#the only family she has in the whole world.

[goldfades]

sweet on you Joe thanking his wife during his MVP speech when he wins pretty pretty pleaseeeee

omg yes! this idea has been floating around as soon as you sent this ask. hope you enjoy!!! sweet on you will be back i promise, just need the motivation to finish :) and yes in this universe he DID win mvp

MVP SPEECH FT. SWEET ON YOU

The stadium was deafening. Fans roared, confetti rained down in gold and white, and the cameras were all on him—Joe Burrow, the newly crowned MVP, standing under the bright lights, trying to keep himself together.

He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, exhaling a slow breath as he adjusted the microphone in front of him. The trophy was heavy in his other hand, but it wasn’t the weight of the metal that had his chest tight—it was everything leading up to this moment. The years of hard work, the sacrifices, the unwavering support from those who had been there since the beginning. And more than anyone else, it was her.

Joe cleared his throat, the noise dying down just a fraction as he leaned in. “Man,” he started, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “This is—this is crazy. I don’t even know where to start.”

The crowd cheered again, cameras flashing, but his eyes weren’t searching for them. They were searching for her.

And then he found her.

Sitting in the front row, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes glassy and bright, looking at him like he had just hung the damn moon.

His wife.

His whole world.

Joe swallowed hard, gripping the mic a little tighter. “Obviously, there’s a long list of people I need to thank—my teammates, my coaches, my family. None of this happens without you guys. But, uh—” he huffed out a soft, nervous laugh, shaking his head before glancing at her again. “There’s one person in particular who—God, I don’t even know if I have the words.”

The crowd fell a little quieter, as if they could sense this was something important.

Joe smiled, softer now, and only for her.

“My wife,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been with me through everything. Before all of this—before the trophies, before the headlines, before anyone knew my name. You believed in me when I was just some kid with a dream. You stood by me through every high, every low, every doubt I ever had about myself. And somehow, through it all, you loved me.”

She was already crying, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe him, even though she should have known by now just how much he meant every word.

Joe chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he glanced down at the trophy for a second, then back up at her. “I know I work a lot, and I know there have been nights where football took me away more than it should have. But not once—not once—have you ever made me feel like I was in this alone. And I need you to know—I need everyone to know—that I wouldn’t be standing up here if it weren’t for you.”

A collective aww rippled through the audience, but Joe didn’t even hear it. He was locked in, focused only on her, watching as she wiped at her cheeks, smiling like she wanted to scold him for making her cry in public.

“And Hayes,” he added, his voice hitching just slightly at the mention of their son. “Our boy. I hope one day, when he’s old enough to understand all of this, he knows just how lucky he is to have a mom like you.”

She let out a teary laugh, covering her mouth again, and Joe grinned.

“I love you,” he said simply, his heart in his throat. “More than football. More than anything.”

The crowd erupted in cheers again, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the way she looked at him in that moment, like he was the greatest thing she had ever seen. Like she had always known he was capable of this, long before he ever did.

And when he stepped down from the stage a few moments later, trophy in one hand, the other reaching for her, she was already there—waiting, arms open, eyes shining, love pouring out of her like a flood.

She kissed him, right there in front of everyone, not caring about the cameras or the eyes on them.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured against his lips, laughing softly as she pulled back just enough to look at him.

Joe grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I meant every word.”

And when he kissed her again, the whole world could have disappeared, and he wouldn’t have cared. Because this—she—was his greatest victory of all.

[mecha-changeling]

I've done most of these in my current project.

Gold is worthless in Quiet Space, as is everything except time itself. Access to space and automation of labor kind of kill the concept of scarcity of goods entirely and well, that's it for economics as we know it. The Terran Protectorate's closest thing to a currency is a literal credit system that entitles you to X hours of the empire's industrial capacity.

I mean, time is fleeting...

Its a stellar Empire. Only one clock is 24 hour and it's Earth's. The odds of another planet having the same rotational speed is basically 0.

Again since most places in my setting are not on Earth and therefore axial tilts are different... and also most megastructures and space habs don't have seasons at all...

I've got a planet that rains diamonds. Okay sure I'm just borrowing it from reality but people can go there and do things.

Most planets have more than 1 moon, turns out.

One of the human Clann's homeorlds is a gas giant. It has rings. Several planets have orbital ring habitats, but I don't think that's what you meant.

I have this, but the world is uninhabitable without bleeding edge shield technology.

I've got the star roads. They're invisible, does that count? TLDR; they're a FTL system that pushes craft in them faster than light by using a spinoff of gravitational drive technology to sort of ripp off mass effect but instead of sling shots it's based on the US highway system.

The Runi use wood for some of their jewelry.

The Thymrai don't use anything for wedding band type signifiers of marriage. They use their words "We're one." or "I have my mate." and if you don't respect that they'll probably stab you because you're calling them a liar and that's fighting words in their culture.

The Glorin always make a new name from select syllables from both prior names when they wed. They're also nano-hiveminds with each individual having 3 bodies, so most of their scocial things are odd.

I have several robotic species which genuinely would not be able to grock the idea of bastardry. "But... they manufactured you. You are their creation. Circumstances are irrelevant."

Most of my aliens do not use binary sexes. Many of the monosex species don't have a concept of gender at all because WHY WOULD THEY?

The Glorin again. They discount other gods as gods because they know they're just extradimentional entities that live in hyperspace. Their god does not live in hyperspace and seems supernatural to other gods. She also dosn't do the normal god things, she shows up like your cool aunt coming back to town and will do things like make your whole species immune to cancer and call it a "bug fix".

Again, the Glorin's god. She's very lovecraftian in appearance unless she specifically takes on a humanoid form for whatever reason (but she'll complain the entire time about how painful it is to "scrunch up like this")

Given designer organisms are a thing for Terrans, I've got this one. Because many of them are reskined other critters! (I may work on this one later today)

Plot? You assume I worldbuild to tell a narrative? Lol! I'm that wierdo who worldbuilds as their main hobby and sometimes you get a story out of it because I got bored.

I've got this one. What? This is a science-fantasy setting. Not sci-fi. TLDR; you can get a journal that will tell you everything friends that have willingly touched the journal did yesterday. It resets every time you sleep and fills you in on the previous day with every reset. This is, in fact, communication. Its just not real time or intentional. Yes this thing can end friendships, but its popular with Terrans because Terran society is about authenticity in 4269 and if your best friend actually thinks you're lame you want to know so you can terminate the friendship and find someone else (also their whole family would shame them as being inauthentic is as big of a social taboo as incest is today).

Books don't exist anymore. All information you want is either a direct download to your brain, or a VR experience. So... Yeah I've got this covered. Its not even a "well I love old things, so I still read books!" type of deal. If you read a book someone would look at you with the same incredulity that you would look at someone trying to light their bong by rubbing two sticks together. You'd probably also alert Central to a mental health crisis.

Many species communicate by psionic or digital telepathy. But sign langauge dosn't exist outside of millitary applications anymore. Not because "screw deaf/mute people!" but because genetic engineering has eliminated those conditions entirly. No one is born with physical disadvantages anymore. And even if they were, they'd be able to have them removed for free any time after they turn 16 since medical technology can reshape your body howeaver you please and has hit the "IRL Korean MMO character creator" point of "no further development necessary". (Yes that is a cornerstone of Terran culture. Part of that "be authentic" deal is your expected to live in a body that is "you" rather than whatever you were born as.)

Most of my alien species are not omnivores.

Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:

A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin

A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans

A clock that isn’t 24-hours

More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know

Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain

Multiple moons/no moon

Planetary rings

A northern lights effect, but near the equator

Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks

Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals

Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands

The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage

No concept of virginity or bastardry

More than 2 genders/no concept of gender

Monotheism, but not creationism

Gods that don’t look like people

Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats

Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot

Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom

“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls

A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language

A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)

I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.

[ladyrosemone]

My favorite

We've got all the ingredients, except you needing me - Cake, Melanie Martinez

I'm using Google Translate here! 🗣‼️‼️ Please excuse any spelling mistakes or inconsistencies, I swear I'm studying to improve my written English 😭 This idea came to me thanks to @kiwisandpearls, I loved your take on the abandoned Waynes haha! I'll definitely be making more at some point.

The Waynes, the most powerful and influential family in Gotham City, the diamond that gives it an artificial shine, replacing the forgetful Sun, which never seems to illuminate those lands of darkness.

What makes the Waynes different from other Gotham millionaires is not their humility, nor their sense of duty to their employees and followers, much less their reckless extravagance when it comes to spreading their (according to gossip) infinite wealth.

No, none of that, it's something more private, more intimate.

Love.

At first no one believed that, because come on, Bruce Wayne? The greatest playboy known throughout the world, with adopted children as if they were precious jewels every season, conceited and proud, a philanthropic genius of unfair beauty? In love? Pure gossip that entertained for a while, but was never more than that, gossip for the elite and showbiz for the lower class.

Until a newspaper (one that does not usually produce so many fallacies), revealed its newest scandal.

"Bruce Wayne Spotted With Young Beauty! Has Gotham's Biggest Mogul Finally Settled Down?"

If that wasn't enough, they were right, because the next launch came with Olympic magnitudes!

"Bruce Wayne's Child Finally Revealed! Gives Exclusive Interview About Him Sudden Return"

And how do we get to this?

When a man loves a woman...oh no, that's not how it started.

It was a woman from his youth, one who left when the next day and returned when Batman appeared in Gotham City.

You arrived as a ten-year-old child; small and confused, scared and insecure, longing for you deceased mother and the life you left behind with her. Bruce didn't know how to relate to you at first, and having an angry, newly orphaned child didn't make him any better, but he tried, he really did.

And little by little it worked...only in one child.

You could never get over the loss of your mother, she was your whole world and now you were with this...man who claims to be your father, a father you never had and out of nowhere he gives you things and takes you to his work to meet more boring old men. To make matters worse, that child he adopted out of charity is irritating, one day bothering you for being "spoiled" and the next wanting to spend a sibling afternoon with you.

But you don't have brothers.

You didn't have them when Jason arrived (although you cried for him), you didn't have them when Tim arrived and definitely not when Damian arrived and his arrogant attitude of the legitimate son wanting to hang out with only you. It's frustrating! Every second of the day is a request from someone to go out, to eat together, to...For anything to keep them attached like fleas!

You remember one of Richard's last attempts, before he left Gotham for an exchange, or for you a chance to get away from that family;

You were in the kitchen, eating breakfast that she had prepared herself because it makes you uncomfortable to have an older man serving you, when Richard appears with his hundred-dollar smile and a lot of irritating energy.

"Hello hello!" He greets you with his usual energy "How did my favorite person wake up?"

It's too early for this you think tiredly, taking a sip of coffee.

Your lack of response doesn't discourage him, it motivates him more for some strange reason "I have wonderful news, I got a vacation from work! And guess where we're going?"

"We're going?" Bored questions, annoyed by the new plan that you were not consulted about, again.

"That's the spirit! Let's go to Disneyland!"

"..." you look at him with dead eyes, and with all your heart you wonder how that big boy is a functional adult "I can't today, but ask me tomorrow, I'll surely be free to go"

"Really?"

"No"

Next is Jason, who although he was not as insistent as Richard, was the most energetic in his attempts, then the Joker thing happened and...well, you can't treat him badly, you're not cruel.

But coming back from the dead is his pity card, used so many times that you wonder every day if it became an excuse at some point.

"Hey" he said to you one day when he found you in the library "There's an art and literature exhibition in the downtown library, let's go"

"...I'm already reading"

"You can read with me and shop at the same time, you like shopping don't you?"

"I like my time alone with my book, Jason"

"You didn't used to say the same thing, but that's what makes you die, it leaves you thinking about your past life..."

"..."

"...Are you coming?"

"I hope you get hit by a car"

Tim is a silent pusher, he doesn't come close but you know he's there, and that happens brr brr every minute with a brr brr new message.

"Where are you?"

"Are you really asking me?"

"I give you the benefit of the doubt"

"I'm going to block you"

"Again?"

"The computers of the whole city"

Virtual annoyance has been disconnected

And Damian...OMG Damian.

It's a nuisance, a sharp little nuisance; refusing to leave your side whenever he can, demanding attention, time together, activities and visits to any place he wants.

"Sister" greets the boy, who doesn't even know where he came from if you're at university right now and he should be at school.

"What are you doing here Damian?" You demanded harshly, looking everywhere so that no one would associate Bruce Wayne's youngest son with you, not when you did your best not to be recognized as a Wayne since you were a child.

"I want to go save wildlife in Africa from hunters and I need an adult to accompany me" he explains as if it were the most normal thing in the world, another Thursday for him.

"Tell Bruce-"

"Father"

"Let me take you, or take Richard, don't bother me"

"And I don't want adopted children, I want my blood accompanying me in this mission to safeguard wildlife"

"If I tell you if you leave?"

"Are you going with me?"

"Yes yes whatever"

You didn't go.

And not to mention the collateral damage; Barbara and her constant moments of togetherness solving cases (you don't answer her messages), Stephenie and her desire for you to teach her how to cook (you never go to the mansion's kitchen), Cassandra wanting to be by your side (years with Bruce allowed you to develop a sixth sense to evade his shadows), and the newest, Duke Thomas.

He is fine...he keeps his distance, and deliberately ignores the fact that not a single light bothers his eyesight all day.

The worst of all, your father, Bruce Wayne.

Money, gifts, trips, clothes, portraits, everything he can give you, he gives it to you, so much so that you feel like drowning sometimes.

It is strict and suffocating, affectionate but distant, present and absent at the same time. It is annoying and contradictory!

He was the reason you went on exchange to Metropolis, until you discovered that the Kents were close friends of your father and that their approach was not of good will, relocating you to Spain until you finished university.

Reluctantly you had to go back, just long enough to finish the paperwork and stop being Wayne once and for all.

