#batman#dc comics#bruce wayne#dc#dc fanart#tim drake#dick grayson#batfamily#batfam
seen from Canada
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Indonesia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Iraq
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
i finally started play tlou for the first time as as you can see i am handling it very well .....
( @pointshoots )
SHE FLEXES HER FINGERS, the muscles in her palm tightening around the strap of her bag as she holds it firmly on her shoulder. The other hand jumps up and delivers a solid knock, knuckles rapping upon wood; she waits. A picturesque habitat - quite a luxurious mode of living, she can’t help but think. She’s used to towering skyscrapers, back alleys, the sound of cars and shouts and loud music from the bar on the corner. This is quiet. Peaceful. The ocean is this family’s front yard. A wife & a daughter. She can handle this. Though being put on babysitting duty is hardly a good use of her particular talents.
She continues this train of thought until the door opens. She smiles, extends a hand. BLUNT, straightforward ( as always ), she makes no effort to appear as anything but a stranger. It’s not as though there are other people around who might grow suspicious.
‘Hello. I’m Mara Peterson. Your new but no less dear old friend who happens to also be a writer and has dropped by for a visit. You’re Elena Fisher. I believe your husband told you to expect me...’ Her voice is calm & even. She isn’t intimidated, no matter how strange the circumstances revolving around this introduction. She’d done her HOMEWORK and studied this couple before her arrival. She hadn’t walked into this blind - she’s not assuming she’ll get anything less than a frosty encounter on this sun-soaked stretch of paradise.
( @pointshoots )
‘NO, I’M DEAD serious, Lena,’ he reiterates, hands flying up to help articulate the narrative. ‘Sully was standing over here, right?’ a hand to indicate Sully’s position ‘And then I was over here...’ he glances over, to make sure she’s tracking...
‘And all of a sudden ------’ his hands fly together and there’s a loud CLAP as skin meets skin ‘this woman appears out of nowhere and starts throwing things. She’s hurling out insults in Spanish and, I mean, I’d say I’m fluent but I was having a hard time keeping up ----- basically, long story short, Sully’d spent a while with her at the bar the night before and she’d woken up the next morning missing some earrings and a bracelet. What she DIDN’T know is that I’d gotten hold of those while she and Sully were occupied with -- each other. Sully got the worst of it. Not our finest hour.‘
@bravejournalist just watched me play u3 for like... an hour and a half. #tru friends.
five times kissed 👀
five times kissed ( accepting )
ONE.
STARS WINK ABOVE them in the night sky as they sit across from each other under an awning of multi-colored lanterns - the center of the restaurant patio is filled with dancing couples swaying to Latin rhythms, and he watches, entertained and comfortable in a way that he had never expected to FEEL, not here, not in Panama. And maybe that’s partly because of the loot they’d taken from the island, but he suspects that it might have more to do with the company. Sully is off, doing whatever the hell it is Sully does on his own, and he’s here - with Elena Fisher.
They’re waiting for their food, and the conversation has lulled - it’s the point in the evening when small talk has been EXHAUSTED and you’ve the choice of either diving deeper or, in an effort to keep things superficial, not talk at all. Something about her is different than any woman he’s been with before - something that tugs at his chest, something that urges him towards her in new & surprising ways. So after catching her GLANCE his way, he stands and offers a hand, nodding to the center of the action. ‘Can I have this dance?’
He’s half afraid she’ll refuse, but before he can blink they’re standing toe to toe. The music has grown soft & intimate, and he finds his hands at her waits, her hands on his shoulders, and his head incredibly to hers. She’s shorter than him, so when he leans forward & his forehead meets hers, he’s looking down. And he studies the lines of her face, tracing them with his eyes, feeling her & experiencing her in such a way that makes her altogether irresistible. He wants to know this woman better than he’s known any other. He leans a bit further, and presses his lips to hers…
TWO.
SHE HASN’T WOKEN UP YET. He kneels beside her bed, his fingers thread through hers, and studies the pall of her skin. He misses the ROSY glow, the assurance of life, of vivacity, of courage and fire and everything that she always is. He wants her to wake up. He wants to be sure that she’ll wake up.
