#i want kids to be kids and teenagers to be teenagers and pre teens to exist again

[cottoncandywhispers]

your mom was right, put the damn phone down

[russellsppttemplates]

I've been thinking about how Charles would react if Herve (as pre-teen) come home saying that someone in school called his mom a milf, it would be hilarious.

"Papa, what is a MILF?", Hervé asked as he helped Charles set the table.

Your husband swore he nearly let go of the plates and let them fall on the floor, "where did you learnt that?", he asked.

"Some of the older guys at school said that mama was one, but then they had to go and I never got to ask them what they meant", the twelve-year-old stated.

"Buddy", Charles supported himself on his hands on the table, "that is a very specific topic and I'm not sure we're getting into this right now".

"Is it offensive? Did they call mama a bad name?", Hervé worried as rage overcame him.

"No, not at all", Charles reasoned as you stepped inside.

"Mama, some guys at my school called you a MILF", Hervé smiled as he told you.

You nearly choked on your own spit, "they did?", you gulped as you watched your son go back to the living room to play with his siblings.

"Teenagers think I'm a MILF? I'm flattered", you joked as Charles pulled you to him.

"I'm going to hide you, you're never going to pick the kids up from school ever again! They think about my wife like that? No fucking way!", Charles hissed.

"Amour, teenagers found me hot - it's all cool. I don't care about them", you shrugged your shoulders and saw Charles' pout, "what? You think they're wrong?".

"No, Y/N, of course not! You're the most beautiful mama ever, just don't want anyone else looking at you like that", he mumbled against your neck.

"You're the one in my bed at night, aren't you Charles?", you mused.

"I know I am", he groaned, "you should've seen my face when he asked me what it meant, I was prepared for the worst", your husband cleared his throat.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[gingernut1314]

Head On ch. 8

Summary: You and your friends go to see Viktor off to school when you all are met with a horrid sight. All you want is to get everyone out safely and for Silco back at your side.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, young Felicia, young Connol, baby Vi, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, pre-teen Viktor, canon typical violence, riots, guns/blood, friend reunions, confessing feelings, reader has water manipulation, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 7.6K

Tag List: @miffysoo , @teriyakiitae , @locinne , @equaniimouxx , @cipher-nine

@shi-toshi , @sebastianlover

A/N: Okay okay, 1) I wanted to just quickly say THANK YOU to everyone whose taken the time to read this story and whose let me know you've been enjoying it!! It really does mean so much to me and keeps me going!! 2) sorry for the long ass word count. I can't help myself. I am a long word count girly who has been trying her hand at short word counts but will always go back to running her mouth in her stories lol 3) sorryyy for the time skip again. It's important to me at least to have it so that we can age up some younger characters anddd to keep things moved towards more fun events. It doesn't truly impair the story too much I feel. And 4) I hope you all enjoy!! Sending much love!!

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Three years later

“Oh and off she goes.” Felicia cheerfully spoke as Violet wandered off towards a bit of blue chalk lying on the side of the street faster than you believed her small legs should be able to take her. Felicia rushed after her, grabbing her toddler up in her arms just as Vi had snagged the bit of chalk. 

Vi gave an angered noise that sounded like some roaring beast at her feet leaving the ground. The kid thrashed about in her mom’s arms, kicking and throwing punches as if she could fight her way out. Felicia laughed through it all.

��Okay, okay.” Felicia placed a smacking kiss on her kid’s round, dirt-smudged cheek before quickly pulling her face out of the way of another small, chubby little fist. “Geez. One of these days you’re gonna knock someone's tooth out.” She huffed, placing Vi back onto the ground.

“No, no, mommy.” Vi humphed, wagging a finger like she was the boss. Felicia merely laughed again, ruffling her head of pink hair. 

“That kid needs a leash,” Sevika grumbled from where she walked beside you, pulling her cigarette from her lips.

“She’s just explori--oh and there she goes again.” Felicia booked it after Vi as she made to start writing on some passing man’s pants with the chalk still clutched in her fist. 

“Gods. Guppy, you ever catch me daydreaming about shit like having a kid, I give you full permission to smash a rock over my head.” Sevika took a long drag from her smoke after she spoke. 

“Only if you agree to do the same for me.” You smirked. Sevika held her first out and you were quick to bump your own against it. She pulled her cigarette from her lips and exhaled the remaining smoke from her lungs. 

“Deal.” 

“You two are so negative,” Nadia spoke from where she walked just before you two, her eyes nervously scanning over her own kid, now nearly on the cusp of teenage-hood. “Vi is just a very spirited child.” And just as Nadia finished, Vi gave another screeching wail as Felicia lugged her back over to you all. 

“Got her!” Felicia cheered as Violet’s eyes began to fill with frustrated tears. 

“How are you feeling, little angel?” Nadia asked Viktor who she hadn’t taken her eyes off once since they all started the walk towards the bridge. 

And she was nervous for good reason. She and Nikolai, after years and years of hard work and living off scraps, had saved up enough money to send Viktor to school in Piltover. 

And not just any school. The best school money could buy. A school that would further feed Viktor’s curiosity and need to experiment as well as give him the connections needed so he could, after he graduated, attend Piltover Academy. 

But for him to attend this school and become something over there, he had to stay there and you knew it was keeping everything within Nadia not to break down and forget about all of it. 

“The same way I felt when you asked me a minute and thirty seconds ago,” Viktor responded, voice full of sass he’d been using more and more lately. 

“Oh.” Nadia gave a weak smile. “Excited then, yes?” She asked, reaching a gentle hand out to run her fingers through his head of wild hair to try and smooth it back down. Violet gave another screeching wail just as Viktor swatted his mother’s hand away. 

“Silly goose,” Felicia spoke as Nadia pulled from her son, fingers beginning to fiddle and pick at each other. 

“Actually. Just shoot me.” Sevika grumbled under her breath to you as she observed the exchanges between both mothers and their kids.

“Only if you do the same.” Sevika chuckled heartily at your response. “Dee, you said Nikolai’s already over there?” You questioned, trying to quickly keep Nadia’s mind off her son's denial of affection. Nadia blinked her burnt gold eyes at you, that weak smile still plastered to her face. 

“Yes. Yes, he went last night to deliver a sculpture to a client. We have a friend he stayed the night with. He should already be on the other side of the bridge and to meet Viktor and bring--” Her voice faltered a bit as she gazed back at her son who confidently limped ahead, looking all too ready for this next step in life. “Bring him to school. Help him settle in.” 

“Good.” You quickened your pace a bit to be able to stand beside your friend. Your first friend. One you’d met as soon as she and her family had made it to the Lanes after fleeing their home. She had been just as sweet and kind back then as she was now, but she too held that same sass her son now used. You placed a hand on Nadia’s shoulder. 

“Viktor’ll do good. You know that. He’s smart.” Nadia nodded, grabbing hold of your hand tightly and giving you a heavy, grateful-filled look. “We’re here for you…even when Sevika’s a Miss. Dark and Gloomy and Felicia wrangling some feral creature.” Nadia gave an equally as weak huffed laugh. 

“Watch. My little creature is gonna grow up and become a famous cage fighter. Hand you all your asses while she’s at it.” Felicia grinned your way, Vi all but hanging upside down as Felicia struggled to keep a hold of her wrestling daughter. 

Felicia and Connol, since having Vi, decided Felicia could stop working the mines till Vi was old enough to stay home by herself. It made it so that Connol was rarely home and Felicia feeling a bit more lonely.

So, Felicia found work at your job. Your boss, having a soft spot for mothers and their little ankle biters, gave Felicia temporary work in her office where she could bring Violet while she helped with paperwork. 

It’s why Felicia was able to come with you all this morning to see Viktor off. You all would make sure he got across the bridge safe and sound before heading to the diner-shop to start the work day. 

After work, your group decided to hold a mock family dinner for Nadia and Nikolai to try and help keep their minds off their son living in a city that would try to swallow him whole every chance it got. 

You were trying not to think too hard about your whole group in one place like that. Talking and eating and drinking together, when such festivities had grown less and less frequent. 

And it was all thanks to you and Silco of course. 

Your fight three years ago had left you both fighting for months. Months that neared on a whole year before Vander stepped in and told you two to knock it off. That you needed to at least act civil when around the whole group, especially since Vi had been born. 

It had stopped the fighting but had left you two distant. Hardly a word spoke to each other for a year afterward.

The problem was you both were stubborn. Too proud to admit the fight was over nothing. Too proud to just sit down and talk it over like adults. 

You still hardly spoke a word to each other a year after that one, though now you two could be alone together and not have it turn into a verbal battle. 

You missed him. 

It was something you had been thinking about more and more. 

You missed exploring after work with him. Missed long talks while sharing a cigarette. Missed being able to sit next to him in silence, shoulders and thighs pressed together. Being able to sit there and not have the air be full of tension. 

You missed your friend. 

You cursed yourself out daily for having had a hand in losing his close friendship all because you had been scared and ran away. You should have just stayed in that cave and told him what you were thinking--how you were feeling. 

But that chance passed you by and you were stuck in this tension-filled now. 

Shouting pulled you from your thoughts. 

You thought at first it was Violet again, but it was too loud--too many different shouts. And when you looked to the little girl, you found she had calmed in her mom's arms, watching as a pair of people rushed past your group towards the bridge.

“Oh no.” Nadia gasped as you all rounded the corner, finding the mouth of the bridge a cluster of people shouting and screaming at the enforcers standing there, trying to keep them back. 

You didn’t have to peer too hard past everyone to see a large, chain fence had been put up, blocking anyone from going in. 

Nadia pulled from your touch and grabbed hold of her son, who didn’t shoo her away this time. 

“What the fuck.” Sevika hissed, plucking her cigarette from her lips and flicking it to the ground. “No chance in hell they’ve blocked us out.” 

But none of you would ever put it past them. They’d done it before a long while ago, back when Vander’s dad was your age and The Gray ran more rabid in the streets. 

“Do you know what happened?” Felicia asked the next person who tried to rush by. They took a small second to look back at you all, eyes shifting to look at Vi who was now greeting them with round after round of hi.

“They raised the toll. Five hundred.” You felt your blood run cold. The old toll had been hard enough to pay and now this? 

Five hundred? 

That was more than most made in a week’s worth of work. 

“And even if you can pay, they’re askin’ thousands of questions just to find any reason to not let you through. Not unless you have proof.” And off they rushed into the crowd, leaving you and your group fuming.

“Fuck this--Vander’s gotta give in after hearing this shit.” Sevika gruffed and you agreed. 

Vander would agree to start fighting back like you and the others had been wanting. He’d held you all back for years saying nothing that had happened was worth going to war for. 

But this was worth it. 

They were cutting you all off from the rest of the world like one might do to a decaying limb. 

Sevika made to march back through the fissures to find Vander, but something caught her eye.

She froze. 

You froze. 

“Where the hell is Nadia?” Felicia asked as Vi became fussy messing in her arms all over again. Your chest tightened as you scanned over the rioting crowd. Tightened painfully when you caught a flash of ruddy red hair disappearing within it. 

