#both rather violent

[media-illiterate]

Fallout 4 Alternate Timeline

Because @datura-tea asked about my tags on this post, and I already have it sitting in my wips folder, I thought I'd post my alternate timeline of events for Fallout 4! It always bothered me that the Commonwealth is still so underdeveloped while the West Coast has trains and a working electical grid. So I tried to come up with a coherent narrative of how it could have backslid into its current state.

Timeline under the readmore because it is, not short.

2077: The Great War occurs. The surviving students and faculty of CIT take refuge in the institute’s underground particle-physics labs, locking the rest of the wasteland out. They live in fear of being discovered by other survivors and raided for their tech, making them paranoid and isolationist.

2097: Building on prewar research, CIT survivors complete development of their Mass Relay teleportation device. Dubbing themselves simply as The Institute, they fully wall themselves off from the surface world and embark on an ambitious plan of underground expansion, scavenging what they need from the surface.

2131: The Institute develops gen-1 synths to act as surface operatives, mostly removing the need for Institute personnel to go to the surface. Now mostly insulated from violence, the Institute much more callous and combative towards surface dwellers.

2163: The Institute isolates samples of FEV from the air, and begins a program of carefully controlled mutation. The resulting supermutants are found lacking, and the program is put on hold.

2176: The Commonwealth People's Government is formed from several prominent settlements. The new nation takes steps to protect its people from the Institute’s aggressive scavenging methods, earning its ire. Though the institute takes steps to try and destabilize the CPG, their new gen-2 synths prove insufficient for the task.

2177: Reactivating their FEV program, the Institute begin producing supermutants from kidnapped wastelanders and releasing them into the commonwealth with the intent to destabilize the CPG. Through careful false-flag attacks using disguised synths, they manage to spark a state of war between the mutants and surface humans that will last for more than a century.

2180: The newly formed Commonwealth Minutemen, a volunteer citizen’s militia created by the CPG, help drive off the initial wave of supermutants from central Boston.

2180-2224: Tensions between the Institute and CPG continue to escalate. Though the efforts of the Institute’s FEV project hampers the young nation’s expansion, the supermutants are too disorganized and scattered to topple the government. Faced with an increasingly cohesive and rapidly developing CPG, the Institute begins work on its Gen-3 synth infiltrator project.

2225: The Institute discovers information on Vault 111. Preparations are made for an expedition to recover a pristine pre-war genetic code from one of the pre-war vault dwellers in cryostasis.

2227: The part where they murder your spouse and steal your kid happens.

2229: An early model synth infiltrator "malfunctions" in downtown Diamond city, exposing the existence of Gen-3 synths to the world. The cause of the malfunction is never found, though escaped synths often claim that it was an intentional suicide-by-cop.

2230: Realizing the security threat posed by the new Gen-3 synths, mid-ranking members of the CPG's nascent spy corps founds the town of Covenant over top of an abandoned tunnel network. Posing as a new settlement, almost no one outside the project know its true purpose: the town is actually a front for researching a method to discern humans from Gen-3 synths.

2233: The Institute begins its infiltration of the CPG using upgraded Gen-3 synths, killing & replacing key individuals at all levels of power. Though paranoia about synths continues to build, most fail to anticipate just how far the tech has advanced.

2235: The Institute finalizes development of an advanced model of Gen-4 synth, dubbed Coursers. Incorporating FEV and cybernetic enhancements, Coursers form an elite corps of assassins that eliminate anyone who learns about the Institute’s plans.

(Side note: I think coursers should have been so much weirder)

2237: Having completed their infiltration of the CPG, the Institute kicks off their plan to topple the CPG.

August 4: The Executive Chair of the CPG council, Robert Gray, is assassinated by his secretary in broad daylight. During the assassination and subsequent arrest, the secretary loudly declares that the Chair has been replaced by an Institute Synth.

August 12: Scandal breaks out as evidence of massive financial corruption is leaked to the public. Protests occur across the commonwealth as the full scope becomes clear.

August 26: A special election is held, and voters elect minister of transportation Patricia Weiss as Chair. She delivers a hawkish election speech warning the Institute to back down.

September 10: A portion of the CPG stages a coup, using claims of mass election fraud as justification amid mass public unrest. They capture most of the CPG council members, and declare them traitors to the people of the commonwealth. Weiss escapes and sets up a government-in-exile out of Quincy with the remaining CPG military. She issues a two week ultimatum to the coup’s leaders, demanding that they release the counselors and surrender.

