#They are the uncle and nephew of all time.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Look kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[runninriot]

Substitute Santa

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 22

prompt: Santa | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington, pre Steddie, open ending

"Thank you, son. This means a lot to me."

Eddie grumbles into the phone, says 'No problem, old man. I'm happy to help.' before hanging up, not really feeling his own words despite his uncle's gratitude.

Eddie groans loudly, head tilted back, eyes pinched close - he really should've just said no. But he knows how important this is to Wayne and for all that man has done for him, this really is only a small favour to ask of his nephew.

It's just- ugh.

The prospect of having to sit in a room full of noisy, snotty children for three hours, wearing that ridiculous costume, sweating his butt off underneath the suit, is one Eddie could definitely do without.

For as long as he can remember, every year, his uncle has dressed up as Santa for the Hawkins' annual Christmas charity event at the community centre.

This year, unfortunately, Wayne won't be able to make it because- 'How are the kids supposed to believe Santa will bring their gifts in time when he can't even walk properly?'

Because unlike Santa, Wayne isn't some kind of magical creature, so when he tripped and broke his foot, it meant cast and crutches and rest, even if he keeps forgetting that last part.

Eddie had already made plans to visit him for the holidays, but since his accident happened a few days ago, he decided to take some time off work and head home a week earlier. Which, apparently, gave Wayne the idea that, instead of asking one of the many other possible candidates, Eddie could take up his role this year.

'Keeping up the Munson tradition.'

So, that's what got him into this mess. And although he knows it'll make his uncle happy, he dreads it. Hates it. Wishes it would already be over so he can forget all about it.

The community centre is packed with people. There are little stands where they sell handmade goods and cookies and hot drinks. And at the far end of the room, right in front of the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, he finds the area where half an hour from now, he'll be sitting in the massive wooden chair that reminds him a bit of the makeshift throne he used to sit in while playing his favourite nerd game with his friends in the school's basement.

His DM skills will come in handy today; he was always good at acting, doing voices, and slipping into different roles - so passing as Santa should be easy as pie.

Maybe it'll be half as bad as he thought. Although he's still not sure about handling the kids. Or their parents. Because he knows how impatient and annoying they can get when they have to wait in line for too long.

Two hours in, Eddie is already on the brink of a nervous breakdown. The kid on his lap has been crying for 5 minutes, not wanting to follow his embarrassed mother's plea to 'just sit still and look at the camera'. It's not the first time this happens, and he's pretty sure, not the last.

He already had to bite his tongue multiple times not to yell at someone for cutting the line, or at parents for trying to force their kids to sit on this big, scary man's lap when they clearly didn't want to. No 'nice picture for Grandma and Grandpa' is worth traumatising a child. So Eddie makes sure to always ask the kid in question whether they want to sit or just stand by his side.

When Sobbing Charly's mom has finally gotten a decent enough shot, Eddie takes a deep breath and turns to the next kid in line.

It's a girl, maybe 4 or 5, looking at him with big, curious eyes from where she’s half-hidden behind her dad.

"Robbie's a little shy, sorry. We can just come back later, don't wanna hold up the line," the man says apologetically, and when Eddie looks up at him, he instantly recognises the face.

Standing before him is Steve Harrington, someone he hasn't seen in years, who apparently has a daughter now, and- wow. Eddie needs a moment to process it all. Because he might've had a little crush on the guy back in high school. Okay maybe a massive one. And seeing him now, looking somehow even prettier than he had back then, makes Eddie’s heart flutter.

He shakes himself out of it and turns his attention back to the girl.

"Don't need to be shy Robbie, I know you've been very good this year. Just like your dad. Right, Steve?" Eddie winks at the man whose expression freezes when he seems to realise who is hidden underneath the costume.

"Dad! Santa knows your name!" the girl says in wonder and Eddie has to bite back a laugh.

"Duh, I told you Santa knows everything," Steve answers with a smile directed at Eddie and suddenly the room seems much brighter than before.

Robbie comes out of her hiding spot, still holding Steve's hand tight.

"Can my dad be in the photo with me?" she asks and her big, hazel eyes make Eddie's heart melt.

"Of course, he can."

Before Eddie realises what's happening, he's got both, Steve and his daughter in his lap, cheering at the camera and- Eddie will definitely need a drink after that, if he survives this.

