#and we can really kick off this adaptation

[muntitled]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

→ Mingyu x Fem!reader

→ Summary: "If you wanted me to get you pregnant so bad, all you had to was ask."

→ Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Businessman au, Humour, Slight!Body Dysmorphia, Insecurities, Workaholic!Reader, Shy!Reader, Slight Male Manipulation, Slight!Angst, Smut (+18), Semi!Public Sex, Slight Coercion, Needy!Mingyu, He Whimpers, Pervy!Mingyu, Corruption Kink, Desperate Sex, Massive Breeding kink, Mingyu has a choking kink, and a Praise kink, Slight!Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex

Mingyu likes getting choked, pls argue with the wall

The dollop of heat in your stomach steadily grew into a pool of molten lava throughout the duration of the award ceremony. The entire televised event was supposed to be in celebration of your husband and the diligence he has extended to the company for all of 2 decades.

Instead, most of the evening is spent nursing your anxiety with a flute of champagne, while you attempt to not sweat through your very expensive makeup under the heat of multiple strobe lights.

Mingyu, sitting at the table beside you serves as your only anchor, keeping your feet planted firmly to the ground while the rest of the table exchange pleasantries involving baby pictures and ultrasounds.

The dread in your stomach only multiplies.

You've been made privy to how they speak about you and your husband behind gloved hands in hushed whispers. A husband who has had to be burdened with a wife whose internal clock was no match for the importance of a career. Perhaps they thought you were too self important and too driven. Perhaps that explains why you were always invited to events out of courtesy and never out of true interest. Perhaps-

"Stop that." Mingyu's voice travels to your ear at a low and conspiratorial baritone while the rest of wives and husband at the table talk animatedly.

"Stop what?" You ask while Mingyu draws your attention to his hand now resting on your thigh underneath the table.

"Don't play with me. I can tell when you're overthinking," He says, letting his palm brush over the sequins of your pitch black dress. It matched his all black suit to rude perfection, truly making you believe you were the best dressed couple in the whole event. "If you're gonna be thinking about something, I'd rather it be the likelihood of me eating you out in this dress after we're done."

His words succeed in dragging your thoughts away from the happy couples and their happy families and you meet his eyes and the amusement swimming within them.

"Is sex really all you think about-"

Mingyu answers your question by suddenly grabbing a hold of your hand and forcing your palm over his lap until your palm is lightly grazing the bulge forming there.

"Let's hope this ends soon so we can get the fuck out of here." The rest of the event was spent with you, staring down at the table in a mindless, lustful daze while Mingyu still guided your palm up and down the bulge in his pants. It was conspicuous enough for it to look like his hand was simply resting atop yours, if anyone really got particularly nosy. Luckily, everyone else was too drunk on overpriced soju to recognize Mingyu's forced self pleasuring while he took casual little sips from his glass intermittently.

You were both relieved once it was time to go home.

This inability to adapt into the upper echelons of housewife society had not bothered you initially and it certainly did not bother your husband. In fact, someone as aloof and optimistic as Mingyu was seldom concerned with the matters of holding face for a backwards capitalistic society.

"If we weren't rich I thoroughly believe we would be those 'eat the rich' people." Mingyu announces as he trails into the bathroom behind you. The overhead lights bathe the bathroom's onyx accents in a dim light, successfully relaxing you and easing the bundle of knots that had built up in your shoulders.

Mingyu seems equally pleased to be back home, kicking off his Abercrombie loafers and watching them fly into a corner while he undoes the buttons of his jet black dress shirt. His tall frame is hunched over as he wraps his arms around your stomach, allowing you to lead him to the bathroom sinks with heavy footsteps like a 187 centimetre baby.

You, of course, do not object when he pushes his head into the space between your neck and shoulder as you begin to brush your teeth. If the award ceremony was as draining for him as it was for you, then this truly is the first moment he is able to let himself go the entire day.

