#however…jon…please

[josephtrohman]

why did jon walker share this

[polysucks]

why you think starks are brown. No hate, I just want to know reason 💓

No hate taken!!! I'm more than happy to give a little context.

I also talked a little and at length and then some about why I think the Starks are ndn or indigenous coded, therefore anecdotally "brown" if you want some more!

---

The Starks Are Indigenous and You Can’t Change My Mind

Look, I’m just gonna say it: the Starks are giving "we’ve been here for 10,000 years and you just got off the Mayflower.” Fandom loves to frame them as cold (literally), brooding white dudes who talk to trees and wolvves and die tragically—but if you zoom out just a bit, what you’ll see is a whole culture that’s basically been staring the apocalyptic Chekov’s gun in the face while mumbling “this is fine” for millennia.

Let’s start at the beginning: the First Men walked to Westeros on foot twelve thousand years ago (according to legend. it's giving oral storytelling), chopped some trees, made some mistakes, and then struck a sacred pact with the Children of the Forest. Instead of wiping the Children out like the colonizers down south (cough Andals cough), they basically said, “Yeah u right let’s chill,” and started building their whole culture around respecting nature, living weirwoods, and the gods that inhabit them. Now fast forward six thousand years and the Andals show up like, “Hey, we’ve got gods who look like us and wear robes, and also we’re here to murder your trees bc they're just trees they mean nothing.” (SOUND FAMILIAR?) And the North said: “uhhhhh doubt but alright try me bitch.” The Andals conquered everywhere else in Westeros, but the North? Untouched. Still praying to SpOokY tReEs, burying people under roots, giving a fuck about their ancestors, still naming their kids things like Brandon and Benjen and not, like, Luthor Tyrell III.

So when I say the Starks are Indigenous-coded, I mean it. They are the last major ruling house descended purely from the First Men, with customs, spirituality, and governance structures that date back over ten millennia. They didn’t import Andal feudalism or Southern chivalry—they rule by duty, community ties, and vibes. There’s no divine right here, just “I said I’d guard the North, so I’m gonna guard the North, even if I die horribly doing it.” Which... they usually do.

Physically, too, the Northerners are not your typical pale-and-pink Southron types. Descriptions from the books associate the First Men—and thus the Northmen—with brown hair, darker complexions, and gray eyes. They’re closer to earth tones than the golden-and-ivory palettes of the Reach and Crownlands.

Now, it’s all fun and games until Robb Stark starts stacking Lannister corpses like firewood and suddenly—boom—“savage skinchanger” propaganda. The second the North stops being cold and quiet and starts sending wolves downriver, the Southern rumor mill goes feral. The same lords who wear wolf pelts to look edgy start whispering, “Is he... using magic? Unnatural beasts? Isn’t that his direwolf out there eating men’s faces?”

We’re not even being subtle anymore. This is textbook colonizer panic: “Oh no, the brown people with strong spiritual ties to nature and weird customs have found a way to beat our superior steel and horses! They must be cheating!” And this is coming from a place where Melisandre literally births a shadow demon out of her woman's place and half the people involved just shrug and go, “Well, kings do be kinging and doin whatever it takes to be kinged.” But Robb winning battles with tactics and a big-ass dog? Witchcraft.

And let’s talk tone. The way Northerners are described when they show up in King’s Landing is... gross. Dirty. Sullen. Uncouth. They bring the smell of snow and smoke and old gods into the nice, civilized complacency of the South, and the court acts like they're watching a pack of feral dogs crash a garden party. Even the Dornish, who are also not white-coded in many ways and face plenty of racism, are still seen as exotic—dangerous, sure, but sexy-dangerous. The Northmen? They’re not fetishized. They're feared. Loathed. Dismissed as brutes and barbarians with ways that are so different that they should be feared.

And this is a classic move in imperialist narratives: you marginalize a people, rob them of power and culture, and the second they resist? You demonize them. Turn them into monsters. Say they commune with beasts and demons. (Sound familiar? Because it should.) Whether it’s North American Indigenous peoples being accused of “savagery” the moment they defend their land, or these colonized peoples being portrayed as superstitious and irrational for refusing assimilation and persisting with their culture—Westeros is playing that greatest hit on repeat.

So yes, when I say the Starks are Indigenous-coded, I also mean that the way Westeros treats the North is textbook colonial anxiety. They’re tolerated when they stay quiet and frozen. But when they rise? When they win? Suddenly, they’re not just a threat—they’re unnatural. Inhuman. Monstrous.

And if that ain’t some real-world racial politics wrapped in an easy to swallow fictional narrative, idk what is.

Now let’s talk Boltons vs. Manderlys, the perfect case study in Indigenous vs. Settler-coded houses when it comes to the cultural conversation. The Boltons? Chaotic evil First Men energy. They used to flay people alive, possibly made cloaks out of skin (ok im sorry that’s so baller), and ruled from the Dreadfort for thousands of years as a rival to House Stark. They’re the North turned inward and twisted—a cautionary tale about what happens when colonization doesn’t get you, but intergenerational trauma does. Still, they’re part of the land, part of the same heritage. The Manderlys, on the other hand? Total transplants. They got kicked out of the Reach, showed up in the North all teary-eyed and humble, and the Starks were like, “Fine, you can live in this swamp by the sea.” And they did! Respectfully! But they never converted to the Old Gods. They still pray to the Seven, build stone cities, and have the audacity to name their castle White Harbor. That's like moving into someone’s house and renaming it “Good Christian Suburb.” (like. Like americ--*gets dragged off stage*) But they're chill. Because they never pretended to be something they're not. And they never tried to change the ways of the lands and the peoples who welcomed them when no one else would.

Even within the North, there's a whole spectrum of resistance vs. assimilation. You’ve got the Free Folk beyond the Wall—who are basically the “burn it all down, no kings, no lords” crowd—then the Starks, who are like, “Fine, I’ll wear a crown if it helps keep the peace,” and then the Manderlys, who are “we love it here please don’t send us back south.” It’s not unlike real-world Indigenous communities: some stayed in the woods, some ran into the mountains, some took settler names and built schools—but the throughline is survival. Resistance is survival.

And that, my fellow losers, is what the Starks are all about. They are the final boss of stubborn cultural preservation. They’re the people who would rather freeze than bend the knee to "gods" they don’t believe in. When Ned Stark says “Winter is Coming,” he’s not just talking about weather—he’s quoting a generational mantra. This, too, shall pass. And we will still be here. He's got seasonal depression and ancestral memory and PTSD, and he's still out here doing what is best for his people (well. not anymore, i guess.)

The North Remembers—and So Should You

When we say the Starks and the North are Indigenous-coded, we’re not just slapping a label on because it sounds cool and we’re desperate for representation. We’re talking about a culture that predates colonizers, resists assimilation, honors its dead, and survives against impossible violence. Whether it’s through sacred trees, communal leadership, or refusing to compromise on your ancestral values, the Starks represent the heartbeat of a people who never left their land—because the land never left them.

So yes. The Starks are “brown,” in the way that means something. Not necessarily in skin tone (though there’s canon support for that too), but in soul. In story. In surviving. And if you disagree, I’ll meet you in the godswood under the bleeding tree, and we can discuss it like Northerners—with our fuckin fists.

(this is a joke ur allowed other opinions)

[moxiexjustice]

Okay so hear me out. I just finished my rewatch of 12 rounds 3 : lockdown and I think they should make three more movies okay. One staring Seth and the other Roman. Then the sixth movie should have all three of them. Hell could even be all five ( John and Randy ) but I need the shield to be in a movie together and just start kicking ass. Bonus points if they triple power 💣 the bad guys. I need it.

[wigglys-dikrats]

just uncle things ya know?

[anaceshornyblog]

Making them lick someone's boots with je maybe? Or jongerry,,

Still Accepting Prompts! (Please be as vague or specific as you would like)

JonElias

Jon couldn’t hold back a small whimper as Elias used his hair as a handhold shoving his face down. It wasn’t a particularly tight grip, but Elias was firm and Jon couldn’t even think of disobeying. Honestly he couldn’t think much at all having just spent the past few minutes rubbing off against the shoe Elias was shaving him toward. His tongue darted out, barely a kitten lick on the soft leather, and while Jon couldn’t see Elias from this angle he could hear his disappointed sigh.

“Come now Jon, you dirtied them you should take responsibility and clean them up,” Jon could almost see the smirk on his face as he pressed his shoe against Jon’s face spreading Jon’s slick that covered the tip across his lips. Jon opened his mouth his tongue hanging out but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. Elias sighed as his grip shifted, forcing Jon’s tongue to slide across the expensive leather.

“I suppose I’ll just have to show you more directly,” Jon whimpered, but kept his mouth open, it was always easier when Elias was in control.

JonGerry

“If you want to suck my cock you’ll have to show me how good you are with your mouth first.” Jon wasn’t certain if you could die from embarrassment but Gerry was certainly trying to do Jon in. When Gerry had told him to clean his boots, Jon had reached out only to have his hand slapped away and the tip of one shoved against his cheek.

“You can’t be serious?” Jon eyed the leather, yes they were clean, chosen specifically for this, but still.

“Dead serious,” Jon couldn’t help making a face which had Gerry breaking character for a second, before schooling his expression again. “Come on sweetheart the faster you clean them the faster you can get what you actually want in your greedy mouth.”

Jon but his lip, as though considering giving a put upon sigh. Gerry flicked the remote he held in his hand and Jon gasped clenching down against the plug inside him as it sped up slightly.

“Don’t be a brat,” Gerry said as though he didn’t love Jon giving him a chance to punish him. Jon growled but leaned his head down sliding his tongue across his boot, letting out a small moan. Jon wondered if this actually looked hot, or just ridiculous, glancing up through his eyelashes as he essentially fellated a boot.

If Jon had worried that it would kill the mood, Gerry’s intense expression showed him otherwise. His pupils were blown wide, and if his constant shifting was anything to go by he was clearly having trouble resisting stopping the whole thing to get Jon’s mouth on him instead.

Jon kept up his ministrations, winding Gerry up, knowing he’d pay for it later.

[luludeluluramblings]

The Tape

Reader and Conner’s sex tape gets leaked…

Based on this…

Part Two

Warning: Fem!Reader, NSFW themes, no actual smut, pure crack nonsense, fake Twitter post

A/N: @fanfictionlover277353 Heard you wanted some more! Here’s some of my nonsense!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"Come on, Babs. Please. I'm begging. Just for a few hours. Two tops." Dick's whining could be heard through out the entire cave. The vibrato of his voice echoing off the rocky walls and stalagmites as he leaned over Barbara's shoulder and played with her hair.

She was currently sitting at the Bat Computer, looking over anything related to the family or incidents in Gotham with strained eyes and an exasperated look on her face.