But that was your mistake, coming home, and this time they won't let you go, because you can't hate them more and that's an opportunity for them.

[cakypa120]

I have a little idea. I know some, if not all, will hate me for this idea.

So the Big Three of the League, namely Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman, don't like Captain Marvel. They don't hate him, but they don't particularly like him either.

He is too bright and friendly for Batman. You can see right away that he was brought up well. Marvel has never experienced the darkness of the world, because only people like him always believe in everything good and teach it to others. He has never experienced grief from loss or loneliness. He is a happy man from a happy family. And the fact that Batman cannot find out who Marvel is adds fuel to the fire.

Diana is a little jealous that Marvel is patronized by Zeus, her father. At the same time, Marvel behaves in a mature way that irritates her. After all, what warrior, endowed with the power of the Gods, would behave like a child? She believes that he does not deserve these powers. And she does not believe it when she hears from Marvel that he was endowed with these powers for his pure heart. No one has a pure heart. This is the truth of the world.

Superman is jealous that Marvel was accepted into Fawcett right away when he first appeared. And Clark had to work hard to stop being afraid and start being loved. Moreover, Clark is the last representative of his world, unlike Marvel, which is exactly why it is impossible to understand the weight of the whole world on his shoulders from such knowledge. Even the villains respect Marvel, unlike Superman's villains. And there is not much negative press about Marvel and his heroism, while Superman receives slander almost every day and not only.

So yeah, the Big Three don't like him a bit. The others can't figure out (especially Barry and Hal) what's wrong with Fawcett's hero that the three of them frown so much when it comes to Captain Marvel.

Meanwhile, Billy is hiding from the rain in the old subway, hugging his stuffed tiger, hoping that he can earn himself at least a dollar.

[poorrichardjr]

Ok, I can agree with both people here to some degree, though I think a few things should be brought up.

First, Gore actually won the popular vote in Florida. The Supreme Court stopped the recount that proved that Gore actually won, by a very slim margin. Second, instead of blaming Nader, as most mainstream democrats do, why don't they blame Jeb Bush for purging hundreds of thousands of people from the rolls who were alive and able to vote simply because their names corresponded to names of criminals in other states. This is still done btw every single election in republican run states.

Second, I don't blame all of the voters in the last election, republican or democrat. I don't blame the people who have no time to do the research because they work 60+ hours a week, have families to take care of and spend time with, or those who gladly lapped up the propaganda about Biden and Trump.

There is a caveat to that thought though. Being an informed voter is the responsibility of the people voting. Are you as a voter doing anything at all to learn about the candidates? Are you only getting your information from Fox and the like or RT or Sputnik or whatever? If so, you are slurping up that good ole propaganda and learning virtually nothing. Don't get me wrong, a lot of media outlets have some form of propaganda or slant to their news, but in aggregate, it isn't hard to determine some basic facts about a candidate even with all the partisan BS.

Believe it or not but Trump was not a normal republican president last time. He was crass, cruel, and tried numerous times to do things that his staffers said and warned him were illegal. He was impeached twice for doing things that no other president had done, especially inspiring the coup on January 6th. He also nearly led us into war with North Korea and Iran. We were on the brink of war with North Korea, and suddenly things changed when Russia spoke with both Trump and Un. What did they say that changed the heat? They probably told Trump that Kim wasn't really that bad and that he should be the bigger man and do some outreach, and they told Kim that all you had to do to get anything from Trump was flatter him, because he is an absolute moron.

Biden wasn't a great president, but honestly he really only did two terrible things. He appointed Merrick Garland to oversee the DOJ, and though he was a great prosecutor, he moved far too slowly and initially only focused on the foot soldiers of the insurrection. He never even went after all the congress people who were also deeply involved. Other than that, Biden did what he has always done his entire career and that is to support Israel. He would not use his presidential influence to curb what was happening in Israel, and that turned a lot of good people away from him.

Kamala wasn't really in the running long enough to get a good footing, and she didn't try to differentiate herself from Biden that much, simply because much of what Biden was doing worked. Jobs were up, the economy got much better than the rest of the world, and actual wages were going up for the first time in nearly thirty years.

In the end if you listened to Trump for a single hour and Kamala for a single hour their demeanor, ideas, and temperament should have been enough to get people to do the right thing, but it wasn't. The blatant racism and cruelty espoused by Trump wasn't enough. The knowledge that Trump would support anything Israel wanted in Gaza wasn't enough. The constant lying and whining about 2020 wasn't enough. In the end, if you couldn't guess that some of what is happening now and what could be happening soon was on the table, then you were a fucking idiot or so deeply into a partisan whole that you really didn't care.

Americans failed in their responsibility, and now they will be paying the price for their inability to take this seriously.

Just to be a clear, I am not a democrat, and yet I have voted for them in the last three elections because only a god damn moron couldn't see what Trump is. I hated Hilary because she was untrustworthy, despite my same opinion that she was probably the most qualified candidate for that position in decades. I hated Biden because he really is part of the reason we have many of the problems we have today, and he has been out of touch with a lot of America for years. I had no problems with Kamala, except that she was embracing the right-wingers who gave us Iraq and the quagmire that was Afghanistan and didn't do enough to try and get democrats to vote for her. You can criticize Trump all day, but republicans don't care and are going to vote for him anyway. She needed to rebuild the coalition that was disintegrating because of Gaza and the DOJ's inaction.

[aspenmissing]

Hiii, so I love LOVEEEE reading your arcane x reader one-shots (I am literally obsessed) and I have a request. Would it be possible to write a Jayce x reader, where the reader is Vander's biological daughter, was raised alongside Vi, Powder, Claggor and Mylo, is four years older than Vi, so that means she is 19 when Vander dies, she also doesn't know what happened with Powder and Vi and assumes they are death (she was there when Powder's monkey bomb exploded but was under the debris and no one found her there, she is also injured), she doesn't have anybody else in Zaun and her dream has always been to see Piltover with her own eyes, so she decides to go there before she dies of her injuries and there she encounters Jayce and Heimerdinger, who help her and as years pass her and Jayce develop feelings for each other? Thank you in advance ☺️💜

ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ʜᴏʀɪᴢᴏɴꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ, ᴠɪ, ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ, ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ, ᴍʏʟᴏ, ʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀᴅɪɴɢᴇʀ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5242 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ?, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ!!! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ!! ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ꜱᴡᴀᴘꜱ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ)

Zaun had never been kind, but Y/N had never known anything else. She had been born in the undercity, in a world where survival meant being strong, clever, or lucky. And Vander—Vander had made sure she was all three.

She was his first, his only biological child, though he had never let that create a divide between her and the others he took in. To him, blood didn’t matter—family was chosen, built, protected. And Y/N had been raised with that belief stitched into her bones.

She had no memories of her mother. Vander never spoke of her, and Y/N had learned early on not to ask. But what she did have was Felicia, her aunt in everything but name.

Felicia, who had rocked her to sleep when she was small, who had always found a way to sneak her sweets when Vander wasn’t looking. Who, despite the hardships of Zaun, always smelled of warm bread and had hands soft enough to soothe away nightmares.

Y/N had been a child of both shadow and warmth. She played in the grimy streets of the undercity, scraped her knees climbing rusted scaffolding, learned how to fight alongside the street kids, but at the end of the day, she always had a home to return to. Arms to hold her. A family to remind her that even in Zaun, there was love.

=

And then, four years later, Vi was born.

Y/N remembered the first time she saw her baby sister, wrapped in too-big blankets, her tiny fists waving in the air. She was so small, so loud, already filled with fire before she could even speak.

“She’s got your stubbornness,” Felicia had teased, placing the newborn into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N had stared down at Vi, her heart swelling with something fierce and unfamiliar. She had never known she could love someone so instantly, so completely.

From that day forward, Vi had been hers as much as she had been Vander’s.

=

Years passed, and their family grew. First Powder—Felicia’s second daughter, born a few years after Vi. Their little home above the bar became a haven, a place of warmth in a city that tried to swallow them whole.

As the eldest, Y/N had become the one they all turned to. She soothed Powder’s fears when nightmares crept in. She was Vi’s hero, the one her little sister followed in every footstep, determined to be just as strong, just as fearless.

She had promised to always protect them.

And yet, before she could even begin to understand what loss truly meant, the world started tearing pieces of their family away.

=

It began with Felicia and Connol.

The rebellion on the bridge had been doomed before it even began. But they had fought anyway. And for that, they had paid the price.

Y/N had been there.

She had heard the clash of steel, the cries of the dying, the gunfire that tore through the air. She had felt the ground tremble beneath her feet as enforcers cut through Zaunite rebels like they were nothing more than pests to be exterminated.

And she had seen them—Felicia and Connol—lying lifeless on the cold stone of the bridge, their bodies broken, their blood pooling beneath them.

She had wanted to run to them, to do something, but there was no time.

Vi was screaming, trying to fight her way past Y/N’s grip, but she held firm, shielding her sisters from the sight. Powder was sobbing, burying her face against Y/N’s chest, small fingers tangled in her shirt as if letting go would mean losing everything.

“Don’t look,” Y/N had whispered, voice shaking as she forced them back, away from the carnage, away from the truth that would haunt them forever.

She didn't know how long she held them there, hidden in the shadows of a crumbling alleyway just beyond the bridge. The sounds of battle faded into silence, replaced only by the quiet gasps of her sisters and the distant echo of enforcers marching away.

When Vander found them, his face was hollow, his fists bloodied from trying to fight back. He knelt before them, eyes dark with grief, his hands trembling as he reached out.

“It’s over,” he had said, voice raw.

=

After that, Silco was next to go.

He and Vander had always been a unit—two sides of the same coin, bound together by shared dreams and scars. And then, one day, he simply disappeared.

Vander returned bloodied, bruised, his knuckles raw, and though he never spoke of what had happened, Y/N saw the truth in his silence.

Something had shattered between them. And Silco, once her father’s closest friend, had become nothing more than a ghost.

=

For a while, it was just them—the four of them in a world that didn’t want them to survive. But then Mylo and Claggor came into their lives, two boys with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

Vander had opened his doors to them without hesitation. And soon enough, Y/N did too.

Their family had grown, and though the wounds of the past lingered, they had each other.

And then, in a single night, she lost them all.

Pain was the first thing she knew. A deep, throbbing agony that pulsed through every fiber of her being as she forced herself to move.

Her fingers, raw and bloodied, clawed at the debris above her, her nails splintering as she dragged herself forward, inch by agonizing inch. Every movement sent fire lancing through her body, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she choked on the dust clogging her throat.

The air was thick with smoke and the sharp, acrid scent of burning metal. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint, eerie crackling of flames licking at the ruins of what had once been her home.

The explosion had shattered everything.

Her ears still rang with the force of it—the deafening roar, the crack of collapsing metal, the screams that had been cut too short.

She had fought. She had fought with everything she had, alongside Vi, tearing through Silco’s men to get to Vander, their father, the only man who had ever made them feel safe in a world that had never been kind. She had been so close. They all had.

They had gotten him out of his restraints.

For a single, fleeting moment, she had thought they had won.

And then Powder’s bomb went off.

The explosion had torn through the factory like a monster unleashed.

She barely had time to react before Claggor was sent flying into a wall, his skull cracking with a sickening sound. He was gone before he even hit the ground. Mylo was thrown beside him, a metal pole spearing through his shoulder before the collapsing structure buried them both.

Vi had screamed their names, tried to reach them, but then the debris came crashing down, trapping her beneath it.

Y/N had been sent sprawling, her body slamming into the cold, hard floor. The world had turned into dust and fire, rubble pressing down on her, pinning her in place.

She didn't know how long she lay there, half-buried in the ruins of everything she had ever known. Time blurred—seconds, minutes, hours.

No one came for her.

Mylo and Claggor were gone. Vander was gone.

Vi and Powder… there was no sign of them. No voices calling out in the darkness. No hands reaching for her own.

Only silence.

She had screamed for them, had called their names until her throat was raw. But the only response was the crackle of distant flames, the groan of broken metal settling into place.

Tears streaked down her dirt-stained cheeks as she clenched her fists, her broken nails digging into her palms.

She couldn't stay here.

If she stayed, she would die.

With sheer, agonizing effort, Y/N began to crawl. Her arms shook with the strain, her legs barely responding as she dragged herself over shattered glass and twisted metal. Every breath was fire in her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

It felt like an eternity before she finally reached the edge of the ruined building. Her trembling fingers gripped onto the ledge as she pulled herself up, the fresh air burning her lungs as she inhaled deeply.

And then she saw it.

Piltover.

The City of Progress stood above her, golden and gleaming, untouched by the destruction that had just consumed her world. Its towers stretched toward the sky, their lights flickering like distant stars against the night.

A choked, bitter laugh escaped her lips, but it quickly dissolved into a sob.

She had always dreamed of seeing it.

They were sitting on the rooftop of The Last Drop, their legs dangling over the edge as the city lights flickered below. The air was thick with the scent of oil and smoke, but up here, it almost felt like they were above it all. "You ever think about leaving Zaun?" Y/N had asked, her gaze fixed on the towering silhouette of Piltover in the distance. Vi, only eleven at the time, scrunched up her nose. "Nah. Zaun's home." Powder, curled up against Y/N’s side, peeked up at her with wide, curious eyes. "Do you?" Y/N hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Not forever. Just… I want to see it. Piltover. With my own eyes. I want to know what it’s like to walk on clean streets, to breathe air that isn’t filled with smog." Vi snorted. "Bet it's boring. Too clean. Too fancy." "Maybe," Y/N admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "But I still want to see it." Powder tugged at her sleeve, her voice soft. "Maybe one day, we can all go together." Y/N had wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah. One day."

A hollow ache settled in her chest as she stared up at the golden city that had once been nothing more than a distant dream.

Piltover.

