I go by Valentine (online alias) | early 20s im a nerd obsessed with F1 and HTTYDaspiring writer and automotive engineer <3Alt acc: @valentinexxroses
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Oscar… plus Nightwing suit👀


#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔𝜗𝜚#WIP#ofc I��m gonna combine DC and F1#dick grayson dc#dick grayson#nightwing dc#nightwing#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri#op81#f1#formula 1#formula one
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★ equestrian girls 2 !! part 1 nonchalant just sleeping don't worry ㅜㅜ
#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔𝜗𝜚#AWWWWW LOOK AT THEM#I LOVE THE HORSE DESIGNS‼️‼️#f1#formula 1#formula one#lando norris#ln4#op81#landoscar
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★ gax equestrian girls ( 〃▽〃) !!
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They are my everything😭🧡
remember when rookie oscar said "i'm gonna keep you happy" to lando. cause that was crazy.
full transcript below the cut!
q: what's your favorite non-racing activity? oscar: sleep. lando: i feel like that's a n/a answer, mate oscar: okay, okay! if that's disallowed... lando: i love how i'm making the rules here! oscar: if that's not allowe– if sleep's not allowed... lando: you can choose sleep, you can choose sleep! oscar: no, i'm gonna keep you happy! if sleep's not allowed, probably gaming as well lando: [big cheesing]
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Sobbing at how beautiful this was 💔
I love this concept of a silent protector, it’s comforting and I really love this tiny fic🧡
The Quiet of the Night

navigation , dc navigation
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
The room is cold and dark besides the light from the street lamp that filters through the blinds of the window. The bed is too soft, the duvet too heavy, the silence too loud. The digital clock read 4:08 in bold red letters. The water that fell from the tap echoed in the too-empty apartment, one torturous drop after the other, slowly and steadily driving you insane. Did he notice your spiral? Did he care?
Tip. Tip. Tip.
Where was he?
You knew. Of course, you knew. He was Nightwing. The hero of Blüdhaven. Your charming lovely boyfriend was a vigilante. You had found the black and white domino mask, behind the laundry basket. First came the shock, then the denial. You might have stayed in that state for a few months, trying to trick yourself into believing that your boyfriend was constantly making excuses because ….because… because. You desperately tried to find excuses.
But then came the realization of the clumsiness, of the overly naive act, honestly who was he kidding? You haven't uttered a single word about the revelation. You simply waited and saw how your relationship turned toxic. The constant cancelation of dates, the nights that you always spend alone.
He slipped into the house quietly, wincing under his breath. Muttering curses as the smell of blood and gunpowder stuck to him like a second presence. He always tried to keep quiet, to never wake you up. One time you saw him in his suit, he still thinks that you don't remember, your mind too hazy from sleep… he hoped.
He didn't want to lose you.
Why did you still stay in a relationship with him? Did you really think that you deserved this? This half kind of a relationship? And not being loved to the fullest, screaming to the world that someone adored you the way he desperately wanted to do. And instead fearing the results of such actions.
It took him exactly three weeks to notice the knife in the last cabinet, next to your stock of tubes of toothpaste and new cleaning rugs.
He said nothing at first. He wanted to believe it was a cruel joke. He needed the confirmation that … you were cutting.
It was a slow morning, he didn't have a shift at the police station and you were supposed to have a late morning to work. It had been too long since you had last spent time in the bed cuddling. He was stuck to your back, hugging you with all his strength, his fingers skimming and trailing your skin in feather light touches, before finding the ragged scars in your thighs. Quiet tears slid down his cheeks as he prayed to every deity to help you. You were awake, your breathing too controlled to still be in the bliss of sleep.
Still you pretended to wake up.