"I told you, I'm busy-"

"You need a break." Dick interrupted, playing the hypocrite with a grin. "Come on, two hours. We'll watch a movie, you can even pick. No sappy Rom-coms, anything you want. All your choice." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Admittedly, Barbara was tempted, but she let out an indulgent sigh.

"Fine. I'll set up notifications to alert me if anything that needs to get scrub gets posted." She quickly type out a few things on to the computer, having it connected to her phone before Dick whisked her off with way too much excitement.

It was a simple notification system. One that would alert her if anyone's vigilantes identities were mentioned in the media. Unfortunately, it wasn't set up to alert her if anyone's civilian identities were mentioned. That included the family's only civilian member as well.

And, a lot can happen in two hours with the power of the internet and a very interesting topic.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You were having a good day. A very nice day. You had gone out into the world, enjoying the sights and sounds of a mid-morning Gotham. Ignoring the wailing sirens in the distance, by now you had grown used to it.

Dick, Babs, and Alfred where in the manor doing either Bat stuff or sleeping. Damian was visiting Jon. Duke was on patrol. Cass was at dance practice. Bruce was at the Watchtower. Tim was at the Wayne office. Stephanie was your chaperone (stalker) of the day. And, Jason was fuck who knows where.

A peaceful, calm day.

Until you got a Twitter notification and you realized...

"Oh, that's not good. That is really not good." You mutter, watching as the internet burns while you drink your coffee. Not like you could do much else. You still sent a quick text to Conner, just to prepare him while you mentally packed.

You warned him when he suggested filming the two of you making love in the Wayne manor parlor right in front of the fireplace.

You had suggested you’d both go to the mountains and fuck in the wild, but he just had to be kinky and want to do it in the manor. Better lighting he said.

If it wasn’t for the fact that it had been your anniversary and he had pulled out all the stops, you would’ve said no. (It doesn’t matter that he had you literally crying from the pleasure when the two of you had finally finished filming. Nope. Not at all.)

However, that mountain sex might still be on the table. You didn't want to be around when the rest of the family saw that video, so a remote location in the mountains sounded like a decent idea. You’d been wanting to runaway from the manor for a while anyway.

“Hey, Steph, hand me your phone real quick…” Best to probably by yourself some time.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Conner had a tendency to mute his notification on all his socials. Not that he didn't look at what people tagged him in or mentioned him in. He just find it easier to manage.

So when he got a text from you saying to check Twitter, he was a bit puzzled. But, he figured you had seen him tagged in something funny and wanted him to see it too.

Only for the record in his head to scratch when he realized what he had been tagged in.

"SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit." Could he get off planet fast enough? This was bad. Not the video. That was good. He may have thrown extra fuel on the fire by liking it and retweeting it on to his official account, but, damn it, was he proud of that. Probably shouldn’t have hired that rando to edit it for him though.

But, yeah, he was about to possibly be the only man ever murdered in cold blood by Batman. It was one thing to fuck his civilian daughter, but filming it in the man’s own home? Yeah, the kryptonite was definitely coming out and getting stabbed into his skull.

"JON! Distract Damian!" Conner yelled out before taking off, knowing that Jon's super hearing would pick up it up. Best get to Gotham and grab you before Batman came after his ass.

There was a nice planet a few solar systems over that you two could have some fun on. Maybe if he was lucky, you could visit that spot in front of the fireplace on last time. He doubted the two of you would get another chance to do it there again.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason had actually been at Roy’s that day, having finished some Outlaw business from the night before. Only to be interrupted when Roy suddenly choked on his drink and sprayed it all over him from across the table. Soaking Jason and the papers on said table.

“What the fuck?” He muttered in disgust whipping the dripping liquid off him.

Roy, however, was still choking. Wheezing as he clutched his phone like it was the most precious thing in existence.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Instantly, Roy was trying to back the video up the Cloud and his back up phone. He’s paid for porn with less quality than this and he was not wasting this opportunity before it was scrubbed from the internet.

“Let me see that.” Jason pushed the table and slammed it into Roy’s gut, causing the phone to clatter on to it. A video silently playing on the screen.

A video of two people in a fancy parlor. Doing very intimate things.

Two people Jason knew. In a fancy parlor that Jason knew.

A parlor that Jason had literally sat in three days ago watching the fire in the exact same fireplace.

“Did you fucking save this, asshole?”

“Dude, that is ART!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Back in the BatCave Alfred had come down to tidy up after resting a bit only to look at the screen in horror. Despite his many skills, socially media escaped him at times.

However he did manage to learn one thing…

“That was what was on my bloody carpet?!”

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Tim had been in his office, going over a couple charts when his secretary burst into the room. Stumbling and falling on the floor panting. One of her heels broken.

Normally she was a serious and composed woman, not tolerating any nonsense from him. So this behavior was unexpected and worrisome.

Tim rushed to stand up at help her when she suddenly blurted out, “Leaked sex tape!”

That made him panic. Before confusion hit him.

“Wait, did I film on of those? I don’t remember filming one of those-“

“Your sister! Superboy! PR is going fucking nuts and getting calls. Share prices are fucking increasing because of this!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The Justice League Watchtower was in a meeting. Quite a long one judging by the way most of it’s members sitting around the table seemed to be drifting off or subtly scrolling their phones.

Oliver Queen, Green Arrow was one of those people scrolling. Checking over twitter, catching up on the latest gossip. Only to nearly fucking scream in the middle of the meeting when he realized what Superboy had shared on his official account.

Forget man of steel, the kid has damn balls of steel.

Worst yet, the video had been posted for over an hour. A full hour. Almost two. There was no way that was going to be getting scrubbed and forgotten. He’d bet it was in a military archive already with a team of scientist documenting the half-Kryptonian’s dick size right now.

It was an impressively long video. One that Oliver was sorely tempted to watch. But, he didn’t because he knew Batman would actually rearrange his face if he did. Like fist and plastic surgery rearrange it.

So, when he heard Batman’s voice ring out in the meeting, he broke his phone in half to hide the evidence of his discovery.

Only, Batman hadn’t been calling for his attention. He was calling for Booster Gold’s.

“Booster, focus on the meeting. Put that away—“

It was amusing to see Booster get caught with his phone out watching him scramble to shut it off in a panic. Only for it to fall to the ground.

And, the sound to turn on at full volume.

Moans to fill the silent void of the room.

Oliver could only look on in horror when he realized just what Booster had been watching, during a Justice League meeting, and across the table from Batman himself.

“Conner, please, p-please, stop teasing.”

“No, I don’t think I will. You look so pretty like this. All nice and—“

No one moved. Not as they watched Batman literally work through every emotion under that cowl of his and Superman’s face went as white as it possibly could, anguish washing over both their faces when they realized who was in the video booster was watching.

Diana was the only one that stood up and moved to pick up the phone. Everyone held their breaths when she slowly looked down at the screen.

“Quite impressive. You both must be proud.” She said with a slight hum.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I apologize so much for this, but I just was cackling the entire time I came up with this and wrote it. Forgive me y’all! 🙏🏻

A/N: All the Twitter stuff was randomly generated and picked! I’m not good with it, but I added it for giggles!

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Here’s the thing, I absolutely agree with the fact that the way Jon was treated in S4 was awful, dehumanising and often cruel. It impacted how he viewed himself in harmful and permanently damaging ways that then bleed into every choice he makes after, because his self-worth is never going to recover from that.

However, if you end this point with ‘and he was treated like this for no-reason at all’, I am going to have to sit you down and have a long talk about nuance, and how every character in TMA has a reason for what they’re doing, even if it’s not right. Engage with the material at hand. I am begging you.

And Jon being a victim, particularly in S4, does not absolve him of the consequences and harm his own actions have done. There’s a very twisted irony to me in the fact that the harm Jon does to feel a sense of control — a common C-PTSD response — is often stripped of that agency and nuance. Please, the Web does that to him enough.

The above also applies to pretty much most TMA characters, especially the S4 Archive Crew. It goes without saying that yes, Basira is a hypocrite, that Melanie clings onto Jon as a scapegoat before she takes steps to improve herself etc. All these characters have been hurt in some way, and they are reverting back to what gives them a sense of safety, even if it means hurting others people or each other. It’s not good, but you can, at the very least, understand why it is they’re acting this way.

I think it’s easier to understand S4 when you go in with the mindset of ‘these people are all victims, and they are not perfect ones’, rather than the mindset of it’s Jon Vs Everyone, even if it feels that way at times.

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

Part 2

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

III𓂃› SPIDER

Warning: violence, swearing, sensitive topics, bad things, spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and the reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), female reader!, I accept criticism, but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

Hey guys! I'm really sorry it took me so long to post (I was sorting out some things in my life). well, enjoy the chapter!♡

Clark really didn't know what he was getting himself into.

He had expected to come to New York to do a simple interview for the Daily Planet, write the report and spreadsheet right here while eating at a café and if possible bring back some souvenirs for Lois and Jon.

Fighting a supervillain was definitely not in his plans.

It had happened out of nowhere, while he was waiting for the meeting with the businessman, the urgent news on television warning about a monster attacking the city made him leave urgently. He could solve this and finish it in time.

He just didn't know that he wouldn't need to solve it.

While flying, now as Superman, he easily found the villain, it wasn't very difficult to see him in fact. He was the size of a building of at least nine or ten stories, his skin was rocky and hard, made purely of stone. Clark was about to attack the giant when he heard a scream.

Looking through the villain a helicopter was in the way, the pilot tried to maneuver away but they would be enveloped in the confusion. Using his speed, Clark tried to get closer to the helicopter, however it was not enough since it was still far away.

The rocky hand would catch the vehicle before him.

Well, he is not alone.

Before the walking rock caught the propeller and possibly destroyed the vehicle something got attached to the hand and pulled it up, bringing the villain's focus to another place, his distraction was enough for him to catch the helicopter. He noticed as he moved away that what had stopped the giant was... a web? He followed with his gaze the path of the white rope and saw a figure pass quickly on it.

What?

Leaving the helicopter on top of a landing area of ​​a nearby building, he approached the frightened journalists. "Are you hurt?"

The one who answered was the cameraman, who was still breathing heavily, "N-no, Mr. Superman. We're fine-"

"IT'S HER! TYLER FILM, FILM!" The woman's excitement made the man quickly grab his camera. She looked at him and gave a shy smile while holding the microphone, perhaps a little embarrassed by her euphoria. "Oh, Superman, thank you very much. It's just that we never get clear images of her, so you can understand our excitement."

She? She who?

No one needed to answer his question because when he looked at the monster he saw the "she".

A super heroine

Her figure swayed between the giant and the buildings. She wore a suit that covered her entire body, leaving no room to see any of her features. All Clark could see was that she was short, perhaps indicating that she was a teenager.

The monster tried to grab her with its free hand, moving much faster than it had when it was with the helicopter. She, however, brought her webbed wrist towards the giant's face, causing him punched his own face. Swinging away from him, she taunted, her voice echoing off the buildings. "Hey big guy, is that all you know how to do? For someone so tough, you're softer than jelly!"