It loomed above her like something out of a fairy tale—untouched, pristine, shimmering in the night. The towers stood tall, bathed in golden light, their reflections dancing in the sky as if the stars themselves had fallen to the earth. Even from here, from the filth and ruin of Zaun, she could see its streets, its sprawling bridges, its untainted perfection.

It was everything she had imagined.

And yet, in this moment, it felt impossibly far away.

She wasn’t dreaming anymore.

Her body trembled as she clutched her side, fingers coming away slick with blood. The pain was unbearable, a searing, pulsing agony radiating from her ribs, her legs, her back. Every breath burned. Every step felt like her last.

But she had nowhere else to go.

She was alone.

Her entire world—her family, her home, everything she had fought to protect—was gone.

Her mind raced with memories, a whirlwind of faces and laughter, of nights spent huddled together in the dim glow of candlelight, of whispered promises and childish dreams. She could almost hear their voices. Vi, teasing her about taking things too seriously. Mylo, always talking too much, always trying too hard. Claggor, quiet and steady, the foundation of their little gang. Powder, with her wide, hopeful eyes, always clinging to Y/N’s side, always looking up to her.

And Vander. Her father. The man who had carried the weight of the Lanes on his back, who had sacrificed everything to give them a chance.

They were all gone.

Tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging as they streaked down her dirt-streaked face. She wiped at them furiously. She couldn’t afford to cry. Not now. Not when she still had something left to do.

If she was going to die, she would die chasing that dream.

With a sharp inhale, she forced her legs to move. The first step nearly sent her crumpling to the ground, her knees buckling beneath her. She caught herself against the remnants of a rusted pipe, her breath hitching at the jolt of pain that shot through her ribs.

But she didn’t stop.

She dug her fingers into the crumbling stone, gripping onto whatever she could as she began to climb. Every pull of her muscles felt like agony, every movement a battle against her own failing body. Blood dripped from her wounds, leaving a faint, crimson trail behind her.

But she climbed.

Hand over hand, foot over foot, she pulled herself up, her vision swimming, her body screaming in protest. The higher she went, the thinner the air seemed to get, the smog of Zaun fading as the cold, crisp wind of Piltover brushed against her sweat-slicked skin.

She had never been this close before.

The bridges connecting the two cities stretched out before her, shining metal and stone that had never known the touch of rust or ruin.

She gritted her teeth, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

Almost there.

Just a little further.

Her fingers grazed the edge of the bridge, her arms shaking violently as she heaved herself up. The moment she reached solid ground, her body gave out, and she collapsed onto the smooth stone, her vision darkening at the edges.

She had made it.

The thought barely had time to register before her world tilted, the pain finally swallowing her whole.

And then—

Darkness.

Warmth.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Not the cold, damp air of Zaun. Not the sharp bite of metal or the suffocating grip of smoke in her lungs. Just warmth. Soft, clean, unfamiliar warmth.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric beneath her, smooth and crisp—too smooth to be the rough blankets of the Lanes. She shifted slightly, and a dull, aching pain flared through her body, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Bright. Too bright.

She blinked against the soft glow of daylight filtering through sheer curtains, her vision swimming as she tried to take in her surroundings. The room around her was… pristine. The walls were a soft ivory, the furniture polished wood, the air carrying the faint scent of something floral and clean.

Nothing like home.

A thick blanket was draped over her, far too fine to belong to someone from the Undercity. Slowly, she pulled it aside, eyes widening as she took in the sight of herself.

Bandages wrapped tightly around her arms and torso, fresh and neat. A cast encased her right leg, holding it in place, a stark contrast to the grime and blood she had been covered in before.

This wasn’t Zaun.

Panic swelled in her chest as she struggled to sit up, her body protesting with every movement. Where was she? How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was reaching the bridge, collapsing on the cold stone—

The door creaked open.

Y/N's head snapped toward it, muscles tensing on instinct despite her injuries.

A woman stepped inside, pausing mid-step when their eyes met.

The nurse was young, her uniform crisp, her expression flickering from professional composure to shock as she realized Y/N was awake.

“Oh! You’re awake?” she gasped, eyes widening. “I—let me—oh, they’ll want to know you’re up!”

Y/N didn’t answer, her throat too dry, her mind too disoriented to form words.

The nurse quickly composed herself, stepping closer with a careful, reassuring smile. “You’re safe,” she said gently, as if speaking too loudly might startle her. “You were brought here a few days ago. The Dean of the Academy, Professor Heimerdinger, and Mr. Talis found you at the bridge and had you taken in for treatment.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, confusion swirling in her tired mind.

=

The nurse stepped back as the door to the room opened once more, and in walked two figures who made the air feel slightly different, a change from the sterile quiet of the room.

The first was a small man, frail in appearance, with an impressive white beard and long, wispy hair that framed his face like an ancient sage. His eyes twinkled behind thick glasses, giving off an air of wisdom and curiosity. His small frame didn’t detract from the aura of quiet authority he held, and there was a warmth to his gaze that seemed to instantly put Y/N at ease. The second figure was taller, his broad shoulders commanding a quiet power. A man with clean, sharp features, short-cropped dark hair, and eyes that held a sharp focus—clearly the opposite of the gentle Yordle beside him.

Y/N’s body stiffened instinctively, but she held her ground, wary yet curious. These were the people who had saved her. Who had brought her here.

The small man, the Yordle with the striking white beard, smiled warmly at her as he approached. "Ah, it’s good to see you awake, young one. I am Professor Heimerdinger, and this is Mr. Jayce Talis."

Y/N blinked, her voice a dry rasp when she finally managed to speak. “Where… Where am I?”

Heimerdinger’s smile softened, and Jayce nodded slightly, exchanging a glance with the older man before addressing her. “You’re in Piltover. The University. You were brought here after we found you. You’ve been… unconscious for some time.”

Y/N frowned, disoriented. "Found me? How long—"

Jayce took a step forward, his tone gentle but edged with concern. "About two weeks ago. We found you barely clinging to life near the Piltover bridge. You were badly injured—broken bones, internal bleeding, severe exhaustion. We couldn’t leave you in that state."

Heimerdinger’s voice softened as he joined in. “Yes, indeed. You were in quite a poor condition. You've been in a coma for quite some time, but we’ve been keeping a close eye on you. You've made considerable progress, but... recovery will take more time. You were fortunate to survive, truly.”

Y/N felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach, the harsh reality of her situation sinking in. Two weeks. Two weeks lost in unconsciousness, unaware of everything—what had happened, who had survived.

"But..." The question escaped her almost before she could stop it. "What happened to Zaun? The explosion... my family... Did anyone survive?"

The room seemed to freeze as the words left her lips. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspeakable sorrow. Jayce exchanged a long, somber glance with Heimerdinger, before the Yordle spoke in a tone laced with regret.

"We don’t know," Heimerdinger replied, his voice low but steady. "What we do know is that the explosion destroyed everything. We’ve heard no word of survivors."

Y/N’s chest tightened as their words settled into her mind. She had hoped, even just a little, that someone—anyone—had made it out. But no. Vi. Powder. Mylo. Claggor. Vander. All gone.

The world felt like it had shattered all over again, the grief rising up and drowning her in its cold embrace.

Jayce seemed to sense her growing distress and knelt beside her bed, his expression softer than she had expected. “I know this is hard. But you’re not alone anymore. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

His words weren’t empty. There was something sincere, something real in them, and Y/N found herself staring at him for a moment, struggling to process what he was saying through the fog of grief. But the weight on her chest refused to lift.

“I’m sorry,” Jayce continued, his voice low and gentle. “We did everything we could. We searched for days, but there was nothing left to salvage. The debris... it was too much. We wish we could’ve done more.”

Y/N felt like the room was tilting again, her vision swimming with unshed tears and unspeakable loss. She had always been the strong one—the protector. But now? She was nothing.

She was alone.

A flicker of warmth in Jayce’s eyes caught her attention, grounding her back in the present. "I know this is a lot," he said gently, "but you don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’re here to help."

Y/N swallowed thickly, her throat dry. She nodded slightly, though her head still felt like it was spinning from the shock. “What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as though the question itself would pull her further into the unknown.

Heimerdinger placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his ancient, wise eyes filled with compassion. "Now, you heal. We will help you, as best as we can. There is a place for you here, if you choose it. Piltover is vast, and you are not without options."

Y/N looked between Heimerdinger and Jayce, the weight of their offer settling around her like a heavy, yet oddly comforting, blanket. She wanted to ask a hundred more questions, wanted to know where she fit into this strange new world, what she could do now. But the future felt impossibly distant, like a fog she couldn’t yet navigate.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to be still. To breathe, though raggedly.

She wasn’t sure what the future held, but it was the only thing left for her to move toward. And maybe, just maybe, Piltover could be where she rebuilt herself.

Or at least, she would try.

The golden city that had once seemed like an impossible dream had slowly become her reality.

Piltover had been overwhelming at first—the clean streets, the endless inventions, the people who walked past her with their noses high, dressed in finery she had never even imagined. It was a world so far removed from Zaun that, for a long time, she had felt like an intruder, an imposter pretending to belong.

But as the years passed, Y/N had begun to carve a place for herself.

It hadn’t been easy. There were nights she had spent awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she had made the right choice. Days when the weight of her past threatened to crush her. The ache of loss never truly left, lingering in the quiet moments between conversations, in the silence of an empty room. But she had learned to live with it.

Jayce had been there through it all.

At first, it was small things—checking in on her, making sure she ate, dragging her out of the apartment when he thought she’d been inside too long. He had offered her a place to stay, a spare room in his new apartment after the previous one had been reduced to rubble in an explosion. She had hesitated, unsure if she could accept such kindness, but in the end, she had nowhere else to go.

=

Living with Jayce had been… an adjustment.

He was meticulous about his workspace but careless with everything else. He would leave blueprints scattered on the dining table, trinkets from his projects half-assembled in the oddest places. More than once, she had nearly tripped over some Hextech device he had forgotten to put away.

But he was also warm, patient. He never pushed her for details about her past, never pried when she grew quiet and withdrawn. He simply let her be, offering companionship without expectation. And, over time, something shifted between them.

The once awkward silences turned into comfortable conversations over late-night tea. The careful distance they had kept at first disappeared, replaced by easy touches—a hand on her shoulder, fingers brushing as they passed in the kitchen, a lingering warmth when he stood just a little too close.

Y/N had never expected to find anything resembling home again. But somehow, in the heart of Piltover, with Jayce beside her, she had begun to feel something close to it.

And she wasn’t sure what terrified her more—losing it or wanting it to last.

Y/N had never imagined herself working in a place like the Academy.

She had never been given the luxury of a formal education, never sat in a grand hall filled with brilliant minds discussing theories and discoveries. Back in Zaun, survival had been her priority—learning to fight, to scavenge, to take care of her siblings. But here, in Piltover, she had been given the chance to do something more.

It had started with Jayce.

After Hextech’s success, his workload had grown tenfold. Between meetings with the Council, developing new projects, and keeping up with research, he barely had a moment to breathe. One day, after catching her idly flipping through a book on Hex Crystals, he had casually suggested she help out at the Academy.

At first, she had been hesitant. What did she know about working in a place like this? But Jayce had insisted, and Heimerdinger—ever the enthusiastic professor—had agreed that it would be beneficial for her to learn.

=

That was how she had met Viktor.

Jayce had introduced them one evening, and for the first time since coming to Piltover, Y/N felt a sense of familiarity in someone.

Viktor, with his sharp mind and dry humor, was unlike anyone else she had met in the golden city. He carried the same resilience she did—the quiet strength of someone who had climbed their way out of Zaun, who had fought for every opportunity, every bit of recognition. And despite their different paths, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

He never looked at her like she was an outsider. Never made her feel like she didn’t belong.

Over time, she found herself working alongside him and Jayce, assisting with research, organizing notes, and even offering insights where she could. She wasn’t an inventor, but she had a knack for problem-solving, a way of looking at things from a different angle. Viktor appreciated it. Jayce encouraged it.

For the first time in years, she felt like she was building something. Like she had a purpose beyond just surviving.

And when she looked at Jayce—his easy smiles, his unwavering faith in her—she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was meant to be here after all.

It happened gradually, in the small moments between work and home.

At first, it was subtle. The way Jayce’s eyes lingered on her a little longer than before, the way his hand would brush against hers when they passed papers between them in the lab. The way he always made sure she had a cup of tea waiting when she worked late, how he would nudge her plate closer at dinner when she barely touched her food, or how he seemed to brighten whenever she entered the room, as if her presence alone was enough to make his day better.

Y/N told herself it was nothing. That it was just Jayce being Jayce—kind, warm, and a little too good at making people feel like they mattered.

But then, there were moments she couldn’t ignore.

Like when she caught him staring at her across the workshop, lost in thought, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. When she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him, he had quickly looked away, clearing his throat and pretending he had been focused on something else.

Or when they would return home late from the Academy, exhaustion weighing on their shoulders, and he would linger at her door. Sometimes, it seemed like he wanted to say something—his fingers flexing at his sides, his lips parting slightly—only to shake his head and offer a quiet, “Goodnight, Y/N,” before retreating to his own room.

She felt it, too.

The warmth that bloomed in her chest whenever he laughed, the way her heart stuttered whenever he leaned in too close, his shoulder brushing against hers as they worked side by side. The quiet comfort of just existing beside him, knowing that no matter how much time passed, he was there.

She had spent years surviving—fighting, scraping by, never allowing herself to dwell on anything more than what needed to be done. But Jayce made her pause. Made her think about things she had long since buried.

Viktor noticed before either of them did.

=

One evening, after a particularly long day at the lab, he had given her a knowing look as Jayce walked ahead, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"You know, he is quite terrible at hiding it," Viktor remarked, amusement lacing his tone.

Y/N frowned, confused. "Hiding what?"

Viktor only chuckled, shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing. You will figure it out eventually."

She thought about that conversation for weeks afterward.