Once they're done, Steve stands up quickly, mouthing 'Sorry' at him, smiling his pretty smile again, and Eddie feels hot all over. Must be the costume, he's sure.

He tries not to let his mind wander to other scenarios of Steve in his lap, turns to Robbie instead, acting as casual as possible when he asks her what her biggest wish for Christmas is.

She thinks about it for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I wish my dad would find someone that makes him happy."

Oh.

Well. Eddie would gladly make that happen.

[notroosterbradshaw]

dying to know how reader reacted to finding out she was pregnant in the boyfriend experience uni 😫 likeeee ik she wasn’t ready for kids in uncle brooster but bradley was so were there mixed feelings abt it? especially since there was no telling when he’d be deployed again

Hi nonny, I don’t know where you are in the cosmos. But this is for you x

A/N I forgot I had this. I don't have the time this close to Xmas/at all to proof/improve so for those of you still in the TGM, I hope you enjoy and merry merry, happy happy xx

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered, the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes.

You knew he was on Team Baby. He wasn't pressing it; he couldn’t. That wasn’t fair to you… to him or anyone else. You’d said your piece well before you got engaged, and well before today.

The day you married him.

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he still wanted to try for a baby. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley agreed. You didn’t want to be thinking about periods and not drinking and having the time of your lives. Bradley was busier with work now than ever before, and with the work extensions complete, new staffing, and more small business to take care of, even though you were together every night? You were still doing your own things, barely getting into bed at the same time.

Thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley. And even babies. You loved your niece and nephew and Uncle Brooster was fantastic with them - it always left a pang in your heart that he would be such a good father. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly an example of patriarchal learning.

You didn’t want to add the stress of calculating ovulation even if an app would do it for you, the disappointment of periods coming… you just wanted to have fun fucking, and pleasing each other as you moved into the next phase of your lives. The stress Annie went through and the lengths she was going to with IVF therapies - overwhelming hormones, nausea, mood swings, sore boobs, abdominal discomfort. God, when you had a difficult period, you could assume similarly but as Annie went through her treatments, at a fairly young age, it was eye-opening at best.

You remembered one sentence so vividly that it scared you to your bones, “When your biological clock starts… it’s all that your brain hears. You can’t undo it and it messes with your head.”

See? Terrifying. Fair for all involved.

But when your period was late after about two periods since going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens.

But there was something different as you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the (motherfucking, finally renovated) kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you pressed against the pulsating pressure and made a face. Sighing, you unfolded yourself from the couch and moved to your handsome husband. You tenderly kissed between his shoulder blades and he gave an over the top shudder, as you giggled into his skin. He put his utensil down and turned to you, holding your chin in his calloused bug hand and giving you a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself, but not yet willing to admit to him it was to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished, his eyes glued to the digital reading before him.

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley’s honey eyes flicked to regard you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, but not disappointed, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head.

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Love…” his fingers light as they sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “My sweet girl,” he called to you.

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch.

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt too warm and he protected you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there.

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly.

“I saw how hard it was for Annie and just expected we’d be on our own a bit longer. Genetics and shit."

He bit back his smile and your inadvertent joke, or necessary sarcasm. Bradley hummed. “I think your genetics are pretty fine, if you ask me.”

Eyes rolling in corny, you muttered his name as a warning that jokes were unnecessary at this time.

“Okay, okay,” he answered, palms up, teasing off. He knew you were withholding and he knew he was holding everything back in his body not to go over the top with the excitement bubbling in his entire being. “Love, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to…” your voice trailed.

Bradley nodded. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak and as the facial one between the pair of you? Well. So he just continued to hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided, a lot or not he wasn’t sure. He thought you were on the same page. He thought you both wanted this -

Like you, his insides were much and could feel himself lightheaded. He grounded himself and carefully reminded himself this wasn’t about him for now. It was getting your beautifully convoluted brain and heart to the same place his was:

Ready.

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - “ you shut your mouth and the guilt of situation started to overwhelm you. Bradley only hummed, still choosing to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

He remained reflective a moment, choosing his words carefully his best option.

“No, love. But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes, his large palm resting gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have and it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

His baby in your protective, strong body.

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow as you snuck under the cold sheets, thinking maybe you could sleep a year. He climbed in after you, the warm skin of his chest against your back under the slowly spinning ceiling fan. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay.”