You rushed for her, leaving Sevika to curse and all but command Felicia to stay put as she ran after you. You didn’t slow as she called your name. Didn’t slow as you pushed and shoved through the crowd, hissing and snapping harshly at any who refused to move. 

Sevika shoved those who refused away with one arm easily, having caught up to you. The few that had all but glued their feet to the ground took one look at your menacing friend and moved before you could even get to them. 

“--see. Himerdinger himself selected my son to attend Piltover Preparatory School.” You heard Nadia’s accented voice before you saw her, but when you pushed through the last few bodies, you spotted her. She was shoving a gold detailed letter into the hands of an enforcer by a door closest to the tollhouse. It was the acceptance letter Viktor had received. 

The enforcers, who you recognized immediately to be Rufus, who should have retired years ago, nodded on a heavy sigh. 

“Five hundred.” He handed the letter back to Nadia who was quick to give it to Viktor, who was pulling lightly at the skirt of her dress shaking his head, looking like a small kid again. 

“We cannot affor--” Nadia cut him off with a fierce gaze. 

“You are going to that school.” She demanded, digging into her pockets for a small pouch full of coins. She fished out the correct amount and handed it to Rufus who nodded to another enforcer standing guard by the door to unlock it. 

“Nadia--” You called just as an enforcer stepped before you, keeping you back. You bared your teeth at him. “Move it.” But he only continued to shove you back, just as more enforcers came to shove others back. 

“You are going to work hard. And it will be hard, but you will do good things. Great things for this world.” You heard Nadia continue. You caught a glance at her, finding her on her knees before her son, holding his tear-streaked face and looking so proud. “Do not let them snuff out your spark. I love you, my little angel. Always remember that.” And you were shoved away just as she wrapped her son up in her arms for what might be the last time. 

You hit Sevika’s solid body, but she held you steady. She flashed you a smirk, gray eyes steady and full of that burning anger you all held before she shoved the enforcer back, his armor rattling violently as he fell to his ass. 

You used the opening to rush over the fallen officer toward Nadia, who was watching Viktor walk through the gate door, which slammed shut and locked behind him. He cast his mom one last look, who steadied him with an encouraging nod. You grabbed her arm as the enforcer Sevika knocked over shouted at you. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” You asked, trying not to let your words bite seeing your friend’s eyes had turned all red and glossy. “You shouldn’t have paid that goddamn toll.”

“It is only money.” She started, almost fighting against you as you tried to pull her away from the fence. Her burnt gold eyes, which welled over onto her flushed cheeks, kept track of her son the whole time. “I would do anything for him. Anything.” 

Shouting grew more aggressive behind you. A sound that normally would have thrilled you, but with Nadia still in the heart of it all, it was dreadful. 

She couldn’t fight. Didn’t know how and could hardly pick a fish-filled crate up without help. She would only get caught in the crossfire of a fight like this. 

“Nadia--Nadia we have to go.” You insisted, tugging sharply at her arm. She allowed you to pull her closer. 

You turned and--

Boom. 

The sound echoed sharply through the air. 

The sound of a gunshot. 

People screamed and began to run around like chickens who’d had their heads cut off. You spotted the person who Felicia had stopped to question laying face first on the ground, red pooling beneath them. 

The enforcers who had fired looked just as terrified as everyone else, his gun shaking in his hands.

Rufus shoved past you both shouting orders at him and the others to not fire. 

Another gunshot sounded further down the line and that was when you held Nadia tight and sprinted toward Sevika. Sevika grabbed hold of your own arm and began dragging you back toward Felicia just as you were dragging Nadia. 

Another gunshot roared through the air. 

And then another. 

Nadia tripped, startled scream on her lips. You held her tight and continued to pull her along. 

You all just needed to get away. Far away from the enforcers and their need to quince their bloodthirst. 

Felicia was holding a screaming Vi tight to her chest, feet already moving as soon as she spotted you all. 

“That way. That way!” Sevika shouted to Felicia who turned the corner she was pointing at sharply. 

“The fucking brothels?!” Felicia shouted back. 

“Where the fuck else!” Sevika hissed.

“I can’t bring my kid in there!” Felicia called as Sevika wound the corner after her.

“Cover her eyes!” 

“I can’t--” Nadia called your name on a winded breath, “I can’t--” Her pace began to slow. 

“Just a little further, okay, and then we can sto--” But you felt Nadia drop to her knees just as you two turned the corner. Her weight growing so heavy it nearly pulled you down with her. 

A painful start hissed through your body when you found her on the ground, clutching at her shoulder and looking pale. Too pale even for her. 

Red splattered on her shaking fingertips. Red that had dripped here and there on the ground leading directly to your friend.

Rock bit into your knees as you rushed for her, flipping her onto her back to find the front of her dress soaked in blood. 

“Did--did he get across?” She sputtered, fear high in her eyes. Pain screwed her face up, tears never ceasing their fall from her eyes. 

“Sevika!” You screamed, grabbing for Nadia’s hand to pull it from her shoulder. She gave a scream that tore at your chest and made you hesitate. “It’s--it’s just your shoulder.” You tried to smooth, pressing your palm against the bleeding wound that only made her pain grow. “It’s fine--Sevika!” 

Water was in the blood. 

Water was yours to command yet blood never wanted to behave as nicely as water. Not even as nicely as alcohol which held more than less water in it than blood did. 

You’d never been able to control it. Never been able to slow the flow of it even from something as small as a paper cut. 

You tried anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on the water flowing within her blood. Willed it, begged it to halt just long enough for someone to come to patch her up.

Sevika cursed sharply when she came to your side but you kept focusing on your task. Kept pushing your power harder and harder even when it began to make your head spin. 

“V-Viktor--” Nadia gave a small sob. “Did--get--” Another sob that burned at your eyes. “Please.” 

“He did. He got across.” Your voice came out too wobbly. Too weak. 

“We gotta get her out of here.” Sevika’s voice sounded, her strong hands gently starting to pull you away. 

You let her, but kept your focus on your task. On wrangling her blood with your magic and pushing it back as if trying to reverse the flow of some powerful river. 

Nadia gave a brokenly pained cry as Sevika picked her up as gently as she could. You followed, vision beginning to dot the longer you pushed your magic to work on such a hard task. 

Black fuzzed through your eyes and the next thing you knew you were standing inside a dimly lit brothel. 

Black fuzzed at your eyes as you watched Sevika lay Nadia on a pillow-covered bed, an older Yordle assessing the damage. She turned her eyes onto Sevika looking all too grim.

Black fuzzed at your eyes and Vi’s screaming rang through your ears, loud and piercing. A hand grabbed your shoulder and you pushed it quickly off of you. 

Your magic snapped back into your body so hard it made you stumble backward out of the room you had been led into. You tried to summon it back but that fuzz turned into dull buzzing in your ears. Made your breath heavy and tight in your lungs. Made your stomach twist and your mouth fill with hot saliva like you might throw up. 

A few of the employees of the brothel you all barged into peeked their heads out of their rooms, eyes wide and some even filled with tears. They must have heard about what happened at the bridge. Must have seen you all rush in and known what had happened as soon as they spotted Nadia--Nadia--

Your stomach rolled just as your heart twisted like some old rag and your eyes blurred. 

You blinked and you were outside. 

Blinked and you were down the street. 

Blinked and you were looking at your shaking hands. 

Blood. Nadia’s blood. 

Oh gods oh gods. 

Gods. 

Where the fuck was Janna? 

Where was she? 

She was supposed to be the Lanes’ guardian spirit or some shit. Supposed to protect you all. Keep shit like this from happening to you all. 

And--and she’d just left. 

Left you all to suffer and die by the hands of Piltover who would never stop trying to take, take, take. They would take till their bellies were round and full and still their hunger would not be sated. 

Hands grabbed your arm, tugging at you. You shove whoever it was away. A shove that only made the person grab you tighter. 

You blinked and found it was an enforcer. Two. One shouted down the way for backup.

Your head spun. 

The effort from trying to use your powers on something as hard as blood made it hard to re-focus--to breathe. 

Before you could try to fight them off, a blur of red and gray flashed past you, attacking the enforcers for you. 

The sound of a blade zinging free and the gurgled sounds of a dying breath filled your ears as you staggered back, trying desperately to get yourself together. More screams. More sounds of death and soon someone was before you. Someone who was calling your name sharply. 

You tensed a bit when hands grabbed hold of your face, body readying to fight, but the feel of those hands. Of chilled, calloused, and scarred skin gave you pause. Had you blink and blink that fog away till you found Silco’s face there. 

He looked worried. Really worried. 

Worried for you. 

Only you. 

“Hey--hey are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” Fingers smooth over your skin, pulling your face closer and closer. You blinked again, eyes filling with liquid fire as you grabbed desperately for his hands. Hands that continued to hold you tight, to hold you so close you felt his forehead brush against yours. 

Out of all the touches and almost touches that had happened between you two your whole lives, this was the one you craved most. One you pressed into. One that had those tears you fought back rolling down your cheeks and over her fingers in hot streams. 

“Tell me--what happened? I heard about the bridge and--”

“Nadia--” Weak. Your voice sounded so weak in your ear and, even though you typically would have cringed at such weakness being shown, you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not when your friend could be dying. Not in front of Silco. “She’s--” 

Silco pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around your body tightly and you just crumbled. Just completely broke down--snot and all. Sobs shook your body so violently you were sure they were shaking through Silco as well. 

But Silco didn’t pull away. Only held you tighter, like he might try to press you into him. Only smoothed his hands over your back and pressed his cheek against your head, keeping you almost completely surrounded by him.

“Silco!” It was Vander’s voice and Vander’s footfalls that were growing closer and closer. “Where are the other girls?” He asked, worry high in his voice. 

“Where is Felicia? Vi?” Connol sounded even more worried than Vander. As he should. His whole life had been at the bridge. His whole life could have been taken away in one fell swoop. You grabbed two fist fulls of Silco’s leather jacket, holding on for dear life as you fought to reign back your chest-aching sobs. As Connol all but hissed your name, trying to frantically stir you from your breaking. 

“Don’t.” Silco hissed right back at him, a hand coming to hold the back of your head as if to keep you shielded from your friend. “I saw her come out from the entertainment district. I would guess they are all there.” Silco had hardly finished his words before someone, most likely Connol, rushed off. 

“It's not safe here. We need to get out of view.” It was Benzo’s voice that spoke, the man sure to have joined them without a second thought. Silco was silent as his fingertips brushed over the back of your neck. Seemed to be waiting for you and for whenever you were ready, no matter the danger that lurked through the streets. You wrestled yourself to move, pulling slowly from Silco’s hold as you tried to bite down your weakness.

Silco let his hands linger on you. Let his hand brush over your cheek and over your shoulder, seafoam eyes scanning you over, looking for everything and anything that might be a harm to you. 

He took hold of your hand firmly like he was refusing to let you go again. You were glad for it. Glad for his support, even when tension between you had grown choking. Tensions that, in that moment, seemed to be forgotten.

Vander’s face hardened when his eyes took in your upset nature. Benzo’s eyes grew sullen.

You never cried. You’d come close, but you never cried. Especially in front of others. 