Got ready for work. And returned to an empty house… no Dick in sight. It was like he never existed. Like he was never a part of your life. The only remains of him were your favorite shirt of his, none of your knives in sight, a pamphlet of self harming with a sticky note that had the contacts of the best psychologist, sticky notes around the house with encouraging notes and a simple letter that said “I could never be the man you deserve, no matter how much I want to be. Please get better, my love. I don't think the world could continue spinning without me. I am leaving because a selfish part of me thinks that I am responsible for your state and I would do more damage than good. I am sorry for everything. Goodbye my lovely girl, you were the best thing that could ever happened to man like me.”
But life doesn’t pause when your heart is in pieces. You still had to go to work. You still had to smile at your coworkers. You still had to pick up groceries and answer phone calls and pretend that your insides hadn’t been hollowed out by a goodbye that sounded more like an apology wrapped in a tragedy.
You stared at the sticky notes for days. Each time you passed by one, you felt a new fissure form inside your chest. "You are stronger than you think." "You are worth more than the pain." "Please live, even when it hurts." It was him, it was always him, trying to save you the only way he could: by leaving.
Some nights you thought you heard footsteps on the roof. A shadow flitting past the edge of your vision. You’d look out the window and see nothing but the empty street below, and yet your chest would ache with that strange kind of comfort. You weren’t alone. Not entirely.
You started therapy. Not for him, but because something inside of you wanted to fight. Some tiny sliver of self that refused to give in to the weight pressing down on your soul. The sessions were hard. There were tears. There were days you couldn’t even get out of bed. But slowly, you began to breathe again. Not just survive—live.
You didn’t hear from him. Not directly. But you knew he was watching. You came home one evening to find your door slightly ajar, but nothing inside was touched—except for the sticky note now on your mirror: "You looked happy today. I'm proud of you."
It broke you all over again.
The love hadn’t disappeared. It had just changed. It had taken the form of silent protection, of a watchful guardian in the night, of someone who gave up his own happiness to give you a chance at healing. And maybe that was enough. Maybe one day, you’d meet again. On a rooftop. In another life. When you were whole.
But for now, you turned off the bathroom light, brushed your fingers across the old letter, and whispered into the silence:
"I miss you. But I’m getting better. And maybe that’s what you wanted most."
The clock read 4:09.
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LOOK WHAT CAME!!!!!


#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔𝜗𝜚#team papaya#f1#formula 1#formula one#McLaren#mclaren formula one#mclaren formula 1
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I’m devouring that ass
#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔𝜗𝜚#this is convincing me to write for Nightwing#nightwing#nightwing dc#dick grayson#dick grayson dc#dc comics#dc universe
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MUSIC TO MY EARS | DeM
tags: fluff, terrible band knowledge :3 summary: in the balance between working as a blood analysist and semi-vigilante, dexter finds his peace in watching you practice for your upcoming concert note: a little short... and can you tell i've never touched an instrument? takes place s3ish based off this request: ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

greeted with the smell of chicken in the oven and steamed vegetables, dexter was elated to finally be home. his day wasn't special besides finding a new target to research and look into before bed.
"hey dex! welcome home, i missed you." you placed the lid back on the pot that held the broccoli that was taking just a little longer to cook.
making your way around the counter, you gave dexter one big hug and looked up at him. giving him a huge smile, he couldn't help but give you one back. leaning to the side to place his duffle bag down by the door so he could fully hug you.
"how was work? i'm actually glad you got home later than normal because i did too. i would've felt awful if you came home expecting me or dinner, and i wasn't here to give you that." you rambled on as you let go of him to resume dinner.
characterized by your love for helping others, especially dexter, he could've cared less if he came home to no dinner. he respects your time away from him and wouldn't want to hold you back from your career.
as you cooked he watched you readjust the brace that sat on your wrist. you maybe tried fixing it about three times before going to check on the chicken in the oven.
"i think about twenty-ish more minutes, if you want to go clean up in the mean time." you said as you turned around to face him. you had picked up on it within the first week of living together that he had a habit of staring at you. not that you minded entirely, but sometimes you wondered if he was okay.