There was your voice of reason.

“But it's still something you'll need to consider pretty quick..."

Always offering you both sides.

It was silent a while and while Bradley’s excitement was guarded carefully, even he knew this conversation was not the light and excited one he thought you’d share instead.

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck.

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. "I won't let you do this alone."

The fateful night you told your family and the Dagger Squad was when it really started to feel real. Your pregnancy to that point has been pretty good. You only turned green as food cooked around you so it was easy to excuse yourself and the extreme exhaustion that overwhelmed you the first trimester slinked away entering the second. You weren’t horribly unwell but things were definitely changing within you.

Boobs sore and off limits to Bradley even though he’d playfully volunteered his palms but your personal support system. It went about as well as expected.

“Just ginger ale tonight?” Bob smiled a while later. You’d been chatting quietly together while Bradley’s squad played pool and generally one-upped each other around you.

“What do you mean?” God, you hated lying to such a delight as Bob. He was so sweet, and although Bradley had alluded to his well-guarded playboy-like ways, he was always darling to you.

“I have four sisters,” he sipped his water. “She pretended she was drinking bourbon and ginger ale to throw everyone off the scent she was…” he chuckled quietly and you’d be damned if you’d figured him out. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I understand if you’re just not drinking tonight.”

And while your family was aware of your news, Bradley had sworn not to tell his friends just yet. You weren’t ready to be looked in on 24/7 by overzealous Navy pilots.

“Nearly four months,” you said quietly.

“Phoenix guessed a little less,” he winked. “I won’t tell, but I’m very happy for you both. This baby will be so loved. Or smothered,” he shrugged playfully. “One of the two.”

“Bob?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He responded as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“This is how you do it, isn’t it?”

“Do what?” He played dumb.

“Find women. Because you watch and listen.” And suddenly it all made such sense as he blushed, toying with his glass.

“I can’t reveal all my trade secrets, but showing a little interest helps,” he admitted.

“I wanna know all your tricks. You’re absolutely fascinating to me.”

And for the first time, you heard Bob Floyd cackle as he nodded. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s never gonna happen.”

"You're getting deployed?" you look at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly between you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you screeched, spoiled for months of your husband home and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter."

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick.

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did. Baby, this classification is my first real role as team leader. As command.”

"Who's going with you?"

"Payback, Fanboy," he confirmed softly.

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. “Even if I have to jump overboard and swim back myself, I will be here for Christmas. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise a baby in my own,” you said, the fear in your evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair.

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear to you, don't dare come home."

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. The most danger Bradley Bradshaw had ever been in was at this moment. And as his baby girl kicked him from her little cocoon in retaliation for making her Mama wild, he knew that nothing g else mattered anymore and that someway, somehow he was going to find a way to be home for his girls.

masterlist.

[maraudering-times]

25 days of Jegumas - Day 22: Santa Claus - 907 words - @noblehouseofgay

Regulus is seriously regretting agreeing to take his niece and nephew to see Santa Claus. He doesn’t even like children. Except of course little Draco and little Luna. Those two? He’d do anything for them. Evidently including sitting through rush hour traffic to get to the mall just to wait in line for two hours all for them to sit on some creepy old guy’s lap for mere moments to give their Christmas wishes and get a photo. And evidently, maybe not actually anything. 

Regardless, here he was in line so these kids he loves with his whole heart can meet the man of the hour. Luna is excitedly bouncing on her feet while Draco tugs insistently at his hand, pointing at the animatronic reindeer lining the queue. 

“I see them, Draco.” Regulus tells the smaller boy. He reaches out and grabs Luna so she doesn’t duck under the rope to touch them. “Do you know what you’re gonna ask Santa for?” He asks the children.

“Uh-huh,” Luna nods, still bouncing but now holding his other hand. 

“Me too!” Draco exclaims.

“What’re you gonna ask for?” Regulus prompts. 

Luna and Draco both shake their heads. “Nope,” Luna says.

“Can’t tell you Uncle Reggie, or we won’t get it.” Draco tells him, pouting.

“You know that Santa Claus tells your parent’s what you ask for, right? They cooperate on gifts so you don’t get double. You can tell me.” Regulus presses.

“That’s a lie,” Draco pouts.

“We’re not telling you.” Luna lets go of his hand to cross her tiny little arms over her sweater. 