It was something Silco and Vander both knew. Something that was hardening Vander against the cruel reality that someone could be hurt. Someone could be dead. 

Hardened into that anger. 

The wolf paced behind those gray eyes. 

Was growing stronger and stronger, ready to be let loose upon the world. 

Sevika was right. He would agree to start the revolution you all had dreamed of now. 

Start a war. 

“Who?” Vander asked. Your lip trembled. 

“Nadia. I--I don’t know--” Silco’s body pressed closer to yours in a silent telling that you could lean on him. That he would be there for you no matter what. 

Vander nodded, beginning to head off in the direction Connol had run, Benzo quick on his heel. 

“It’s not safe out here. Let's go.” It was a command. One you wanted to follow but your body locked up against. 

Go? Go back to that brothel Nadia was laying in? Go back to that place and see her dying?

Silco’s hand pulled from your own only for it to wrap around your waist, pressing you into his side. 

“I’m here. I’m here with you.” He didn’t promise that Nadia would be okay. He couldn’t promise that. No one could. Not when they didn’t know any true doctors. Not when, even if it was just a shot to her shoulder, could be fatal if left unattended for long. 

But he did promise he was there. 

That he wouldn’t leave your side, no matter what. 

And it was enough to get your body moving back towards the entertainment district. 

The typically busy street looked like it had been abandoned. Looked like it was closed down for good. 

You led them to the brothel everyone was hold up in, finding Connol and Felicia sitting just in the entrance on a nest of pillows, a small group of workers cooing at Vi who was going up to each and grabbing for any shiny jewelry or pretty hair piece they wore. 

One of them rushed past you three and was quick to lock the door. And bolt lock it. And shove a plank of wood across its frame. She was just as quick to rush to stand before you all, giving a small bow of her head before rushing back off towards the back rooms. 

“Any word about Nadia?” Vander asked Connol and Felicia. 

“I was asked to leave the room because this little troublemaker was very upset,” Felicia spoke, a small smile pulling to her lips as Vi huffed her mom's way. “Sevika’s with her…it’s been quiet.” 

Your throat tightened. 

Your eyes burned. 

Your stomach rolled.

She wasn’t okay. She was dying. Dead. Laying in some brothel she would have blushed furiously at just from a glance in its direction.

“Let’s sit.” Silco calmly spoke to you. Only you. You nodded and let him pull you along. 

“I--I’m sorry.” You all but heaved out past your thick throat. Silco sat down on another little nest of pillows, gently sitting you down next to him. He didn’t pull his hand away from your waist, even when he no longer needed to guide you around like some lost dog. 

“You’ve done nothing you need to apologize for.” He calmly spoke again. 

This was the closest you’d been to him in a long, long time. The longest he’s touched you in a long, long time. 

And gods you had missed it. Gods you cursed yourself for being so stupid and stubborn. 

You moved the slightest bit so that your thigh was pressed firmly against his. So that you could look up at his face and take in all his sharp, handsome features. Look into those seafoam eyes he was already watching you carefully with. 

“I shouldn’t have--” Silco cut you off with a small shake of his head, knowing where you were going with this.

“You don’t--”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. Please. Can we--please.” You begged on a breath so that only he might be able to hear. 

This wasn’t something you really wanted to be doing in front of your friends. In front of strangers and in the heart of a brothel but you needed to say it. Needed to stop your fighting before something happened to you or worse, something happened to him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something horrible happened to him and you hadn’t at least tried to remedy it. 

Silco watched over your face for a long moment. A moment that only had your aching heart ache even more. 

Did he disagree? Did he not want to try and mend the hurts between you two? 

A small nod helped ease a bit of the ach in your chest. 

“I don’t want to fight either.” He breathed back, keeping his words just for you as you had for him. “I should be apologizing. The way I acted was immature and--”

“It was pretty childish.” Silco paused for a moment, slight surprise in his eyes at your teasing but you found the edge of his lips pull upward.

“I am in the middle of an apology here.” He huffed back. An amused huff. It made your lips tug at their corners. 

“Oh sorry. Go on.” You shifted a bit as if to get more comfortable. 

“You’re insufferable.” Silco shook his head at you. 

“Thank you.” You proudly said. Silco chuckled and you did the same, but your amusement faded out as pain spiked in your chest at everything that had happened. Your eyes scanned his face over once more, finding a bit of dirt smudged on his cheek from his work. They must have dropped everything and rushed from the mines when they heard what had happened.

Hesitantly, you brought your hand up to brush that bit of soot away and Silco didn’t shrug you away. He leaned into your touch, eyes almost fluttering closed at your skin on his. 

“I’m…I’m really terrified.” You breathed, eyes burning all over again. Silco nodded, cupping your hand within his, holding it against his cheek. 

“I know.” 

“What if…” Your voice broke and your lips trembled. “What if she dies? I’m…she was the first person to show me kindness and--” Your voice failed you then.

“Then…we’ll deal with it. Together. Head on. Just like we always do.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in further comfort. A comfort you anchored yourself to. Let your eyes flutter closed and just breathe it in. 

Even when he hadn’t showered, he still managed to smell fresh. Like mist. Like a calm lake. 

His forehead pressed firmly against yours once more. You weren’t entirely sure who had moved closer, whether that be you or Silco, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was close to you again. Was telling you silently that he still cared for you. That he would always care for you and you silently told him the same. 

“Just because your friend was bleeding out all over my establishment doesn't mean you can fondle each other here without paying.” A rasping voice spoke, spooking you and Silco from the tender moment you had been sharing. Spooked you two so bad you pulled apart, finding the older Yordle walking into the center of the entrance room. 

The workers who had been cooing and playing cheerfully with Violet were quick to their feet at the Yordle's appearance. They rushed off, bowing their heads at you and your friends, and the Yordle before rushing back towards their rooms. She only shook her head at them.

“We weren’t--it wasn’t like that.” Silco started pink dusting over his cheeks in a way that had Felicia chuckle knowingly and you feeling all flustered as well. Benzo wasn’t as discrete with showing his amusement, all but bellowing out a laugh that nearly had him folding in half.

The Yordle took a long drag from her cigarette and blew the heavy smoke in a tight stream toward the ceiling a few moments later. 

“Boy, I work in a den of lust and love. I’ve seen it all and know what’s what.” Silco’s blush only grew deeper, his eyes glancing your way in his embarrassment of being singled out. 

And despite your own embarrassment, you could help the small chuckle that pfffted from your lips. One that only had that blush deepened, but tugged that easy smile you adored to his lips.

“How is she?” Vander cut in before anything else could be said. The Yordle leveled him with a look. 

“Babette.” Vander’s brows furrowed in slight confusion. 

“Uh--what---”

“My name is Babette.” Vander blinked, looking a bit lost for words. 

“Uh--Vander.” Babette nodded her head slowly, taking another long drag from her cigarette. 

“I know. People talk.” Vander gave a small exhale of breath just as she gave a release of smoke. 

“Babette,” Vander started, “How is our friend?”

“You’re lucky this is the place you barged into. I’ve been doing this job a long time now. Seen it all. Had to learn to patch up bullet and knife wounds alike. People think just because they are paying they can do whatever they wish. No manners.” Babette mused on a shake of her head, making you nervous all over again. “She’ll live.” You breathed a shuddering sigh in relief, Silco’s hand giving yours a squeeze. “But she’s weak. Will be weak for a long while. Such a small thing, that one.” 

You were quick to your feet, Silco following suit. “Thank you. What--how much do you want?” You asked. 

Between the six of you in the room now, you could probably scrooge up…seven…eight coins. Sevike would try to horde whatever she had on her, but she would add in another three or four coins. Probably only bronze…none of you would be carrying around any gold. 

“You couldn’t afford it, sweetness.” Babette purred, making you feel all flustered all over again. “All I want in return is for you to take a stand for us.” Babette’s eyes found Vander’s again. Found him and settled him with a hard, burning stare. Vander nodded at her.

You saw the wolf pace and pace, mawl dripping in hungry justice. 

“Thank you.” Babette gave a wave of her hand as she took another drag of her cigarette. 

You started for the backrooms, Silco still having yet to take his hand out of your and you found you could only be grateful for his continued support. More than grateful. 

Sevika leaned against the wall next to the door Nadia was behind, already watching you two walk towards her. “She’s sleeping.” Sevika huffed, eyes glancing down the hall to where more workers were peeking their heads out of their doors. They disappeared under her gaze, all except one who winked her way before popping back into her room. Sevika gave a smirk at this. “We gonna break their enforcers' skulls?” She asked, her gaze darkening as she looked at Silco. 

“More than break,” Silco spoke coolly.

“And if Vander chickens out again?” Sevika asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Would that make any difference now?” Sevika scoffed. 

“Nah.” 

“Good.” You…found you didn’t like this. Like this…this almost behind closed-door talk. Like Vander would give up on fighting for his friends. Like Vander would give up fighting for everyone. For freedom. 

He wouldn’t. It wouldn’t come to that.

But as you pulled out of Silco’s grip and made it into the room Nadia slept in, finding her looking all too weak, you almost didn’t believe your own thoughts. 

Part if you believed Vander would back out, if under the right circumstances. 

And Silco…you knew he never would. 

He would die before he gave up hope on the future of Zuan.

And you would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t scare you. 

Your whole group made the journey from the entertainment district an hour later to safely bring Nadia back home, which was a tiny, run-down hole in the wall squished between and under other-like homes. It was a mess of all sorts of art and science supplies and half-finished projects. The space was cut roughly in half by a hung curtain, hand painted by Nadia with various swirling designs, to keep their makeshift bedroom separate.

Felicia and Connol, after double-checking to make sure Nadia would be alright, had headed home, their daughter having turned into a sleep-needing beast in Connol’s arms.

Sevika rummaged through Nadia’s small kitchen now, looking for any sort of alcohol she could get her hands on. When she started to shout back to Nadia about it, even when the woman was definitely not supposed to be roused in such a way, you excused yourself outside to find Silco. 

You found him sitting on a pile of crates and barrels near Nadia’s home, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his fingers. Vander and Benzo had been out here a few minutes ago, standing beside him. You assumed they must have left, whether that be back to work or to The Last Drop. 

You weren’t sure and you didn’t entirely care in that moment, not when Silco's seafoam eyes found you before the door had even swung shut behind you. 

You made your way down the ramp Nikolai had built Viktor over top of the original steps there to make it just a little easier for his son to get home before you came to a stop a little ways before Silco. 

You held his gaze as he ran his hand through his hair, which he had allowed out of its usual bun to hang loosely around his shoulders in gentle waves. 

He held your gaze right back, offering his cigarette out to you. You carefully took it, only for him to grab hold of your wrist and yank you closer. Your heart spiked in your chest and began to beat erratically against your rips at the sudden movement. 

Neither pair of eyes left the other for a long moment. Neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to move. Not when you were so close again. Not when you truly wanted to be even closer.

“How is she holding up?” Silco asked and you begged your heart to calm its wildness. 

“As fine as someone who's just been shot and sent their son off to live in the belly of the beast.” You murmured, pulling a nod from Silco.