He’d learnt just enough of the language to know that the healers think she will get better, if she rests. Tenzin & Chloe had been sympathetic, and had tried to get Nate out into the open air, but he, inconsolable, had stayed glued to her side since they’d let him see her. Sully should be flying in soon, maybe even today, he recalls. Once Sully’s here, he’ll understand. He’ll know what to do, what Nate needs to do.
She still hasn’t woken up. And she looks so small. Fragile. Breakable. He leans down and plants a feather-light kiss to her temple. A part of him imagines that her eyelids flutter, but she simply rolls her head to the other side. ‘Wake up,’ he whispers.
THREE.
THEY’VE HIT CRUISING altitude so he hops up from the co-pilot’s chair and moves back into the main cabin. There’s a space beside her, so he sits down and, with a quiet ‘Hi’ drops his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. So close that he can feel her chest rise and fall against his own, her ribs expanding, pushing against him, then giving way.
He’s not sure where they go from here - he’s not sure what comes next. But he is sure that whatever it is, he’s going to face it with her, not apart, never apart. Not again. He’d tried to live without her but life had conspired against him & brought her back.
He looks down at her, smiling, and feels the familiar weight of the metal encircling his ring finger. His right hand reaches over and softly touches her chin, lifting her head up so that he can lean down and do the one thing he’d been ACHING to do since he’d first stepped onto the tarmac and seen her standing there. He kisses her.
FOUR.
HE MUST HAVE FALLEN asleep - exhausted from a hard day’s work salvaging, he’d hopped into bed for a nap and never woke up. When he turns his head wearily to check the clock on the nightstand, his half dreaming mind is alarmed to find that it’s a little past midnight. And one look at Elena’s side of the bed is enough to tell him that it hasn’t been slept in.
He rolls to his feet, squirming uncomfortably at the COLD floor under bare toes, then softly pads downstairs to find his missing wife.
She’s at the desk, the lamp still on, notes strewn about for a nearly-finished article; the screensaver on her computer, pictures she’d taken, is fading in & out and she’s fast asleep with her forehead resting against her forearm, which is plastered to the wooden surface. He smiles fondly, then yawns while gently jostling her shoulder. She murmurs something incoherently, and he bends over to plant a small kiss to the crown of her head.
‘C’mon sleepyhead,’ he whispers, tugging her to her feet. Then, riding a sudden wave of affection & fatigue-ridden decision making, he announces, ‘I’ll carry you’ and scoops her up, cradling her small frame against his chest, and makes his way back upstairs to their bed.
FIVE.
HE WATCHES THEIR eight-year-old daughter run down the beach alongside his brother, off towards the cove, with only mild concern. Not for her safety, no, but for Sam’s - Cassie’s been known to get herself & those around her into trouble. And Sam had never been known to say no to an adventure, especially when the proposition came from his niece.
His hand tightens around his wife’s, their fingers interlocked, as he grimaces; she laughs at him, calls him a worry-wart, & it makes him feel a little embarrassed.
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he concedes, sucking in a breath and releasing it with a pointed attempt at relaxation. ‘We did good with that one — besides,’ he pulls her close, hands moving from their erstwhile innocent posture to grab her hips and slide to her backside, ‘I was wondering when I was going to get you all to myself…’
With a rakish grin he presses his lips to hers in a deep, hungry kiss. He suddenly hopes that Cassie & Sam have gone on a really long walk.
okay because i just watched chinatown & i was telling bean about it we decided that a film noir au should be a thing like, nate as the private eye who does things his own way, elena as the tough detective who calls him out constantly because they’ve got a friendly rivalry but she also thinks he’s reckless ( plus there’s a little something else there ) & rafe as the crooked millionaire who nate’s investigating chloE AS THE FEMME FATALE I JUST!! OKAY!! I LOVE AUs.
bravejournalist replied to your post
My planktons better
*insert tombstone sketch here* R.I.P.
talking nate & elena & bby cassie headcanons w/ @bravejournalist is literally one of my most favorite things.