And then one night, everything changed.

=

It had been another late evening at the Academy, just the two of them left in the lab. The only sound was the quiet hum of the machinery, the occasional scratch of Jayce’s pen against paper, and the steady ticking of the clock. The air was thick with the faint scent of metal and ink, of old books and oil, and despite the exhaustion tugging at her bones, Y/N found a strange sense of peace in the stillness.

She was staring at blueprints, tracing lines with the tip of her finger, lost in thought when she felt his gaze on her.

She looked up.

Jayce was watching her, something soft and uncertain in his expression. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together as if he was working through something in his head.

"Y/N," he started, hesitating.

She raised a brow, setting her pen down. "What?"

Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence replaced with something more vulnerable, something uncertain. He shifted on his feet, glancing at the floor before finally meeting her gaze.

"I just—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if frustrated with himself. But then he stepped closer, his voice quieter, steadier this time. "I care about you. A lot more than I probably should."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

He was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like she was something precious, something worth holding onto.

And in that moment, she realized—she had spent so long convincing herself she was alone that she hadn’t seen what had been in front of her all this time.

Jayce had been there, always.

And maybe… maybe she wanted him to be.

She swallowed, forcing herself to speak despite the rapid beating of her heart. "You're an idiot," she murmured, her lips curving slightly, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

Jayce let out a breathless laugh, relief flickering across his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, softer this time. Then, after a pause, after letting herself breathe, after letting herself believe this was real, "But I care about you too."

Jayce’s smile was wide, genuine, and impossibly warm.

For the first time in years, the weight in her chest didn’t feel so suffocating.

He reached for her hand, hesitant at first, his fingers brushing against hers as if waiting for permission. But when she didn’t pull away, he threaded them together, his grip firm, steady—grounding.

She had spent so long believing she had no one left, that she had to carry the weight of her grief and survival on her own. But Jayce had been there, always. Patient. Steady. Waiting for her to see what had been right in front of her all along.

She looked at their intertwined hands, then back at him, and something inside her settled. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, she never had to be again.

[some-girl-i-guess-1]

MANOR ERA CYN HCS YIPPEE

- was the last to be found and rescued by tessa, first being J followed by n and v shortly after

- voice/speech patterns were always funky in the way they are now but her limbs were mostly fine pre-solver, though they did lock up a bit

- her serial member started with ‘n’ so she gave herself the name cyn to differentiate herself from N

- it’s also why they’re siblings - their serial numbers are only two numbers apart!

- she’s the youngest of the group, but not like a toddler - id say she’s around 14 years old. for reference, n and v are 15, and j n tessa are 16 (Tess is 2 months older)

- very smart for her age, knows how to read people’s thoughts and emotions rly well - good at picking up small social cues

- despite this though she has a hard time comforting people at first. it’s not because she has low empathy, she just doesn’t know how to help. no matter how much she wants to help, she’s ultimately powerless

- got her solver about 2 years in, when james carelessly threw a bottle over/behind head and at her face, the life-or-death situation causing it to awaken. James didn’t notice, but tessa did.

- much like uzi there were brief flashes of the symbol on her eye a few weeks before it happened, but she didn’t really think anything of it until the incident

- cyn and Tess quickly told the others abt the solver, but with their lack of knowledge they didn’t really find anything out n just assumed cyn was magic

- slowly, she began to learn and master the solver’s power - using it to protect her family and make their lives easier, but despite this she still felt like she wasn’t doing enough with it. she couldn’t just protect them, no - she could reach higher, she could free them all!

- Tessa and J wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid, forced marriage getting between them, her big brother and V wouldn’t have to worry about dying for simple mistakes, and none of them would ever have to worry about mr and ms elliot ever again.

- slowly though the side effects of the solver would begin to take their toll on her. cyn valiantly refused the urge to kill and consume with everything she had to the point where it started consuming parts of cyn’s own body to stave off that gnawing hunger, causing her motor skills to get worse and her joints to lock up

- this forced cyn to rely even more heavily on the solver, which caused her to grow even hungrier - all of this taking a mental toll on cyn’s mind and sanity.

- by the time of the gala, she’s hanging on by a thread - consuming the other workers in the manor and food from the kitchen to keep herself somewhat stable, but at this point she’s long gone. her desire to protect and save her family has been twisted into a sick plan to make them all ‘just like her’, turning n v and j into disassemblers - and fusing herself with tessa’s body in a freakish macabre display, where albeit painfully, she’s still Alive. She would never discard her big sister Tessa, after all!

- cyn was not possessed by an entity, nor is she inherently malicious. rather, the pressure she put on herself and the eldritch power that wormed itself into her very soul caused her to lose any semblance of sanity, now being fueled by nothing but the sick desire to consume *everything*, with her family right by her side.

- she is the ultimate foil to uzi - as while cyn had nobody who truly understood the weight of the solver, and actively hid and pushed back against that side of herself until it swallowed her whole, uzi had multiple people (khan, n, and v) who were knowledgeable enough to help her through it all, and instead of hiding herself from the world, she chose to be herself and be free.

- cyn was but a child wanting to save their family. quite a classic story - a young child being given supernatural powers they don’t comprehend, and learns to become a hero. but it all went wrong, and now there is nothing left of her. nothing, but the solver of the absolute fabric, the void, and the exponential end.

[ultimate-marysue]

Hear me out: batfam dressing up for holyween

Honestly they would go so hard. Like, I feel like Bruce would completely opt out because on Halloween crime rates go up and he needs to go out... But Batman is literally a costume he puts on to scare people. He's already doing the thing. He also makes sure his kids have a full budget for whatever they want dress up as, as long as they keep notifications on so they can respond in case of emergency.

I feel like Dick would "force" Damian to trick or treat with him for as long as possible so he can get candy, they always match. One year they go as Batman and Robin, but Dick is Robin (obvi). Tim gets traumatized a second time by one of his older siblings wearing scaly panties way over the age where it's appropriate.

Barbara organizes a themed party that's like the MET gala for Birds of Prey. The amount of times Dinah has had to respond to emergencies wearing her drop dead gorgeous costume and a little domino is getting hard to keep track off. Of course, there's a contest and of course Babs is the judge. She always chooses something meta referencial and cool while looking hot (because she is hot). Also, she has dressed up as every single famous red head up to period accurate Bloody Mary.

Steph takes it super seriously and has won the price multiple times over. Like, she's canonically great at disguises, you know she will turn up with flawless characterization and a handsewn costume. Cass on the other hand spent her first few years goin as a very low effort "____ zombie", filling the blank with whatever the theme was that year. That's until Steph has enough of it and decides she's in charge of Cass's costumes. That first year they go as Elvira and Dolly Parton. Once they start dating they do couple costumes like Morticia and Gomez (Babs is both proud and disgusted).

Jason takes it so seriously. Too seriously in fact, he will go as the most obscure monsters, word plays and references (The Mask of the Red Death, Faustus, Lady McBeth, Virgil...) like, he's the guy that goes as Frankenstein and says "mmm actually, it's the modern Prometheus, Frankenstein is the doctor who is also the real monster". His costumes often reference whatever beef he's having with his family that year. If he has to go out in costume he will monologue in character the whole time.

Tim is of the Mean Girls school of Halloween costumes: it doesn't matter as long as you're hot. He's the guy dressed up as pop culture references, like Justin Timberlake and his jeans on jeans monstrosity or Chappell Roan at the Grammys. He loves a good entrance and despite claiming to not care too much for his costume he always goes all the way. Much like Steph he's good at disguises and the amount of times he's done some extremely convincing Drag/Genderbend costume before his family picked up on the gay vibes is a bit embarrassing for the world's second best detective.

Duke loves a good joke costume and he's the meme of "gay people are the worst on Halloween, what do you mean you're Miss the Bus/Pillow Princess??". He also does special effects for his costume and Izzy's using his powers. People are always asking him how he rigged the lights of Izzy's Angel costume and he just gives a bullshit answer with full confidence so people automatically believe him.

Damian at first calls the whole costume thing immature, only doing it to make the others happy, but then he becomes an Otaku as a teen. Damian spends the rest of his Halloweens until his 30s dressing in full cosplay. It starts with a store bought Sasuke cosplay because Jon wanted to go as Naruto, but now he's carefully crafting impeccable cosplays of his fav Shojo protagonists. They're so obscure most people just nod along, but one year he does a full Anthy Himemiya gown and Steph helps him with the make up. Everyone is delighted to see him go so hard for a silly fun hobby.

[polgarawolf1]

Wow. Okay. So, you never read Catalyst or the novelization for Rogue One huh?

Okay, so, seriously, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but there isn't some "grand" prisonbreak escape, prior to the opening of Rogue One on Lah'mu. The Ersos basically sneak out of a luxury penthouse suite on Coruscant and then go on the run with help from Saw Gerrera. The "prison" is a ginormous building Galen works in - one that Orson has had built solely with Galen's work in mind - with, again, a massively luxurious penthouse suite that he and his family live in. Lyra is even allowed to take work off-world (she's also allowed to take her best friend, Nari Sable, with her, as well as Jyn), at a dig on Alpinn, shortly before she convinces Galen that they need to run. Lyra could've left before then at any time she'd wanted to and she probably could've taken Jyn with her at any time if she'd really want to, too, but she doesn't. She stays with Galen in that penthouse for around a year and (despite brooding constantly about how much she dislikes/distrusts Orson Krennic and how much she diapproves of her husband's work involving kyber crystals, which are sacred to the Jedi and which she believes shouldn't be meddled with) never seriously thinks about needing to convince Galen that their whole family needs to get out of there until AFTER she finds out more about what the Empire's been doing out in the greater galaxy, after wheedling what amounts to an unscantioned joyride through part of the protected Western Reaches on her way back to Coruscant (and her so-called "prison") from Alpinn.

Also, Lyra doesn't turn back because she believes she can actually save Galen, even though she does hope she might be able to (for at least a little while, long enough for them to try to run, long enough that Krennic will lose more time having to hunt them down again) and she also does try to threaten Krennic into letting them go. She ruins all of their plans for when/if the Empire shows up because she's angry at Orson Krennic for finding them, angry that they've had to go into hiding because of him, even more angry that Galen has stayed behind to try to buy her and Jyn enough time to cleanly escape, and she outright hates Orson Krennic. That's it. That's her motivation. She hates the man and she's pissed off, so she completely abandons all of the family's plans and her basically helpless eight-year-old daughter (even after mentally acknowledging the fact that, in doing so, she's basically doomed Jyn) and she turns around and tries to take a shot at Orson. And, please note, she only does this AFTER they all know that she's there and there's absolutely no chance of any kind of element of surprise that might allow her and Galen to escape in the confusion.

Lyra is angry and she very clearly cares more about her anger and her hatred than she does her daughter's life or her husband's wishes. She basically suicides by cop (by an Imperial death squad, to be precise), knowing that she's badly misjudged how Krennic might react to being threatened by a woman with a single blaster (when he's in the company of an entire squad of Death Trooper bodyguards, mind!) and that she'll never actually be able to stop the Empire from taking Galen back, because she frankly hates Krennic so much (something that is expounded about at such great length in Catalyst - even when the man has literally just saved the family from a probable fate worse than death, involving being handed over by one band of Separatists to Dooku, with Galen being forced to work for Dooku - that it's frankly a bit scary) that she can't stand to let him "win" in regards to Galen. The text doesn't quite goes so far as to say so outright, but it sure seems like she takes that shot knowing that Krennic's bodyguard will kill her, solely in order to make absolutely sure that the last real bond between Krennic and Galen is irrevocably shattered by her death

So. She arbitrarily throws plans out the window because she's mad. She abandons her young daughter, knowing that it means Jyn will probably not manage to get away (Lyra's own thought being that "she's done," with the strong implication that this means Jyn will die, as a result). And then she takes a hopeless pot shot at a man who's surrounded by bodyguards, knowing that the result will be that the death troopers will kill her.

Sorry, but that is NOT someone to hold up as some kind of moral hero or selfless revolutionary. Lyra Erso tries to kill a man she hates because she's angry. That's what it boils down to. What she tries to do is basically the same sort of thing, if on a much smaller scale, as Anakin Skywalker does when slaughtering that entire Tusken Raider village (including men, women, and children), only the sole things driving her are anger and hate (not grief/sorrow/suffering and fury). That Orson Krennic is an agent of the Empire and, thus, pretty darn arguably evil is beside the point. (That's an apologist's argument, the same sort of argument that tries to says that the Tuskens deserved to be massacred down to the last babe in arms for Shmi's death, as though the entire settlement could or should be held accounted for the actions of the few who actually kidnapped and tortured her and the entire long history of violence between the indigenous Tusken Raiders and the, well, colonizing moisture farmers.) No matter what Krennic has or hasn't done by this point in time, he still does NOT deserve to be murdered by an angry woman just because she hates him. She doesn't do it for any kind of noble or selfless reasons. The text makes it very clear that she's furious about everything, hates Krennic, and hopes to use the threat of the blaster to frighten him into letting them go, so that he'll have to waste more time and effort and resources tracking them down again afterwards and they'll have at least a brief shot at some freedom again.

If she were truly some kind of revoluntionary selfless hero, then in that moment, having realized just how hopeless the situation truly was, what Lyra shoud have done was to shoot and kill her husband, to "save" him by ensuring that the Empire could not take him again. Instead, she wasted her only shot on a pointless, empty gesture. She barely wings Krennic's shoulders and the death troopers blast her and she dies. After that, it's pure sheer dumb luck that Jyn actually manages to get to the caves and their prepared hiding spot and get herself into it before the death troopers can find her. And, well, we know what that ends up leading to . . .

thinking about the lens andor puts on rogue one and like. lyra erso is actually sooo fascinating because contextually here’s a woman who had actively managed to escape from being taken imperial prisoner with her CHILD (and from the context being helped by, even joining one of the most radical anti imperial cells) and instead turned around for one narrow chance to kill an important imperial officer. she doesn’t succeed, and probably didn’t even she would, but it was worth a try. (did she really think it would save Galen? with all those troopers there, i don’t think she did.) and that’s a fascinating choice to make, between physically surviving and living with your child amid the empire, or putting it all on the line for one shot at dismantling some part of the empire, and also that lyra erso made a more complicated choice than most action movies would go for 

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[sequinsmile-x]

Growing Pains

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother. 