September 20: Before the date of the ultimatum passes, the CPG council is executed via mass firing squad in the CPG council chambers. Public dissent boils over into active civil war. The Minutemen quickly declare neutrality, but their attempts to protect outlying settlements are hampered by the widespread violence and lack of volunteers.

October 30: Under the guise of a ceasefire negotiation, the coup regime arrests Weiss. She is put through a kangaroo court and hanged as a synth infiltrator, to the shock of the public.

November: Multiple settlements withdraw from the CPG as the violence escalates, Bunker Hill and Goodneighbor first among them. The CPG civil war begins to peter out as both sides lose support, and numerous CPG military units defect to become raiders in search of pay.

December: Loyalist forces gain the upper hand, begin a reign of terror style purge of the remaining CPG officials, and declare the coup defeated. Weakened by the withdrawal of numerous settlements in reaction to the violence of the purge, the Loyalist government promptly collapses. Remnants of the rebel CPG forces attempt to declare a new government out of University Point, but fail to attract any major settlements.

2238: The CPG totally collapses. The remnants of its military forces, both loyalist and rebel, defect to the gunners en masse; many, disillusioned with military life, become raiders. Only the Minutemen command staff, operating out of Fort Independence, remain cohesive.

The collapse of the CPG ushers in an era of violence lasting decades as raider warlords exploit the chaos to carve the Commonwealth up into bandit fiefdoms.

Rumors begin to circulate that several of the key players of the CPG’s collapse were secretly synths. In truth, the entire chain of events was planned to a T, and leaders on all sides had been replaced. Only the Minutemen were overlooked, being seen by the Institute as just ragtag volunteers.

Several synth infiltrators defect from the Institute, seeking a way to free themselves and their peers. The organization they found will eventually grow into the Railroad.

Covenant, its secrecy miraculously intact, becomes radicalized by the fall of the CPG. Their methods become more desperate and more barbaric as time goes on.

2240's: The Minutemen begin rebuilding support for the CPG among the populace, striking back against the raider warlords and defending settlements from their depredations.

2250: Supermutant attacks increase sharply as the Institute releases more and more mutants onto the surface in an attempt to stop the Minutemen from reforming the CPG.

2274: After weathering two decades of freaquent supermutant attacks, Fort Independence finally falls at the hand of a mirelurk queen; unknown to anyone on the surface, this was the work of the Institute, who used their advanced signals technology to drive the creature into a frenzy.

2282: General Becker dies, leaving the Minutemen leaderless. The militia quickly declines, becoming disorganized and factional; raiders quickly exploit the chaos.

2285: Disgusted by his role in the Institute’s FEV program, Doctor Brian Virgil sabotages the program, mutates himself, and escapes into the glowing sea with the accumulated research. Distraught by the sudden lack of new reinforcements, the commonwealth mutants face an extinction crisis. Many begin to question their way of life, among them a mutant named Strong.

2288: The Sole Survivor wakes up.

[the-casbah-way]

i’m assuming jamie was written out for real-world logistical reasons but i don’t think he could or should have come back anyway. when the attack dog goes rabid and gnaws through his own fucking leash there's nothing much anyone can do but stand there and watch. you can train a dog to bite for you but once they've got enough of a taste for blood they're going to stop giving a shit about who they've got between their teeth so long as there's something to tear into. maybe malcolm never had jamie on a leash in the first place. maybe jamie didn't bite because malcolm asked him to. maybe he just liked the taste of blood. malcolm hired a loyal dog and got what he paid for because at the end of the day jamie stayed so loyal that it became the death of him. loyal to the party. not malcolm

[hellogoodbyeitsme]

Broke: Damian is bad at being a Robin because he's too violent

Woke: Damian is bad at being a Robin because he's afraid to hurt people

[a-most-beloved-fool]

something very compelling about accidental bonding spirk fics.

it's like, oops! i love him so much that i've unintentionally tied our souls permanently together! surely this was caused entirely by my own affection, and he could never feel the same way! <- they're both thinking that, btw. sharing both a head and a brain cell and still never getting a clue.

[pwurrz]

being obsessed with yakumo is a job and baby i’ve never called in a sick day!!!!!

