differently.

things I appreciate about the book:

the fact that jon is 14 makes his naivete regarding the wall hit so much harder. he's just a little boy and he's willing to sign his whole life away bc he believes he can be a part of something noble... neither his father nor his uncle nor anyone else tells him that to take the black is a grim sentence steeped in shame

ned hearing that bran's direwolf saved his life and being like "holy shit I killed one of them... what the fuck did I do"

sandor just whole ass traumadumping on 11-year-old sansa completely unprompted and then when he realizes he's just made himself vulnerable for literally no reason he goes "if you tell anyone about this I'll fucking kill you"

mormont thinks jon will be disappointed that bran is now a cripple but jon is so ecstatic bran's alive that he picks up tyrion lannister and spins him around (tyrion is startled by this) and then proceeds to cheerfully make friends with a guy who hates his guts bc jon kicked his absolute ass in training

tyrion and bronn starting to become friends on the way to the vale <3

THAT SINGER BITCH i love him

"whatever you may believe of me, lady stark, I promise you this -- I never bet against my family" screaming crying throwing up

jon going to maester aemon and convincing him to let sam take his vows!!!! using the metaphor of the maester's chain to make his point about how just bc sam is different that doesn't mean he's useless!!!!!!!

TYRION FIGHTING IN THE BATTLE AGAINST ROBB'S MEN!!!!! THE SHOW DID HIM SO FUCKING DIRTY i get that they didn't have as big a budget back then but come on man ToT

"when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. when your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. then he will return, and not before." LET THE BARRENNESS BE PART OF THE CURSE why did they cut that

when tywin says "because you are my son" tyrion fucking Hates him for that bc he knows that if jaime were he tywin wouldn't spare him a second glance, he's only Tywin's Son now that jaime is prisoner and might die at the hands of the starks

things I appreciate about the show:

arya shooting a bullseye from behind bran. queen

jaime being a dick to everyone all the time for no reason. just going around starting shit. also that scene outside robert's bedroom where he talks to jory. jaime in general

ROS!!!!! MY GIRL ROS MY ABSOLUTE QUEEN ROS

"she's our guest." "she's our prisoner." "do you find the two to be mutually exclusive in your experience, my lord?" lmaooooo get his ass maester luwin

"sometimes possession,,,,, is an abstract concept"

THE DRINKING GAME!!!! first of all it gives us more insight into shae as a person who is so different from tyrion's established worldviews, secondly tyrion is always going around saying offensive shit and he thinks nothing of it bc a) people say offensive shit to him all the time and that's one of the ways he deals with it and b) he's usually right BUT when he makes all those assumptions about shae he's totally wrong and she stands up for herself, but my favorite part of that scene is that tyrion is hesitant to share this traumatic story from his past but he's just made bronn and shae confront their traumas so now he has to share too. and I think that's beautiful

all of varys and petyr's bitchy conversations when they're alone in the throne room

this only covers the first book/season I might make more of these as I keep reading

[acid-ixx]

you think dick was the type of brother who closed the door on brother!reader whenever he had the titans come over to the manor and maybe also the titans also didn’t bother to acknowledge the reader?

you guys don't know the amount of appreciation i have for asks like this, it's the main reason why i'm so motivated to write— all because of interactions so !! please don't feel bad if an ask would be too long for you because i guarantee i'll always answer with a longer one <3 so don't hesitate to send in something!!!

pre-yandere dick would be the type of brother to not even know you're in the same room as him and the titans, not until someone like garfield or kori would bring up your presence in the room, which kind of worsens the situation for you because the first ones to notice your existence were his literal teammates.

once dick does acknowledge you, though, you'll be simply met with a sheepish smile and an awkward apology for not finding you there in the corner earlier, to which his comrades would be left wondering who the random kid is, and why you are inside the manor in the first place.

the situation itself would worsen your perception of dick. just imagine the silence in the room as dick's wide eyes would stare at you in disbelief; it's as if you don't even belong to be in the same room as them.

you'll simply be left running out of the room, tears welling up on your eyes as you run to the kitchen, not wanting to further embarrass yourself in front of his friends the same way you did so with damian when he was with jon— you don't want to remember the sword damian threatened you with, and you don't want a repeat of that but with dick's escrima sticks.

he wouldn't hear the end of it from alfred, who would absolutely demolish him right after his hangout, but that wouldn't change anything at all, not until a few months after your leave.

coming back to the present yan! dick: one way you could guilt trip him to leaving you for a second would be bringing up that memory, watching as his brains churn to recall the experience, his face immediately turning from an expectant grin to a grimace.

he hates letting his baby bird feel that way, and he'll take what you said into heart as a signal for attention. you're saying that because you want for him to make it up to you, no? oh, you're so mean to dick but he gets where you're coming from!

the next thing you know, he'll be forcefully taking you into his arms and refusing to let you go, whispering whilst his head lays on your neck on how he'll bring the titans back to the manor for a 'proper introduction' since he doesn't want his baby bird to feel forgotten no more.

well, that's an x off your list of "ways to get a single second of privacy inside the wayne manor."

[the-key-five]

arya stark appreciation week → day 5: romantic interests

"I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns." "Nice, though. A nice oak tree." He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. "You even smell nice for a change.

A Storm of Swords, Arya IV

The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey.

A Storm of Swords, Arya VIII

“The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …"

A Dance with Dragons, Jon VI

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how you’re the perfect match for Bruce.

Warning: Established relationships

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Bruce had always considered the concept of a perfect match to be a feeble notion. The idea that a someone could be perfect and perfectly compliment one’s self was simply illogical and just not possible.

