#cara writes

love this, here for this, thank you for the prompt 💚

I want him to make me schedule full of classes way too hard for me like quantum physics and astronautical engineering taught by their friends. Then tell me he expects me to pass all my classes, whatever it takes

He sends me to each classy dressed like a slut and makes me sit in the front row where everyone can see me

The other students all look at me condescendingly.

Each professor has a remote to toys stuffed inside my holes

It usually involves more training which Jason can't turn down because she probably knows he'll never turn learning new skills. But he's starting to think it's less about him being strong enough to beat batman and more her plan to stop him from going after Batman. Which is why he's leaving now, with her current distraction.

He has no idea what happened, but tensions have been high in the base for a couple of days. Jason would let his curiosity get the better of him and ask her, if it the incident didn't align so beautifully with his own plans.

He zips his weapon's bag shut, then stuffs a couple of t-shirt into a duffle bag. He's shrugging on his leather jacket when he hears the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Jason turns, slightly startled and draws his weapon as he moves, only to exhale harshly when he sees who has invaded his room. Then he tenses when he sees the brat's current state.

Damian is drenched in blood, from his head down to his toe. His clothes are soaked.

The joy doesn't move further into the room. He stands with his back to the door, a box, dripping blood is clutched in his little hands.

"Dami?" Jason asks, as he abandons his current activity to approach the kid.

The brat doesn't respond. He watches quietly as squats down to meet his eye, pouting adorably when he notices the the bags Jason had packed.

"Hey," Jason calls, pulling his attention to him. "Are you hurt?" the kid is not bleeding anywhere that Jason can see, but he's cover in blood, so there's no telling how much of it is his.Instead of answering, he shoves the box in his hand at Jason, pushing the box a bit more forcefully when Jason hesitates before taking the box. At Damian's expectant stare, he lays the box on the ground to view its content.

Jason had no illusions about what a box, dripping blood could possibly contain, but the breathe is still knocked out of him, like a hard punch, when he sees the severed head of green hair and pale skin.

There's no denying whose head it is.

How? Jason wants to ask.

Why? he doesn't ask.

The words fail him. He knows why, after all. They both do.

With one last glance at the content of the box, he shoves it aside to pull Damian in his arms, blood and all. Damian hugs him back just as tightly, if a little desperately.

Jason is so overwhelmed by the well of emotions bubbling inside of him. He doesn't realize he's sobbing until Damian pulls back to wipe away his tears.

There are no words for what he feels. He feels heavy and light all at once. Like he could drift off in the wind at any moment, while also being weighed down by an anchor.

"Dami- " He chokes.

Keith plopped into bed, tired after a long day’s work.

“Hey! No way, Keith.” Lance called over from his seat at his desk. “You know the rules. No jeans or shoes in bed.”

“Just this once.” Keith mumbled.

“Non-negotiable.” Lance replied.

“I’ll wash the sheets in the morning. Promise.”

“Oh yeah? And what about when your muddy shoes get my feet all dirty?”

Chapter Selection: -1-[2][3]

_________________________________________________

She gazed down at the thick piece of paper as she held it in her hands.  She still couldn’t believe what it said, or what it meant. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she read the words to herself over and over again. 

                                     State of Indiana

                                   Certificate of Birth

This certifies that according to the records of the State of Indiana

Name:   JANE HOPPER

Was born in:   HAWKINS, INDIANA   on   SEPTEMBER 19, 1971

Child of:   TERESA IVES   and   JAMES HOPPER

Birthplace of Father:                        Birthplace of Mother:

INDIANA                                           INDIANA

“Hey, kid,” Hopper called, breaking her concentration.  “Are you alright?”

She glanced up at him from across the dining table.  Her beautiful brown doe eyes were red and watery.  She smiled and nodded her head.

“Yes, I’m alright.”

Hopper wasn’t convinced.  She was crying, after all.  “Yeah?  You sure?  Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked down at the paper again for a moment, and then back at Hopper.  She wrinkled her nose before asking,  “Does this mean you’re my new Papa?”

The words both stung Jim Hopper, and warmed his heart all at once.  On the one hand, he didn’t want to be associated with that guy; the one who formerly called himself El’s “Papa”.  After all he put her through? Twelve years of poking and prodding and experiments.  Twelve years without human compassion or love.  No, Jim Hopper was not her “new Papa”.  Except he was, wasn’t he?  He loved her.  He loved this kid with every fiber in his being.  And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her, especially from people like “Papa.”  And with that little piece of paper that she held in her hands, it was official; she was his, and he was hers.  

He was taking too long to respond.  What does that mean, El wondered to herself.  Does he not want to be my Papa?  Did I do something  bad? Her expectant eyes had been staring at him, waiting for answers, but now she dropped them to the floor and began to frown.

Hopper noticed.  Shit.

“Yeah, I...I guess that’s what it means.”

El jumped up with a start and dropped her paper onto the table.

“REALLY?!?!” she squealed with heart eyes.

Before Hopper could respond, El’s arms were wrapped around him in the tightest embrace she’d ever given him.  Her pretty dimpled smile was from one ear to the other.  He hugged her back just as snug.