Hit a nerve, for sure.

"Who is she?" He asked the man who was filming the action with the reporter, even in a situation like that the cameraman looked at the heroine with a glint in his eye, a glint that intrigued Clark.

"Her? She's Spider-Woman."

Spider Woman, he had never heard of this superheroine, but that didn't matter now.The "Spider Woman" swung again on her webs at the stone man's aggression towards her. Superman moved away from the reporters and headed towards the brute. He was quick to bump his fist with the giant's, preventing him from punching a building. The action made the heroine finally notice the Kryptonian. She widened the white eyes of the mask when she saw him flying. "Superman?"

She hung from a building, climbing the glass to get closer to him, she looked at the monster and then at him, her head spinning until she realized something, knowing that he would help her she addressed him. "Hey, Superman. Can you immobilize him for me for at least a few seconds?"

The Kryptonian looked at her, hesitating a little, but then a smile appeared on his lips "Leave it to me."

They moved together at that moment. Clark used his freezing breath on the stone legs, freezing them and immobilizing him to the ground. With the giant still, the spider woman climbed on his back and reached his neck. While the monster struggled, he saw her take a syringe and apply it to the rocky neck. With the liquid entering the monster's veins, he began to scream. Clark was about to intervene when the thunderous scream stopped.

Slowly, pieces of stone fell from the giant, and when they found their end on the ground, they turned into sand, being carried away by the wind. Little by little, the monster began to disintegrate until there was nothing left of him, just a cloud of dust in the place. Approaching to see the damage, he went down and came across the individuals.

The villain, once gigantic and grotesque, was now a thin and small man, passed out in the heroine's arms, while his breathing stabilized, Clark for the first time observed Spider-Woman up close, without being in the heat of battle.

The costume she wore was outlined in black and golden, the fabric was a mix of a dull color and another bright color, the symbol of a spider displayed proudly on her chest, the hood covered the mask on her face, making it difficult to see the white eyes of the mask. What intrigued him most was that it was not common fabric, since when he tried to use his x-ray vision he could not see Spider-Woman's identity.

She certainly knew how to hide her identity.

Just like someone he knew.

"Looking at he now, he doesn't look like a villain."

"And he isn't, they forced him, he's just an ordinary citizen." The dust slowly cleared, now revealing the street they were on. "Honestly, it's a surprise to see you here, shouldn't you be in Metropolis?"

Clark started to sweat a little. True, he should be in Metropolis, not New York, but he couldn't just watch everything on TV, there was a villain attacking the city! And he didn't know New York had a heroine to protect them! How careless of him. "Yeah, actually, I was..."

"was?"

"I-I flew past here! That's it." Spider-woman looked at him before starting to laugh, well at least he tried to hide it, in fact the excuse had been pretty bad.

"Okay, I'll take this as truth, you must have your reasons, don't you, Mr. Clark?"

The aforementioned froze, looking at the spider, who stood up carrying the injured man. The sounds of sirens were heard in the distance, indicating that the police were coming. "What?"

This time, it was the spider woman who froze, realizing her carelessness too late. She looked at him, and even with the mask on her face, he could have sworn a bead of sweat was on his forehead. "Ah, I and my big mouth."

"Do you know my identity? How did you-"

"L-look, I swear it wasn't intentional, seriously! I have... my reasons to know, but I promise! I didn't tell anyone and I won't tell anyone." Superman just looked at her in astonishment, it wasn't intentional? How did she find out then? While the police and ambulance finally arrived, the woman was quick to hand the man over to the police and briefly explained everything, she distanced herself from the police, ready to leave as quickly as possible when he approached her.

"Who are you? Like, really?" She looked at him, clearly anxious to get out of there. "That's... a secret, but like I said, I won't tell anyone, don't worry."

She pulled away from him again, releasing a web from her wrist, already trapping her in a building to resume her run. But before that, she turned to Clark, the tone of her words showing no lies, only truths. "After all..."

"If I wanted to do this, I would have done it nine months ago."

And with that she was gone.

Again, Clark didn't know what he was doing.

It had been a few days since his encounter with Spider-Woman, the revelation that she knew his identity disturbed him, but that wasn't what was going through Clark's head now.

That was who she was.

That woman (or teenager?, Clark doesn't know) had been saving New York for at least a year and absolutely no one in the league knew, she was literally under their noses the whole time and no one knew! But while they didn't know anything, but New York knew, you weren't liked by everyone but most definitely liked you, you gave those people security every day and they trusted you.

You were a real mystery.

In addition, there was the identity issue. Clark wasn't rich, so he didn't have spectacular security to hide his identity, but he always took precautions. You, however, found out so easily. Clark knew that your "it wasn't intentional" statement might be wrong, but whether it was intentional or not, you still did it.

Clark knew that you wouldn't reveal your identity to the world. Your statement made that very clear, but even so, his head itched and itched to meet you.

Maybe he was being hasty, but you were a great heroine, there was no denying that. You fought well, you were smart, and you had experience. You could be a good ally. Besides, Clark doesn't know if you're an adult, so it would be a good way to keep you under supervision.

That's why he's heading back to New York now.

The sun had already set, giving him a view of the beautiful night that had fallen while he was flying, but at that moment Clark was trying to find you.

He didn't know where you could be, in fact he didn't know what to do when he found you, he didn't even know what sparked his interest, he simply... felt. Something about how you were, the mystery surrounding you intrigued him, and Clark simply followed that instinct.

His thoughts were interrupted when his super hearing picked up a sound, of what sounded like running, it could have been anything but his instincts told him to follow the sound, to find the source.

He did.

And thank goodness he did, because he found you.

You were jumping over the buildings, like he had seen you do before, and it was only when you stopped that he could approach you. You were on the edge of the building, looking down at the floors. Clark intended to approach you, but it seemed like you had other plans.

"I thought you had already left." Your voice was neutral, showing no irritation or pleading, it was as white as a sheet, which made him stop, a little surprised that you had discovered him. "I did."

You turned to him, the eyes of the mask you were wearing showing him your confusion, looking him up and down, your reasoning led you to realize why he was here. "You- wait, are you following me?!"

"Following is a very strong word-"

"But you just admitted that you went to the metropolis and came to New York again!" Your arms gestured so quickly thanks to your nervousness that when you realized it you put one of them on your waist and the other you ran your hand over your face.

Clark couldn't help but find this cute.

"Look if this is because of the identity-"

"More or less, but that's not all." Clark's mouth turned into a gentle smile, your brain thinking about the possibilities again, all while you looked at him.

Silence reigned between the two, neither of them wanting to comment before the other, but it seems that Spider-Woman didn't have much time because a sound came from her gauntlet, she quickly accessed it and Clark saw that the "bracelet" was a type of miniature screen attached to the fabric of the suit, you looked at the messages before turning to Clark.

"I'm sorry but I have to go." You looked at the city below, looking at the lights that illuminated the place. Clark was about to speak when you cut him off before. "No offense Superman, but I think it's better if you go back to Metropolis, I don't have time to talk."

You spread your arms wide as you leaned towards the edge of the building, your eyes narrowed affectionately, which contradicted your voice full of irony. "Then this is our last meeting, thank you~"

And then you threw yourself.

Clark flew to the edge, ready to catch up with you, only to be faced with the emptiness of the city, you disappeared before their eyes, like a ghost.

"Then this is our last meeting."

No, it wouldn't be.

And it wasn't.

For the past four months, Clark has been bothering you, appearing out of nowhere, scaring you, helping you, making you more irritated by his constant appearances, making you more dynamic, more ironic, but happy.

It was a confusion of emotions, to tell the truth.

You expected that after a while he would stop doing this, after all he had things to take care of, for example: a city called Metropolis.

But Clark apparently didn't agree with that, because at least once every two weeks he would go to New York just to talk. The weirdest thing is that he started talking about his life to you as if he had known you for years! He talked about how he loved Lois, his relationship with John and Conner, GOD! He even talked about the Daily Planet!

Dude, he didn't even know who you were and he was just talking about his life to you?

You, however, always listened to him, you didn't tell him anything about your life but you didn't stop listening to him either.

Honestly, if you wanted to, you could very well mess with his life.

Good thing you're the heroine here.

As you jumped between buildings, your danger sensor beeped, warning you of something approaching. Knowing who it could be, you went down to the terrace of a building. Your suspicions were confirmed when you felt a gust of air from above. Turning around, you came face to face with the hero who had been on your tail for the last few months: Superman.

Clark had a gentle smile on his face, the smile of a hero, something that conveyed confidence and comfort. And it really did.

"Hello, Mr. Super, you look as happy as ever."

"Yeah, you look as relaxed as ever." He landed in front of you as you leaned against the building's railing, your elbows keeping your body steady as you assumed a carefree posture. Clark glanced at the buildings behind you nervously, uneasy about something. "I hope you don't mind, but we have company today."

You arched an eyebrow in doubt as your danger sensor went off like crazy, you had a few seconds before you turned around and launched a web at the person. You expected to find a criminal or even a super villain, but you were faced with the sunglasses of a teenager in a costume similar to Superman. "Yeah, she's really fast like you said."

What?

Before you could react, a much smaller figure appeared in front of you, just like the teenager (the difference was that he was a child and didn't wear glasses) he also looked a lot like Clark, he floated in front of you, bright and excited eyes directed at you. "Wow! You're so much cooler in person!"

A drop appeared on your head, turning to the man of steel you muttered to him. "Who are-"

"John and Conner." He chuckled softly, seeing your eyes narrow in irritation. "John really wanted to meet you and Conner ended up joining too."

"Oh." You pulled away from John a little as sarcasm flooded your lips. "That's great!"

Conner chuckled softly as you released him from your web, he approached you as he bent down a little to speak to you, since he was taller. "I thought you'd be happy to see us, it's not every day three Kryptonians come to New York to help with crimes." His voice held an undeniable teasing, the low and deep tone of his voice having the words dragged in his speech, it seemed almost sensual.

You stopped as you watched the other two, John and Clark froze, their gazes fixed on Conner, who you had confirmed was trying to subtly court you.

But you're not the shy girl here.

You approached him, close enough to be face to face, your breath could be felt on his mask. Conner, surprised by your bold move, leaned back, his cheeks flushed with your approach. "Well, New York is already protected by its heroine every day, so I don't need help." The smile on your face grew when Conner turned redder at the sound of your voice.

You quickly moved away from him and hung on the ledge, you turned to him, your figure shining with the lights in the city. "Then watch me do my job, mini super."

You fell from the building, the wind shaking your hood as you fell. Before hitting the ground, you threw a web up and climbed up again, hanging on one at a time. As your figure moved away, Conner and John looked at you. "Damn."

"You better come, or we'll end up losing her."

The night would be very long.