Regulus sighs but leaves them be. It’s not like he hasn’t bought them gifts already, he just wanted to make sure that everything they wished for for Christmas arrived on the day, he was just going to pass the information on to their collective parents.

The line shifts forward. 

“Are you going to ask Santa for a present, Uncle Reggie?” Luna asks, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.

“Oh,” Regulus looks around at the others in line with them. “This is just for the kids today, the adults go another time.” He tells her. 

She beams up at him and says, “okay,” and turns back to look at the decorations around the queue. 

Soon enough, it’s their turn. Draco and Luna barrel towards Santa Claus sitting in his big chair and happily strike a conversation up with him. Luna climbs into his lap first, Draco not far behind. They each take turns talking quietly in his ear and he nods very seriously at whatever they tell him. Santa then points to the camera and the three of them pose. Draco gets off his lap first and runs back up to Regulus. 

Luna says something else to Santa Claus before following her pseudo cousin. “Uncle Reggie, Santa says you can tell him your wish now since you’re here already!”

Regulus stammers at the two of them, lost for words. “Oh, I’m not sure, Luna Bear, I don’t want to hold up the line.”

Draco uses all his might to try and push Reg towards the red coated man. “Go on, Uncle Reggie. You don’t want to come all the way back here, do you.”

Regulus sighs, letting himself be pushed by two eight year olds and relents. “Okay, okay.” He approaches Santa and sheepishly looks at the costumed man. “Hello.”

“Hello there young man. I’m told your name is Regulus, yes?” Santa greets him in a deep timber.

“Yes.”

“You have to sit on his lap.” Draco points out. Regulus groans quietly causing Santa to laugh to himself in a much lighter voice than he uses with the children.

“Come along then, young Regulus.” Santa pats his lap invitingly.

Regulus mutters to him as he sits, “Don’t encourage them.”

“Where’s your Christmas cheer,” he whispers in his normal voice. A very young voice. 

“How fucking old are you?” Regulus snaps surprised. 

“Ah-ah-ah, no cussing in front of the kids.” Santa winks. He clears his throat then, adopting his persona again. “Now, what would you like for Christmas young man?” 

“To never have children of my own,” Regulus deadpans. 

Santa Claus stifles a laugh and nods seriously. “I’ll try my best. Now smile for the camera.”

“Over my dead body,” Regulus mutters but does as told, feigning an exuberant smile as the flash goes. Regulus gets off of his lap and turns to the man. “Thank you, Santa Claus.”

“You are very welcome, Regulus. Your photos can be picked up over there with the red headed elf.”

  Regulus nods and collects his charges, stopping by the elf to collect their photographs. The elf smiles sweetly at him and hands over two envelopes. One has two pictures of the children inside and the other one of him. Although, on his envelope is a sticky note with a phone number and name, James, scribbled on it. “What’s this?” He asks the elf.

“Oh nothing, just the direct number for Santa Claus here in case you have other Christmas wishes to be fulfilled.” She winks at him.

Regulus looks down at the sticky note then back at the man playing Santa. He gives them a parting wave paired with a secretive wink before he turns to the next child in line. Regulus thanks the elf and stuffs both envelopes into his pocket and takes his niece and nephew’s hand, leading them away from the crowd. 

[devipeak]

Some Uncle Albert Crocker headcanons (and my design sheet) ✨️✨️✨️🧞‍♂️

[Tried to come up with a hairstyle for him, but ended up just giving him a messier version of Denzel's hair. Also made his eyes the same color Dolores has (but without heterochromia, it's only her personal feature in my hc). And idk why I see him wearing a red shirt, just his vibe. Might later look up fashion of different decades to make outfits like in "The secret origin of Denzel Crocker" time periods.]

I view him and Dolores Day as twins (though all Crockers look alike, you can never tell) or at least siblings who are identical in personality. They are both, in contrast to Denzel, cheerful, friendly and easygoing. Also, while Dolores Day is pretty affectionate and loving towards his son, she has some vague understanding of his personal space and boundaries. This man doesn't. His love for his nephew can't be contained or controlled, so every meeting with him ends up by Denzel being hugged and squeezed. That's one of the reasons why Denzel isn't very excited about his uncle, as shown in "Genie Meanie Minie Mo". This thing happened gradually, though, as he was actually liked his uncle's presence when he was a child.