Almost. 

AKA - a story about Aaron, Emily, and their teenage daughter who is determined to push boundaries.

Part 1/2

-x-

Hi besties,

Sorry for the slight delay on this - I've got a horrible cold and this fic kept getting bigger and bigger (shocking I know) but here we are!!

This is inspired by an ask I got from anon (who I hope enjoys this fic) asking how I think our favs would deal with a rebellious teenager. Because of who I am as a person, this has become a two parter.

Please let me know what you think, and part 2 will be up within the next few days!

-x-

Words: 6.8K (it really got away from me)

Warnings: brief references to past abortion, brief mentions of underage drinking

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Ferme tes jolis yeux

Car les heures sont brèves

Au pays merveilleux

Au doux pays des rêves.”

Emily sings quietly as she paces back and forth, holding her little girl against her chest. She suppresses a yawn and rubs a soothing circle on Lucy’s back, tilting her head to look down at her baby. Lucy was finally asleep, the 2-day-old’s cheek squished against her chest, and Emily sighs in relief, dropping a kiss to her dark hair and breathing her in, the sweet newborn smell the most addictive thing in the world.

The house is quiet, both Aaron and Jack asleep upstairs in the bed, and dark apart from the lamp she switched on when she came downstairs to the living room. It was peaceful, a bubble they’d built around themselves as they got used to the addition to their family. She couldn’t wait for their friends to meet Lucy, but she wanted this to last as long as possible. For the 2 am feeds and the moments like it to not be her only time with her little girl that was just hers. 

“Let’s sit down, sweet girl,” she says, clenching her jaw to hold back a wince as she sits on the couch, “Mommy is too tired and too sore to walk around anymore.” 

It was Lucy’s first night at home and it felt surreal, strange in some ways that the doctors and nurses had just sent her home with a tiny baby, with a whole new person to look after as if she knew what she was doing. Lucy refused to sleep anywhere but in Emily’s arms, would cry even if Aaron tried to hold her, so Emily knew there was no point in taking her back upstairs and trying to lay her in her bassinet. Even though she was exhausted, more tired than she ever thought possible, she didn’t mind. She knew a day would come when she’d miss this, when she’d look back on the long, seemingly endless, nights when either she or Lucy, or both of them, would cry whilst she tried to nurse her. 

She smiles when she hears footsteps on the hardwood floor, her husband’s familiar footfall loud in the otherwise silent house, despite his obvious attempts to be quiet. 

“Daddy’s coming to see us, baby,” Emily says, kissing Lucy’s hairline again, and she smiles up at him when he walks into the living room, “Hi honey.” 

“There are my girls,” he says, looking as tired as she feels, his hair askew from where he’d been running his fingers through it, and his pyjamas wrinkled from the small amount of sleep he’d had. He walks over and drops a kiss to the top of Emily’s head before he joins her, making sure he’s careful to not jostle either of them as he sits down, “Are you two okay?” 

Emily hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “She wouldn’t settle so I brought her down here to feed her,” she replies, tilting her head to look up at him, “I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through her hair before he tucks it behind her ear, “Our bed gets cold without you.” 

She chuckles lightly, “Says the walking furnace.” 

He watches her as she tries to adjust how she’s sitting, her barely covered wince a dagger at his heart. He’d held it together throughout her labour because he knew she needed him to be her strength when she felt hers start to fade, that she needed to lean on him - literally and mentally - but more than once he’d felt himself holding back tears at seeing her in so much pain. He always thought he couldn’t be any more in love with her, any more proud and in awe of her, but she always proved him wrong, always managed to surpass the expectations she herself had set. 

“Want me to take her?” He asks, hiding a smile when she tightens her hold on Lucy as if he was going to take her from her. If he hadn’t been through his before with Haley, if he hadn’t watched the instincts kick in when Jack was a tiny baby and this was all new to him and Haley too, he’d be offended, but he knew they were all adjusting. He knew that Emily was still hesitant to have the baby anywhere other than in her arms, something that their little girl seemed to share with her. 

“No, it’s okay,” she replies, an apology in her smile as she realises what she’s done, “I’m just sore, that’s all,” she looks at Lucy, smiles at the slope of her nose, at the rosebud lips and the dimples they’d already playfully argued over - each claiming she’d inherited them from the other, “She’s worth it though,” she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, and she shakes her head at herself, wiping a tear she’d come to expect from her cheek before she puts her hand back on Lucy’s back, “When will I stop crying when I just look at her?” She asks, even though she knows there’s no answer, “She’s perfect. How did I make something so perfect?” 

Aaron wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple before he wipes her tears away for her, “Because you’re perfect, and she’s a mini you.” 

Emily chokes on a sound between a laugh and a sob and she leans in to kiss him, barely pulling back to speak, “You’re pretty perfect too.” 

____

One thing Emily had learnt over the years, was that each era of parenthood had its positives and negatives. 

When the kids were small, when they were tiny little things that needed her for everything, she’d barely had any time to herself, or barely any time for her and Aaron. It made everything feel all the more precious, all the more needed, as she scrambled for 10 minutes in the bath or just an hour of alone time with her husband. But she’d loved it, and missed it when she looked back on it. She missed the night feeds, the snuggles where her babies would sleep curled up on her chest.

She missed being needed. 

When they were toddlers, when their quest for knowledge and need to understand the world around them, she barely had time to think. Their constant questions, the repetition of her name that made her wonder how she’d ever been excited to hear them say it for the first time, and their lack of fear or self-preservation, were exhausting. But watching them grow, watching their personalities develop and their eyes go wide when they experienced something for the first time was incredible, the very thing she’d wanted to see her whole life. 

“Mom!” 

“Emily!” 

She sighs as she sits back in her home office chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as she hears her eldest daughter and her husband call out for her at the same time. 

Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother. 

Almost. 

She gets up and walks down the hall to the kitchen, her hands on her hips, “What’s happened now?” 

She looks over at Samuel and Eleanor, the 13-year-old twins drawing her attention with their barely covered laughter and matching smiles. 

“Luce got her nose pierced,” Eleanor says, pressing her lips together as she swallows back a laugh again, always delighting in her older sister’s recent rebellious streak. 

“Dad isn’t happy,” Samuel finishes for her, and Emily looks over at her husband and Lucy, her eyes catching on the, slightly too large for her face, nose ring she can see in her daughter’s nose, the sparkle of it catching in the kitchen light. Aaron is standing next to her, his hands on his hips and his expression exasperated, and she knew she’d have to intervene before things escalated into an argument. 

“Okay you two,” Emily says, turning to look at the twins, “Can you go to the living room please?” she says, raising her eyebrow when neither of them takes the opportunity to leave, “Now.” 

Eleanor huffs out a breath and gets off the stool, “Come on Sammy, that’s Mom-speak for ‘we’re yelling at Lucy and you’re not allowed to watch.’”

“No one is doing any yelling,” Emily says, her eyebrow still raised but her smile soft as they leave the room. 

“I might,” Aaron quips and Emily sighs as she looks over at him. 

“Honey-”

“She had her nose pierced, Em-”

“I am right here you know,” Lucy says, cutting over her father, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance, “And it’s my face.” 

“You’re 16.” 

“Okay,” Emily says, walking over to them with her hands up, “Let’s deal with this one thing at a time,” she turns to look at Lucy first, “Sweetie, you’re right - it’s your face and your choice, but you are our kid,” she raises her eyebrow as Lucy scoffs, not carrying on until Lucy’s shoulders loosen and her eyes flash with an apology, as if she hadn’t meant to make the sound outloud, “And as long as you are a minor and live in this house, you run this kind of thing past us first, okay?” She turns to look at Aaron, their conversation silent for a moment as their eyes meet, her just go with me on this obvious to him, “That sounds reasonable, right?” 

He clears his throat, his arms crossing over his chest as if he has to physically do so to stop his real feelings about their daughter’s nose ring from escaping, “Right,” he says, looking over at Lucy, “But no tattoo’s until you’re 18.” 

Lucy smirks, “Don’t worry, Dad. My fake ID is nowhere near good enough for that.” 

Emily sighs and looks at her daughter, “Not helping,” she says, shaking her head and resting her hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face the door, “Go sit with your brother and sister until dinner, okay?” 

She nods, “No making out in here whilst we’re gone,” she replies, “This is where we eat.” 

As soon as she’s out of earshot, when whatever the twins were watching on TV would drown out the conversation in the kitchen, Emily turns to look at her husband, “Honey, we have to pick our battles.” 

He sighs and his arms tighten over his chest, his grip on his triceps tight enough she’s briefly distracted by the way his muscles ripple under his skin, “I know, sweetheart. I think I was just…shocked. She just walked in with it like it had always been there and I reacted,” he shakes his head at himself, “She’s beautiful just as she is.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Of course she is,” she says, “I know that. But she’s just trying to express herself, and if anything I think this says a lot about our parenting skills.” 

He furrows his frows at that and tilts his head, “How?” 

“Do you know how self-assured she must be to get her nose pierced? To draw attention to it?” She shrugs and smiles sadly, “I would have loved to have done it when I was her age, and not just because it would have annoyed my mother, but because I liked it. But I hated my nose, so I did everything I could to distract from it,” she scrunches her nose up and shudders as she thinks about her own teenage years, “Why do you think I dressed like Siouxsie Sioux?”

He’s still frowning at her, but his crossed arms loosen, his eyes curious, “When did you start to like your nose?” 

She smiles shyly, but not because she’s embarrassed. She’d stopped being able to be embarrassed in front of him years ago. He was the person who’d held her hand when she had three of his children. He’d washed vomit from her hair when her morning sickness got the better of her, and he’d helped her on and off from the toilet when she couldn’t bend down after her c-section when having the twins. He was another part of her, the missing half she hadn’t known had been missing until their first kiss. She’s not shy because she’s embarrassed, but because she knows exactly what he’s going to do next, and it somehow makes her love him even more. 

She shrugs one of her shoulders, “The first time I saw it on her face.” 

He pulls her into a hug as if an autopilot, his smile a mix of sadness and adoration as he leans in to kiss the tip of her nose, just like she knew he would. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiles and kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” she replies, kissing him again as he places his hands on her hips, “You’re not bad to look at yourself,” she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, “She’s just…figuring out who she is, honey. And we have to let her.”

He sighs and leans forward to press his forehead against hers, “You’re right.” 

“I so often am,” she replies, “You’d think after almost 20 years together you’d be used to it.” She leans in to kiss him, her lips barely touching his when she hears a chorus of disgust from the doorway. She smiles as she turns to look at her children, Lucy standing in the middle of Samuel and Eleanor, and she rolls her eyes playfully, “I am allowed to kiss your dad, you know,” she says, shifting so she has her arm around his waist, deciding she was going to have some fun at her children’s expense, “In fact, I’ve done a whole lot more than kiss him-”

“Oh god, Mom.” 

“Emily.” 

___

She yawns and reaches out for the mug on her desk, idly telling herself a second cup of tea would help wake her up. Before she can step away, before she can even stand up, her phone rings, the number for Lucy’s daycare flashing up on the screen. 

“Crap,” she mutters under her breath, worst case scenarios flooding her lungs, her chest cramped so she can’t breathe as she answers, “Hello?” 

“Hi, is this Lucy’s mom?” 

“Yeah, this is her mom. Is everything okay?” She asks, already standing up, the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder as she shoves everything back into her purse. 

“She’s thrown up a few times in the last hour and now she has a fever.” 

Emily feels her heart clench, her chest hollowed out as she thinks about her baby being sick and her not being there, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

She’s never been more grateful that she finally took up Clyde’s persistent offers of a job. After she got married to Aaron, Clyde finally relented and stopped offering the role in London and started telling her there was a role in DC for her if she wanted it. She took it the moment she and Aaron decided to try for a baby. It was a fresh start she’d needed, a job untouched by what Ian had done to her, by people knowing that she’d died and come back a different person. She no longer walked into a room knowing that colleagues had been talking about her, that they’d been gossiping about things she wished they didn’t know. Now she was the boss, had her own office and the respect of everyone around her. She was good at her job, excellent even, and she loved it. 

She usually loved it, but as she walks into Lucy’s daycare, as her little girl presses her face against her chest the moment she’s handed to her, her skin warm and clammy, Emily hates her job. Hates herself for taking it, for going back to work and leaving her 6-month-old in the care of other people. She smiles and nods as the daycare worker updates her on Lucy’s temperature and the medicine they’d given her, holding her little girl close as she does her best to not burst into tears. 

The moment she gets Lucy home, she sits on the couch with her against her chest, rubbing a circle on her back as she fusses.

“My poor, baby,” she says, resting her cheek against her head, “Mommy is right here.” 

She sings to her, keeps her voice low and soft as she does her best to soothe her to sleep. Lucy has just drifted off when Emily’s phone rings, and she answers it quickly, picking it up from where she’d thrown it on the couch, barely registering Aaron’s name and the picture of him with the kids on the screen. 

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he replies, “How is she?”

Emily hums and kisses Lucy’s forehead, grimacing at the warmth of her skin, “She’s got a fever, and she’s very clingy. She just wants to snuggle.” 

“She always wants to snuggle with you,” he replies, and she sucks in a breath, dropping another kiss to Lucy’s head, “Are you okay?” 