"dexter?"
eyes blinking back to reality, dexter looked at you and then the kitchen behind you. "yes—yes, i'll go shower now, thank you for cooking dinner." he mumbled into your hair as he walked to give you one quick squeeze before going to clean up.
steam flowing out of the bathroom into the bedroom was the most perfect feeling ever for dexter as his muscles relaxed. he breathed out in content while searching for clothes to wear to bed.
as he stepped out the shower, he thought about when he needed to plan to see freebo within the next few days, or weeks if he had no time.
groaning internally at the thought of having to wait even long to get this scum off the streets was actually painful. it didn't help that it added to the drought he was in with his outside work.
but dexter was pulled from his thoughts as he dried off, the mellow sound of your instrument flowed into the bathroom. the slightly muffled sound of you playing your bass clarinet reminded dexter of your upcoming show.
the reason you'd also gotten home later.
you'd been so ecstatic when you found out you'd been able to join the miami symphony orchestra. you'd been practicing this for years, and even increased your drive the weeks leading up to your audition.
as dexter finished getting dressed he was pleased to the sight he saw in the living room. you'd sat on the couch playing as quietly as your instrument would allow while reading the sheet in front of you.
he admired the way your brows furrowed at the page, the apples of your cheeks just slightly higher as you pursed your lips against the mouthpiece. slightly bouncing your leg, you took a breath before starting again.
making his way across the apartment, he sat down next to you. he'd always been quiet with you, especially when you played as he "liked to admire you in your element". you'd stop breifly to look at him before he cut you off before you could even get a word out.
"just keep playing."
nodding your head you started from the beginning again. your performance at the adriene arsht center was just shy of a week away, and you wanted to be perfect. it was your first performance with the group and you wanted to show that you deserved your spot.
as you finished playing your part in stravinsky's rite of spring, dexter clapped quietly.
"good?"
"amazing."
SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. i really enjoyed listening to how the bass clarinet sounded and listened to some pieces from the orchestra mentioned. hope you likedd :)
#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝜗𝜚#I loved this!!#as someone who plays clarinet (and bass clarinet) I really appreciated this!!
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I swear my interests are genuinely crazy when I list them all together—
Like wdym I like F1, Marvel, DC, snoopy, anime (Moriarty the Patriot mainly), Dexter, and HTTYD???? Like stand alone they all sound fine, but all together I sound crazy😭😭
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#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔𝜗𝜚#moots don’t judge my taste in shows 💔#I love villains <3#Dexter Morgan my fav fictional killer#dexter morgan
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Not me at my grown age trying to convince my mom to take me to the Spider-Man exhibit at a museum 2 hours away
#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔𝜗𝜚#I think I love Spider-Man a lot#and cartoons and superhero’s in general#marvel and dc I love you#I also love snoopy
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I hate bleeding out once a month
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hey btw fictional smut is not real sex. since i know there's plethora of young audience here who reads thinking they need to be like the porn in fics, no you don't. let me tell you that tits come in all sizes and it's normal. sagging is normal. stretch marks, scars, hairy bodies are normal. strawberry skin is okay. hyperpigmentation in pelvic region is normal. not every pussy is light barbie pink. a vagina looks like a vagina; you don't have to be grossed out. most of the women can't squirt at all also can't cum with just vaginal penetration. 6 inches is big. always use protection. prep it before you put it in. don't ever try anal without lube and stretching. not everyone cums like seven times back to back. aftercare is important. and lastly for the love of god, do not ever try cervix fucking.
#𝑽𝒂𝒍’𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔𝜗𝜚#‼️‼️‼️#trust me sex is DEFINITELY not like the stuff you read#it’s awkward sometimes and laughing happens and a lot of things aren’t perfect#but as long as you’re with a partner you trust (and you use protection‼️) you’ll still have good sex just like the stuff you read#and yeah.. don’t do anal without lube.. it doesn’t feel nice
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how often do you get high, tipsy, or even just party in general?
… do you want the actual number or the fake number🥲
Actual number: 3-4 days a week (I have a flexible job with an even flexible schedule as majority of my work is at home, and my bartending gig is mainly on weekends or during happy hour)
Fake number: once every month😭
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