“Alive. That’s what matters most. We’ll figure everything out. Head on.” He moved his legs so that they hung over the sides of the crate he was sitting on. So that his knees were on either side of your legs, brushing against them gently. 

“Together.” You agreed.

“Together.” He repeated, eyes dipping to glance at your lips. You moved closer now that he had created space for such a thing, the front of your thighs pressing into the edge of the crate and his thighs laying against them comfortably. You’re own eyes dipped almost greedily to look at his own lips. Lips you thought about too often…no--no, maybe didn’t think about them enough. 

“Thank you….for being there for me.” Silco gave your wrist still in his grip a gentle squeeze.

“No need for all that. I will always be there for you when you need me.” You felt warm ash from the cigarette you held fall over your fingers, but you dared not pull away from him. Not when you’d been away from him for so long. Not when you had missed his close friendship so dearly.

A long silence filled the space between you two. A silence that was familiar--warm, not the foully tense thing it had been for one too many years. 

“Would…” You started, your heart beginning to beat loudly in your chest again. Fear, anxiety, and flusteredness all tumbling about within it like some riptide. 

“Would…?” Silco questioned, eyes ever watchful yet so--so soft. A softness only you had never been allowed to see. A softness you had realized maybe too late was only ever for you. 

You hoped it wasn’t too late. 

You prayed it. 

“Would you…would you like to pretend that we’re back at my pool?” You spoke on a voice smaller than a whisper. A voice that was anything but full of all the nerves rolling about in you. 

Silco’s eyes widened the smallest bit at your question, his lips parting in the same smallness to show you a small flash of his chipped front teeth you loved to see. 

“What--but…I thought you didn’t want us to fight any longer?” He whispered back. 

“I don’t but…I was scared.” Silco’s brows furrowed in slight question. 

“Scared? Of--me?” 

“I--Felicia talked to me…after.” Silco nodded in understanding. After your fight in The Last Drop. He’d seen her rush after you. “She told me--well she said I should tell you why I ran away.” 

“Because you thought I was going to hurt you?” You gave a small huff through your nose as you brushed a bit of his dark hair behind his ear. An action that had that delicate blush spreading over his cheeks all over again. 

“Silco you could have anyone. You’ve had anyone. I just--I don’t want to be just anyone to you because…you’re not just anyone to me.” You rested your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb gently over his flushed skin.

“Anyone--” He said your name just as softly as he looked at you, “You aren’t just anyone to me. You’ve--you’ve never been just anyone to me. Why do…” He seemed to grow nervous then, eyes drooping slightly away from your own. “Why do you think I waited so long to…to try to kiss you.” Even though the last part was whispered, you heard it nonetheless. He shook his head slightly. “You are--are everything to me and I’m sorry you felt like you were anything less.” 

You moved your hand gently along his sharp cheek to find his chin, lifting it so that you might see those seafoam eyes of his you adored. Eyes that shone bright with such--such admiration for you in them. A look that had you forgetting all about the cigarette in your other hand. 

That horrid, nagging voice clawed at the back of your mind as it always did and always would. A voice that shouted at you all the things that could happen if you let yourself believe his words. A voice that wanted nothing more than to protect you from possible hurt, but it was also a voice that would only ever hold you back. 

And it was a voice shoved an iron-clad hand over to silence it. 

“Would you like to pretend?” You whispered again, letting your thumb brush just below the curve of his lower lip, which parted on a shaky inhale of breath. 

“I don’t want to pretend.” He whispered back, hand moving up from where he held your wrist to pull you closer. “Let’s just--face it. Head on.” You nodded, nose brushing against his. A brush that had your blood pounding right alongside the beat your heart had set. 

“Together?” Silco’s hand ended its journey, finding rest on your jaw. He guided you closer. So close you felt his breath ghost over your lips, sending a tingling flare through them. 

“Together.” He agreed, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. 

Waiting. He was waiting. 

He was nervous. Nervous you might run away again. Nerves that made your heart ache for him past its beating. 

You pushed closer, lips brushing against his, turning that tingling into a flame. A flame that roared into a blaze as you fit your lips against his like you would a cigarette. And just like a cigarette, his lips against yours filled your head with a pleasurable fog. Had your lips begging and begging for more. 

Silco inhaled deeply as he moved his lips against yours steadily, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You let him hold you, his strong--safe--hold only making your head spin faster and faster. 

Forehead rested against forehead as you two pulled apart, panting in shared air. 

A goofy grin spread over your kiss-puffed lips. A grin that pulled an equally as goofy smile to Silco’s own lips, turned near red from your kiss. 

“Was that--was that okay?” Silco asked on uneven breaths. You gave a small huff in amusement, running your fingers through his hair just like they had always itched to do. An action that had Silco’s eyes fluttering in utter enjoyment.

“I would have thrown you into the harbor if I hadn’t.” You teased, nuzzling your nose against his. 

“Good thing,” He started, nuzzling your nose right back. “‘Cause I can’t swim.” 

“You have to learn. Could save your life one day.” That soft look returned in full then as he looked over your face. A look that was full of such joy it only brought the same bright joy to you.

“Only if you teach me.” You nodded.

“Gladly.” And his lips seared into yours once more.

Previous | Next

[therainscene]

I've described myself in the past as "overly-queerbaited" as a way of explaining why it took me so long to come around to Byler endgame as a legitimate possibility... but that's kind of a misleading way of putting it.

Truth is, I've always been too much of a cynical fuck to fall for queerbait... or any other story that promises positive queer rep.

[Sherlock couldn't touch me; I saw this cringe homophobia coming from a mile away. Fans mistaking straight anxiety jokes for meaningful gay subtext was clearly doomed to end in mockery. Nobody deserved to be treated like that... but god, it was easy to predict.]

I think it's a symptom of having grown up under Section 28 -- feeling like I'm being unreasonable for wanting to see queerness normalized is such an ingrained habit that even today I instinctively recoil like a vampire touching sunlight whenever an optimistic queer story falls unrequested into my lap.

But I'm hardly alone in feeling this way -- many queer Millennial and Gen-X fans of Stranger Things are against the idea of Byler because it would ruin the catharsis of watching the gay boy growing up in the same era as we did slowly succumb to the same despair that we did.

[For those who haven't played the VR game: Vecna is speaking in this screenshot.]

There's genuine comfort to be found in painful stories -- this type of catharsis is practically the cornerstone of horror as a genre -- so I can't really fault myself or anyone else for wanting it, despite the obnoxious oversaturation of disappointing queer endings in media.

This is the nostalgia show, after all -- and like it or not, for many middle-aged queers in the target audience, nostalgia is shot through with the pain of homophobia and loneliness.

But do you know who else is a hurt queer(-coded) adult who resents happy endings? This cynical fuck:

Henry personifies despair and loneliness and the dark urge to take our pain out on others -- and when Will is in the picture, I would argue that he also represents internalized homophobia.

Will might represent who we were -- but Henry represents who we've let ourselves turn into.

And I don't think many of us want to admit to that, because that would involve questioning why we have so much in common with the literal villain of the show; why we're still so consumed with self-pity after 20+ years that we're obsessing over the fate of some kid.

I'm not suggesting that wanting a less-than-fairytale ending for a fictional gay boy is equivalent to being a child killer lol. It's perfectly valid to want to see your pain acknowledged, and stories which appeal to that desire deserve to exist.

But between Henry's connection to Will and the cycle of abuse themes of the show, it's clear that this particular story simply isn't about wallowing in the bleakness of growing up gay in the 80s, but about self-actualizing in spite of it all.

So I just can't bring myself to want a "relatable" ending for Will.

As much as I struggle to enjoy positive queer rep, I don't want to be so cynical. I'd thrown up so many walls to protect myself as a teenager that I forgot how desperately I wanted to see just one of those painful queer stories end on the same uplifting note that straight stories were always entitled to: with true love overcoming the odds, saving the day, and living happily ever after.

[But I'm A Cheerleader, a surprisingly fun movie about conversion therapy, is proof that stories like this did exist when I was a teen... but finding them in the pre- and early-internet days amidst so much censorship was a tall order.]

What makes Stranger Things different from most queer stories -- and what allowed it to pierce through my defenses and stab me in the gut -- is that it perfectly mimics those bleak, acceptable-to-the-censors stories from my youth -- only this time, the secret uplifting gay plot twist is real.

Not for the sake of shock value or of grabbing some empty woke points at the last second, but because the plan all along was to slap the audience in the face for believing homophobic lies about the existence of queer happiness.

That's some gourmet catharsis, if you ask me.

Just the possibility that my inner child might finally be vindicated has allowed me to truly let myself want the things I want for the first time in 20 years -- and that's the first step towards finally crawling back out into the sunlight.

Happy Pride Month, everyone. 🌈

[gothamite-rambler]

Nightwing (prodding his father's arm with his shoe): Batman? Batman? Hey, Batman?!

Batman (lying on the dirt ground in pain): What?!

Nightwing: You're clearly too… um, sore to drive. I'm going to take you home.

Batman (weakly raising his arm): You… can't drive the Batmobile! You're not equipped.

Nightwing: I’ve driven it before, you had me drive it when I was fourteen. Then I would take it for a joyride around Gotham when I was a teenager.

Batman: You what—? Oh, I felt a pop in my spine.

Nightwing (shrugging with a smile): I did a lot of things as a pre-teen and then when I got my license I really enjoyed taking the car for a spin. Did you know about the time I tried heroin? Never did that again. Still not sure how Roy got addicted, I had to go to the hospital. The doctor was nice that night. Oh, and then there was the time I snuck Kori into the pool house? Well when we first started dating and then again when we got back together. Fun times. Oh and then there was the time I used the Batmobile to take Jason out for ice cream. He was just a little kid back then!

Batman: He was fourteen! Why are you telling me all of this?

Nightwing helped prop up his father on his back and began to walk him to the Batmobile.

Nightwing: Because you’re too sore to stand up and scold me. Besides, I was a teenager; I did teenager stuff.

Batman: Trying heroin isn't "teen stuff"!

Nightwing: Alfred told me you smoked weed while traveling to Germany at seventeen.

Batman sighed, clearly annoyed.

Batman: The keys are in one of my pockets. If you can just get me into the passenger seat, I’ll pull them out myself.

Nightwing: Awesome! Ice cream is on me.

Batman (begrudgingly): I want rocky road.

Nightwing: I knew you'd say that.