She wonders if she should hate that he knows her so well, that he knows something is wrong without her having to say it. She chokes on a sound she can’t name, “I’m feeling like the worst mother in the world right now,” she says, wiping away tears she thinks she should have expected, “My baby was sick and I wasn’t there.” 

“But the moment you were called you were there. You’re the best mom.”

She blows out a breath, “You’re meant to say that, you’re my husband-” she furrows her brow when her phone vibrates, and she pulls it back to see that she is getting a call from Jack’s school, “Oh god, Jack’s school is calling,” she says, “I should take that - he’s probably sick too.”

“Let me know what they say, sweetheart,” he replies, “I’ll go and get him if he needs picking up.” 

“Thanks, honey, you’re the best,” she ends the call with Aaron and answers the call from the school, “Hi, Emily speaking.”

“Hi, is this Jack’s mom?” 

She sighs, unable to suppress a smile as she replies, “Yeah,” she says, kissing Lucy’s head, “This is his mom.”

___

“You were never like this when Jack wanted to bring his first girlfriend over.” 

Emily sighs and pushes her hair out of her face as she blows out a breath so she doesn’t raise her voice, “Luce, Jack didn’t want her to stay overnight when we weren’t here,” she says, and Lucy rolls her eyes, slumping back against the couch, “And we haven’t even met Jacob.” 

Lucy sighs, “That’s because I don’t trust you and Dad to not be embarrassing,” she scrunches her nose up, fighting the smile that breaks out across her face, “Or Nora and Sammy. This is a house of embarrassment. The only person I trust to behave is Jack and he’s in New Haven.” 

Emily smiles, “He is endlessly sensible, isn’t he?” She says, remembering when he was a teenager. She’d almost had to encourage him to misbehave, to push boundaries that he respected. It was part of what had left her and Aaron so unprepared for Lucy’s teenage years. They’d been lulled into a false sense of security by their eldest. 

She saw herself in Lucy. Saw who she could have been if she’d been loved in the way she needed when she was her age, if she’d had the mother she still found herself wishing for even now. Lucy was unashamedly herself, unburdened by expectations that Aaron and Emily had never held her to. All they ever wanted of her, of any of their children, was for them to be kind and to do their best. 

She presses her lips together and studies Lucy, watches as she spins her nose ring around, and she wonders when she grew up, when she stopped being the tiny little thing who was always attached to her side. She loved watching her kids get older, loved watching who they were becoming, but it was hard too. It made her ache, an empty space in her chest that she wasn’t used to making her feel hollowed out, another bit of it carved away each time one of her children pulled a little further away. 

Aaron struggled with it more, Emily knew that. He wanted to keep the kids safe, everything they’d both seen in their jobs lingering in every shadow, and it had made him extra cautious. Emily did her best to be more realistic, to know that they had to let some things slide, but the casual way that Lucy had announced she had a boyfriend was the first time Emily found herself edging more towards her husband’s point of view. She so desperately wanted to protect Lucy, to make sure she didn’t go through what she went through, to save her little girl from the weight of what had happened when she was even younger than she was. 

“Now you have a boyfriend,” she says, trying to stay casual, “I just want to make sure that you know I’m here if you have any questions about sex-”

“Mom,” Lucy exclaims, looking around as if they weren’t home alone, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

She sighs, “I know, honey. I’m just saying, “Make sure that when you are ready to take that step, you use protection.” 

Lucy grimaces, scrunching her nose up, the movement drawing attention to her nose ring, “God, Mom.” 

“I mean it, Luce. You need to be careful, okay? I’m not under any illusion that you won’t have sex at some point, but you need to promise me you’ll make Jacob use a condom. And I’ll take you to the doctor to get the pill if you need me to,” she swallows thickly, pushing down all the emotions that are rising up her throat, “But you need to be careful.” 

Lucy groans, “Okay, jeez,” she says, her eyebrow raised in challenge, a look on her face that Aaron always said was all her, “Do you and Dad use protection?” 

Emily chuckles, the ghost of who she was as a teenager finally disappearing, her grip on her throat loosening, “No, baby. Your dad and I haven’t had sex with anyone other than each other in almost 20 years, and at this point, your dad has as much of a chance of getting pregnant as I do.” 

“Mom, I’m not going to get pregnant.” 

Later, she’ll wonder why she says it. Whether it’s the absolute confidence in her daughter’s voice that she’d once felt herself, or maybe it’s because a small part of her wants her to know, wants her to understand, that her actions have consequences. That choices she made now could have lifelong repercussions. 

“I did.” 

Lucy finally looks up at her, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that makes her look like Aaron as their eyes meet, “What?” 

Emily nods, and she presses her lips together, taking a moment to clear her throat, “Yeah. I was a little younger than you.” 

“I…” Lucy trails off, any previous attempt at impertinence gone in an instant, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

Emily reaches out and runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair, grateful that for once she doesn’t flinch away. If anything, she leans into the touch, shifting closer to Emily for the first time in a long time, “It’s okay, baby. It was a long time ago now.” 

“And you…didn’t have a baby?” 

Emily shakes her head, “No, sweetheart. I didn’t.” 

“Does Grandma know?” Lucy asks, and Emily chokes on a humourless laugh, triggering the same sound to escape Lucy too, “Sorry, stupid question. She probably would have locked you in a convent somewhere.” 

She laughs, for real this time, and she nods, because it was sadly true, “I didn’t really tell anyone, just a friend who helped me. And now only your dad knows,” she runs her fingers through her hair again, “And you.” 

Lucy leans against her, wrapping both of her arms around one of hers and resting her head on her shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Emily kisses the top of her head, “I know you won’t,” she says, pulling back to look down at Lucy, “I know it’s embarrassing to talk about with your mom, but I hope you know that it’s just because I don’t want you going through what I did.”

Lucy nods against her, “I’ll be careful…when the time comes,” she says, her cheeks bright red, “I promise,” she encourages Emily to wrap her arm around her and snuggles into her side, “I’m glad you’re my mom.” 

Her eyebrows knit together curiously, “Really? Why’s that?” 

Lucy pulls away just enough to look at her, “Because no matter what, I know I can come to you about anything.” 

It takes everything in Emily to not burst into tears, and she pulls Lucy closer, hugging her fiercely in a way it felt like she hadn’t in years, “I love you, Luce.” 

“I love you too, Mom.” 

___

“Mom, can I push Lucy on the swing?”

Emily chuckles at Jack’s excitement and she adjusts her hold on Lucy, making sure she’s comfortably sitting in her lap.

“Yes, sweetie, once we’ve eaten our lunch,” she says, and he smiles widely, making a point of eating his sandwich quickly, “Slow down, Jack. The swings will still be there when we’re done,” she looks at her watch, “And Daddy will be here soon.”

Aaron had been called into work, torn out of their quiet morning as a family by paperwork that supposedly couldn’t wait until Monday. He told her to go ahead with taking the kids to the park, to having the picnic he’d prepared the night before, Tupperware full of sandwiches he’d made and put in the fridge for them, and that he’d meet them as soon as he could. He’d sent her a text half an hour ago saying he was on the way and she was looking forward to seeing him, wondering when she’d become someone who missed a person after only being apart for a few hours. 

“Dada!” 

Emily smiles at the sound of Lucy’s sweet voice, and she kisses her cheek, tugging gently on one of her pigtails that stuck straight up in the air, “That’s right, baby - Dada will be there soon.” 

Lucy had only started speaking a few weeks ago - babbling nonsense that had given way to Mama, Dada and a sound they know means Jack - and it was unlike anything Emily had ever experienced. Hearing her little girl say Mama for the first time was a memory she knew would always be one of her favourites, right up there with the first time Jack had casually called her Mom instead of Emily. She knew Aaron felt the same way about the first time he’d heard Lucy call him Dada. He’d missed the first time she’d ever said it. He’d been away on a case, had been on the other side of the country when Lucy pointed at a picture of him and said it, stopping both Emily and Jack in their tracks as they looked at her, matching expressions of shock and happiness on their faces. Emily had been tempted to not tell Aaron, to let it happen organically when he came home so he thought that the first time he heard Lucy say it was the first time she’d ever said it, but Jack had beat her to it before she’d had a chance to truly think about keeping a secret from her husband. The little boy’s smile wide as he announced that Lucy had said Dada, his excitement drowning out any disappointment Aaron had been unable to keep from his wife. 

Lucy lets go of the toy she’d been holding, a ball with Olaf the snowman on it, and it rolls away from them. Lucy grunts, and before Emily can even attempt to get it, Jack is on his feet. 

“I’ll get it, Mom.” 

“Thanks, baby,” she replies, smiling as he picks it up and hands it to Lucy, “You’re such a good big brother.

“‘Ack,” Lucy says, taking the ball from him, smiling widely at her brother. Then she looks past him, seeing Aaron before Emily and Jack do, and she stands up, her hands grabbing fists of grass as she pushes herself onto her feet, “Dada!”

Emily looks in the direction she’s pointing, her hand reaching out to steady her, but she’s met with nothing but air. She frowns when she sees Lucy several feet away from where she’d been expecting her, her arms stretched outwards as she walks towards Aaron.

“Oh my God,” Emily says, standing up quicker than she thought her knees would allow, “Oh my God she’s-.” 

“Mom,” Jack cuts over her, his eyes wide, “Lucy's walking.” 

Emily scrambles for her phone, digs it out of her pocket and turns on the camera to start recording. She captures the moment Aaron kneels down just a few paces away from Lucy, his smile wide, the dimples in his cheeks visible from where she was standing, as he encourages their little girl to walk the last few steps. She all but falls against him, her tiny hands against his knees as she collapses into him, and Aaron scoops her up, stamping kisses against her cheeks as he settles her on his hip, drawing out giggles that make Emily’s heart soar. She stops recording and tucks her phone into her pocket as she runs over, her hand around Jack’s as they meet in the middle, her other hand on Lucy’s back as she kisses her temple. 

Lucy smiles at the affection, her grass-stained thumb in her mouth before Emily tugs it out, delighted at the attention she’s getting even if she doesn’t understand it. 

“Whose my clever little girl?” Emily says, kissing her temple again, “Did you walk to Daddy?” She says, tickling her belly to draw out another giggle, Aaron chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and his eyes are shining when Emily looks at him. She cups his cheek and draws him in for a quick kiss, “We’re going to have to baby-proof the shit out of the house now.” 

He laughs and kisses her, “I’ll start the moment we get home,” he kisses her again before he reaches for her hand and squeezes, looking down at Jack as they start to head back towards their abandoned picnic, “I think we should get ice cream to celebrate, what do you think, Jack?” 

Jack’s excited nod is the only answer they need. 

___

She can hear raised voices before she opens the front door. She sighs and puts her key in the lock, taking a deep breath before she pushes it open. As she steps into the house, Lucy’s yelling is no longer muffled, and Emily dumps her purse just inside the door so she can seek them out, her hopes of a quiet Friday night with her family dashed before they even know she’s home. 

She finds them in the kitchen, dinner half prepared on the counter, and neither one of them seems to have heard her walk in. 

“You’re not going to the party, and that’s final.” 

Emily shakes her head, almost admiring her daughter’s attempt to divide and conquer. She’d asked her about the party that morning as they got ready for the day, dutifully dodging questions about whether there was going to be any parental supervision or not, and Emily had told her no. She’d been to those parties herself, hadn’t had a parent who cared enough to be around to say no, and she didn’t want Lucy to go. She did her best to be an understanding parent, to let her kids push boundaries and figure out who they are, but this was a hard line for her. 

She’d seen far too many girls Lucy’s age hurt, or worse, in situations just like this. 

Lucy scoffs, “But everyone else is going!” 

Aaron sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Emily can see that his patience is fraying, the threads of it pull to their limit as he stays calm in the wake of the teenager’s anger, “I don’t care if everyone else is going, you’re not.” 

Lucy grumbles, the sound turning into a growl as it catches in her throat, and she throws her arms up in her air, “Dad, you’re being so unreasonable, you’re ruining my life.” 

Emily almost interjects, but Aaron replies again, still as calm as he can be, the weight of his father’s anger heavy on his shoulders.

“Lucy, I just want you to be safe - and this doesn’t sound safe,” he sighs, “I know you think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re 16, princess. You-”

“Don’t call me princess,” she shouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m not a kid.” 

Aaron’s jaw tightens, but his voice is still even, his expression stern and not one he often used in their home, “You are a kid. You’re my kid. And I am saying no.” 

There’s a moment of silence as Lucy shakes her head, her whole body vibrating with anger she can’t control or fully understand.

“I hate you.” 

Emily watches as Aaron deflates, his shoulders falling back as if he’s taken a physical hit, and she steps into the kitchen, “Don’t speak to your father like that.” 

Lucy and Aaron both look at her as if they’d only just realised she’s there, “But, Mom-”

“No, ‘but Mom’, nothing. You don’t speak to him like that,” she replies, as firm as she ever was with the kids, “And even if I didn’t agree with your dad on this, you absolutely wouldn’t be going now.” 

Lucy scoffs, “Mom-”

“Go to your room,” she says, “I’ll come and talk to you when you’ve calmed down.” 

Lucy looks like she’s going to argue for a moment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head and marches past them, throwing one final piece of her anger over her shoulder, one final barb catching in her parent’s skin that Emily knows she’ll regret once she’s calmed down. 

“You’re the worst parents ever.” 

Emily sucks in a breath as she watches Lucy walk away, stamping her feet on each step before she slams her bedroom door. 

“That went well,” Aaron quips, his smile sad as she turns to look at him, and she walks over, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugs her back immediately, a desperation to it that makes her heart ache. 

“She didn’t mean it, honey,” she says, rubbing a circle on his back, turning her head to kiss his cheek, “You know she loves you.” 

He hums and pulls back, “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.” 

“I know,” she replies, pushing her fingers through his hair, smiling at the flecks of grey at his temples, “Is it just me who misses when they were small and thought we were the coolest people ever?”