“Yes, I’m your new, uh...”Papa”... But kid, we’ve got to work on that name.”

El broke away from the hug and looked up at him with confusion.

“Name?”

“Well, yeah.  A name.  What you’re going to call me.  I mean, your Papa was your Papa...  Lots of bad memories where that came from, yeah?”

“Yes,” she understood.

“So how about we call me something else?”

“Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know.  Whatever you like.  You can always just call me Hopper.  That’s what everyone else calls me.”

Eleven thought it over for a minute.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.  I don’t want to call you that.  My name is Hopper now, too.  We need something better. You don’t want to be called Papa.  What about Pop?”

“Pop?”

“Yes.  Joyce calls you Hop.  So I’ll call you Pop.”

“Pop...” he said to himself, slightly flustered after hearing El mention Joyce.  But after some contemplation, “I like it, kid.  Pop it is.”

Eleven smiled, and then burrowed her eyebrows.

“But what about me?” she asked.

“What do you mean? What about you?”

“The paper...”

“The Birth Certificate?”

“Yes. Birth Certificate.”

“What about it?”

“It doesn’t say Eleven.  It says Jane.  Jane Hopper.”

“Oh, right.” Hopper picked up the birth certificate from the table.  He looked it over for maybe the hundredth time, and then back at Eleven again.  Or was she Jane?  Shit.  This was confusing for him, too.

“Well, what do you think?  What do you want to be called?”

His daughter took a seat on the couch just a few feet away.  She was deep in thought. 011 was never meant to be her name, and it never felt like one, either.  At least not until Mike Wheeler came along.

Ah, Mike Wheeler.  She believed he saved her life that night when he found her in the woods.  She was cold, wet, and frightened.  Her first memories of Mike were so.... warm.  He gave her warm clothes, a warm place to sleep, warm food.  He kept her safe from the bad men.  And he gave her a name; El.  Aside from that poor man called Benny at the diner, Mike was the first person to ever show her any basic human compassion.  That meant a great deal to her and was something she’d never forget.

She knew her Mama called her Jane.  But Mama was gone.  Maybe not physically, but she was still just... gone.  She did as Mama wished and found her sister, Kali.  She introduced herself to Kali and her gang as Jane.  Jane was bitchin’.  Jane was cool. She was dark and mysterious.  Punk rock. But was she really Jane?  She walked away from Jane.  She left Jane behind to come home.  Home was Pop.  Home was Mike.  Home was... friends.

She snapped back to reality as Hopper joined her on the couch.

“Well, what’s it gonna be?”

“Name?”

“Yeah, kid.  What are we gonna call you?”

“Well,” she began, “I guess, you can always call me, “hey kid”...”

She giggled, and Hopper grinned.

“But, Mike already gave me my name.”

Hopper raised his eyebrows, “Is that so?”

“Yes. Eleven was... just a number... before.  But the first night I met Mike... he told me his name was Mike.  Short for Michael.  And he asked if he could call me El. Short for Eleven...  I never knew my name was Jane.  El was the first name someone gave me.  It feels.... right.”

Hopper smiled and wrapped one arm around El’s shoulder before giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Yes.  It feels right, El.  That’s your name.”

El smiled.  “Promise?”

Hopper laughed.

“I promise.  I mean... your legal name is still gonna be Jane Hopper, but we can call you El.  Short for Jane.”

El blushed, and both father and daughter laughed.

“So, that Wheeler boy... He gave you your name, eh?

“Mike. Yes.”

Hopper groaned.  He had to admit, Mike wasn’t a bad kid, but he just became El’s legal dad. TODAY.  He wasn’t ready for boys.

“Okay, if Mike wants to give you a name, so be it.  Just don’t be in any hurry to take his last name yet, okay?”

“What do you mean?” El was confused.

Hopper began to laugh uncontrollably.  Of course El wouldn’t understand the concept of marriage yet.  Baby steps, Jim,  Baby steps.

“What is it?!?!”

“It’s nothing, just a dumb “dad joke”, that’s all.”

A little embarrassed at his own joke, Hopper continued to laugh, and even though El didn’t know what was so funny, his goofiness was contagious, and she began laughing, too.

following along with @grianhole because how could i resist?? borrowing their copy with some small edits and the utmost adoration and appreciation for encouraging this kinda of debauchery:

The concept is very simple. Hole-idays is a smutty drabble*-writing event, and I will be accepting prompts from today June 24th, until 11:59pm EST June 30th. That's (a little less than) one week! You may send as many prompts as you like, but I cannot guarantee that every submission will be written (due to personal preference or time crunch). Summer-themed prompts (skinny dipping, beach day, camping, etc) are appreciated, but not mandatory!

*drabble, in this case, meaning 100 words exactly.

posting for me will start on July 5th and, unsurprisingly (i think) i'll be prioritizing prompts for ethan, mark, amy, and/ or sean this time around

go ahead and fill my ask

also!! feel free to check out previous themed drabble events for the kind of prompts i like to answer fastest: wanksgiving 2025 (mcyt rpf) & hole-idays 2025 (mcyt rpf)