#on connor's couch...

[notthequiettype]

may 4, 2025

[prorneth-eus]

Connor McDavid's Connor Smythe & Gwyneth Philips' Ilana Kloss awards | Tamsyn Muir - Harrow the Ninth

[ID: "BUT WHEN I AM IN HEAVEN I WILL REMEMBER YOUR MOUTH, AND WHEN YOU ROAST DOWN IN HELL I THINK YOU WILL REMEMBER MINE" end ID]

[crazyhickofftheirrocker]

Don't think I've ever seen a more sunshine-and-rainbows version of Lisa Swain in the entire time she's been with Carla (or on CS in general) than the woman skipping around the flat today.

Refuses to go off work when she's seriously injured but she is going absolutely no more than two feet away from her seriously ill girlfriend if she can help it

[xcherryerim]

Oh to come home after a long day of work and you get to this

[kin-n-n]

I finally finished my first ever fanbinding. It was a great learning experience and I had so much fun!

Since I first started reading your brilliantly written fics, I admired your storytelling and the tangible chemistry and conflict between characters you manage to convey so realistically. You are the writer that got me into DC despite me never having set a foot in it, and I found so much joy and fun here!

Thank you so much for writing and sharing your stories!

More Precious Than Emeralds by @pluckyredhead

[m3tth4ws]

[itspileofgoodthings]

like. it’s not the lyrics it’s not the jabs it’s not the beats it’s not the whispered voice. It’s the world created.

[whatissideways]

I cannot, in good conscience, provide photographic evidence, however... please let it be known that my regular postal deliverer looks stonkingly like C Bedard, complete with the expression of "Why am I, as a 12 year old, experiencing this?" It is the same face I see whenever we have mail and my dog barks...

Can't find the Crosby/Armstrong/couch clip when I need it...

[thiriumstains]

i’m thinking abt connor getting a lil undercut design thingy to reclaim his body. he was made to kill, hunt, analyze. imo deviant connor struggles with getting past that part of himself a Lot

[tehcann]

he’s got that previously neglected shelter dog rizz. he looks like he wants to quietly sit next to you on the couch while you watch TV

[imheretoreadafic]

Bruce, half asleep and walking through a living room where heads of black hair peak over the couch. He goes and kisses each mess of hair.

Connor, who also gets his head, kissed: "Oh!"

Tim and Dick laugh so hard they cry, Bruce walks away obliviously to go take a nap.

[connormoving]

i lost my nail clippers . i just got them back.. tragic...

[therevenantrp2]

julian: it's not his favourite genre but he'll watch them, though gets bored if they don't have a good plot, and if they have a twist, he's one of those annoying people who will point it out in the first five minutes, and will also lament characters' poor medical choices and innacurate gore... maybe don't watch horror movies with julian. the jumpscares get him, though. every time. even when he's expecting it.

connor: loves horror, especially the terrible ones. he will mostly chuckle his way through them and is happy to let people hide behind his arm for the scary bits. he's not easily scared by them, but the ones that creep him out the most tend to be ghosts and demons, even though he knows they're stupid. there's some kind of residual catholic fear. he won't be scared at the time, but after, when it's dark and quiet. me: i love them! all kinds. if i'm asked to stick on a movie whilst with friends, it probably is my go-to. the conjuring and hereditary i think are my favourites, but i also like comedy horrors like black sheep, the cottage, and housebound. the jumpscares always make me jump. loud noises make me jump. i will jump even when i wasn't supposed to jump. watching a horror movie in the cinema is always SO much better than watching it on tv, but, alas, i am poor.

Does your character like horror movies?

Do you, the player, like horror movies?

[formulaonecrumbs]

till death do us part 🥀

Lando Norris x deceased!reader (is that a thing idk)

summary: lando grieving the death of the love of his life

warnings: pure angst, death, grief, cause of death never mentioned, depressed lando

A/N: i don’t even know why i wrote this. it’s old, and i had one of those anxiety spirals where i kept picturing ppl i love passing away and i just bawled and bawled until i wrote this (then bawled some more) BUT I HOPE U CRY TOO :p enjoy (or don’t), u beauts ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

lando doesn’t remember the last thing you said to him.

not really.