He chuckles and stamps his lips against hers, “It’s not just you, sweetheart,” he kisses her again and then tugs her against him for a hug, “I’m sorry you came home to an argument.”

“That’s okay,” she replies, kissing his jaw before she pulls back to look at him, “You know you’re an excellent dad, right?” 

He smiles, a bit more of him shining through in it this time, and she knows it’s exactly what he needed to hear, “Thanks, sweetheart. And you’re an excellent mom.” 

“Dad?” 

They turn to see Samuel standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Everything okay, buddy?” 

“I wondered if you needed help with dinner?” Samuel nods and clears his throat,  and it’s such an obvious attempt to cheer Aaron up after he’d overheard the argument with Lucy, that Emily feels like she could burst. She unwraps herself from around Aaron and pulls Samuel into a hug, stamping a kiss against his head. “God, Mom. Stop.” 

She smiles as she steps away, “You’re sweet.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “You’re embarrassing.” 

Emily and Aaron make eye contact over Samuel’s head, and Aaron winks at her before he replies to their son, “If you don’t mind Sammy, I need some help with the vegetables.” 

Samuel nods, muttering under his breath about Sammy being the name for a baby before he walks over to help Aaron. 

Lucy stays in her room all evening. Her irritation with her parents still clear when Emily takes her some dinner and tries to talk to her about their point of view. Eleanor asks Emily to braid her hair for the first time in years, another sign that the twins had both heard Lucy’s outburst earlier, and Emily finds herself in awe of her children’s capacity for empathy. They were good kids, all of them, and she was endlessly proud of them and the people they were becoming.

Even if their stubbornness, which they’d inherited from both her and Aaron, was world record worthy.  

She sighs contentedly as she settles into bed next to Aaron, pulling the covers over them both. She leans in to kiss him, tasting the sadness that was still lingering on his tongue, made worse by Lucy not even answering him through her door when he’d said goodnight. Emily pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against his. 

“You okay?” She asks, and he nods, his forehead knocking against hers, “Want me to be the big spoon?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, kissing her one more time, “You’re too small to be the big spoon,” he replies, encouraging her onto her side, “It’s like wearing a jetpack.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and turns her head to stamp her lips against his again, “I’m not that much shorter than you,” she says, resting her head on her pillow and pulling his arm to cuddle it against her chest as he moulds himself against her. She kisses his knuckles before tucking his hand under her chin, “You are a very good big spoon though.” 

She couldn’t remember a time in her life before him, and couldn’t believe she’d lived for so much longer without him than she had with him by her side. She couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else, sure that if she hadn’t kissed him that one night 19 years ago, and if he hadn’t kissed her back, she wouldn’t have any of this - one kid at an Ivy League college and three others asleep just down the hall, a partner she loved more than life itself. 

She’s sure she would have been happy in another life, just a different kind of happy that she was glad wasn’t hers. 

“Goodnight sweetheart, I love you.” 

She hums as he kisses her cheek, “I love you too.” 

She isn’t sure how long she’s been asleep when her phone rings. She groans, blindly reaching out for it, knocking her reading glasses from her nightstand as she grabs her phone. She opens her eyes, the bright light of the screen making her wince as she blinks away the bleariness, and she frowns when she sees Lucy’s name on the screen. 

“Lucy,” she says as she answers, a bad feeling settling in her gut, the weight of it remaining as she slips out from Aaron’s embrace, ignoring the way he calls after her half asleep. She can hear yelling in the background, the unmistakable sound of a party filtering down the line with her daughter’s voice, and she steps out into the hallway, “Why are you calling?” 

“Mom,” she says, her voice slurring, “Can you come get me?” 

“Come get you?” She asks, her heart dropping into her stomach as she walks into Lucy’s bedroom and finds it empty, just like she knew she would. It doesn’t make the sight of the unmade bed, the teddy bear Lucy claimed she didn’t need anymore tipped on the floor, and the open window any easier to take. She feels panic rise in her chest, worst case scenarios flooding through her, every bad thing she’d ever seen happen to a person hitting her square in the chest as she puts her daughter on speaker phone. She scrambles to open the Find My Friends app she has on her phone, her worry tipping into desperation when she sees Lucy’s disabled it on her end, only Aaron, Samuel, Eleanor and Jack flashing up on the map, “Where are you?” 

Lucy sighs, the hesitation in it clear even though she’s obviously drunk, “I snuck out,” she says, hiccuping, carrying on even though she doesn’t need to, “I’m at the party.” 

[beneathsilverstars]

Can you pls explain to me the proper way to raise a child gender neutrally, especially in a world that loves to push gender? It’s something I always wanted to do when I have my own kid but I’m scared the world is just not ready for that kind of thing and my child will get bullied by other kids/adults.

Unfortunately the feasibility of this does depend on where you live. I’m lucky to live in a fairly liberal college town — the state as a whole is awful, but in this town we have drag shows and a huge pride parade and rainbow stickers in shop fronts. There are still transphobic people here of course, but they generally know that being too overt about it will have social repercussions.

However! It doesn’t necessarily have to be an all-or-nothing thing! When your kid's a baby it’s up to you how you refer to them while in different situations, so you’re free to adjust your language as seems necessary. And then when they’re old enough to care, well, at that point it’s not up to you anyway! (My kid has decided she’s a nonbinary girl, hence the she/hers in this post.)

So here’s a list of things my partners and I did, and you can decide which things seem safe / worth it to you.

We gave her a name that doesn’t have strong gender connotations.

We shopped in the boys and girls sections equally, aiming for a roughly equal number of fancy little button ups vs fancy little dresses, pink diapers vs blue diapers, etc.

We told friends and family that we were planning to raise her gender neutrally and use they/them pronouns, until/unless she expressed a preference otherwise.

Our explanation to adults was along the lines of “We don't want to assign a gender to our child, because we think gender should be a freely-made choice rather than something that is assumed based on body type. So, we're raising them gender neutrally until they decide what they want to be. We’re not assigning them 'nonbinary', either; we’re using they/them to help avoid gendered bias, so they’ll get to experience feminine, masculine, and ungendered options equally. That way every option will be open to them as they learn their own preferences and decide who they want to be.”

Our explanation to kids was along the lines of “I don’t know yet if they’re a boy or a girl or something else! When babies are born, the doctor guesses what gender they’ll be. But sometimes the doctor guesses wrong, and the kid grows up to be a different gender. We decided not to guess what gender our baby will be, because we want to let them choose.” This usually makes perfect sense to 4-5 year olds! (Younger kids might not entirely understand or care, and older kids might have more questions.) However, you gotta be careful with this, bc even some people who are okay with you explaining your own adult transed gender won’t like you implying to their children that everyone should have that option and the whole system is bs. The less objectionable explanation is “I’m going to wait until they’re older to ask them whether they’re a boy or a girl.” Or even answering "What gender is your baby?" with "What do you think?" and then "Maybe!"

We didn’t announce her agab. When people asked, we refused to answer, more or less politely depending on the vibes. If you really want to make them feel bad you can give them a weird look and say “My child’s body is none of your business??” but there’s also the gentler “I don’t think it really matters!” We did fill out her assigned sex for official paperwork, like doctor's forms and legal government stuff, but for more casual forms we sometimes skipped the question or wrote in "we are raising them gender-neutrally" or "they/them".

We generally didn’t correct strangers or explain it to them unless they asked. Nothing wrong with some people assuming “she” and some people assuming “he”, as long as it’s not always just one or the other. If a stranger asked about their gender, I'd go for a quick "We're raising them gender-neutrally." I did also have to clarify fairly often that I only have one kid, when I talked about them and people assumed the "they" was plural, but that was never a big deal it was just kinda funny.

We did correct friends and family, since if they used gendered pronouns it was an active choice or mistake rather than a clueless assumption. Most of our circles are queer so most people were chill about it, but some family members changed one diaper and immediately assigned a pronoun set. We didn't think it was worth fighting over or limiting access, since it's not like they were disrespecting the baby's preference. But we did keep correcting them / emphasizing the neutral pronoun in our replies.

When she started preschool, we preemptively explained to her teachers that we're raising her gender-neutrally, and to please refer to her using "they/them" unless she said otherwise, and to avoid splitting the class into boys vs girls teams or anything like that. Again, fairly liberal town, and the preschool even has a teacher who uses they/them, so the teachers agreed without issue. iirc, they messed up occasionally but they were making an effort, and again I wasn't too bothered as long as my kid wasn't.

When she started using she/her sometimes, I let her teachers know, and told them to follow her lead. When we talked with friends and family we just used the right pronouns ourselves, and explained if they asked or it came up. And then once she was consistently using just she/her, we made a facebook post about it and started correcting people with a quick "She actually decided to use she/her, now."

And then here's how we talked about gender with her, specifically.

When she was old enough to start wondering who's a boy and who's a girl and what that even means, we explained, "Some people are girls, some people are boys, some people are neither or both or something else. I decided I don't want to be a boy or a girl, I'm nonbinary instead. You can decide if you want to be a boy or a girl or nonbinary or something else, too." and "Well, maybe that person's a boy, but they could be something else; I don't know because I don't know them. I don't know their name or anything either." We decided not to explain how differently most of society treats gender, the stereotypes of gender presentation, etc, until she started noticing that stuff herself. Explaining that it's wrong still involves putting those ideas into her head, which was going to happen pretty soon anyway regardless. Might as well start with a foundation of pure gender anarchy while we can.

When she noticed that every other kid she's met already had a gender, we explained "A lot of parents guess what gender their kid will be, and sometimes they guess right or sometimes they guess wrong. [Friend]'s mom guessed that she was a girl, and [friend] agrees! But when Mama was a kid people guessed she was a boy, and then she grew up and decided she's actually a girl. We didn't want to guess for you and maybe get it wrong, so we decided to wait until you were old enough to decide for yourself what gender you want to be."

Occasionally when the topic came up, we would ask if she felt like she wanted to be a girl or boy or something else, or specifically ask if she liked "they/them" or wanted to use "she/her" or "he/him". When she was ~2, she didn't entirely understand and didn't care. When she was ~3, she occasionally said she wanted to be a girl or use she/her, but immediately changed her mind as soon as we actually referred to her as such. (This is quite in-character for her, because she's generally averse to big changes and doesn't like to do anything she doesn't feel totally confident about.) When she was ~4 she finally stuck with it, and now she's a nonbinary girl who uses she/her, and her feelings about gendered terms like "daughter" still go back and forth a bit.

When she started expressing preferences in clothing, colors, etc, we just got things she liked, which ended up being dresses and sparkles.

As she started noticing gender differences, picking up stereotypes from school and media, etc, we'd address them as they came up. "Yes, a lot of people think dresses are just for girls. But I think that isn't very fair. Some boys love to wear dresses, and some girls don't, and that's just fine! It's not very nice to tell someone else what they're allowed to wear. (Unless they need certain clothes to say safe, like a jacket in the winter.)"

We also had to tell her to stop being sexist, lol. "It's fine that you think girls are awesome, they are! But boys are awesome too. It's not very nice to say you won't play with someone just because of their gender. If someone said they wouldn't play with me because I'm nonbinary, I would be so sad! If you don't want to play with [these three classmates] because they're usually too loud and rough, that's fine, but that's not because they're boys; that's because of what games they like to play. Some girls like to play loud and rough, and some boys like to be more careful and quiet like you. Can you think of any boys in your class who you like to play with sometimes? ... See, boys can like all sorts of different games, just like girls can."

We ended up getting the easiest resolution (at least for now): by the time she reached the age where kids start caring about these things, she'd started caring, and settled into being a classic girly girl (with the occasional splash of nonbinary flavor). If she'd stuck to they/them, she'd probably be starting to have a harder time in school -- definitely not full bullying, given her 12-kid 2-teacher private kindergarten class, but probably some frustration with constantly correcting people.

However... if she was more gnc, she woulda ended up that way sooner or later, anyway. If I was choosing between "she's out and proud trans and gets some shit for it" or "she's unhappy with being cis but doesn't realize she has other options," I'd always choose the former, because in that case she gets a choice. By the time kids are old enough to bully each other over gender, they're old enough to decide whether they want to be out at school, y'know? And I've always been ready to pull her from school if it ever became necessary due to peer bullying or unsupportive teachers, especially since she shares a lot of the traits that my wife got bullied for as a child.

It is possible to go 100% gender-neutral, and cut anyone out of your life who opposes it, including moving schools or even moving house if necessary. There are people who will support this choice, even cishet people who don't really get the trans thing but know that unconscious sexism can have a big effect on babies' development. Maybe more people than you think! But it depends on your local culture. And sometimes it takes a certain amount of privilege to be able to prioritize finding those people, and it's simply not worth, say, paying more to switch daycares to find a teacher who won't gender your baby. Sometimes you do have to balance your priorities, and you can't know how much balancing it will actually take until you get there.

So, overall, my advice is just to do whatever you feel comfortable with! What sounds worse to you: gendering your baby, or fighting against society's attempts to gender them? Obviously when you have a trans child you fight for them, but it's a muddier question when the child doesn't care yet. Most of our queer friends aren't going full they/them gender neutral with their kids like we did, because they don't want to have to constantly explain that on top of all the shit they deal with for being queer. Instead they're just being extra firm about shopping in both sections of the store, not falling to stereotypes, and explaining to their child that they can decide to be something else if they want.

And there's a lot of options in between -- maybe you use they/them at home, but he/him at school, or maybe even she/her at home to balance out the school. Maybe you name and dress them gender-neutrally (or both fem and masc) and don't correct any assumptions. Maybe you tell one side of the family that you're going gender anarchy neutral so they should avoid gendered terms, but you only tell the other side that you're going feminist equality so they should make sure to gift both pretend kitchen toys and pretend power tools. It's the same as deciding in what situations you want to be out vs stay stealth/closeted.