"OH GOSH, I'm so tired!" You yawned as you hung on the webs, it was almost four in the morning and you decided to go home. The supers had already left, you believe they were tired too (Especially Conner, where you and he played flirting all night).

You stopped on the terrace while looking around, seeing if someone or something had followed you, seeing no threat you hung on your web and slowly fell to your apartment, you opened the balcony door and as soon as you entered you were greeted by a satisfied meow.

Looking at the sofa in the living room, you saw Mooly lying on the cushion, the little black kitten moving and going to your ankle, cunning for affection. You laughed softly and picked her up gently, while placing her in your arms. "Hey, haven't you gone to sleep yet?"

As you petted the little one, footsteps were heard throughout the house, when you looked up you came across a large white vinyl robot, its form being embraced by its shadows, its round eyes shining in the dark space.

You looked at it and it did the same, the atmosphere apparently cold and tense to those looking from the outside, but completely the opposite for those who live in this house. The robot bowed respectfully, its voice, calm and tobotic, showed deep down a contained joy, reserved only for those close to it.

"It's so good to see you home." He stood up from his position, round eyes blinking slightly in the darkness of the apartment.

"Master (Name)."

You smiled as you set Mooly down on the couch again, you raised your hand to his neck and squeezed it, causing his mask to retract, revealing his identity. His face, the face of someone forgotten is a frequent presence on the walls here.

(Name) Wayne, the Spider-Woman, the missing daughter, the useless Wayne. His face was older than before, aged like red wine, clearly showing that you took after your father, since your face was just like his. Beautiful and exquisite, cold and deadly.

"It's good to be home Mark, where's Alex?" You asked as you squeezed your shoulder, which was a bit sore from today's patrol.

"Mrs. Alex is already asleep, she said she couldn't stand listening to you flirting with Superboy anymore."This made you laugh out loud, you could imagine Alex covering his ears so he wouldn't hear the two of you. You pressed the bracelet on your wrist and in a flash your suit retracted into the bracelet, showing your figure that had a loose blouse and pants. You stretched, heading towards the bathroom.

"Well, I guess I better go too, tomorrow I have a college project and Mrs. Vivian wants me early at the coffee shop" before you could get there Mark called you, his voice echoing through the house. "You got a message from Master Billy."

You stopped and looked at Mark, the notification displayed on his cute belly from an ologram. "Did he send it at this time?" The robot shook his head and handed the phone to you.

Opening your messages you went straight to Billy's contact, concern starting to creep in on you, but then again, you should know how Billy is.

Because when you saw the message you felt your stomach churn.

Billy Batson was eating the most beautiful and delicious candy you had ever seen in your entire life, and he sent it to you even though he knew about your addiction to sweets.

That little shit-

You quickly typed furiously on the cell phone keyboard, not caring that it was late, just wanting to curse Batson for making you feel hungry when you planned on not having dinner.

'Fuck, I hate you Batson ಥ_ಥ'

His answer didn't take more than a few seconds to come, his response irritating you even more.

'HEY, you finally answered me, I was already worried. Besides, I know you love me 𖹭𖹭𖹭(∪ ◡ ∪)'

'I promise I'll buy one for you, good night little spider ツ'

'...good night Billy.'

You wanted to cry, that's it.

Especially because you were hungry now.

Knowing your fate, you threw the cellphone on the couch and turned on the kitchen light, you heard Mooly and Mark's footsteps following you.

"I think there are still ingredients for a mug cake, right?" eating now wouldn't hurt.

"Bruce? BRUCE!" The aforementioned looked at the entrance of the batcave where Tim and Jason had rushed in. The two looked like they had seen a ghost, sweaty and pale, still in their suits. "Tim, what is it?"

"You- You need to see this!" He sighed heavily as he threw himself into the chair at the control panel, his fingers typing faster than he had seen them on missions. Bruce looked at Jason, who was standing next to him, who had a burning look on his face, hope hidden behind his eyes.

What's going on?

Bruce didn't need to ask, because Tim began to explain to him. "Since the accident with... (Name), I've never found any clues..." Bruce shuddered at the sound of your name, they didn't talk about that subject.

Even after three years it still hurt.

"But that was because I wasn't looking in the right place!" The teenager put up the pictures of the bus that had been carrying you that day, only the wreckage that was left was in the picture. "But now-now I know where to look."

"Last year, Star City had several people kidnapped suddenly, just like (Name) no one found any clues about the case, but Jason and Roy investigated thoroughly and managed to find a kind of underground dungeon where the kidnapped people would be."

Now on the computer was the picture of the bus and of a kind of what Bruce would call a mental hospital. The place was so rotten and filthy that Bruce wondered if anyone lived there. "Apparently there's nothing, but if you look behind each of the huge graffiti on the wall..."

Tim, using the program, removed the graffiti, which gave Bruce a view of the white walls, but in the middle of them, pieces of something nonsensical resided there. "... and put them together."

The movement in Tim's hands moved the images on the wall, distorting and shaping them until one completed the other, making the nonsensical make sense.

"A symbol."

The symbol of a womb wrapped around a two-headed serpent.

"Do you know where else this symbol is?" Tim again returned to the image of the bus wreckage, he shaped the image and put together pieces of the walls that resulted in the same symbol, but with small parts missing. "So you mean-"

"That the same people who kidnapped the people in Star City were the ones who kidnapped (Name)." Jason answered for the two, his tone as dejected as Bruce's.

He can't blame him, he's in a similar state.

"The problem is that I can't find out what it means, I've tried on the Internet, in history books, even on Wikipedia! But I haven't found anything."

The crushing silence suffocated those present, leaving invisible marks on their being. "It has to have a meaning, anything- okay, what does it mean to a womb?!"

"Jason, this is stupid-"

"No, but we have to try! Shit, you only looked in science books or-or whatever, but have you tried to look for anything related to mythology?" Tim thought for a moment, but shook his head negatively.

"The womb refers to the woman, the mother. Now, what does a two-headed snake refer to?" Bruce asked no one in particular, his thoughts searching for the knowledge he had about it.

"Would it be a mother snake? That's nonsense."

Jason thought for a moment and realized something. "Technically, it's not." The red hood searched the control panel while talking to Robin and Batman.

"In Greek mythology, there was a creature that was half snake and half woman." The mythological image appeared next to the symbol. The grotesque figure of the creature somehow referred to the symbol.

"She was known as the mother of monsters."

"Echidna."

HI GUYS, this chapter was a lot of work, I had a lot of blockages but I managed to do it.

Now I have a question to ask: Is Conner treated as Clark's son or brother?

You already know that I haven't read the comics, I've watched Young Justice (at least there it gave the impression that Conner would be treated as Clark's son) but on Wikipedia it says that Conner is treated as John's uncle, please answer me 😭.

I'm also doing a reader drawing (NON-CANONIC), I think I'll do headcanons too. I'll possibly leave a link below.

Ok, let's go to the Tag list \(•◡•)/:

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib @bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93 - @horror-lover-69 - @mybones537 - @eyeless-kun - @timotheechalametswifeys - @justabreadslice - @nymphzy0 - @1-800-g00ber - @pix-stuff - @jsprien213

sorry for any mistakes.

Bye 𖹭

[0xy--m0r0n]

he's silly leave him alone

somebody give this man a chill pill

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. II

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: smutttt

Part 1, Sports Car

The atmosphere at the Las Vegas Grand Prix was electric. The sun reflected off the vibrant paddock, buzzing with drivers, team members, and fans. Y/n and Tate had just wrapped up soundcheck for their opening performance and were now taking in the sights. It wasn’t every day that you got invited to perform at one of the most glamorous racing events in the world. "This place is insane." Tate said, spinning her phone around to capture the glitzy energy of the paddock. Y/n nodded, shielding her eyes from the desert sun. "Yeah, it’s wild. Let’s not get lost, though."

"Lost? In the middle of this crowd? No chance." Tate replied with a mischievous grin. "But you know what we should do? Film a TikTok." Y/n groaned. "Tate, no."

"Y/n, yes. It’s perfect! We’re at a Grand Prix, we’re musicians, and we have viral audio just begging to be used." Reluctantly, Y/n agreed. She followed Tate to an open section of the paddock, where they started filming. "Okay, when I point the camera at you, you lip-sync the 'Leclerc' part and strut like you own the place." Tate instructed. "Fine." Y/n said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. The camera started rolling. Y/n gave her best sultry walk, mouthing the words perfectly as the audio played. "Leclerc! Leclerc! Charles Leclerc-"

She was so focused on the TikTok that she didn’t notice the person in her path until she collided with them. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!" Y/n exclaimed, hands flying up to steady the person she’d bumped into. "No harm done." The man said with a chuckle, brushing himself off. "Y/n?" Came the all-too-familiar voice from behind her. Her stomach twisted as she turned to see Lando standing there, arms crossed and his trademark smirk firmly in place.

"I see you’ve taken out my physio, Jon." Lando teased, motioning to the man Y/n had bumped into. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry." Y/n said again, her cheeks burning as she addressed Jon. "No worries." Jon said with a friendly smile, clearly used to the chaos of Lando’s world. "Nice TikTok work, by the way." Lando added, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. Y/n shot him a glare before grabbing Tate’s arm. "We need to go." She said quickly, dragging her friend away.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Tate burst into laughter. "That was gold! You walked straight into his team like you were aiming for it." Y/n groaned. “This day cannot get worse.”

"Oh, I think it just got better."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Back in the hair and makeup trailer, Y/n leaned back in her chair while a stylist curled her hair. Tate, however, couldn’t help but poke the bear. "Alright-" Tate started, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Spill. What’s the deal with you and Lando? And don’t say nothing.' Y/n groaned. "There’s nothing to spill."

"Bullshit!" Tate exclaimed, pointing a comb at her. "Nothing does not constitute blushong like a schoolgirl when you bumped into him earlier. What happened? Did it end on bad terms?" Y/n hesitated, but Tate’s relentless stare wore her down. "It didn't end on bad terms, it just shouldn't have happened." She muttered. "It started in Miami. I was trying to get into this club, but the bouncer wouldn’t let me in. Lando saw me outside, recognized me, and invited me to join him instead."

"And?"

"And we ended up back at his hotel room. Drank way too much from the mini-bar, talked about everything, and... yeah, one thing led to another." Tate’s jaw dropped. "You know, i would have really appreciated if you had told me you had slept with Lando before all of this." Y/n shushed her frantically. "Keep it down!"

"Oh, this is gold." Tate said, practically bouncing in her chair. "Wait. Is he why you wrote Two Hands?" Y/n didn’t answer, instead focusing on the stylist adjusting her makeup. "Oh my god, it is!" Tate exclaimed, laughing loudly. "You’re shameless."

"Can we please focus on the performance? You're like a kid!" Y/n grumbled, desperate to change the subject. "Fine, butafterwards? I am asking every question under the sun."