So, uncle Albert lives in Canada, yet during Denzel's childhood he was living in Dimmesdale in order to help his sister (she was, after all, left alone with her child). So he was kind of the man figure in the house, helping her with the stuff she couldn't do (especially technical things, that could be where Denzel takes his inventor abilities). And he also was like a father figure to Denzel, a relative who was always around. He'd also tell him different stories about genies. Dolores wouldn't really mind his obsession as he experiences it differently, and having a genie-obsessed brother helped her cope easier with her son's craziness in the future.

I view Denzel and Albert as sort of opposites. They both have an obsession with magical creatures. But while Denzel is too insane about fairies, wastes his whole life and energy on proving their existence and is miserable, Albert is just a chill guy who oh so happens to believe in genies. I don't think he minded a lot when he was put in the mental institution. And I don't think Dolores is shocked by this either. They just exchange presents like a sweet family.

So, like I said, young Denzel really liked spending time with his uncle. But as he was growing up and gained his interest that distracted him from anything else, he would try to avoid Albert (because it is a relatable thing for teens and youth to leave adult company to adults at the dinner table and also because HUGS), perhaps he would lock in his room doing some researching and only come out to say hello or goodbye.

[lwjsbedtime]

So I remembered the song Quiet from Matilda, and it made me think of little ADHD Babyxian being adopted by the Jiangs.

He's not doing so well to be honest. He's messy, and too far ahead of his classmates, and doesn't do his chores on time because his nose is always in some book he has no business reading.

Auntie Yu has had enough. She tells JFM it's Cloud Recesses Boarding School or the little brat is going back out on the street!

Little A-Xian hears this and he doesn't quite cry, because Mama always told him it feels better to smile, but he does sniffle a bit before falling asleep.

In the morning when Uncle Jiang asks if he wants to go to a new school he says yes.

And then he's being shipped off halfway across the country - away from grumpy JC and sweet JYL, who he'd only just met - to a school where he doesn't know anyone.

Of course, he gets in trouble. He always does.

He doesn't mean to. He thinks maybe he's just bad.

Headmaster Lan Qiren seems to have something personal against him, but his teacher - Lan Qiren's nephew, Mr. Lan Xichen - is really nice.

He's soft with little A-Xian, seeming to understand him better than he understands himself.

He says A-Xian is a good boy.

WWX isn't sure he believes him, but Mr Lan Xichen is almost always right about everything so he doesn't question how he knows A-Xian is good.

The thing is, Lan Xichen is right. The difference between him and A-Xian's old teachers is that he pays attention to A-Xian. He sees him.

And what he sees breaks his heart.

It may not be the same exactly, but his little brother is around A-Xian's age - just a grade higher - and so, so similar - if in the opposite direction.

Where A-Xian is boisterous, little Zhan-er is too quiet. Where A-Xian is so interested in learning, needing to know everything about EVERYTHING, right now! Zhan-er has a few special interests that captivate him.

He seems standoffish, so the other children exclude him, but Zhan-er knows ALL about rabbits, for example, and reads poetry far beyond his age level, and - oddly enough - can answer any question about ancient blacksmithing techniques you throw at him.

Both boys are very smart, and so very different from their peers.

For Zhan-er this is because he's autistic

Lan Xichen thinks A-Xian might also be on the spectrum. He tries to contact the Jiangs about gaining permission to send him to the in-school psychiatrist, but receives nothing in reply.

It is...deeply concerning.

Lan Xichen brings his thoughts up with his uncle, who grumbles a little, but accepts that maybe it might be possible WWX needs a little extra help.

The next day Lan Xichen asks for A-Xian to stay after class alone. A-Xian is a little scared he's going to be scolded, but Lan Xichen bends down to his level and asks if he would like to meet someone really special.

"Yes!" A-Xian exclaims, excited.

Lan Xichen takes the boy's hand and leads him out the classroom, down the path to the old clan homes that still exist behind Cloud Recesses' campus

As they walk, Lan Xichen explains the history of his home, and A-Xian takes it all in with wide eyes.

Then, finally, they reach the-

"Bunnies!" A-Xian exclaims, already surging away from Lan Xichen with the slipperiness of a professional escape artist.

Lan Xichen chuckles under his breath.

They have arrived at the bunny field.

Zhan-er, who had been told they would be joined today by another boy, frowns at his brother with betrayal, a rabbit held firmly in his arms.