When they're a baby it doesn't matter much either way (as long as you're not being sexist in your reactions to their behavior) because they're a baby, they could not care less. And then when they're old enough to pick their gender, you're hopefully giving them that choice regardless of what you did when they're a baby. It's true that the starting point you gave them may affect their gender journey, but that's true of gender neutrality as well.

So if you think it'll be too risky in the time and place in which you're raising your child, you really don't have to feel bad about not doing it. It's okay to save your energy for when your child really needs it. But if it's something you're committed to, it is possible! I'm so glad that my family was able to make this choice. I actually loved the conversations that it opened up with all sorts of people about gendering children! Even though I got in trouble one time for explaining gender too well to the children at the daycare I worked at, lol. And I know that gendering my kid as a baby would've made me more uncomfortable than any number of awkward conversations. I love knowing that her pink purple flower unicorn heart dresses are something she freely chose!!

[hannachuuu]

Preachers Daughter

for my one and only ethel cain girlies

𝔗𝔥𝔢 Village had always been my whole world, a small place shrouded in gloom and silence, tucked deep within the forests of eastern europe.

The heavy Irongates enclosing this safehaven i have called my home all my life had always felt like a barrier of protection, the chilling bedtime stories still haunting me to this day, even though i have outgrown my naive childlike-self, at least i believe so.

We´ve been warned, preached to, that one shall never cross the barrier that keeps us safe within, yet over time i started to notice that even iron rots, making me feel anxious. it had made me wonder wether this barricade, this shield, would hold up for the sake of our lifes, haunted by the thoughts by what awaits us beyond what i know.

My dad, the preacher, would take me down to the edge in the early morning hours, where the red beams of the new born sun would reflect off the dark metal, an image that would follow me into my dreams, good and bad ones. We would bless the rusted material, but with each time it seemed it would wither away more.

I tightend my grip around the small ourn, a family heirloom that has been passed down multiple generations already, cotaining freshly blessed water. A routine had established with tasks that i needed to fulfill with each year that i had gotten older, preparing me for the duties when i would find a husband, bear a child.

The cold morning air bit my cheeks, and the hem of my once white dress dragged along the dirt of the muddy path, picking up every fleck of flith that was stuck between the old cobblestones. Today something felt different, my heart was restless. In the distance the sound of the heavy church bells were echoing throught the dark forest, creating a haunting tune while mixing with the whispers of the wind.

My Nan would tell me stories when my father was away in church, busy preaching the eternal one. She would tell about the forest and the origins of us, from a land far, far away. Eventhough she was considered the villages mad old lady, i had loved to listen to her stories, making me excitedly jump each time she´d sit down in that old rocking chair on the poarch.

I remeber the last time i had talked to her until the old age got to her first, the allmighty flame engulfing her welcomingly. Eternal life was waiting for her blessed soul, in a form, different from her physical one. For the first time since i could think, her wrinkly face was scrunched together in a serious expression.

She told me about a prophecy she had dreamed about, including me and the future of our commune, written long before i had been born. Standing on the edge of the world i was crossing a path towards something my Nan wasnt able to identify, but judging by her void eyes, it seemed to have scared her deep within her old bones.

Her trembling hands had wrapped around my chubby face, her dark orbs locking with my own like she was studying my soul.

´´Your light will burn brigther than anyone elses my dear, but it will burn fast´´, she managed to choke out, ´´You will not see the world you create, but it will be a better one because of you...´´

´´The eternal flame doesnt just burn to punish, its burns to guide, to purify, to make way for something new. That´s what you are. A beacon to lead us into the unkown, our flame.´´

shedding a couple tears while embracing me tightly i had already felt her spirit leaving me behind, yet something had attched itself to my heart back then, keeping me safe and guiding me whenever i was lost on my path of believing.

When reaching the edge of the looming forest i felt a chill run down my spine, making me glance around nervously. The forest clinging to my dress while its skeleton like branches released me of their tight hold, nevertheless the heavy weight on my chest hadnt lifted.

I froze when i heard it -a low groan, faint but unmistakable. At first i had thought my imagination had gotten the better of me on this already strange day, but then i saw him.

Just beyond the Irongates, slumped against a tree, was a man. He looked strange, wearing clothes i had never seen before, it reminded me of uniforms i had seen in some of my schoolbooks. His attire however, looked everything but new. Dirty, torn and stained with blood, and his leg- twisted horribly into an unnatrual position- leaking crimson into the leaf covered soil.

I stood there, paralyzed, the wind gushing around me, as if an invisible force was pushing me towards him. Outsiders were forbidden, their presence a violation of everything id been taught. My fathers supercilious voice rang in my head, a sharp rebuke for even looking at a stranger. But the man groaned again, his head lolling to the side, and something deep within me shifted. He wasnt a threat. He was dying.

Clutching the cold Iron of the gate, staining my hands with the rust of the dirty metal, my heart hammering. If i helped him, id be breaking the communes most sacred law. If i left him, id be no better than the wickedness we claimed to shun. Taking a shaky breath, whispering my myself, ´´..surely the eternal flame wouldnt want me to let him suffer..´´, after all life was one of the most valuable sections in our existence.

Before i could think twice, i unlatched the gate and stepped into the forbidden woods. The air beyond felt colder, heavier, as though the forest itself was watching me. I crouched beside the wounded man, my hands trembling with fear. His eyes fluttered open for a split second, glazed with pain, and he muttered something i couldnt understand.

´´Its alright´´, i cooed softly, though wasnt sure it was, ´´ill help you´´.

Instincts took me over as i pressed my hands on his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The weigth of what id done settled over me, the red crimson staining my delicate hands.

His voice rang in my ears, filled with so much agony and everything else seemed to fade into the background. Biting my lip hard i tried to keep myself from crying out as the blood gushed onto my white dress, staining it vermillion.

And when i decided to rip my dress apart in order to save him, it felt as if i ripped myself into two different pieces. I couldnt just leave him behind, everything in my being was fighting against that very thought.

So i crossed the line; I had let him in.

The wounded man wearing a his mask symbolizing the very thing i was trying to save him from. His warm blood was seeping into my clothes, staining my skin red, marking me with the shame i had put over my family.

There was no turning back now, my familys urn left behind, dropped into the dirty soil by the rusted gate,squeaking angirly in the storm that was brewing in the dark summer sky.

[guess-that-ship]

S14 Finals

surely this bromance won’t alter the course of history

Brat is a spoiled prince with the world’s most homicidal family drama. Sun comes from the lowest social class in their society, but wants to be recognized for his skills as a warrior. They meet when Sun crashes a royal event, and Brat almost immediately decides to gift him an entire kingdom. The two go on to become die-hard loyal friends. Brat often seeks Sun’s approval, and Sun is the only person who can talk sense into him when he’s being particularly dramatic and/or evil. Sun thinks he can fix Brat, but Brat arguably makes Sun worse.

Over the course of the story, they commit many atrocities together and their commitment to each other was arguably one of the major contributing factors to the war that ended Brat’s entire dynasty :)

I Went To A Magic University And All I Got Was This Ambiguously Doomed Yuri

The two meet in university, with Rhyme rescuing Reason when she is trapped. Reason is very grateful to her, and Rhyme is smitten immediately. Despite their differences in aesthetics and academics (Rhyme being a fashionable bard failing her classes and Reason being a straight-A necromancer with bizarre hats), the two have much in common. They are both awkward, with strained family relationships and a small group of friends. Although Rhyme is initially put off from confessing on account of feeling like she’s not good enough, she eventually blurts it out. The two start dating, with Rhyme organizing the whole music department to accompany her prom-posal.

However, things soon take a turn. In the process of completing a powerful ritual, Reason dies and has to be resurrected. She is deeply shaken by this, agonizing over when her time will be up for good. Over winter break, she allows herself to he turned undead, thus removing her mortality. Next semester, Rhyme notices her caginess over what she’s been up to, and reads Reason’s mind. She only gets to feelings of shame before panicking and breaking off the connection. She blurts out what she’s done, and begs Reason to confirm if her hunch of what occurred is correct. This sets off a string of arguments between the two, with Reason asserting that she made what was the best decision for herself. She is defensive, Rhyme is pushy.

When Rhyme is threatened by a monster, Reason saves her, in the process, confirming her undead nature. Rhyme is grateful for the save and says that she’ll try harder to trust Reason. Despite this, she is deeply apprehensive and fearful. What will happen to Reason? Will this corrupt her? Will she come to deeply regret her decision. Rhyme doesn’t know and, in truth, neither does Reason. Only time will tell…

[lucidheart3]

I think “Metal Sonic is Sonic the Hedgehog Roboticized” theory could work well with the fourth movie. Since the first movie we have seen ill-willed humans like GUN, Ivo and Gerald Robotnik, ex-agents like Agent Willoughby and ‘The Buyer’ use the boys’ powers to make weapons. Avoiding getting turned into a weapon has been a huge theme/subplot of nearly every single live action media we’ve gotten, with Sonic and Knuckles succeeding but Shadow… not quite.

So if the movie has ‘time travel elements’ as I have seen being rumored, it could very well have Metal’s canon story where he is sent from an alternate future.

That alternate future could be one where Ivo succeeded in capturing Sonic in the first movie, or in second movie, managing to rule over the whole world with the aid of the emerald.

Or, if the timeline is the same as our first third movies, it could have GUN somehow getting their hands on Ivo Robotnik’s plans for Metal Sonic. And in the future they could have captured Sonic and successfully turned him into a weapon, believing that even putting the ‘aliens’ in stasis isn’t enough, as they have seen with Shadow. So they wabt to take them under their control.

Maybe in that timeline Amy came in to meet Sonic just like Tails did, but GUN got involved so she traveled to the past to make sure Sonic doesn’t get turned into Metal. But Metal followed her with the army, firstly because he is under GUN’s command. And since he is the ‘superior’ version and ‘real’ Sonic.He wants to prevent her from achieving her goal of protecting Sonic since that’d indicate that Metal isn’t the real version.

The status Sonic has reached and the peace he made with who he is would be turned upside down, as he sees Metal who is ruthless and cold. Who isn’t with his family, and not afraid to hurt them. He sees that he could have become this, in another timeline he did become Metal. And Metal could have harmed his Team, Amy and Shadow, aiming to capture them and also turn them into robots, to the point that only Amy could return to the past. That has to make him feel guilty

It can also explain how Amy was too skilled in managing the robots, not that she can’t be strong enough to face them like that right away, because she appeared right after them, almost like she has been chasing them.

That’s all for this theory, I don’t really think it’ll turn out to be true in the movie but I thought it’d be fun to share!

[arcane-ish]

Hmm, I think the more interesting thing is where he compared Silco to abusive fathers like the fathers of Beethoven and Mozart. maybe one aspect is that I think if you look at the s1 planning boards they clearly thought of Silco initially picking Powder up with the intention to use her. And only growing to care for her over time and always interlaced with the idea of pushing her and maybe they personally don't see that as very "real" fatherly? Like maybe the implication is "depends on what your definition of fatherly/daughterly is")

Personally, I'm a big believer that all media is a collaborative effort (on tv that is like writers and directors and actors). And the only thing that "counts" is what makes it in screen. So whatever his headcanon is doesn't really matter if it doesn't make in on screen.

I think one can see traces of that "like the father of a genius musician" in the scene where Silco pushes her to finish the bomb (and with the visit to the water being the gentler version of encouraging her talents and breaking her inventor version of writer's block). Imo it also rings kind of true with some of the season 2 interviews about Jinx not hearing Silco's voice and having to decide who she is in her own (again something that made it in on screen in the scenes where Jinx us in his empty office and upset that he isn't speaking to her).

I dunno, there's an interesting dynamic there with the whole father of a musician versus father of an inventor. But again Christian's headcanons and references don't matter more than what makes it on screen. And on screen we at worst saw Silco talk slightly harshly to Jinx in that regard but also sensitively. So a far cry from  "There were few days when [Ludwig] was not beaten in order to compel him to set himself at the piano", related one childhood friend of Ludwig.[9] A court councilor reported that Johann occasionally locked Ludwig in a cellar.

So I don't think we need to take it literally and I don't think he even means it literally. Speaking more of the kind of vibe that would make a father pressure his kid like that and creating a weaker version of that (personally I think it's already a charitable/colored interpretation that the fathers of Mozart and Beethoven were motivated by seeing their children's genius as opposed to hoping their kids would make them money)

So much if the "bad father" discourse has been about

- did Silco genuinely believe he was doing the right thing (did he genuinely think Vi was going to hurt Vi or did he lie in desperation because he was afraid of losing or did he lie in a calculated manner because he didn't want to lose his "asset")

- how true/necessary are his lessons (I think there they actually show some sympathy by mentioning that he lives in a harsh world. I do think it should be noted the context is the person asking the question saying "if Silco considers her a daughter why does he do such fucked up things to her")

- how much is him acting according to Jinx's genuine interest versus his own. And again I think the traces were there in s1 already made explicit in s2) that this area is at least murky. That she shares some of his views but not to the same extent

I think that despite all complaints makes the Isha storyline interesting. Because it says that if Jinx was given a choice she'd rather have a friend than be out there fighting (suggesting that Silco either ignored or did not see her wishes). But that friend also gets killed (harsh world = more Silco's domain, just because you want something doesn't mean it's a good thing or even achievable).

Btw when it comes to insensitive Christian statements, I think there more potential in what he says about not blood related families and that he almost sounds like he has some sympathy for the Beethoven fathers or at least asking yourself if happiness is more important than greatness.

I don't understand how he doesn't know if Silco sees her as his daughter when he was one of the people who wrote the episode where Silco calls Jinx his daughter while alone at Vander's statue with no reason to lie. Perhaps he isn't taking a stance to prevent further controversy considering what happened last time he said something was canon. But at least he's got the genuine care Silco has for Jinx and the way he empathizes with and feels he can trust her down.