he’s replayed your voice so many times in his head since you left that the truth’s gotten all tangled up with the imaginary — the should-have-said, the could-have-been. maybe it was something small, something boring, like “don’t forget to take the bins out.” maybe you told him you loved him. maybe you didn’t say anything at all. it’s all static now. a fuzz of memories he can’t quite grip.

he wishes he could go back. rewind. hear your voice. just once. even if it was yelling. even if it was just you asking if he wanted tea. anything.

he wakes up most mornings forgetting you’re gone.

there’s still two mugs on the drying rack. your toothbrush is still in the cup. your side of the bed still sinks like you’ve just rolled off it.

lando doesn’t touch any of it.

he doesn’t let anyone else touch it either.

his friends try. connor, max, oscar — they come over sometimes. bring food he won’t eat. offer company he won’t ask for. they speak too gently. their eyes flinch when they say your name. they never stay long.

he likes it better that way. the silence.

the quiet feels closer to you than they ever could.

still, it hurts.

god, it hurts.

everything he does reminds him of you. you, who used to hum in the kitchen while making breakfast. you, who wore his oversized hoodies and laughed when they fell past your knees. you, who called him “pretty boy” with a grin and kissed the mole right next to his nose.

lando stares at your hoodie now, folded neatly on the back of the couch. he hasn’t worn it. he can’t.

he’s tried. once. sat on the floor and held it to his face, breathing you in until he choked on it.

you’re everywhere. and nowhere.

he can’t go back to the track. not yet.

his helmet still has the tiny heart sticker you put on it after that race in monza. “for luck,” you’d said. he wore it every session after that. now it sits untouched on a shelf. dusty. forgotten. like him.

sometimes he talks to you.

soft, one-sided conversations in the dark.

“i don’t know what i’m doing,” he whispers into the void. “i don’t know who i am without you.”

he looks at your photo on the bedside table. it doesn’t answer.

lando doesn’t cry much. not anymore.

he did, for a while. for days. weeks. he cried until he couldn’t breathe, until his chest felt like it would cave in. now he just… aches. it’s quieter. but heavier.

your number is still saved in his phone. your messages, your voice notes, your blurry selfies — all still there. sometimes he opens them just to see the typing bubble. to pretend, for a second, that you’re still here. still coming home.

but you never do.

he scrolls through old videos. your laugh echoing in the background. your face popping into frame just to kiss his cheek.

lando presses play over and over. and over.

he doesn’t eat much. barely sleeps. the world outside his flat has kept moving but he’s still stuck in the moment he lost you.

he doesn’t remember the last thing you said to him.

but he remembers the way your hand fit in his.

he remembers the warmth of your forehead against his.

he remembers how you smelled like citrus and something floral and the shampoo you both shared.

and he remembers how the world shattered the second they told him you were gone.

there was no final kiss. no goodbye.

just silence.

and now —

lando sits alone in the flat you made a home, surrounded by the ghosts of everything he didn’t say.

he closes his eyes and pretends you’re just in the other room.

but you never walk out.

you never will.

and that, more than anything, is what finally breaks him.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s been six months.

half a year.

lando knows because the calendar on the fridge still has your handwriting on the last day he ever saw you. a little smiley face next to the words movie night, finally. he’s never turned the page.

he still lives like you might come back.

your jacket’s still hanging by the door. your favorite cereal is still in the cupboard, untouched, but he buys it every week anyway. sometimes he opens the box and just stands there, staring at it. hoping he’ll wake up and hear your footsteps coming down the hall.

but the hallway’s always empty.

and he’s always alone.

lando went back to the track two months ago. he hated every second of it.

the first race without you was unbearable. your seat in the paddock was empty. his garage was too quiet. no smile waiting after quali. no arms around his neck after a podium.

he finished P5. they said it was a good result. strong comeback.

he didn’t care.

nothing matters now. not really. he drives because he has to. because people expect him to. but he doesn’t feel anything when the lights go out. not like he used to.

there’s no more joy in it.

just noise.

distraction.

people keep telling him you’d want him to be happy. to move forward.

what they don’t understand is — lando doesn’t want to move on.

he doesn’t want a new beginning. he wants you.

they say grief is a wave.

for lando, it’s a flood that never recedes. it drowns him quietly, every morning when he opens his eyes and realizes you’re still not beside him.

your absence lives in everything.

the playlists you made still play when he drives. his spotify wrapped was just you. your music. your voice in the background of voice memos.

you’re gone. but you’re everywhere.