[juniperhillpatient]

realizing that there’s people who sooo sympathize with Nick Godejohn & think he’s a poor little baby who was manipulated by the irredeemably evil Gypsy Rose is a friendly reminder to me that I really do live in a bubble on the internet some of u are insane

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[fiapple]

Okay, you know that scene in Catwoman v.1 where Selina begs Maggie to scream, cry, lash out, & curse her rather than turn to a darker version of herself?

I need you to understand that, if it were written with any sense of integrity, that would be the attitude Bruce has towards Jason post-resurrection. At least after becoming privy to the fact that Jason does not personally blame Bruce for his death.

In my opinion, Bruce would sell his arm for a penny on a streetcorner providing it gave Jason non-homicidal means of coping, for Jason to view him as responsible, as a second murderer. For him to curse "hereoism", & vigilantes, & the whole fucking lifestyle- decry it as an unbelievable farce & leave it all behind to go back to being Jason Todd of Crime Alley, who only did what he had to do to survive. Bruce would be so far beyond willing to carry that weight if it meant his boy would be off the track of his homicidally self-destructive rampage. If it meant Jason realizing he is more than just a revenant, that he is alive, that he can have a life.

The only way it makes any sense to me is if Bruce would accept, even embrace a world in which Jason views him as a horrible dad, an irredeemable piece of shit who is directly responsible for his murder, if it just meant that Jason did not have to utterly sacrafice his sense of humanity & compassion to make it through the world. He'd give near anything for it or it makes no sense. That's his son. His son who was dead but is now alive, for all he does not seem to grasp that himself.

Also he should have let Jason pop the clown. Not even for ethical reasons, but in the chase of giving Jason a chance at the realization in the world they do live in where Jason will not allow himself to view Bruce that way. Because he refuses to harm his son, or let him be taken in another explosion. Not when he just got him back, not when his son has not even gotten the chance to truly come back to life.

(I also think it would be a far more interesting jumping-off point post-utrh for Jason, but that's somewhat besides the point.)

[afusionoffandoms]

I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me.

[nanowired-lover]

Getting a little too existential about a DND clas test bc I want to answer truthfully on how i act and feel irl and not talk about my goals i don't even act upon but also i don't want to end up in a class that is bascially "ur an edgelord ahah" bitch no i'm just an autistic adult with ADHD and no sense of real trust since I'm a child bc I might be a bit paranoid. But also. A fucking empathic, silly and emotional bastard who both hate and is in love with the world

[timbourinedrake]

Drawing parallels between Bruce's grief over Jason and Heathcliff mourning Cathy. The destruction of self and everyone around them, the guilt of feeling responsible for their death and being haunted by it every waking moment.

The same comparison can be made with Cathy and Jason if you really dig in to it, the two being complex characters who are so full of life and passion that they can't help but leave a lasting mark on everyone who meets them. Despite the pain Gotham caused Jason, he still loves it and is drawn to it and is almost the very personification of the city, much like Catherine has the very spirit of Wuthering Heights within her.

'Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I'm sure I should be myself were I amongst the heather on those hills' Jason's return to Gotham almost reflects the same sentiment as this, he's trying to return to the person he once was, return to a time where he was happier without the anger and trauma he carries now.

Both stories show how easily love and hate can get twisted, how love isn't always positive, that sometimes it can be a destructive, obsessive force. It would be better for them to let the love go and move on, but instead they'd rather watch the other burn, because love is misery and if they do not suffer- is that really love?

[bushdivingbushranger]

Sometimes I think about that time in high school when I fucked up an exam really badly and when I got my result I started sobbing in class bc I knew my dad was going to absolutely beat my ass when results were e-mailed, so I got pulled out of class and had to talk with the school’s like year level co-ordinator and student safety officer and she was like why r u crying and I was like bc my dad 😭 sniffle sniffle and she asked all these questions about my home life and whatever and I was like yeah he whoops my ass sometimes 😔 etc etc and then after results were e-mailed and I had my ass whooped, came to school the next day and she was like “how did it go” and I said “fine” and she was like awh ❤️ im so glad… like ik it wasn’t her job to rlly sift through obvious lies but like that memory always just cracks me up bc when she was like “oh that’s good im glad ❤️” with no further questions I was literally like

[exandr0th-0f-viscera]

(PEOPLE ARE LIKE "YOU SHOULD GET ALONG WITH THE OTHERS IN YOUR HEAD" WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO) (MAYBE I WOULD RATHER KILL THEM SOMETIMES) (MAYBE THEY'RE IRRITATING TO BE AROUND) (WHAT THEN?)