Lan Xichen can see already he's close to tears, so he catches A-Xian's hand and whispers to him.

"We must be very quiet. Bunnies are scared by loud noises."

A-Xian nods at him with wide eyes, closing his mouth tightly like he might even forget to breathe.

"This is Lan Zhan, my brother," Lan Xichen directs A-Xian's attention to where Zhan-er sits scowling amongst the gentians.

"Hello Lan Zhan," A-Xian whisper-yells. "I'm A-Xian."

Lan Xichen hides a grin as Zhan-er nods and points at one of his favourite bunnies - a small Holland lop called Orchid.

"She will play," he murmurs, and then he turns back to the bunny in his arms, hiding his face in her soft fur.

For Zhan-er it is as good as a seal of approval.

Lan Xichen watches as the boys play together and feels a pleasant warmth swell in his stomach. They do get along so nicely. He hopes they become good friends.

As he predicted, the playdate is not a one off event. Soon enough it becomes a daily occurrence, with A-Xian getting antsy if it is cancelled, and Zhan-er getting close to a meltdown.

The boys are friends - best friends - and while they sometimes clash, their troubles are soon forgotten.

They are good for one another - mindful of each other's limits and differences.

Lan Xichen has never seen his brother so open, nor so happy.

Which is why when the Jiang family decide to pull A-Xian out of Cloud Recesses due to financial difficulties, he must protest.

His words fall on deaf ears.

A-Xian cries when he hears the news. He grabs onto Lan Xichen's leg, begging not to go. Zhan-er however goes quiet…

…Before he starts screaming with the lung capacity of a professional opera singer.

It is ear-splitting.

This is how JFM finds them half an hour later, when he arrives to take A-Xian with him.

"Please," Lan Xichen begs. "Can't we do anything to allow him to stay?"

JFM looks between the three of them - the distressed LXC; the red faced A-Xian and Zhan-er (currently sobbing as he bites chunks out of his own arm).

He goes quiet for a moment. He sighs.

"Are you sure you want him?" he asks, as if hoping the answer will be no.

Lan Xichen almost sobs. "Yes. Yes, yes, more than anything."

With a torn expression, JFM offers up A-Xian's adoption papers.

The process is surprisingly easy, and takes little time to approve.

And then, A-Xian - WWX - is theirs.

When Zhan-er hears the news he runs up to A-Xian and hugs him like one of his bunnies.

"Mine," he says seriously, landing a sloppy kiss on the apple of A-Xian's cheek.

A-Xian giggles and returns the gesture.

"Lan Zhan's!" he declares shyly.

And…hmm.

Lan Xichen will cross that bridge when they come to it. For now, he really needs a nap.

And an appointment for A-Xian with the school psychiatrist.

(He does, indeed, have ADHD, and performs much better with the proper accommodations in place to aid him)

--

This is the song, by the way. The first time I heard it, I cried so hard my dog came and stood over me. I think he legit thought I hurt myself 😂

[shovellyyy]

Uncle Sukuna shows how he cares in less conventional ways.

He’s not usually the one to say “I love you”, and if he does, it’s after Yuuji said it first.

He never even thought of himself as the type to take in a child, let alone guardianship over his little nephew.

Never had he thought Jin would get such a short end of the stick, nor that such a blessing would come out of it.

Adjusting to life as (technically?) a single parent has been hard.

Managing work and toddler care is hard, thank goodness his dad’s stone heart has enough room for a precious grandson. (First grandchild privilege, he supposes.)

Part of caring for a child is making sure they have all the supplies they need.

Diapers, toys, new toys, enrichment time, outside time, food, water- all the stuff he needs for a dog he gets for Yuuji.

- He’s as energetic as a puppy anyhow.

He’s also learned that toddlers in specific need a lot more love than he can give.

He tries to be encouraging, but when he says something to one of Yuuji’s friends from daycare they run away and cry.

Of course, Yuuji gets upset that his friends don’t like his precious uncle, so what better than to lay on the floor and cry?

He’s given up. Not like they’re his brats anyway. He just has one big crybaby on his hands.

“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream. If you keep crying on the floor I’ll give the monster under your bed all your stuffed animals.” He says as threatening as possible, not thinking of the other children watching.

He disregards the gasps around him. His eyes are only on Yuuji, who jumps up and wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“No!! The monster is too big, no more food for it!”