[penny-anna]

actually i'm just going to make this a new post:

fanon Billy Batson is based largely on Superman/Shazam: First Thunder, which is a mini series from 2006; I'm honestly not sure if it was originally intended to be part of mainstream continuity but storywise it's a standalone and in terms of characterisation it doesn't really fit with the other post-crisis Captain Marvel content that I've read.

pre-nu52 canon Billy:

is typically older than depicted in fanfiction; his age fluctuates and is often ambiguous but a common take going back to the 40s is that he's around 12-14 years old. he's usually a young teenager rather than a pre-teen.

generally has living on the streets following the loss of his parents as part of his backstory, but has since used his ability to transform into an adult to earn money, re-enroll himself in school, and rent an apartment. he is in an extremely non-ideal situation but he's not roofless & starving.

has an extensive supporting cast including a number of adults who are helping him out (variously: the Wizard Shazam, who in some continuities is alive and acting as a mentor; Uncle Marvel/Uncle Dudley who plays different roles in his life depending on the continuity; Mr & Mrs Bromfield, his sister Mary's adoptive parents who being reasonable people respond to learning that their adopted daughter has a twin brother with 'oh I guess we have 2 kids now'; and of, course, Tawky Tawny the Talking Tiger).

the idea of Billy being alone & desperate and needing Favourite DC Character of Choice to help him out is extremely appealing (i'm into it ngl) so by all means read & write it as much as you want, but do be aware that it's not very well supported by canon. it's not a scenario that tends to play out in the comics bcos Billy is pretty self-sufficient both in terms of storytelling and in-universe ability to take care of himself.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i am so proud of the boys and what they accomplished after everyone counted them out 💙🧡 can’t wait for next year when they’ve had a full training camp with patrick and they come back better than ever 🤍

tw: child goes “missing” for a brief moment, mild innuendo

word count: 2.9k

summary: the msg broadcast gets double the barzal men for a little bit

Offering to take the girls to the arena for a game seems like it’s a great idea until you’ve got Talia, both Martin girls, and Tulsa Horvat begging for pretzels mid-way through the second. Normally you’d have at least one of Syd or Holly with you, but since the outing is for Talia’s birthday, you’d thought it would be fine to just take the girls yourself. That you’d be a good friend, letting Syd and Holly have their Thursday night free, since all of your husbands are retired now and they don’t have to come to the arena if they don’t want to.

But Max is getting antsy and Talia is yapping your ear off - much like her father - begging for snacks.

“Mom, please, I’m starving,” she pokes her lip out at you in a pout and widens her hazel eyes. She looks unfairly like Mat when she makes that expression even though her general looks had shifted to favor yours as she got older. You’ve never really been able to say no to either kid anyway.

“Can you at least watch your brother while I go get snacks?” You ask, lifting your eyebrow and twisting your hair back into a slightly sloppy ponytail. Max swings his legs in his seat next to you, grinning at his big sister. His hat dips over his eyes and you make a mental note to adjust the strap.

Talia looks at you as if you just asked her to swallow a cup of live spiders. “Mom, please no! I don’t even know why we brought him, today was supposed to be for my birthday,” she whines a little, those pre-teen hormones working overtime. Two weeks from turning eleven, and you find yourself missing your baby girl more and more each day. She’s usually a pretty polite and delightful kid, but something about that upcoming eleventh birthday is creating that familiar teenage whine you’d been so good at back in the day. You should really call and apologize to your mother.

Max pipes up without taking his eyes off the action on the ice, “your birthday’s not even today!”

“Thank you, Max,” you hold a hand out in front of his face, covering his mouth, as Talia shoots him a glare. Max wiggles away from your hand, his head bobbing in every direction as he tries to see the players. “I should’ve known this would happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

The only reason Talia had picked this game for her birthday is because of Jack Cizikas’s last minute call up from the AHL. Her puppy crush on him is something you and Kristy like to joke about, but right now you’re not laughing. Casey, Kristy, Reese, and Cole are up in a suite with the grandparents for the moment and you should’ve just sent Max up there to join them, but your five-year-old is still a little clingy. He loves the Cizikas family, hero-worships ten-year-old Cole, but when you’d suggested it, his face had crumpled and he’d said, “I wanna stay with you, Mama!”

Who were you to argue with that?

“Okay, I’ll take Max with me, but Win,” you raise your voice and look down a few seats at Winnie Martin, the oldest of your babysitting charges at fifteen, “do not leave these seats until I get back, okay?”

Winnie grins at you, Matt’s smile copy and pasted onto her face. She gives you a little salute and nods, “you got it.”

Talia turns back to the girls, completely ignoring you, and you roll your eyes a little before holding out your hand to Max. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some snacks,” you say, savoring the feeling of his little hand in yours. You never know when he’ll start thinking he’s too cool for his mom, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

“Can I get ice cream?” He asks, skipping along next to you. He gives Sparky a high five when you pass the mascot at the top of the stairs.

You laugh a little and point Sparky and his handler in the direction of the girls. “I’m sure Winnie will love to see you,” you say, nostalgia washing over you as you think about the early years of your relationship with Mat and Winnie’s love for the dragon. Sparky nods and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, before bounding down the stairs. It’s a different person in the costume now, obviously, but you all had made sure to keep Winnie humbled by making sure each iteration of the Sparky knew to stop and see her at a game. The teen plays along gamely, her mother’s daughter.

Max tugs on your hand, drawing your attention. “Mama! Can I get ice cream?” He repeats his request and you shake your head.

“Nope, sorry, kid. It’s past your sugar cutoff,” you shake his arm when he pouts and kicks his Nike against the floor, nearly tripping himself as he tries to keep walking. “I’ll split a pretzel with you though.”

“I don’t wanna pretzel,” he whines, dragging his feet as he traipses behind you. You dodge a few people, tugging Max along. He keeps whining a little, complaining under his breath, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose before squatting down so you’re at his eye level.

Max goes quiet, but his whole face scrunches up in annoyance and you smile softly. “If you have ice cream now, you’re not going to be able to sleep. And remember that Daddy’s coming on your field trip tomorrow so don’t you want to be well rested for that?” You raise an eyebrow at him while Max considers your explanation.

The line shifts forward while Max is considering and you smile awkwardly up at the family in line behind you, silently apologizing for not moving. The mother waves you off with a polite smile too. Solidarity.

“Can I have ice cream tomorrow then?” Max finally asks and negotiating with the tiny terrorist wasn’t on your to do list today, but you nod anyway, knowing it’ll bite you in the ass tomorrow.

“Yes, after your field trip you can have a little ice cream,” you stand up, knees creaking a bit, and move forward on the line. Matter settled, you hook your fingers in the back collar of Max’s Horvat jersey, worn because ‘Uncle Bo is the coolest!’ much to Mat’s annoyance and your amusement. At the self-serve counter, you grab five pretzels - even if Max doesn’t want to share, you still want a snack - and a Diet Coke, hoping for a quick burst of energy. You let go of Max’s jersey to fish your phone out of your back pocket and tap it against the reader.

“Okay, Max, back to -“ you cut yourself off, looking down at your side and not seeing Max. “Max? Oh, fuck. Where did he go?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, slight panic rising when you scan the concourse and don’t spot your kindergartener. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, the only thing keeping your panic at a reasonable level is the fact that Max was quite literally almost born in the arena and knows it better than anyone. Of course that also means he could be hiding literally anywhere and never be found.

“I…okay, think like Max,” you step off to the side, against the wall, so you can figure out what to do. “Where the hell is he going to go?”

The muffled cheers of the crowd filter through the arena, signifying that the Islanders have added to their lead late in the second. You smile faintly and, like a lightning bolt to the head, realize where Max wandered off to. Or where you hope he wandered off to.

You book it towards the Lab and the MSG broadcast set up, trying to see around the crowds of people that are leaving their seats now that the second period is over. Obviously, you can’t see anything around all the people and the closer you get to the main stairs, the more panic you’re starting to feel, thinking about the girls back at the seats and what you’ll do if Max isn’t with Mat.

Once the cameras and desk come into view, your entire body unclenches, Max is happily perched on Mat’s hip, chattering away with Shannon while Mat and Thomas discuss the second period’s play. The cameras are on and your son is broadcasting live on MSG. You wiggle your way through the little crowd of people around the set and get to the front, by the retractable belt barriers, and try to catch Mat’s eye.

The second he spots you, his entire expression changes, a delighted smile stretching across his face and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He looks like a twenty-something again, not the nearly forty-year-old he actually is.

“Max!” You hiss, trying not to be heard. “Send him over here!” You wave your free hand at the duo, Diet Coke wedged under your arm and pretzels getting squished in your hand.

Mat shakes his head at you and Thomas and Shannon look over too, all three of them laughing. Mat turns back to the camera, Max smiling like the cat that got the canary. “My wife’s trying to get our broadcast sidekick back,” he says, laughing. Mat bounces Max in his arms. “But I think we’ll keep him around for his color commentary.”

“No, oh my god,” you shake your head and gesture for Max to come back to you. “Mat, stop it.”

“Max,” Mat turns to look at your son, totally ignoring you, “what did you think of the game so far?”

Embracing the fact that Mat’s going to let Max join them for a while at least, you sigh and relax into the moment, watching Max perk up as he gets to discuss his favorite thing.

“I missed Matt’s goal,” he complains, Matt Maggio must’ve been the one to score when you noticed Max was missing. “But I like Jack the best ‘cause he’s funny and plays mini sticks. And also he gave me a piggy-back all day at Easter.”

Shannon laughs and chimes in, “we like Jack around here too. But hey, Max, I can show you Matt’s goal while your dad and Thomas discuss some of the finer points of the game.”

Max wiggles out of Mat’s arms and darts around Thomas’s back so he can stand with Shannon and watch the goal he missed. You snap a picture of Max’s head poking over the desk, heart melting at the sheer excitement on his face. You also notice the dozen texts littering your phone’s screen - a multitude of laughing emojis sent from the girls while they watch at home.

The fans around you are clearly eating up Max’s presence and you feel a little spike of anxiety thinking about how exposed he is to the public now, after keeping his and Talia’s faces mostly hidden on your social media pages. It’s always a little inevitable that the kids are seen with Mat out in public, but you almost wish you could snatch up all the phones recording video and taking pictures of Max as he points something out to Shannon on the iPad.

You take a nervous bite out of your pretzel and try to just enjoy the moment until they go to commercial when you can duck under the belt barrier. Mat grins boyishly at you, grabbing your waist to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Well, this is fun,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Family broadcast.”

“He is so stupid sneaky,” you shake your head, offering Mat the pretzel that you’d taken a bite out of. He accepts it and tears off a piece of his own. “And fast.”

Thomas laughs, leaning his forearms on the desk. “That’ll be helpful when he’s zipping around defensemen and scoring goals,” he teases before going to say hi to the fans and take selfies.

“Mom, look!” Max pops up at your side, holding a puck. Where did he get that?

“Pretty cool,” you smile down at him and let Mat lift him back up onto his hip. Max’s long legs kick at Mat’s thighs. “Where’d you get that, bud?”

“From Dad when I got here,” Max chirps. “Can I stay? Cause I don’t wanna be with the girls.”

He cuddles up against Mat’s shoulder, the father-son duo wearing matching hangdog, pleading expressions on their faces. The day Mat taught both kids the look was the worst day of your life, weakening your already minimal willpower. This time you have to say no, interrupting Mat while he’s working is only cute for so long.

“Sorry, Maxy,” you reply sympathetically. “We have to get back to the girls, but we’ll see Dad right after the game.”

Max whines loudly, reminding you that he’s still only five, and you chew on the inside of your lip. Mat pats Max on the back and whispers something in his ear, the extra lighting catching on the few greys that are starting to form in Mat’s dark hair. You wait while Mat talks quietly to your son, trying not to worry about coming back from commercial while you’re all standing in the middle of everything. Eventually, Max huffs an exasperated sigh and wiggles out of Mat’s grip again, slumping his way over to your side.