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The stage lights were dazzling, the crowd roaring as Y/n and Tate took the stage. The beat of Two Hands reverberated through the paddock, and Y/n let herself fall into the music, swaying and singing like the world was watching. As the bridge approached, her eyes scanned the crowd. Her heart skipped when she spotted Lando standing near the drivers, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. The lyrics spilled from her like a confession:

I want them all to see, you look good on top of me. At this time, at night, I need. Not one, not three.

Her gaze locked with his, and she sang directly at him, her voice sultry and unyielding. Just your two hands on me. The smirk on his face faltered, replaced by something darker, more intense. She smirked as she turned back to the audience, the final notes lingering in the air. The crowd continued their cheers as Y/n and Tate began their dance break, before finally ending in their poses and smiling as the crowd erupted into roars. "Thank you Vegas!" Tate exclaimed before the pair ran off stage.

Backstage, Tate was practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay, wow. You really went all in during that performance. Wonder why?" She teased, winking exaggeratedly. "Shut up." Y/n muttered, though her cheeks were warm.

As they finally landed back in their hotel room, Y/n collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Tate began rambling on about something random while Y/n's phone buzzed, and when she checked it, her stomach flipped.

Lando Come see me. Room 1208.

She stared at the message until Tate, who had been scrolling through her phone nearby, glanced over. "Oh my god. Is that?" Y/n nodded. Tate squealed, jumping up and down on the bed as Y/n thought of a response, or whether to respond at all. "You have to go!" Tate shouted, landing down beside her friend. "No way!" Y/n said, shaking her head. "Yes way!" Tate insisted. "You’d regret it if you didn’t and you know it. You gotta go."

After much convincing, Y/n found herself standing outside Lando’s door, her heart pounding. She raised a trembling hand and knocked and waited for him to answer, fumdbling with her fingers in anticipation. What if someone were to find her there? What would the media say? Not even a moment later, the door opened to reveal Lando, his grin as cocky as ever. "Took you long enough." He started as he leaned against the doorframe.

But Y/n didn’t let him finish. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss as she pushed him back into the room. The door clicked shut behind her as she kicked it closed with her heel. Their bodies collided, the familiar feel of his hard chest against her breasts igniting a fire within her. She moaned softly as his strong arms wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her hips possessively. "I've missed this." He whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck. "Missed having you like this."

Y/n's hands roamed over his broad shoulders, relishing the feel of his firm muscles beneath her palms. "I've missed you too." She confessed, her voice barely audible. "Missed the way you make me feel so alive." Lando's lips found hers, crushing her mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, demanding and possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again. Y/n responded eagerly, matching his passion, their tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. The kiss was a battle of wills, each trying to dominate the other, but it was a battle they both wanted to lose.

Breaking the kiss for air, Lando trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands traveled up her thighs, lifting her skirt as he went, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. "You're so fucking beautiful." He growled against her skin, his hands reaching her lace panties. He hooked his fingers into the sides, tugging them down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to see all of you."

Y/n stepped out of her panties, kicking them aside, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Lando loved to watch, and the thought of being on display for him only heightened her arousal. She stood before him, completely exposed, her breasts heaving with each rapid breath. Lando's eyes devoured her, his gaze traveling from her flushed face down to her glistening pussy. "So fucking wet already." He murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Eager, arent you?"

He dropped to his knees before her, his hands gently grasping her thighs, urging them apart. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his breath on her sensitive flesh. With slow, deliberate movements, Lando leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. A soft moan escaped Y/n's lips as his tongue swirled around her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He teased her gently, licking and sucking, driving her wild with need. His hands held her hips firmly, keeping her steady as he feasted on her, his dark hair brushing against her inner thighs. "Oh, Lando." She whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't stop, please."

Lando chuckled, the vibration of his laughter against her sensitive skin sending her closer to the edge. He increased the pace, his tongue working its magic, driving her higher and higher. Y/n's thighs trembled as her orgasm built, her body tense with anticipation. "That's it, baby." He encouraged, his voice hoarse. "Let go, cum for me." His words were all it took. Y/n's body convulsed as an intense orgasm ripped through her, her juices flowing freely. Lando lapped at her eagerly, drinking in her essence, his tongue never slowing until she was reduced to a quivering mess.

As her trembling subsided, Lando stood, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. "That was just the beginning." He promised, his voice low and dangerous. Y/n's eyes widened, anticipation and desire mingling in her gaze. She knew Lando wasn't one to hold back, and the thought of what was to come left her both excited and apprehensive. He guided her towards the bed, his hands roaming over her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps. With a gentle push, he laid her down on the soft sheets, his muscular form hovering over her. "You're going to feel every inch of me." He growled, his voice laced with raw desire.

Y/n's heart raced as she felt the bulge in his pants pressing against her core. She reached down, unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, eager to free the hard length of him. Lando's breath hitched as she slowly unzipped his pants, his cock springing free, thick and straining. "Fuck, you're beautiful." She whispered, running her fingers along his length, marveling at the way he throbbed in her hand.

Lando groaned, his eyes closing momentarily as he savored the sensation. "I need to be inside you." He rasped, his voice rough. With a swift movement, he positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging her wet folds. Y/n arched her back, inviting him in, her body yearning for the familiar fullness. With one smooth thrust, he filled her completely, their bodies joining in a perfect fit. "Yes!" Y/n cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size.

Lando began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body, his cock hitting all the right spots. He moved with purpose, his powerful body driving into hers, his breath hot on her neck. "You feel so good." He grunted, his voice strained. "So tight around me."

Y/n's hands gripped his ass, urging him deeper, her body craving every inch of him. She matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving as one. The room filled with the sounds of their passion—the wet slaps of skin, their labored breathing, and the bed creaking beneath them.

"Harder." She panted, her eyes wild with desire. "Fuck me harder, Lando." Lando obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock pounding into her relentlessly. Y/n's body trembled, her orgasm building again, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their union. "That's it, baby." Lando growled, his jaw clenched as he fought his own release. "Cum for me again." His words were like a trigger, sending Y/n over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her pussy clenching and releasing his throbbing cock. Lando let out a primal roar as her climax milked him, his own orgasm building to an unbearable peak.

With one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside her, his hot cum filling her depths. Their bodies shuddered in unison, the pleasure overwhelming, as they rode out their shared climax. As their breathing slowed, Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving. Y/n turned towards him, her fingers tracing the contours of his face, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"That was-" She began, searching for the right words. "Incredible," Lando finished, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "Just as I remembered it." Y/n's heart warmed at his words, knowing that despite the time apart, their connection remained as strong as ever. She snuggled closer, feeling his strong arms wrap around her, and they lay there, content in the aftermath of their passionate reunion.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@f1fantasys @willowsnook @aerie717 @lifeonawhim @henna006

[dipperscavern]

Hi Dippy, I have a question. Where do you think the Stark men would keep their hands when kissing, cuddling or sitting on their laps?

Love u 😙

HI BABE I HAVE THOUGHTS LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U

okay. for robb, i think he's suchhh a roamer. in the way that he can't keep his hands off you but also cannot for the life of him keep them rooted in one spot. he's very greedy about it, warm hands always moving, always roving over any skin they have access to. pulling you in by your waist, then caressing part of your back, dipping under your night slip etc. its like he's drinking you in with his fingertips, does that make sense?

cregan, however, is basically the polar opposite. he's not extreme about how still his hands usually are, its just natural for him, and it also reflects just who he is, yk? his hands, wherever they are, are staying put usually. they're cold and firm, but safe in the way it feels like nothing bad could happen because they've got you. because he's got you. they're almost like a pillar, actually. sometimes an assurance of his presence, sometimes a comfort, but in other times (such as these) they're more selfish in their purpose, which is to keep you close EEEE soryr got a little excited there

jon. my beautiful gorgeous (undead) angel jon. he'd be soooo unsure about touching you at first. he'd be almost hesitant, like touch is some kind of trial and error & he's trying out hand placement to see if you tell him he's doing it wrong [sob] shut up yes i am on my puter. MOVING ON! he eventually becomes confident with it & secretly wants to touch you alllll the damn time. but he's such a weirdo and will like restrict himself unless you downright look him in his face and say would you please touch me or something you are scaring me right now. later seasons jon has it down to a science though & it becomes natural to him

sorry omg this was more generally about their hand placement HAHA if u want specific thoughts on hand placement when cuddling kissing sitting on their lap etc let me the frick know !!!!

[axelsagewrites]

could you make a robb stark x baratheon reader where they grow up together as friends and were promised to each other, at the beginning reader thinks robb doesn't wanna marry her but then he tells her he loves her

if you could please add smut at the end (afab reader btw)

Robb Stark*Arranged

Pairing: arranged marriage!robb stark x princess!reader

Word count: 2272

Warnings: arranged marriage, anxiety, talks of running away, making out, (smut in part two but this is mostly wholesome), fluff

Masterlist here

A/N: sorry this (and everything else lol) has taken so long but part two with the smut will be up in the next couple of days :)

despite being a Baratheon by blood, by title, and by name most days you felt more like a Stark than anything else. Your father had sent you up to the North on your eleventh name day to become a ward of Ned Stark as part of an alliance of sort. Marrying his eldest daughter to a well-respected and established house only strengthened your fathers claim.

It had benefits for you, well at least he told you all his reasons in the letters. You’d be safe under lord starks protection, able to grow up alongside Sansa Stark who was only a year younger than you, become the future lady of Winterfell, and most importantly, to you at least, marry your childhood crush.

Yes, that’s right from the time you met him at four, him being five, you were smittened. Your father had travelled north on business but also happened to attend the wedding of one of the northern lords. He and ned laughed loudly, clinking their glasses together, as they watched you force Robb to walk down a pretend aisle with you that Jon helped you set up with chairs.

Of course, it was just a silly crush. It’s not like four-year-olds understand what a wedding is. By the time you moved to the north at eleven it was just a fond memory of your fathers he would tell at dinner parties.

In the nicest way possible when you first arrived Robb didn’t even care you were there. He was twelve and running about with wooden swords to practise with Jon and Theon while you and Sansa would practise hairstyles in each other’s hair.

However, by fifteen something dreadful happened. You fancied him.

Sure, in theory it sounded great but there were so many awkward moments. After all you were only fifteen. You couldn’t help that your face went beat red when he gave you a necklace for your birthday and when he told you that you looked ‘pretty’ one day you could barely muster out a thank you, you were so shocked.

You did your best to shove it down and pretend everything was normal over the years, but the crush never went away. You got better at hiding it. you had to as you’d grown closer over the years. Since Sansa had no interest in horse riding you were left to go with the trio, as you called them, instead. It soon became one of your favourite past times and you quickly grew close with the three boys. Especially Robb.