But that’s the thing about hypotheticals, they’re just theories until proven otherwise. Bruce can distinguish five instances on when he recognised you to be his perfect match.

Intelligence:

You weren’t a genius capable of rattling off theories and solving impossible equations. Not by any means. You were, however, incredibly intelligent when it comes to people and making them feel important.

It wasn’t a super power or psychological trickery. It was that you listened to people and ask them questions about their hobbies or family.

It was the way that you leaned in as if you were keen to hear what that person had to say.

It was the way you smile softly when people start to babble off in excitement as you reciprocate the conversation

Whilst you didn’t fully comprehend quantum physics or the engineering to Bruce Wayne’s degree

You sat there happily indulging Bruce as he discusses a new equation he solved

It was the way you made him feel like he could talk about anything without judgement or without your eyes wondering elsewhere in boredom.

Bruce: “Anyway, you probably have more important things to do.”

Y/n: “Don’t be silly. You’re just as important. Go on, finish what you were saying.”

Independence:

Bruce dreaded needy women who are utterly incapable of being self-sufficient. Who required rescuing and constant entertainment like a puppy.

Bruce: “I have an emergency work trip for an unspecified amount of time. I probably won’t be able to contact you too much. Will you be okay without me?”

Y/n *acting like a damsel in distress*

Y/n: “Oh no! I’m being abandoned in the biggest mansion with a butler, a library and a black Amex card. What could one do with one’s self? What a travesty!”

Bruce would return from his two week trip excited to see you again after not being in contact the whole time.

Only you weren’t at the mansion at 4pm on a Tuesday.

Bruce *calling your phone*

Y/n: “Hi honey! I missed you so much!”

Bruce: “Come home and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Y/n: “What? I finish work in an hour, surely you can survive 60 more minutes without me- oh I have to go, I’ll see you soon my love!”

Supportive:

Bruce didn’t make it to your anniversary dinner.

He didn’t even have a chance to call you and cancel.

He exited the bat cave feeling utterly guilty for abandoning you on such an important occasion.

Bruce felt utterly defeated. A failure of a father. Batman got into a one on one fist fight with Red-Hood, attempting to save the Jokers life, only for his son to forsake himself. Now he had to face his failures as a husband.

Opening the door he sees you laying in bed, scrolling away at your phone.

As soon as you noticed him you tossed the phone and made a mad dash, pulling him into a bear hug.

Y/n: “Honey, I’m so proud of you. Being there when your son needed you most. You’re such a good man. Don’t be hard on yourself, remember that Jason is a grown man who made his decision.”

Pulling Bruce to bed, you pull him into a tight hold and continue to comfort him.

Bruce really appreciated that you didn’t bring up his absence.

Bruce: “I missed our -“

Y/n: “You didn’t miss anything. Your with me now aren’t you? Happy anniversary my beloved.”

Emotionally Stable:

Damian was over your nagging.

Y/n: “Damian, you need to get more sleep. I’m worried your burning yourself out.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you had a proper meal? You can’t survive off burgers alone you know.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you saw Jon? You have to maintain your friendships or else they fall apart.”

Y/n: “Stop having these energy drinks! It’s basically poison for your body - have you had any water today? You look dehydrated!”

You snatched the can out of his hand and threw it in the bin.

Damian lost his absolute shit.

Damian: “Enough with your incessant criticism!You’re getting on my nerves!”

Crosses his arms over his chest and looks off in irritation.

Bruce stands frowning behind him, ready to give his son the scolding of a life time.

But instead your laughter booms across the bat cave.

You find Damian’s little outburst amusing and adorable rather than rude and hurtful.

Y/n: “You’re right D, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off you a bit.”

You’d pull him into that tight hug he says he hates but he always leans into your comforting hold.

Y/n: “You boys be careful tonight, I’ll see you both in the morning”

[bookhousestark]

ARYA STARK APPRECIATION WEEK 2024 ↳ Day 3: Overlooked traits

Natural leader

They rode north, away from the lake, following a rutted farm road across the torn fields and into the woods and streams. Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees closed in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. Wolves howled off in the distance, and she could hear Hot Pie's heavy breathing. No one spoke. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued.

A Storm of Swords, Arya I

Fond of nature

"When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before, and Mycah showed me a lizard-lion."

A Game of Thrones, Sansa I

Merciful

“[…] Do you want the water?" "Aye." The man swallowed. "And the mercy. Please."

When she came back, the archer turned his face up and she poured the water into his mouth. He gulped it down as fast as she could pour, and what he couldn't gulp ran down his cheeks into the brown blood that crusted his whiskers, until pale pink tears dangled from his beard.

A Storm of Swords, Arya XII

Feminist

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon observed. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honor to the king's." "The woman is important too!" Arya protested.

A Game of Thrones, Arya I

Empathetic

She thought of Mycah again and her eyes filled with tears. Her fault, her fault, her fault. If she had never asked him to play at swords with her …

A Game of Thrones, Arya II

Left-handed

Arya took her right hand off the grip and wiped her sweaty palm on her pants. She held the sword in her left hand. He seemed to approve. "The left is good. All is reversed, it will make your enemies more awkward.”

A Game of Thrones, Arya II

Learned

It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household.

A Game of Thrones, Arya I

Observant

"Learn three new things before you come back to us," the kindly man had commanded Cat, when he sent her forth into the city. She always did. Sometimes it was no more than three new words of the Braavosi tongue. Sometimes she brought back sailor's tales, of strange and wondrous happenings from the wide wet world beyond the isles of Braavos, wars and rains of toads and dragons hatching. Sometimes she learned three new japes or three new riddles, or tricks of this trade or the other. And every so often, she would learn some secret.

A Feast For Crows, Cat of The Canals