“Ok. If we don’t go he’s gonna eat you.” Like a member of the army, Yuuji jumps up and goes for his cubby to get his bag.

“Um, sir?” A timid voice says.

Sukuna turns around and sees one of his teachers behind him.

“Yea?” He raises an eyebrow. It’s always entertaining to see how anxious people get around him.

“We’re out of pull-ups for nap time i-if you can bring them in please, Sir!” She’s wringing her hands together like she’s preparing to get chopped in half.

“Ok. Anything else?”

“N-no.”

“Uncle Kuna!!! Let’s go get Superman ice cream!!” Yuuji saves his teachers day, Sukuna supposes. She looks like she’s about to break into pieces.

“Thanks.” Sukuna huffs out. He picks Yuuji up and Yuuji politely says bye to his teacher.

*

After they get ice cream, they head off to the store. He’s still sort of new to this thing, and fortunately has Jin’s stock still, so he grabs how many cases he feels fit.

Apparently, the daycare doesn’t need 10 cases.

“Can’t you just keep the rest in a stock or somethin?” He doesn’t want to whine, but he also doesn’t have room in their house for all these.

“um, do u mean, like using them for the other children too?”

“Yeah, whatever. So long as the b- kid uses em.” He grumbles.

Sure, Sukuna isn’t good at caring, but he’ll be damned if he does a bad job at it.

[evecolourshock]

What if an AU from that point tho, featuring Uncle Zuse making sure his nephew (all grown up now) gets home...

Gem bringing someone new into the End Of Line doesn't happen all that often any more, but that's more a lack of new Programs to introduce than anything else. The new guy looks lost and confused and adorably determined, but he's hiding a lot of fear under that expression and Zu- Castor, he's Castor now, keeps forgetting that - Castor tries to extricate himself from the latest attempt at tracking down himself to find out what's going on. No newbie should be that frightened, especially not in his establishment.

"I brought your boy. Flynn." Gem murmurs, half-sultry in the way that means she's done something Castor's probably not going to like. But he can't think about that right now, because-

Your boy Flynn.

Boy Flynn.

Sam.

Why, Castor hasn't seen him since he was a tiny thing, barely knee-high! Sam's bigger now, much more developed, but Castor can still see that small curious mischief-maker he used to look after when bigger Flynn had other things to do.

Sam's probably forgotten him by now - User memories don't function like Program ones, and it's been a long time. But Castor has not, so he pulls Gem aside with a low growl. "What did you do."

"Enforcers will be here shortly." Gem tells him, looking like she thinks she's done a good thing. That look swiftly disappears when Castor snarls and pushes her away. "But, the reward-"

"Not worth his life." Castor hisses. "Bigger Flynn, whatever, he abandoned us and will get what's coming to him. But not the little one. Did nothing wrong."

Gem frowns, puzzled, but Castor sweeps over to Sam quickly. He can't burn time like that, need to go now, they're on the clock-

"I'm looking for Zuse." Sam tells him quietly, even before he says hello. "An ISO named Quorra sent me."

"You found him. Now Quorra, Quorra, Quorra..." Castor muses. "Ah, yes. The one that got my bar burned down the first time." Never mind he was sheltering others at the time - really disillusioned him to the idea of rebellion, if nobody was willing to help those in need of it.

Sam winces.

"Her actions aren't yours." Cas- Zuse shrugs. Sam wanted Zuse, he's getting Zuse. Knew Zuse, too. "Passage out, yes? To the beacon." He chivvies Sam off towards his stash of vehicles. "Come, come, no need to stand around waiting." Sam trails him like a lost Bit, scared and forlorn. Damn Clu for scaring this boy. Damn him all the way.

"No, no, no, these just won't do." Zuse frets to himself. None of the batons he can grab easily are... well. They're not good enough, all aesthetic and no substance. He needs-

"Ah!" He snaps his fingers. Pulls a lever. He's only pulled this lever once before, during an evacuation, trying to give everyone their best chance of survival. The lever glows, falls into his hands - a personal baton with a few extra tricks - and he scoops up an exposed silver-white slim thing. The only one left in the hidden drawer - he didn't see much point in replacing the rest, after their creators disappeared into the wilds. Wouldn't be the same.