You figured it was a good idea especially as the talks of your marriage began cropping up more frequently. Your parents started pushing you to go on chaperoned excursions to markets and walks through the gods’ woods. They had no clue, or at least pretended, about the unchaperoned ones. Often you disappeared into the gods wood for some peace or the fields behind Winterfell to race. Robb began to bring food in his satchel so your excursions could turn into late lunches in the few sunny days of Winterfell.

“I definitely won,” he grinned as he dismounted his horse.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you jumped down, “you cheated,”

“How?”

“You went before I said go!”

“It’s three, two, one, go on one,”

“No, it’s not. Its three, two, one, go,”

“As in go already I said one,”

“As in you’re a cheat,” you huffed as you sat down against a thick oak tree.

Robb laughed at your antics as he sat down beside you, pulling his satchel out, “Truce?” he offered as he pulled out a parcel of sandwiches.

You pretended to think it over before nodding, “Truce,” For a few moments you sat in silence eating the sandwiches before you finally decided to tell him the news that had been weighing over you for the past week. “My mother sent me a raven,”

“Oh?” Robb paused, mid bite with concern written on his face. Your father sent you letters on a weekly basis but so far, your mother had only sent three since you left. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, well, I think so. I’m not sure,” you paused for a moment before just blurting it out, “She’s coming next week. With a seamstress,” Robb stared at you confused, “For the wedding,”

“Oh,” the word shattered your heart. While you had become friends over the year neither one of you ever spoke about the impending nuptials. Sure, you wanted to marry him, but you were terrified. Not of marriage. He was a good man. He would treat you right whether he wanted this marriage or not. But that’s when the fear came in. what if Robb could never love you? “Aren’t most girls excited about fancy dresses?” he tried to joke, lighten the mood like he always did. Its what he always did whenever the wedding was brought up. Play it off, make a joke, laugh. It was all an awkward joke to him.

“I suppose, Sansa will be,” you laughed. She really had become like a sister to you over the years, “I suppose though this means it will be arranged soon,” you tried to look at him, but Robb just stared down at his food. “Unless we escape somehow,” you joked, copying his defence mechanism.

He looked up a smiled a little, “Quick you grab the horses, I’ll pack the bag. We’ll ride at dawn,” he joked.

“Imagine. Take all the back roads till we get to Riverrun,”

“Bribe the Frays into letting us cross,”

“Then straight down to Dorne,”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, knocking his knee against yours. “Jon would never forgive me if I left him behind,”

“Him and Arya can come with. We’ll become sellswords,”

“Sounds like we’ve got it all planned out,”

-

When you returned to Winterfell Catelyn ran up to you both in a tizzy, “Where have you both been?” she whispers shouted, smiling at a passing lord before scouring, “A messenger from the king has arrived,”

You knew she meant well but your stomach dropped. you both followed her to the hall but soon the sorrowful look on your face was replaced by a grin, “Uncle Tyrion,” you rushed up to him immediately.

“Ah my favourite niece. Finally returned from some dingy pub I assume,” he joked though Cat couldn’t help but frown a little. They were both protective just in their own ways. “Don’t worry I’m not here to stay long. Just come down on your father’s behalf to organise the wedding. Speaking of, Lord Stark I do believe this is the first time we’ve met,” he extended a courteous nod to a very nervous looking Robb.

“Lord Tyrion,” he bowed.

“It goes without saying if you hurt my niece, I will have to have my men kill you,” he said, head tilting to the side making Robb gulp, “But other than that it’s lovely to meet you,” he grinned widely like a jester.

“Don’t tease him uncle,” you shook your head, but Tyrion just laughed, “I’d say you’ll get used to him, but no one has so far,”

“You’re so kind niece, truly,” he laughed, “Now onto business The king has organised his travels and shall be in Winterfell by the first of next month so we shall have to act swiftly,”

Panic set on all three of your faces. Though Robb and yours was far different than Catelyn’s. “My lord that’s awfully soon. We may not have the provisions to afford so many guests so soon- “

“No fear my lady. I was also sent with my father’s gold. No Lannister shall have anything less than a golden affair,” you could see the relief melt from Catelyn but yours was just setting in.

-

For the next three weeks every discussion you had was about the wedding. cakes, flowers, food, music, dresses, veils, and most daunting of all; organising the preparation for Robb’s and yours new chamber. Tyrion even sent a seamstress to your room to organise an outfit for your wedding night. It was all quickly becoming too much.

You’d barely even seen Robb since the planning began. There was no time to calm down and no one to remind you to breathe. That was his job. Whenever you got nervous, he would gently grab your wrist under the table, running his thumb over the back of your hand. But he was nowhere to be found.

You eventually managed to find Jon who told you Robb was under the same stresses. His mother had him arranging with traders and mingling with the growing number of lords appearing at Winterfell’s gates. “Suppose this is the stresses of being a lady,” Jon joked.

It was only then it hit you. Soon this whole castle would be yours to run. How would you ever have time to breathe let alone enjoy your husband’s company if he would even have you.

Despite missing your family, the night before their arrivals, you cried quietly in your chamber. Their arrival tomorrow only marked the three remaining days you had left as a maid. Perched on an open windows ledge, the cold air stung your cheek but at least as you watched the birds fly you could feel a little of their freedom.

Then there was a quiet but rapid knocking. The faint sound brought your attention to the door which was shut less than a second after it was opened. “Hey sorry I’ve not come sooner- “Robb’s voice entered the room, for some reason making your tears sting more. Robb shivered from the cold, “Why’s the window open? You’ll freeze princess,”

Robb rushed to your side, leaning past you to shut the glass to preserve what little heat he could. His confusion fell from his face when he saw your tears, “What’s the matter?” his voice was soft and tender as he sat across from you to hold your hands, his thumbs stroking over the back on them.

“I don’t know,” you lied in a whisper.

Robb knew. He always knew when you lied. He just nodded gently though. “I’ll start a fire,” he was on his feet again.

“I can fetch someone if you wish- “

“But I’m already here,” he teased as he knelt by the fireplace.

As he got to work in silence you padded across the floor. The stone floor felt like ice against your bare feet making you quicken your pace till you could sit on the small sofa in front of the fire Robb had started. “Easy, see,” he said, joining you on the couch, “We’ll get a heat in you,”

“Thanks,” you sniffled.

You sat in an easy silence though when you left out another sigh Robb was compelled to place an arm around your shoulder. You leant into his touch, your head rested on his shoulder and his on yours. A few moments passed before he spoke, “Jon said you were asking for me,”

You weren’t sure why you tensed, “I just worry sometimes,”

“I know,”

You couldn’t stand the next silence that followed so made a joke, “Thought you’d ran away,”

“Without you?” he said, pulling back to grin back at you, “Nah we have a deal princess. Say the word and I’ll get the horses,”

His smile made your stomach drop. It all felt like one big tease, “I thought,” you began to stutter, “You may have been running from me,”

Robb’s face fell, “Why would I do that?”

You sighed, turning to face the flames again as the tears threatened to spill, “It’s not like you chose this marriage. You weren’t exactly ever given the option. I wouldn’t blame you if you objected to it,” you muttered.

When he pulled away you could’ve sobbed but it was quickly replaced by confusion when he knelt in front of you, “Why would I object? all I desire is to be a good and faithful husband to you and may gods help me I will be. I wouldn’t desire another option if I was given a thousand,”

“Why?” you could feel venom briming in your voice, “Because my dowery? Because the king commanded it?”

The hurt on his face felt like a stab to the gut but his words only twisted the knife, “Because I love you,” he took your hands in his, “and I understand that you don’t feel that way for me and may never, but nothing will stop the way I- “

You didn’t even realise you’d moved till you pulled back from the kiss. Without thinking your lips had found his and now you stared into his eyes. It only lasted a second before Robb lusted forward, reconnecting the kiss into a messy, desperate thing.

As you felt him raise, you followed, standing to kiss him as his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands rested on his shoulders, now fully able to appreciate his strength.

You wanted more but he pulled away, your lips chased his making Robb breathe out a laugh. “You’re something else,” he muttered, a grin on his face, “I can’t imagine not wanting to be with you,”

This time your arms tightened, burying your head into his neck as you hugged him close. Robb followed suit, his muscular arms keeping your warmer than the fire, “I feel the same way,” you eventually managed to stutter out, “But I- “

“You don’t have to say it,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head, “I understand,”

“How did I get so lucky?” you pulled back to smile up at him.

He just smiled back, “I ask myself that each night,”

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@kimm4710

[auroreliis]

Honestly if I was batsis I'd pretend to have a crush on the batboys close friends(excluding Damian because he and Jon are still babies) just to annoy them. Jason bring Roy over? Suddenly I'm very interested in his tattoo's and I want to know all about archery. I catch kon in the kitchen in Tim? Suddenly i'm very into the conversation they're having and am making eye contact a lot with Kon. I feel liked they'd do something like this; Batsis: You know I really like your tattoos. Roy: Oh thanks. Jason: ... You gotta go, like, now. Roy: What-

Brilliant, anon!! What a great idea!! This was very fun to write :)

(don't mind the spelling mistakes please lol. i am tired out of my mind)

For starters, when Bruce first introduced the members of the Justice League to you (it took a lot of convincing), you just couldn’t help but flirt with them.

I mean, just LOOK at Aquaman. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you felt a spark. He hadn’t noticed you staring, but surely he had felt it too. Bruce, however, had noticed you staring. He didn’t seem particularly amused, almost as though he saw you daydreaming about your wedding with Aquaman. Just when you were making your way over to them, Bruce scowled and swiftly led Aquaman away. After that, you never saw him ever again…

Or that one time when Green Lantern came over. Wow. What a man. You didn’t waste a second walking up to him and introducing yourself. The giggles you were suppressing nearly slipped out after you saw Bruce’s eye twitch. Green Lantern entertained your advances, though you knew he wasn’t interested in you. Whenever Bruce started with his, “Hal. We should leave”, you would always interrupt him with more questions directed at Hal.

“So…do you like pasta? I’m actually really good at making it. You should come over, you know? I could treat you!” You all but winked at him.

Hal found it very interesting, don’t get him wrong, he thought you were very funny, but when Bruce is standing right there beside him, he felt…intimidated. So intimidated, in fact, that he can barely reply to your questions.

“Oh…um…” he nervously glanced at Bruce. “Green. You know what, kid? Your father and I have some business to attend to…so…see you next time. Good luck with the um…yeah, never mind.”

Hal sped off, leaving you and Bruce alone. You had been in the mood to laugh until your father turned to you with a serious expression. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to laugh anymore. To put it simply, it was a clear warning: Don’t do it again, his look communicated.

Now, Constantine, he was fun to hang around with, likely because he isn’t as scared of Batman as the rest is. And also, he’s hot. “You are so cool, honestly. It’s really impressive how often you’ve escaped death”, you leaned against the wall. To be honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying, all you needed to hear was his strong English accent and little sprinkles of humor.