You smirk a little, “gee, don’t look so thrilled to come hang with your mom.”

Mat laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“I wanted to stay with Dad,” Max pouts, little fingers gripping tightly onto the puck. “But he said that he’d take me to the locker room if I go with you.”

“Bribery,” Mat winks at you. “A dad’s best weapon.”

The ten second warning that the commercial is ending blinks and you grab Max’s hand, “okay, time to go back to the girls. We’ll see Dad later, okay?”

Max waves at Mat as you guide him away from the set. “Bye, Dad! Don’t forget I wanna see Jack and the locker room,” he shouts and you can hear Mat’s laughter boom over the noise of the crowd.

“I won’t forget Max, be good for Mom,” Mat calls out.

You hurry back to your seats, Max hopping along and waving to people as you go. He gives big, cheerful greetings to the ushers and security guards he recognizes, forcing you to stop when Sparky passes by so he can give the mascot a high-five and a hug around the legs.

“Max, baby, please. We can see Sparky later,” you sigh, a little worried about leaving the girls alone for so long. You know they’ll listen and not leave the seats, but you feel vaguely like a terribly mother/babysitter since they’ve been sitting by themselves for nearly twenty minutes.

Max pouts, but takes a hold of the hand you’re holding out for him and dutifully follows you back to the seats. He clambers over the couple at the end of the row and you apologize quickly for him, making another mental note to work on the kid’s manners.

“Where did you go?” Talia pops up in her seat like a meerkat, wrinkling her face at you in confusion. “We thought you, like, got kidnapped!”

“We didn’t get kidnapped,” you huff, passing around the pretzels. The girls thank you and turn back to the on-ice intermission action. Max reaches for your half eaten one too and you’re glad you at least got a bite in earlier. “Max ran off to see Dad.”

Max grins at his sister, mouth full of chewed pretzel. “Dad gave me a puck and I got to be on TV with him,” he manages to sound smug and excited all at the same time, waving the gifted puck in one hand.

Talia pouts a little, still childish despite how she tries to mimic the older girls.

“Eat your pretzel,” you twirl your finger to get her to look back at the ice. “There are a thousand pucks at home. Oh,” you add, “we’re going to head down to the locker room after the game. Dad promised Max.”

That gets the girls going, chattering about how they get to see Jack and the rest of the players, giggling like crazy while huddled together. You lean back in your seat, smiling softly at how cute they all are. Max is on his feet, dancing along to the arena music, waving both hands in the air - your little party animal. You send Mat a video of him dancing, teasing that father and son have the same moves.

He shoots back a gif of himself dancing at the Martins’ wedding more than fifteen years ago, making you laugh out loud, drawing the attention of all five kids. “Ignore me,” you laugh, waving a hand at them.

Another message from Mat vibrates your phone: leave the kids with marts and syd when you drop the girls off after the game, i wanna show you more of my moves 👀

Giggling like a high schooler with a crush, you take a minute to appreciate that Mat still makes you feel floaty and dizzy with love. Over ten years together and he still makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mom,” Talia’s voice slices through your thoughts, “what’s Dad saying? Because you look so weird.”

Schooling your features into a more neutral expression, you lean forward over the seat and ask, “how do you guys feel about a sleepover at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s?”

[brucewaynehater101]

i'm gonna be real idk if your the right person to go for young justice core four headcanons but you give the best replies by far so heres my own idea idea

I was listening to the Roblox Soundfont remix and now the og Gone Angels and now I'm thinking . . .

Tim became Robin to prevent Batman from ceasing to be the symbol of heroism and good he started off as

The symbol that spiraled into destruction of even the self with Jason Todd's death

imagine a world where Red Robin becomes the very thing he swore to destroy with his own death

he dies along with Bart and Kon. Cassie due to this and maybe other factors fucking looses it, Batman post-Jason's death but pre-Tim becoming Robin style

or maybe instead he dies but the rest of the core four lives. either way Cassie still looses it, by herself or with her other teammates

And maybe, just maybe, they get nobody to be the Third Robin to their Batman, no Third Robin to Tim's Second Robin

likely improbably in canon but the idea of Cassie and maybe even Bart and Kon having a villain arc (maybe Black Silence style) is too good of an idea not to share

(Side note; imagine a Gone Angels cover where the survivor(s) sing and for the itallian lyrics in the midway point the deceased sing)

((extra side note: imagine this is what gets Batman and maybe the other Bats to reflect on the time before and after Tim become robin, post Jason's death; seeing their history repeat with Young Justice))

((hell maybe the Justice League realizes as wells))

"you give the best replies by far." Thank you. Sometimes, it takes a bit to reply to asks cause I'm taking a few hours to really answer the prompts/ideas/questions people pose. I also sleep at random times, so apologizes in advance to any asks that take a while!

My image of YJ is a codependent platonic polycule. They are Young Just Us because they didn't receive proper support from their mentors. This is part of why Cassie and Tim fell apart after Kon and Bart died. This is why, in their own weird ways, both of them tried to get a form of Kon back. Tim tried the scientist cloning avenue, and Cassie tried the cult.

If you want Tim's death to inspire Cassie and YJ to go evil, might I suggest Tim sending proof of Bruce being alive in the timestream and then succumbing to his spleen injury (perhaps an infection)? This would create a delicious amount of angst, anger, and mental breakdowns.

Cassie, the only nonretired YJ member alive at the time, didn't believe Tim about Bruce being alive. This was in part due to the cloning stuff but also in part to trusting Nightwing (or Batman at the time). If Tim didn't make it out of that alive, Cassie may be desperate to find anyone to blame but herself for that. She was a kid, she was lost in her own grief, and Tim should have had the support of literally any other hero.

The entire hero community turned against a teenager in his time of need that he resorted to conspiring with the LoA and ended up losing his life. Whether she chooses to be mad about nobody believing him (Tim's possibly a better detective than Bruce and people have revived before, but his evidence at the time was flimsy), she can be very pissed that not a single hero offered to help him. They didn't even need to trust in Tim's decision. They could have just accompanied Tim until the teen gave up or proved himself right. They could have treated it as a grief road trip while Tim found himself.

Anyways, losing the last nonretired YJ member that way may cause her to just snap. The JL was already on thin ice with the YJ for their lack of support to her generation of heroes. Them failing YJ enough that two children died in the field and one died as a direct result of their actions? She would, rightfully, loathe the JL. On top of that, she does already not trust the government for what they did to Secret. If she can't prosecute the JL, she'll become their enemy.

Cassie lost all of her main polycule. She wants revenge.

After Bart and Kon come back, they see how JL left Cassie and what they did to Tim. Cassie is part of their ride or die, and she has been treated so horribly. Tim has died. They obviously join her.

Now, with Bart there to give evil ideas (Bart is the scariest member of YJ and you can't convince me otherwise), YJ is a force to be reckoned with. Maybe some of the other members come out of retirement, maybe not. They would be unstoppable with Tim helping them, but that's the problem. They don't have Tim. Tim isn't there to help them nor hold them back. That's why they became "evil" anyway.

I like to imagine someone, probably Nightwing, screaming at them from across the battlefield. "This isn't what he would have wanted! He became Robin to stop Batman from destroying everything. This is the antithesis of why he became a hero!"

For a split second, YJ would pause. There's merit in those words, after all. Cassie would recover first as she shakes her head. "He became a hero to be the leash to Batman's rage. He's not here now. He's not here to temper our rage, and you did that. You abandoned a child." She plants her feet more firmly and points her sword at Nightwing. "We won't let you do that again."

It's dealers choice on whether YJ win the battle or not. Also, I do believe YJ would be obsessed with trying to bring Tim back. Perhaps some of their evil deeds truly stem from them trying to find ways to bring back Tim. They are incomplete without him just as they were incomplete without Kon or Bart and would be without Cassie.

Now, is Tim actually alive or does he stay dead? Did Ra's revive him using the Pit? Did Ra's lie or misguide the Bats while keeping Tim hostage? Will Tim come back, either after being brainwashed by Ra's or escaping, to find his platonic polycule has officially lost it and turned evil?

[lilium-dell]

RANDOM MOUTHWASHING HEADCANNONS

This is going to be a long post...I apologise in advance.

And english isn't my first language, I apologise for any mistakes! (´；ω；`)

Captain Curly (pre-crash)

Used to be a rebel as a teen, have bad grades, drink, all the stuff. Because of that, he gave himself piercings and some hand poked tattoos.

He still has some scars from said piercings and hides the badly done tattoos he did at the ripe age of 16.

Hates science fiction movies. He thinks that they are super unrealistic and will spend the entire time criticizing them.

Loves romcoms tho.

Secretly loves punk music, the only thing left from his rebellious phase.

Works out as much as he can. He's sad? Goes to the gym. He's happy? Gym. He's stressed? Gym.

When he goes to the Tulpar, he always brings some weights so he can lift before bed/after he wakes up.

Gives the best hugs. You can't tell me this man will not bear hug you until you feel better.

Wanted to be a psychologist before studying to be a pilot, yet he gave up because he was too much of a people pleaser.

His favorite animal is bears, grizzly ones to be exact.

Captain Curly (after crash)

Spends the days thinking on what he could've done to make things different.

After he gets rescued from the cryogenic pod, he can't help but feel survivors guilt. All his crew was dead, except for the captain that should've gone down with the ship first.

After he gets his prosthetics, it takes him a while to get used to them and feels some phantom pain on the stumps of his arms and legs once in a while.

He regularly writes to his fallen crew members as if they are still alive. It helps him cope.

He also stayed in touch with the families of his fallen crew. Curly always apologizes for their death.

Anya

Left her cat on earth and the last words she said to him was "When I come back, I'll buy you wet food", as she would always buy treats for her cat after every excursion.

Her favorite thing to do on earth was to read with her cat on her lap and some tea.

Is a only child but always had pets throught her childhood.

Is a bad loser, everytime she loses at the game nights on board of the Tulpar she goes on a raging fit. Doesn't really hide it.

The only time the crew have seen her mad is when she loses at games.

Used to do combat sports as a teenager. Seeing the wounds of the people she trained with made her want to pursue medicine.

Is a really good driver. Just road rages a bit.

Wears contacts.

Her last thought on the medical bay was about her cat and how much he would miss her.

Daisuke

Loves shooting and RPG games.

Fluent in English and Japanese. Speaks mostly in japanese at home with his parents.

Has a younger sister. He used to let her do makeup on him when they were both younger.

Used to be a popular kid but never really had a girlfriend.

HUGE fantasy nerd.

He's actually a very smart kid, used to be an honor student.

Tried to teach Swansea about Pokemon and Kingdom Hearts lore on their lunch breaks. Swansea tried to understand.

Helps Anya take care of Curly, even if he doesn't have any medical experience.

Tried smoking once, started wheezing and gave up immediatelly.

Ties his hair when he needs to be super focused.

His playlist goes from Tyler the Creator to Lady Gaga to Bach in a click. The playlist is called Whiplash.