[loveanddeepthroat]

Baby Blues

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.

Word count - 2.7k

⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.

Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.

It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.

You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.

It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.

Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.

Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.

That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.

He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts. 

Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.

You just wished she would settle with both parents.

It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.

“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.

“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.

You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.

“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”

Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.

You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.

Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.

He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.

He wanted to help.

The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.

You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”

“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”

“But—” 

“No buts.”

He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself. 

You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.

“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.

It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.

You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.

“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”

You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.

He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly. 

You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.

“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.

Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence. 

This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.

“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”

Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”

You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.” 

“Eat.”

The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”

He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.

Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.

Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.

“Knows what?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.

His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”

You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.

You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”

His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.

“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”

“Unsafe?” 

His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.

You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.

“Eat.”

Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.

You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.

Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.

After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”

You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.

Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?

“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”

The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.

Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.

“Don’t cry—”

“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.

The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.

He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”

He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.

“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.

Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.

“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.

And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.

Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.

“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”

He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.

Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.

A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️

[perplexingly]

just a quick context, in case it sparkled someones curiosity: it's the 1920 sci-fi play that originated the word "robot", though the robots are made of flesh. In an exposition we learn that the process through which the artificial humans are made was discovered by Rossum by chance while he was studying ocean fauna (it's a very brief info at the beginning, Rossum isn't a character in the story the way that, say, Victor Frankenstein is -- but the play may still appeal to the same audience tbh)

Wait I know this meme is old by this point but it’s fitting

[found-pham-ily]

I love supportive parents Fentons. We're they good parents? Not always but they are trying. More so now that they knew how they'd failed Danny. They did a 180 on their research going from Ghost are evil to ghost are just people. Though some ghost wish they still just acted violently rather then stalking them to ask so *so* many questions.

Danny is happy, his parents are trying and while the GIW are still around as a nuisance he doesn't see then as actually a threat. Everyone in Amity had started treating him better both in and out of Phantom form. He is thriving.

Enter Constantine, there on league business. That business is decommissioning the GIW. The acts had been repealed and the group was supposed to cease activity. But they kept those things from Amity park and everyone there. How the league found out about it was just superman overhearing the agents brag about how they still worked in Amity.

Constantine had a fine time with the civilians there until he mentioned working for the league. Suddenly everyone turns on him. They don't harm him but they ice him out, over charge anything he buys, and hurl insults. He was also pretty sure his string of bad luck was caused by them too not just the obvious things.

So the hellblazer has no choice but to ask the local heros. Phantom tell him to leave, that he had it all covered. Red huntress is luckily more forth coming. If by forth coming you meant telling the truth while insulting a person and group so bad it makes him want to retire. Seriously he knew teens could be vicious but this is special levels of vitriol.

Once he finds out the situation, he can feel a migraine coming on. Not only did the league not answer a call for help repeatedly, but the local heros were two teens who think the league was for the anti-ecto acts. Plus neither of them were *good* at hiding their identities. Phantom was a palate swap and used a pun on his own civilian name. Red huntress Aka Valerie was *proud* of being red huntress and saw no real reason to hide it anymore.

The town is shocked when the league member in town starts taking down the GIW. Even more shocked when he told everyone the acts were repealed. They don't warm up to him though. Well things are better priced again at least.

As he finishes up and prepared to leave, he is stopped by the town mad scientist. They're smiling at him but he just knows this was about to be bad. Which is only proven when the lady pulls out a note pad and pen and he is being given the third degree on how magic works.

Constantine tries to leave he really does. But the man Jack has him body blocked via side hug he can't escape from. They wouldn't take his non-answers as answers and he felt his day get *worse* when they ask him to teach them.

The Fentons want magic only so they can figure it out. Magic doesn't exist so what ever power the hellblazer has has to be ecto based! And they need answers! It could help their son master his own powers and they could finally join him in fights on equal footing. A family that fights evil together stays together. Danny would be so proud of them!

Constantine doesn't want to deal with possible future magic rogues so he hits his s.o.s beacon in his pocket as he goes for a cigarette. He'd get shit for it later but he could handle a Bat lecture not what ever this was.