After some bribery, you had gotten Tim to tell you that Bruce was most concerned about you meeting Constantine. For some reason, you figured…

“So…I like older men, what about you?”, you batted your eyelashes at him. You didn’t have Bruce in your periphery, as you were focusing on John, but you could imagine him shaking in fury.

“Yeah, I like older men too”, he replied nonchalantly. Dammit, he got you. Well, he was a funny guy.

Bruce seemingly relaxed at that, but that’s not to say that he was satisfied with the interaction taking place. “You’re funny, are you single-”, you could barely finish your sentence before Dick dragged you away to spend time with you. Though, you believe that Bruce asked Dick to get you away just so you couldn’t talk to Constantine like that.

Bruce had way too many attractive friends. Well, almost all his friends were attractive: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash…hell, even Martian Manhunter. I mean, he can read minds! Just imagine the potential…

“So, I heard you can read minds. Read mine right now”, your grin was…suspicious. Bruce couldn’t read minds like J’onn could, but he could imagine what you were thinking about. No, actually, he didn’t want to imagine it.

“J’onn.”, Bruce, ever so stern, called out and gestured towards the door. The J’onn in question had merely walked off in that direction silently, as though having understood Bruce’s point from one word. Martian Manhunter hadn’t read your mind that day, to your dismay. However, you had managed to make Bruce uncomfortable, so that was considered a win.

Dick himself had very attractive friends. Wally West, quite the flirt, was among them. Though, oddly enough, you had imagined him to be more flirty. It couldn’t be that Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and told him to watch it, right?

“So, you’re fast, huh?”, you looked Wally up and down. “I happen to be”, Wally glanced at Dick.

“Okaayyyyy, Wally, you should leave”, Dick spoke with a strained smile.

“Yeah. Oh, by the way, what about the-”

“Now.”

Wally looked around awkwardly, “…right.”

And Raven—what a woman. Plus, Cyborg and Starfire filled your thoughts. Though Wally was the first and last friend of Dick’s you ever saw. A pity. He seemed to have learnt his lesson…

Now Roy Harper, Jason’s friend, was quite something. Tattoos? Archery? Hell yeah.

“Wow, so you like engineering books? Well, the manor has a huge variety. You should come by more often”, you smiled innocently.

“Um, actually, he will NOT be coming over ever again”, Jason frowned at your words.

“Why not?”, both you and Roy turned to Jason.

“BECAUSE I said so”, you and Roy made eye contact awkwardly.

“You”, Jason points at Roy, “Get out.”

“What? But you said you needed my he-”

“NOWWWW. Do NOT make me repeat myself.”

Yeah, Roy leaving was more awkward than anything else that had happened so far.

Jason didn’t have that many friends, as far as you knew at least. In other words: You would never see Roy ever again…

Now Tim, being charming himself, had many attractive friends.

For starters: Conner Kent.

You hadn’t had much contact with the Kents, however Conner had come over a few times. And wow. Despite being overly confident (and often obnoxious), he was very, very attractive. However, you have never talked to him. The reason? Tim makes sure he keeps you at arm’s length. In fact, you’re not sure you could ever find a way to interract with Tim’s friends…unless…

“Hey, Tim!”, Jason called out, “Bruce says you need to go to the cave right now.”

“What? But I have guests over…”, Tim eyes Jason suspiciously.

“I mean, if you wanna get in trouble with him, be my guest”, Jay raised his hands defensively.

“I-…fine. Conner, just a second, I will be right back. DO NOT move”, Tim sighs.

After Tim left, you shot Jason a thumbs-up and went to mingle with Superboy.

“Good evening. You must be Conner. I’ve heard a lot about you from Tim”, you say, taking it slow.

“Good evening! Hopefully you only heard good things!”, he grins.

“Oh, plenty of good things. Say, if you really can fly, then why don’t you take me for a ride? I haven’t ever seen the sky from…well, up in the sky”, you copied his grin.

“Ah, well, I would, really, but I’m not sure how Tim would feel, you know? I mean, he’s a bit of a-”, Conner started.

“A bit of a what.”, a new voice shocked the both of you.

Tim. Where the hell did he come from?

“I though I told you to leave if they started talking to you?”, Tim ignored you, only focusing on scolding Conner.

“Well, that would’ve been incredibly rude…”, Conner struggled to defend himself.

“You.”, Tim turns to you.

“Me?”, you said, though you weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Yes, you. What’s the big idea? Why did you pull that just to talk to Conner? I don’t know what you have planned, but forget it immediately. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Bruce to reinstate the therapy sessions. Then you can explain to him why you enjoy sabotaging others so much.”

That was, quite frankly, terrifying. You hadn’t been this scared of Tim in a while.

Well, safe to say you won’t be doing this again…

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[syndrossi]

Rhaella AU (Part One)

At long last, here is the finished part one of the Rhaella AU, aka what if Rhaella had marched to Summerhall in search of her son and followed that same call through a doorway!

x~x~x

The king before her reminded Rhaella of her father in his final days: frail and tired, his hand sheathed in a black glove that rested atop a golden cane for balance. His smile was kind, as her father’s had been, yet that kindness had not spared her a marriage to her brother.

Though she knew that King Viserys was not yet forty, he looked a decade older, but he straightened as they approached, assuming a kingly air.

“Your Grace, may I present my daughter, Lady Rhaella.”

Whereas her new father was nothing alike the one she knew before. Dyano Durolis was an oiled and perfumed magister of Pentos, his family among the forty from which the Prince of Pentos was chosen. His light blond hair hung loose in his customary curls, his mustache twirled to a point, though his beard was kept short. He was a loud, boisterous man, with ambitions greater than his wit could carry, which was why he had brought her across the Narrow Sea.

Rhaella did not care a whit about either his wit or ambition. What mattered was that he had brought her to King’s Landing, to her son.

“Lady Rhaella,” the king said warmly as she straightened from her curtsy, extending his other hand toward her to beckon her close for a kiss of greeting to the cheek. “It is a pleasure to meet you, cousin.”

“And you, Your Grace,” she said before switching to High Valyrian. “I have always longed to see the splendors of my mother’s homeland. Your invitation was most welcome.” 

The king’s smile brightened and he responded in kind. “Your Valyrian is lovely—if you are not careful, I may steal you from your father as a tutor for my sons.”

Her father forced a laugh. “But of course it is not only my daughter’s High Valyrian that brings us to your court. Will we be meeting Prince Daemon as well?”

“My brother is not unlike the wild dragons of Dragonstone,” the king said wryly. “Particularly where marriage is involved. He is prone to flight whenever I inform him that I have found a new potential match. I can promise no more than an introduction, and accommodation in one of the guest chambers within the Red Keep.”

“Your Grace is too kind,” her father said, though his smile was strained.

Rhaella did not know precisely what he hoped to achieve with a match. Coin, perhaps, or favors back home. If the magisters believed her loyal enough to the city where she had been raised, then perhaps they hoped to claim the protection of House Targaryen and its dragons.

Dragons.

It did not yet seem real to Rhaella that she lived in a time of dragons. Daemon Targaryne’s mount Caraxes was well known, as were their exploits in the Stepstones. Her son had one, she knew, as did her son’s twin brother, the one named Jon.

Which of my babies would you have been? My little Daeron?

He was not truly her son, of course, however much she might like to think so. Prince Jon was dark of hair, like the woman who had birthed him here. How different would Rhaegar be? Would she still recognize him? Will he recognize me?

Not on account of her appearance, which was much the same as before—albeit free of bruises and the scars of troubled childbirth—but would he remember as she did?

Rhaella barely listened to the amiable chatter between her father and the king, thoughts turning to the boys’ father, who was said to be quick-tempered. Will he be anything like Aerys? The prospect did not excite her, but if she failed to secure the match, then she would likely be sent back to Pentos.

A Targaryen bastard daughter is only as useful as her marriage prospects. 

No, she had to persuade the king’s reluctant brother that she could be a mother to his children. Otherwise, there had been inquiries from several families in Volantis, where her mother had lived and eventually died. It would be impossibly far away.

“If it please Your Grace,” Rhaella said once the conversation had come to a natural pause, “I should like to acquaint myself with the castle grounds.”

She ignored the stab of apprehension that whispered bold, too bold. If she had spoken thus to Aerys, she would have paid for it later. But the king merely gave a nod. “Of course, Lady Rhaella. Doubtless you are eager to stretch your legs after so long at sea.”

Rhaella curtsied once more, then left her father to his schemes. True confinement had not been the close quarters of their ship, but rather Maegor’s Holdfast looming over the yard, her prison for so many years, her few companions dwindling as Aerys’s paranoia saw her handmaids accused of treason one by one and tortured or dismissed. Remembering an entirely different life in Pentos had been a wonder, and the waters of the Narrow Sea, though treacherous in autumn, a welcome reprieve. Every breath she had taken on the voyage here had been full of possibility.

That sense of possibility narrowed slightly as she passed through the familiar layout of the Red Keep. Despite the eyes on her, she felt almost like a ghost haunting a world that was not hers. There were conflicting memories in her mind: two childhoods, one where she had explored every last inch of the keep, and another where she had traveled throughout Essos, often on one of her father’s ships.

Rhaella turned her gaze from the holdfast, reminding herself of her objective. She had been told that the king’s nephews often had lessons at this hour, but today was one of their free days, so it was the dragon enclosure she sought, knowing that her son would likely seek his dragon’s company often.

To her surprise, it was little more than a simple fence barring off the area from the rest of the yard, though she supposed a dragon was more than capable of defending itself. In the distance, visible atop Rhaenys’s Hill, was the true enclosure: the towering dome of the Dragonpit, wholly intact rather than the ruins she had known.

No one stopped her from approaching the fence, and she wondered idly if she had her coloring to thank for that. Within the enclosure, she could see men standing guard in gleaming black armor that she recognized through faded pictures in books as Dragonkeepers.

But it was the great red wyrm at its center, curled up in slumber, that captured her gaze. Caraxes. It took a moment for her to spot the young hatchlings, who had settled on the dragon’s enormous back to bask in the afternoon sun.

The hatchlings stirred first, the dark blue one—Qelebrys, she recalled—lifting her head to blink silvery eyes at Rhaella. Her wings began to flap, and she glided over to land on the fence, where she perched in study. The little dragon’s nostrils flared repeatedly as though trying to place her scent.

Rhaella stood motionless at first, uncertain if she should dare make a move toward the hatchling, but from the moment she locked eyes with her, she was unable to help herself. She extended her arm, then drew it back, startled, when Qelebrys’s wings flapped in response. She barely had time to brace herself in time for the little dragon to land on her left shoulder. A snuffling sound followed, and she could feel her hair stir as the hatchling’s snout prodded at it.

I am not afraid, she realized.

So many years of her life had been spent in fear and grief, her nerves endlessly braced for whenever Aerys might call upon her. She had memorized the sound of his footsteps, so that she did not have to suffer the same fear when it was her son being escorted to her door by Kingsguard instead.