Swansea

Dog person. He definitely loves big dogs.

Sees the entire crew almost like family and takes care of them like family.

Listens to dad rock/country while reading the newspaper to relax.

He has a picture of his kids next to his bed. Unfortunately, everything got destroyed in the crash.

Was the one who brought the tabletop games for the crew. He's a huge tabletop games fan.

Girldad. He definitely spoiled his kids as much as he could.

Huge sports fan. Specially soccer.

Jimbabwe (I'm sorry)

Smokes two packs of cigarettes a day. Rothmans to be more specific.

He has a narcissistic disorder.

When he was a kid he used to torment his siblings.

Met Curry when training to be a pilot and got extremely jealous and spiteful when Curry got promoted instead of him.

Hates when Daisuke calls him every name under the sun except his. (Ex. Jimbo, Ji-man, Jimin, Jin).

Had an obsession with American Psycho as a teenager.

He was an edgy teenager.

I have so many headcannons but if I put them all here, the post would be gigantic...

[b4tling]

Fanfic Rambles

Just thought of another Jason Todd fic idea; where before he revealed his identity to the bats he accidentally calls Batman dad. During a fight. In front of his goons. While still in his Red Hood getup... it's also not the last time he slips up.

(Because I will die on the hill which pre-death Jay called Bruce Dad all the time- that it's now embedded in his mind when thinking of the older man)

This leads to everybody, including the bats, seeing him less of a crime lord and more of just an angsty kid that has daddy issues.

Note that, none of the bats are aware he's Jason, and that they just assume that the boy simply needs someone to father him in order for him to stop killing people. Which is where Bruce comes in, volunteering himself as tribute naturally (in reality he was bullied by his children).

-

"Hood, make this easier for all of us and turn yourself in. No need to embarrass yourself in front of all your goons"

"Shut up! I don't need you telling me what to do dad- uh, I mean, Bats!..."

"..."

Said goons watching the scene thinking, oh man, Batman is our boss's father.

"What are you staring at!?"

"Young man, drop the gun"

"Stop treating me like a kid!" His voice cracks while he yells this, noticeable despite the voice modulator.

One of the Hood's henchmen was suddenly reminded of his teen daughter earlier today, having a tantrum because he told her he wanted her to focus on school and not dating.

They all collectively thought that, yeah, the Red Hood was just a teenager. A very deadly one, but one nonetheless.

[orphiclovers]

I was going to say something like "Singshong must really want Yoo Joonghyuk to be a silver fox since he gets old and sexy grey hairs TWO whole seperate times - 0th round and astronout, as opposed to Kim Dokja ,who visibly ages ZERO times" but that got me thinking about other characters and I realized you could create a binary of if a character is childcoded or oldcoded in Singshong's mind, regardless of actual age. So I did.

Old-coded Adults (adults in an older body OR aged due to outside circumstances)

Yoo Joonghyuk - complete silver fox as Zero, aged like fine wine as an astronout.

Han Sooyoung - 50+ years old in Kaizenix, "still looks as young as ever" - Kim Dokja says this about actual grandpa Zero too, let's just say he's a MILF hunter. I'm still counting this.

Jung Heewon - 37 years old as Erich Striker which is not THAT old but I'm adding it for the fact she's a guy (need to make a list with what genders SS associate with kimcom too...)

Lee Hyunsung - 47yo as Bilston Farmer

Yoo Sangah - reincarnated as Tang Sanzang. Don't know how old he was but probably middle aged or young adult?

Child-coded Adults (adults in a younger body)

Kim Dokja - 51% has an adult mind but body shrinks to a kid

Secretive Plotter - looks like a kid when runs out of probability, still mentally an adult

that one fist guy on reincarnation island, mentally adult, physically kid.

1863 Han Sooyoung - posseses a 13 year old in her 30s.

Old but (more or less) physically AND mentally a child

Oldest Dream - old but mentally and physically a kid

ABFD - same thing

41st/Disaster of Floods - gets reincarnated as a (dokkaebi) baby without memories for a while.

Dokkaebi King - Goes from ancient with middle aged appearance to mentally childish and childlike body.

Eternal teenagers

Shin Yoosung -Yoo Mia side story/1865th era, looks like a teen but mentally is older due to regression shenanigans.

Biyoo - is old as balls even not counting pre-reincarnation years but human form looks like a teen regardless.

Jang Hayoung - in a 15 yo body, is in her twenties

Disaster of Questions - 127 years old, looks 17.

This is just off the top of my head, there is probably more. Jesus I did not expect this list to get so long

[anxiouspotatorants]

Actually you know what I need to rant about this: while literati is technically a good girl x bad boy dynamic it is written so incredibly well and avoids so many pitfalls and stereotypes that it makes a good girl x bad boy hater like myself (I’m only half joking — I don’t think any trope is inherently good or bad but I tend to dislike most pairings with this dynamic) fall head over heels for their story and relationship.

So much of what makes the two of them work is the contrast between how others perceive them and how they truly are. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people who understand who Rory is as a person (Lorelai, Lane, Paris, Richard and Emily to a certain degree for starters), but she's constantly met with the expectation that she just does good and is supposed to make everyone proud 24/7. Stars Hollow as a group especially are big on this, as seen f. ex. through how Taylor takes Rory's one comment about an inappropriate DVD and twists the whole thing into a censorship crusade and makes Rory its poster-child even though she wants nothing to do with it and tells him so repeatedly. But instead of hearing Rory disagree with him (like he would Lorelai and Luke) he assumes that she actually agrees with him - and why shouldn't she when she's the perfect sunshine paragon of good who would never disagree with her elders? Also her grandparents treat her as incredibly fragile and childlike, like she must be too innocent to ever do anything wrong and so whenever she does something it has to be somebody else's fault (usually Lorelai, but occasionally Jess or whoever else was present). Time and time again Rory is treated like something innocent and naive and weak — but not by Jess. He sees her as a person.

And it obviously goes the other way too. Jess is treated like shit by pretty much everyone else. Either people hate him unprovoked or very much provoked (he did do a lot of pranks in his first few weeks and while I'm a Dean-hater I'm not blind to how much Jess picked fights with him), or they’ve simply given up on him. He tells Rory himself that every authority figure he had back in New York gave up on him too, from teachers to principals to his very own mother. But Rory doesn’t treat him like a lost cause, she treats him like the smart, brilliant and asshole-ish teen that he is. By having faith in him she also often holds him more accountable than others. Where f. ex. Lorelai or the other adults just roll their eyes, Rory physically drags Jess into doing his shifts at the diner. While others write him off, Rory chews Jess’ ear out for not helping Luke more and for willfully making enemies out of the Stars Hollow adults.

They don't put each other on pedestals or below each other. Jess doesn’t try to make a sinner out of Rory and she doesn’t try to make a saint out of him. There’s genuine respect between them. They expect each other to have integrity and treat others with kindness and honesty, and the rest is good old chemistry and common interests.

I particularly love how in so many of their scenes (especially pre-relationship) when they spend time alone they just get to be these goofy nerdy kids. They argue about controversial authors and dig through records shops and eat hot dogs and make fun of each other and try to make each other laugh. It’s not just sexual chemistry as it too often is in a dynamic like this (and often uncomfortably sexual when writing teenagers - looking at you Gossip Girl), and not just well written intellectual chemistry — they have platonic chemistry too. A hell of a lot of it actually.

While I don’t think ASP wrote them through a purely deconstructionist lens on the good girl x bad boy dynamic (if she did plan on writing the dynamic at all), there is something to be said about how where many around them treat them like stereotypes they treat each other like people. To so many people, Rory is a perfect small town princess, a little miss sunshine with booksmarts for days but too delicate and sweet for anything with grit and weight. To a lot of the same people and many more Jess is a pathetic brutish and maniacal lost cause, hell personified in a chainsmoking leather-wearing teenager. But to each other they are actual human beings. Kind and mean and flirtatious and scared and reckless and smart. Rory really thinks that with the right motivation and mindset Jess can be the kind who does (and at the end wrote) incredible things. Jess really believes that with a little more practice and support to step out of her comfort zone she can be the amazing journalist she wishes to be.

They don’t have this stupid «we’re so bad for each other but we can’t stay away» thing that too many trope users rely on and don’t even justify in the plot. Everyone else might think they’re not fit for each other, but they knew they were each other’s person from the very first day.

[eclecticqueennerd]

Soldier Boy as a Girl Dad

Ben was elated when he learned he was going to be a dad. He saw it as a chance to have something he never got when he was a kid. He was disappointed to learn that you were having a girl, but once you gave birth man oh man did his worldview change drastically.

Ben’s view was the woman to stays in the home and pumps out babies while the man goes to work and brings home the bacon. Ben was always a misogynistic ass, less so with you, but now he was just an ass. He did not want his daughter to grow up in a world where she was only treated as a Broodmare. No, he wanted her to rule the world.

Early on he taught his daughter how to fight and protect herself from bullies, which would occur due to her dad being a supe. You’d often tell Ben to stop, “Ben, we have to talk to the teachers and let them handle it.” “Oh, come on y/n, you know how they handle bullying there. No daughter of mine is going to be a damsel in distress.” It wasn’t until you got a call from the elementary school principal saying that your 6-year-old daughter punched her bully at school. You went to get your daughter from the principals’ office and as you left with your daughter and Ben in tow, you heard him say, “Show me where you punched him.” Out of the corner of your eye you’d see your daughter make a fist and place it on Ben’s chin. Ben let out a loud chuckle, “Atta girl.”

Pre-Teen years were awful. Your daughter became less of a daddy’s girl and more of a bratty teenager. Whenever Ben would try to connect with her, he was always met with attitude, eye rolls with constant saying of ‘that’s so lame’. You’d back Ben up by telling your daughter to snap out of it, but was met with hostility, “What are you going to do about it mom? You’re just a normie.” By this time her powers were developing, and strength was one of the first skills. It wasn’t until Ben had to save her from a supe terrorist, who fucked with the wrong dad, that her attitude towards the two of you changed.

Teen years your daughter became more mellow and hung out with the two of you more. Ben even taught her how to spar and use her powers appropriately. He’d teach her how to drive and how to do her math homework. “What do you mean they want you to do it that way, my way is easier.” “It’s called Common Core math dad. Everyone has to learn it.” Every time Ben helped her with math, he’d become frustrated and soft glowing would emit from his chest. You quickly found a tutor for your daughter, as we don’t need another explosion like Moscow happening again.

When it came to your daughter’s first date, Ben almost blew a gasket. “We should talk to her about safe sex.” “SAFE SEX?!” “Yes Ben. Teenagers have sex and we need to prepare her and make sure she understands that protection is important.” Suffice to say you handled that conversation. When the boy came over to pick your daughter up, he made the poor mistake of cracking a joke, “We’ll sir I’m surprised you’re not sitting there cleaning a gun with how your daughter talks about you.” “Son, I don’t need a gun to kill you.” Ben scared that poor boy off after the first date.