and it’s unbearable.

lando avoids people now. his smile’s thinner. fake.

fans ask him to do your accent like he used to. he just laughs and changes the subject.

he hasn’t posted anything personal in months.

his camera roll is full of photos he can’t look at. videos he can’t bring himself to delete. you in the sun, you laughing, you in his hoodie.

you in every frame of his heart.

sometimes he dreams of you.

you’re always just out of reach.

always smiling.

never staying.

he wakes up shaking. empty. sometimes in tears, sometimes in complete stillness.

lando’s therapist says grief isn’t linear. that he’s doing okay.

but okay feels like a lie.

lando doesn’t remember the last time he laughed without feeling guilty. doesn’t remember what it’s like to be held and not feel the absence of your arms in comparison.

the flat is still yours. still smells like you, faintly.

some days he talks to the ceiling. some days he clutches your pillow and begs the universe to give you back.

most days, he just stares at the wall and breathes through the weight on his chest.

it doesn’t get easier.

it just gets quieter.

and the quiet is killing him slowly.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

one year.

twelve months without you.

lando never thought he’d make it this far.

not because he didn’t want to. not because he stopped loving life completely.

just because it all felt too heavy to carry without you.

but he’s still here.

and that feels both like a betrayal and a miracle.

your photo is still on his nightstand. a little more faded now. he talks to it sometimes, less often than before. not because he stopped needing you, but because the silence between his words hurts less than it used to.

he still misses you. with every heartbeat. but it doesn’t knock the wind out of him anymore.

not every time.

sometimes he even smiles at your memories now instead of crying.

like last week — he found a video you took of him in the kitchen, half-asleep, dancing like an idiot to some cheesy pop song. you were laughing so hard, the camera shook. he watched it three times. laughed with you. then cried himself to sleep.

progress.

his team has learned to stop tiptoeing around your name. they say it with softness now, not fear. they hang photos of his old races and leave the one of you kissing his cheek right there, in plain view.

lando doesn’t hide it anymore.

you mattered. you still do.

a few days ago, something small happened. something unexpected.

he was walking back from the store — headphones in, head down, hoodie up — when a little girl bumped into him by accident.

she looked up at him and said,

“you’re lando norris! my mum loved you! she made me watch all your races.”

past tense. loved.

he looked at the girl’s father standing a few feet away, eyes kind and full of something familiar.

grief.

loss.

he smiled. genuine. soft. like he understood. because he did.

he handed the girl a mini helmet keychain from his pocket — one he usually kept just for himself — and told her,

“thank your mum for that. she had good taste.”

they walked away.

lando stood there for a long time, staring at the sky.

he imagined you watching him from wherever you were, eyes warm. proud.

that night, he lit a candle.

sat on the floor. whispered into the flame.

“i miss you. i always will. but i’m trying.”

he meant it.

he still sets the table for two sometimes. he still wears your hoodie on the bad days. still listens to your playlist.

but he also lets the sunlight in now.

he opens windows. answers texts. sometimes he laughs — real, full laughter — the kind that doesn’t feel stolen.

lando knows now that he’ll never stop loving you.

but maybe that love doesn’t have to hurt forever.

maybe love, even in loss, can still grow.

and maybe, just maybe, he’s allowed to live.

even without you.

especially because of you.

THE END :>

[starryeyedstray]

i caved and got dbh for my pc (despite already having it for my console) and honestly it's nice to be able to have have my monitor so close to me and be able to really just stare at all the details in the gallery (i may have spent an obscene amount of time staring at each character model)

here's some details i noticed about connor's model

firstly, wtf is going on with his shoes. like does it have laces???? is it just a slip-on??? I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE TOPS OF THE SHOES LOOK LIKE. also why are his jeans unhemmed?????

at the bottom of his jacket there's the two little dark grey rectangles that honestly i never really noticed and i don't think i've ever included it in my art bc my brain just erases them from my brain. it's such a random design choice and i can't decide if i hate them or not.

also why tf does he have two random button holes on the front of his jacket??? his jacket doesn't have buttons???? i cannot fathom why these exist or what their purpose is

never really took the time to analyze connor's jacket so closely and i love the detail of the different materials on his jacket. like the tessellated triangle motif throughout his jacket clearly being some sort of synthetic material compared to the cotton/wool fibers

also i love the seam detail on his sleeve? like i love how it's not just one straight line but adds more shape and design to his cuff.