"Never thought I'd need this old thing again." Zuse murmurs, passing it to Sam. "But it's better than all of theirs." He smiles kindly, really - it's been too long since his smiles were real, and maybe it shows. "Ever flown a lightjet before?"

Sam shakes his head. Zuse would have been pleasantly surprised and a lot wary about a yes.

"Alright. Now, they handle a lot like a lightcycle here, no fancy User pilot skills needed." Zuse soothes. "Only difference is adjusting height - you use your legs for that. Pull your heels up towards you to go up, push them down to go down. Simple, yes?"

"Heels up to go up, down to go down." Sam repeats. "Got it."

"Good lad." Zuse claps him on the shoulder with one hand, inputting the command to iris open his launchpad with the other. "Now just stick by me, and we'll get you home safe."

i rewatched legacy recently and i cannot believe gem says "i bought your boy flynn" to castor like wtf that's so funny

[reginalusus]

IDK. I had to do something with them even if it's just eh.

Yes, I think Jason would take the opportunity to torture Harvey with puns and quips about his duality, hm, yes...

[kermit-coded]

obsessed with this dynamic.

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[mxtxfanatic]

Alright, last jc-centric post before the clock strikes midnight, but it actually pisses me off that Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling’s convo in the Iron Hook Extra is being recontextualized to say that either Jiang Cheng was never abusive or that Wei Wuxian is encouraging Jin Ling to stay in contact with his abusive guardian, because outside of the fact that Wei Wuxian only witnessed Jiang Cheng slapping Jin Ling once out of the myriad of times he does so in the story (in Guanyin Temple), the point of this scene is to reveal that even if Jiang Cheng has missed his chance to do right by any other character, he is finally doing right by Jin Ling!!!!!

Jiang Cheng spends the entire main story of the novel verbally abusing Jin Ling, ripping into him about how he disgraces his Jiang and Jin heritage by not being some kickass legendary cultivator by age 14, how Jin Ling needs to “know his place” by never questioning or talking back to Jiang Cheng (lest he be slapped), rigging nighthunts so that Jin Ling can get his ego stroked but never actually learn anything useful, and all around treating Jin Ling like a child he can keep pressed beneath his thumbs forever. And then Guanyin Temple happens, and Jiang Cheng walks out of the situation and decides against hitting Jin Ling for criticizing him. And then the Banquet Extra happens, and we hear that Jiang Cheng has taken a more passive role in Jin Ling’s nighthunts where he only exists as outside support if things go wrong but otherwise lets the boy figure things out on his own, rather than teaching him to cheat and harm others in the process. Then we get the Iron Hook Extra where we hear about how Jiang Cheng stormed Koi Tower to threaten the Jin elders into accepting Jin Ling’s rightful place as Jin leader, rather than just whisking Jin Ling away to continue to be treated like an incompetent child under his rule.

For once, Jiang Cheng is making steps to support someone else using his power and authority as a Great Clan leader instead of lording said authority over them to coerce them into subordination, but when your conception of Jiang Cheng’s character is “he did absolutely nothing wrong ever, and if he did, that means others let him and therefore it’s not his fault,” you ignore his growth! He’s finally learned how to have a healthy relationship with someone where the goal isn’t to keep them trapped in his sphere of influence! He has finally let go of his entitlement to “benefit” from his relationships! He is no longer treating Jin Ling like an unruly child but as a young clan leader who only needs a little bit of protection and support to truly come into his own! And that’s great!

If only his stans can see that.

[only-one-brain-cell]

Help why do they look like they’re in a meeting with a principal because their son did something stupid.

[luuxxart]

evil win! the ones plotting for your mysterious death are uncle and nephew!

[aftgphoenix]

My thoughts have been haunted by Aaron being an uncle. I mean, we know that Katelyn has a sister who was pregnant with a boy (she found out over Christmas break). So at the very least, Aaron has one nephew who Katelyn loves to dote on!

So now I’m picturing Aaron holding a squirmy baby while visiting Katelyn’s family! He’d probably hold the baby awkwardly but so so carefully (like my husband does, it’s so cute). Katelyn showing him how to change the baby’s diaper when they’re watching the baby so her sister can get a break. Him roughhousing with his nephew when he’s a little older and the kid wants to wrestle. Just so many fun uncle things!

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

finns best unkle shirt has been through some biz hes still the best unkle its just a crop top now

anyways. uncle pep