When your daughter left for college, Ben was trying his best to keep his shit together. Watching her car drive down the road you ask, “Was it everything you were hoping it would be?” Ben chuckles, pulls you close, and wipes a tear trailing down his cheek. He said, “Better than what I could have hoped for.”

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Would Toby be content with adoption? I'm specifically thinking, like, literally stealing a pre-teen or teenager for an abusive home.

He would for sure! While Toby really wants kids, they don’t have to be biological. He would absolutely be content to adopt, especially if it would be an instance where he’d be saving them from an abusive home. The only thing with this route which wouldn’t be a negative I suppose is he’d definitely wait a lot longer to adopt to make sure he fully fully FULLY made as much progress as he could with his own trauma from his abusive household, to make sure he could be a good parent for a child that was also raised in one

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal (Start)

WC: 588 CW: (updating as the fic continues), Gen but ships may be added Danny Fenton/Wally West pre-relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Major Injury, Minor Character Death

They were going to lose.

It's a simple, unavoidable fact and it hits Danny like one of Superman’s punches. He fumbles in his attempt to triage Barry’s leg before the limb was lost.

The man standing in the middle of the ruins of Metropolis would win. He and his army of hive mind clones would sweep across the rest of the planet. Humanity would fall.

They were going to lose.

He finishes tying off the field tourniquet, not sure how he manages, not with his hand slick with Barry’s blood. Something of his thoughts must be showing on his face because Barry reaches out and grips a weak hand around Danny’s wrist.

“Kid?”

It was still a stupid nickname. Danny hadn’t been a kid since before joined up with the Justice League as a field medic four years ago. But Danny was the same age as Wally and many of the other Teen Titans— all long grown out of that name— and so he got lumped in as ‘kid’ to the more senior heroes.

And now all these wonderful, heroic, brave people that Danny had come to be friends with were going to die. The monologue happening in the middle of the street made that much clear. No hero would be left alive; any chance of a future uprising would be snuffed out this very day.

Because they were going to lose.

Danny smiles softly at Barry and pries his hand away.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking—” Barry could have no idea what Danny was thinking. No one could.

No one could, because no one knew what Danny could do.

Danny had played to the curse perfectly for seven years. A curse set on him in a stupid moment of one last teenage angst fueled vent. He had just wanted to be normal.

Sam and Tucker were going off to college. Danny wasn’t, not with his grades. Jazz was practically waiting for her girlfriend to propose. Danny couldn’t imagine even dating with his secrets. Jack and Maddie had a new contract with the GIW. Danny had stopped trying to reason with them.

Everyone else was moving on with their lives while Danny was stuck half dead. A freak of nature. A man out of life yet still living. A walking corpse.

He just wished he was normal.

He’d forgotten that he shouldn’t wish.

A wish is only a curse waiting to happen.

Well, he got it— his wish that was a curse. As long as Danny never used his powers in any noticeable way he would just be seen as a regular kid to the rest of the world— just plain, normal Danny Fenton. If he got caught using them even once— if he got caught being not normal, his powers would be gone, taken by the curse. Without his powers keeping his core humming happily along and sustaining his half dead body, Danny would be gone.

Danny had forgotten he shouldn’t wish.

But he did.

And suddenly, just like that, to everyone else, Danny was normal— no ghost attacks to fight, no GIW hunting him, no Team Phantom.

Sam and Tucker drifted quickly away without the team to bond them. Jazz checked in less and less— no need to worry about her little brother being shot. Jack and Maddie… well, they stopped having a reason to talk with him too. They had to prove the existence of ghosts! There was no time for… well, someone as normal as Danny.

Normal turned out not to be so great.

-----

AN: I got sent the the field medic prompt going around, for some reason? (there was no comment sent with it). It's a cute idea with some fun responses, but not really my jam to write. I'm not much into exploring ageless immortal, dimension hopping Danny in my own work. I have more of a weakness for exploring what makes Danny still human. And, as @mokulule pointed out: "I see you mentioning no angst XD".

(Have you all caught on yet that I like my angst?)

So of course I had to ask if I were to write field medic Danny, how would I get him there? And how would I hurt him once he was there? So I threw out all of the prompt and I bounced it around with Moku, her prodding me along with great questions and thoughts, and now here we are.

Because apparently my brain didn't want to warm up on one of my current ideas. This will be a one shot so help me-

(BTW: While in the very vaguest sense this started with a prompt, the above writing is not a prompt. This will be finished, it's 99% planned out already, just needs the writing.)

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite New Manga and Graphic Novels I Read in 2023

It's time to take a look at the comics and manga I read this year! I read  a whopping 78 manga and graphic novels in all. Here's a link to my Goodreads year in books (the manga is at the beginning, the novels start with Siren Queen) and my storygraph wrap up.

I also read 36 novels! If you want to see my favorites, check out my reviews here!

And finally, I've got the continuing manga series I've enjoyed this year here, so check that post out too!

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen

This is a tale about a first-generation Vietnamese-American boy struggling with coming out to his mother. He connects with his mother through fairytales-- she uses them to express her journey as an immigrant, and he uses them to explore his queerness and identity as a Vietnamese kid growing up in America. It's an absolutely gorgeous book full of Trung Le Nguyen's signature stunning art. The fantastical, ethereal fairy tales are weaved beautifully into the lives of the characters. The book explores how fairy tales can form connection, can express culture, can tap deeply into something real and true, and can offer tragedy and catharsis. The protagonist uses fairy tales to write his own story, and the ending is lovely and moving.

Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles by Mark Russell and Mike Feehan

You may know Mark Russell from his darker, socially aware re-imagining of the Flintstones, which made quite a splash on Tumblr with this post. Well, I had pleasure of meeting him at a local convention, and I finally got his comic re-imagining of Snagglepuss, also of Hanna-Barbera. He re-imagines the titular pink puma as a closeted gay playwright in the 50's dealing with McCarthyism. It's as wild as it sounds,but also really digs into the politics of the time, the struggle of standing against oppression and how art fights through suppression and censorship. It's tragic, hopeful, poignant and full of historical references. I enjoyed it ! Definitely be cautious if you're deeply disturbed by homophobia and suicide.

The Summer Hikaru Died by Mokumokuren

A story about a teenage boy, Yoshiki, who realizes that his best friend and crush Hikaru has died and been replaced by a strange eldritch being who is imitating him. But, missing his loved one and desperate to cling to any piece of him, Yoshiki decides to keep on having a relationship with this mysterious entity. This book's horror is visceral and sublime, especially the bizarre, creepy, beautiful body horror involving the being who replaced Hikaru. It's an exploration of anxieties involving grief, relationships, and sexuality that hits just right, and the atmosphere layered with dread is top notch. I love me some messed up relationships and unknowable queer monsters, and this book delivers.

Chainsaw Man, Look Back and Goodbye Eri by Tatsuki Fujimoto

Chainsaw Man needs no introduction, but I did end up really enjoying the story of the doggy-devil boy hunting other devils. It got so tragic and intense at the end, with lots of great surreal horror imagery and darkly funny moments. I'm impressed it went so hard, though the random powers that kept piling up made what was happening hard to follow at times, especially in fights. I'm also enjoying the current weird arc starring a class-A disaster girl and the demon sharing her body.

Look Back

I really do enjoy how Fuijimoto writes messy pre-teen/teenage girls. They ring so true. The manga follows the fraught friendship between two girls as they create manga, exploring the struggle of art mixing with real relationships, and how someone keeps creating after tragedy. It's a little hard to follow at times (especially since I have to differentiate the leads based on hairstyle), but it's a good read.

Goodbye Eri

Probably my least favorite of the three, but it's a fun read- a weird ride that examines the thin line between fiction and reality in art and makes good use of Fujimoto's cinephile background and signature gaslight gatekeep girlboss characters.

Is Love the Answer? by Uta Isaki

The story follows a teenage girl, Chika, who has always struggled with not being attracted to anyone. When Chika enters college, she meets queer people all across the spectrum of asexuality, and starts exploring her own identity. As an ace, this is the best story about asexuality that I've read. It was a nuanced look at asexuality and queerness and all the variations. Chika's journey and how she found her community was moving and poignant. It's a honest, moving look at relationships and identity, and how complicated and hard to define both of those things can be. I loved the moments of Chika imagining herself as an alien to explore and cope, and how she bonded with people through magical girl shows and other geekery. My favorite new manga of the year, it really connected with me!

The Girl that Can’t Get a Girlfriend by Mieri Hiranishi

Oh girl, I've been there. This is a fun autobiographical comic about a butch4butch lesbian's struggles finding a partner in a word that favors butch/femme, and it's just an honest look at the messiness of loneliness and relationships. I also appreciate that crushing on Haruka in Sailor Moon and becoming a HaruMichi stan was the beginning the author's queer awakening because uh...same! She has taste, and is truly relatable.

Qualia the Purple: The Complete Manga Collection by Hisamitsu Ueo and Shirou Tsunashima

See my review of the light novel here for my general thoughts on the story, since it's adapted pretty faithfully. I do think the manga is overall the best experience though, because the illustrations break up the detailed explanations of quantum mechanics a bit, and it includes a bit of extra content that fleshes things out, especially withthe ending.

The Single Life: 60 year old lesbian who is single and living alone by Akiko Morishima

Just like it says on the tin, this focuses on a 60-year-old single lesbian. And definitely the shortest thing on here, since only one 30 page chapter is out.  It's a grounded story about a woman looking back on her journey to finding her identity, touching on sexism in the workplace and other challenges. It paints a portrait of a proudly gay elder who's still perfectly content being single and feels fulfilled by the life she had rather than regretting past relationships. I definitely want to see more.

Daemons of the Shadow Realm by Hiromu Arakawa

Arakawa's latest, the story is about a boy who lives in a small village with his little sister is imprisoned and has to carry out a mysterious duty...but then the village is attacked, supernatural daemons awaken, and everything he knows might be wrong. I'm enjoying this fun romp so far! It delivers an really nice plot twist right out the gate (and an excellent subversion of the usual shonen "must-protect-my-saintly-sister" narratives). It boasts Arakawa's usual fun cast and interesting world (and cool ladies). There's some slight tone and pacing issues in the first part- there's so much time spent explaining mechanics the lead doesn't really get to react to his life turning upside down. But it starts smoothing out by the second volume. I'm excited to see what's next!

Superman: Space Age by Mark Russell and Michael Allred

This is a retelling of Superman set throughout the late fifties to early eighties that has Superman interact with the political and social upheaval of the time and question his own role in things. It explored the Superman mythos through a lot of cool new angles, and has a good Lois (why yes she would break Watergate) which is how I always measure a Superman adaptation. My one complaint is, while I liked some of the things it did with Batman, the ending with the Joker was pretty weak. The ending of the overall comic will also be bizarre for anyone not uses to how weird comics can get, but I think I dug it.

#DRCL by Shin'ichi Sakamoto

A manga retelling of Dracula that focuses on Mina as the protagonist and imagines the characters at an English prep school. It adds a lot of  diversity to the characters  and has exquisite, evocative art. I'm curious where it will go and what it  intends to do with all it's changes (especially Lucy), because right now it's mostly vibes and creepiness and the direction isn't clear.