i love the texture on the top back half of connor's jacket. it reminds me of carpet or those really textured couches. it's like some type of corduroy likely or something. i wanna touch it. also the cyberlife branding right under the ANDROID text how did i never notice that??

if you look at the inner lining of his white collar, it has a darker liner on the inside. i don't think you typically see that on white button-ups???

lastly LOOK AT HIS NECK MOLES. HE'S GOT SO MANY LITTLE NECK MOLES. and after extensive zooming in and out and looking at it from all angles, i have determined that he has a little tiny mole on the back of his right ear on the rim. idk if you can see it in these screenies BUT IT'S THERE I SWEAR TO YOU. he's also got the little divot some ppl have on their ears near the top of his ear.

anyway, uhm, yeah i totally haven't spent more time staring at the character models than i have spent playing the actual game

i was also staring at kara's and markus' models and might post my thoughts observations on those at another time. but for now we got connor.

[wonderjanga]

History

Marvel talking about the past lives as if he’s lived them in almost every era besides the five thousand year gap from Adam. That’s it.

Marvel and Aquaman: *got separated from the other JL members and ended up in an underwater cave filled with ruins*

Aquaman: *looking around the cave* “Amazing. I never knew this was here.”

Marvel: “This place is familiar.”

Aquaman: “Familiar? This place looks like it’s been here for at least a thousand years.”

Marvel: “Over seven thousand actually.”

Aquaman: “How do you know?”

Marvel: “I used to live here!”

Aquaman: “Huh?”

Marvel: *proceeds to launch into a detailed explanation of his life there, the people, etc*

Aquaman: “Interesting. Did all your people have lightning powers too?” *starts walking through the ruins*

Marvel: *follows after him* “No? I was the only one with powers because I was the Champion of Magic.”

Aquaman: “So what? Everyone here was just a normal human?”

Marvel: “No? They had could breath underwater like Atlanteans.”

Aquaman: “Ooh maybe they’re my people’s ancestors-”

*zombie groan*

They then proceeded to go on a super wacky adventure of being chased by underwater zombie Atlanteans until they eventually got back to the JL. (I might make a post on this adventure cause this seems like something interesting to write)

Then there’s was that time on live television, he said straight to a historian’s face:

Marvel: “That’s wrong.” *pointing to an artifact*

Historian: *looking between him and the camera* “What- What do you mean it’s wrong.” *sounds baffled*

Marvel: “I mean it’s wrong-” *starts yapping about the artifact and its actual uses and just said something completely different from what the historian said*

Historian: “Wha- How could you possibly know??”

Marvel: “Because I’ve used these before.”

Then there was the time neither Conner(Kent) nor Marvel had anything to do and no one was at Mount Justice so they just decided to watch a documentary on a lost civilization because they got bored.

Narrator: “And right here is an ancient text written on a slab by the *insert lost civilization*

Conner: *still bored, letting himself lay upside down on the couch* “This is boring.”

Marvel: *also bored and letting himself lay upside down on the couch* “Yeah, totally.” *not really paying attention and squinting to read the text* “All that is just a list of how many crops someone had. You’re right, this is boring,”

Conner: *groans*

Marvel: “Wanna make a dish from that lost civilization?”

Conner: “Dish? Like food? Sure, but how do you know a recipe from a lost civilization?”

Marvel: *lets himself float off to couch so he could stand* “Easy, I used to live there.”

Later…

Marvel and Connor: *looking at the food they both made in a solemn silence*

Conner: “That looks disgusting.”

Marvel: “What did you expect? Back then, we were trying to survive more than thrive.”

Conner: “Still looks disgusting.”

Marvel: “Yeah, yeah, let’s just see if it’s as good as I remember.” *tries some*

Conner: *grimace, look of disgust*

Marvel: “Dang, it’s still delicious.” *holds up a spoon for Conner* “Try some.”

Conner: *backs away like the dish is some type of horror* “No.”

Marvel: “Come on, Kon. We made it together. You might as well try our creation.” *waves the spoon in his face*

Conner: *looks like he’s about to vomit but begrudgingly forces himself to try it* “It’s…” *chewing* “actually…” *more chewing* “pretty good…?”

When the other YJ members came back, they were horrified to see Marvel and Conner eating… something…? Why’s it moving slightly? It looks alive.