He will never see a dragon as I have. If there was one thing they shared amongst themselves—herself, her husband, and her son—it was a fascination with their family’s dragons of old. Aerys has hungered for their power. Rhaegar had dreamed of their magic. Rhaella had longed for their freedom.

The shifting of her hair calmed, and she could feel the gentle pressure of the hatchling’s chin resting atop it now. With one baby dragon atop her and another watching her with curious eyes, it was hard to imagine that they might ever disappear from the world.

Where there are children, there is promise. Unlike the poison of her womb, which had seemed intent upon devouring the last of her family’s line, save for her firstborn, whose first wailing breath had come as fire claimed generations of kin.

The other hatchling had ventured over to the fence now. He seemed less certain than his clutchmate, and a soft call escaped him, seemingly directed at the other hatchling. It was Caraxes who stirred, however, his eyes slitting open to look upon the three of them. Rhaella stared at him, the flutter in her heart one of wonder rather than fear, and after a moment, the dragon’s eyes drifted shut once more.

He trusts me.

That did not stop a Dragonkeeper from approaching after a minute. “My lady.”

There was a hint of a question in his voice, and it took her a moment to realize what it was. They do not know me. It was an oddly freeing thought. “Lady Rhaella of House Durolis,” she replied. “I am cousin to the king.”

The Dragonkeeper looked between the hatchlings, and she could tell that he was uncertain what to make of the situation.

“I am not disturbing them, am I?” she asked.

“I do not know,” the Dragonkeeper admitted, surprising her. “They are strange, these hatchlings. Those raised in the Dragonpit seldom allow any near who they are not bonded with, save for Dragonkeepers.”

“They are not from the Dragonpit?” She dared to stroke a finger along the tail of the hatchling perched upon her shoulder. “Are they of Dragonstone, then?”

Prince Daemon had infamously stolen a dragon egg and taken it there years before, but according to the histories, Queen Rhaenyra’s dragon Syrax had left egg clutches there too. Had he taken two dragon eggs from there for her sons?

Not my sons, she reminded herself with a pang. His.

“I cannot say, my lady,” the Dragonkeeper replied. “They arrived here already bonded.”

That she had already known. Prince Daemon’s twin sons were quite the popular topic throughout the Free Cities. Rumors abounded about their sudden appearance, and her father had entertained one Lysene singer who had gleefully sung a ballad lurid enough to turn her stomach.

Someone had tried to kidnap the young princes, that much the rumors agreed upon. A bounty of ten thousand dragons had been placed upon the head of the man said to have taken them from where the late Lady Royce had hidden them. And Prince Daemon had supposedly abandoned the field mid-battle once word had reached him in the Stepstones, in order to fly to their rescue.

The Iron Throne had placed the blame upon Volantis, albeit informally. Many in Pentos thought it more likely to have been a Triarchy plot in order to bring a swift end to the war. Whoever was to blame, there was no telling if they would try again, and the thought of it made her clasp the fence.

In the early days of Aerys’s reign, he had been gripped by the notion that someone might strike at him by trying to kill his only heir. Rhaegar had not been allowed anywhere outside the holdfast without a Kingsguard present. Over time, Aerys’s suspicions had turned elsewhere—to plots against her babes, born and unborn—but the order had remained.

The Kingsguard serve the king alone.

That was the lesson she had learned early on. For all their oaths, they would stand aside when he raised his hand to her, or whoever else had earned his ire. Indeed, they were an extension of Aerys himself—his eyes and ears, to report back all that they saw. Aerys’s specter had loomed over every waking moment, regardless of his presence.

Rhaegar was the only other person in the Red Keep who knew as she did what it was to be utterly alone while denied even the balm of true solitude. He had found the occasional escape, at least, in the secret tunnels within the Red Keep.

For Rhaella, there had been nothing. Her duty was to be available to the king at all times.

“My lady?”

The hatchling on her shoulder was hissing quietly, Rhaella noticed at last, stirring her hair once more. “Your pardon, ser,” she said, stroking the hatchling’s bumpy spine until she calmed. “I lost myself in thought.”

He had not yet asked her to leave, and she wondered if he would. Were there rules about who could visit the enclosure? If not, certainly there must be regarding who was permitted to handle young hatchlings. King’s cousin or not, she was of Pentos.

Nor was the Dragonkeeper the only person to have taken notice of her presence. A pair of young ladies with flax-blond hair were whispering amongst themselves some forty feet distant, heads turned in her direction, an abrupt reminder that Rhaella was not alone in seeking to win a match with Prince Daemon.

I wonder how many have been bold enough to approach the enclosure.

A flicker of movement beyond them drew her gaze, and she felt Qelebrys stir, head lifting to peer along with her. There was another pair approaching, but much smaller, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Two children, one dark-haired and one light as her own. They gave a wide berth to the gossiping duo, but their steps slowed as they caught sight of her.

Her eyes were fixed on the boy she knew to be her son, even at a distance, and he stared back, eyes wide. His lips moved, the word upon them plain. Muña.

Her vision blurred with tears, equal parts joy and relief. We are free. We are both free of him.

And he remembered her.

His brother, Jon, was looking between them with a small frown. He tugged at his brother’s sleeve, and that seemed to break the paralysis that had taken hold of her son. Rhaegar bounded toward her, arms swinging wildly, and she opened her own to catch him as he barrelled into her, sobbing her name into her chest as she crushed him to her, kissing his hair over and over.

All the uncertainty and doubt that she had clung to, guarding her heart against whatever fate might have in store for her, vanished completely. She rocked him from side to side, utterly content.

Jon followed more slowly, his gaze meeting hers, and he halted a few feet away, as though wary about drawing too near. He looks like my son, she thought with a soft wonder as she took in his features. A small ache followed as she thought once more of her babes who had died in the cradle.

Rhaegar pulled back at last, his hatchling having climbed over onto his shoulder at some point during their embrace. “I do not understand,” he said, voice trembling as he stared up at her. There was a fear in his eyes, as though he thought she might vanish.

“I am Lady Rhaella,” she said softly. “Cousin to your father. My mother was his aunt, Lady Saera.”

“But you are here,” Rhaegar said, his tone rising in question.

“I am here,” she said. “Though I do not know how.”

Jon had not yet spoken, and she tilted her head at her son, who gave a faint nod. He too was someone before.

“Jon,” she said. “I am pleased to meet you.” She hesitated. “You look just like your brother.”

Just as she had, he seemed to read her question. His gaze flicked away, shoulders tightening. “I am pleased to meet you, Lady Rhaella.” He glanced at the Dragonkeeper. “You may go, our hatchlings are safe with us.”

To her surprise, the Dragonkeeper gave a nod and obeyed, retreating to a small lean-to built into the southeast wall to watch from a distance.

“Rhaegar has spoken of you,” Jon said, keeping his own distance.

“I thought that you were lost,” her son said, tears spilling down his cheeks almost faster than she could wipe them away. “I thought that I had left you alone with him.”

His guilt and misery was plain, too familiar from nightmares past, and she hugged him to her again. “It is you who were lost,” she said, shying away from the horror of that memory. “I went to Summerhall to find you.”

There had been one Kingsguard willing to forsake Aerys—a boy, only a few years older than her own, who had shown more courage than knights thrice his age. Had they been caught, a ghastly fate would have awaited him, whereas she likely would have been spared, her actions excused as those of a grieving, desperate mother.

I hope that Ser Arthur found an escape of his own.

“There was a doorway,” she said. “I could—” Feel you, calling for me. She swallowed. “I swore that I would not let anything take my child from me.”

And so she had ventured through, and gained a life both new and familiar.

Jon was still watching her, but the mistrust had faded from his expression. Instead, there was a vulnerability to it, as though he were seeing someone else in her, and her heart ached for him. Does he wonder where his mother is, and why she has not come for him?

“Jon,” she said, and he seemed to startle. “May I greet you as well?”

His gaze shifted to Rhaegar, but he nodded after a moment. Sensing his hesitation, she drew him in with one arm so that he had his brother beside him, and held them both. She did not kiss his hair, as she had Rhaegar’s, but she rested her chin atop it a moment.

It was then that she glimpsed another figure approaching on a swift stride, tall and silver-haired. The fear was instinctive, but the protective fury that followed was a fire she had not felt in too long. She tightened her arms around her boys, mouth firming, only for thought to finally catch up with instinct.

It is not Aerys. It is their father. His pace had slowed, as though in confusion, and she let up her embrace reluctantly. He will think me forward, to hold his children thus.

As he neared, the differences between Daemon Targaryen and her husband became more apparent. She had not once seen concern cross Aerys’s face, but it was plain in Prince Daemon’s eyes as he looked between her and his sons. He was nearly of an age with Aerys, but he wore the years better, lacking the harsh lines that had already begun to carve themselves into her husband’s mouth and brow.

She could see the blood both she and Aerys shared with him, but she could also see her son in his face, and his eyes were not Aerys’s lilac, but a violet nearer to her own.

“My lady,” he said, his frown of suspicion so like young Jon’s that she did not even think of Aerys’s fits of paranoia. “We have not met before.”

“My prince,” she said, dropping into a curtsy. “I am Lady Rhaella Durolis, daughter of Lady Saera.”

“She is visiting from Pentos,” Rhaegar said, barely more than an inch from her side. He coaxed Qelebrys back onto her shoulder. “See how the hatchlings recognize her as kin?”

“So they do,” Prince Daemon said mildly, though the suspicion remained in his eyes.

Pentos is not Volantis, nor Triarchy, but other Free Cities have tried to steal his children away. She could not fault his caution, but it was an obstacle she had not anticipated. And my mother lived in Volantis for nearly two decades after she left me in Pentos.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I have not seen a dragon, and my curiosity proved too great. The king gave me leave to wander the grounds, but doubtless he did not expect me to go directly here.”

“Indeed not,” the prince agreed.

Rhaegar, clearly picking up on Prince Daemon’s reservations as well, seized her hand. “You must sup with us tonight, Lady Rhaella.”

It was a shameless maneuver, one that her son would not have dared take with Aerys, and her heart softened slightly toward the man who was their father now. Rather than irritated, Prince Daemon seemed more startled than anything at the impromptu invitation. Oddly, it was Jon who he looked to, as though for guidance.

“Our tutors have been teaching us about Pentos,” Jon said. “Lady Rhaella must have many stories of its splendor, having grown up there.”

His eyes sought her then, in sudden worry, and she nodded at him with a smile. Perhaps he wondered if she did indeed remember her childhood.

“I could hardly rescind my sons’ invitation,” Prince Daemon said, in a tone that suggested he would prefer to, given the choice. “You are welcome at our table tonight, Lady Rhaella. I look forward to hearing of your business in King’s Landing.”

By the twist of his lips, he had guessed precisely what such business was.

“You are very kind, my prince,” she said. “I gladly accept.”