"I think we can still be those 'eat the rich' people because it's not like we're rich by choice, right?" Seeing your husband constantly run the risk of impending communism would be amusing, were it not for the sour taste still present in your mouth from the work event Mingyu had just taken you too.

"At least you got to watch me in my element-" He grumbles against your skin before begrudgingly peeling himself off of you to make his way to his side of the bathroom,

"Ugh," Mingyu groans with exaggeration as he commences with his skin care, "You literally got to watch your sexy and talented husband accept a corporate award in a room full of people. I'm so jealous of you,"

"Ugh, I know!" You nod back, "Jihoon looked so good on that podium. Remind me to send him a message later." You evade Mingyu's deadpan look through the oval shaped mirror as you continue to brush.

"On a serious note, Gyu, I'm glad you had fun while I was being forced to entertain those industry housewives." You momentarily stop your brushing, "I'm thoroughly overwhelmed by ultrasounds!" You exclaim frustratedly through a gurgle of toothpaste. The very thought of those women shot your blood pressure to hell.

Their idealistic lives and their idealistic vaginas that could somehow push out a steady stream of babies before snapping back as if nothing ever happened. Business as usual.

Meanwhile, your body threw a tantrum the very second you even had a vague thought of eating something outside the bounds of your diet.

Mingyu adored every part of you - you know this - but that nauseating feeling of inadequacy always crept up on you in moments of weakness.

You sigh, "I think those women have magical vaginas."

"Hey." Mingyu says, patting down his face, "All women have magical vaginas but you especially."

You swiftly ignore him and continue your furious brushing as you say, "Every single day it's 'This one is pregnant!' 'This one wants to get pregnant,' 'This one is trying to get pregnant!'" You rant, completely oblivious to the way Mingyu watches you through the mirror as you continue.

"'I'm not quite sure when it became socially accessible for couples to just air out their breeding kinks to the public-" an ungentlemanly snort escapes through Mingyu's mouth and he pauses to shake his head and compose himself.

"I'm ultra-sounded out!" You exclaim, finally bending over to spit out a wad of toothpaste. In your periphery, Mingyu watches you with that passive look of contentment and unwavering adoration that almost never seems to leave his face in your presence.

Despite his overly humorous tendencies at times, Mingyu also harboured the habit of reading in between the lines - he had to, not only for his job but for his romantic life as well. Being blessed with a shy partner meant Mingyu had to dig just a little deeper past the veneer of everything you say, to get just a little closer to what you actually meant.

Your shyness and stoicism is what initially drew him to you in the first place. Always beating around the proverbial bush to protect your most sacred dignity and independence. It was always a struggle for Mingyu but it turned him on way too easily to picture his put-together, independent little wife needing him in a way she might not even know.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask quietly, lifting your head before reigning your braids into a ponytail.

"How am I looking at you?" Mingyu asks in a voice way too husky to harbour any sense of professionalism.

"Are you seriously turned on right now?" There is no use in denying it because Mingyu knew you could read him like an open book. There's a soberness that hits him when he's turned on.

He jokes less than usual and assumes a more… slutty disposition that neither him nor you have ever been able to tame. Mingyu rubs the excess cream into his hands before leaning against the marble countertops. He watches you with a small, dangerous smirk that sends a flurry of butterflies swimming the pits of your stomach.

"If you wanted me to get you pregnant so badly, all you had to do was ask." His sentence bulldozes through the silence, steals the air right out of your lungs and nearly sweeps your feet out from underneath you. The world practically spins for a second but you grapple desperately onto your sensibilities for your sensibilities are one of the very few things you can arm yourself against your husband's slutty seduction.

"I think I could've squeezed you into my busy schedule," He chuckles lightly before stepping forward.

Almost automatically you step backwards, which evidently gets Mingyu way too excited. He raises his eyebrows with a slight before he's closing the distance between the two of you with 2 wide strides.

The light pouring down from the ceiling suddenly feels too warm, and the air feels like you've teleported to a crowded bazaar in the centre of the desert. You refuse to make eye contact with Mingyu, looming over you. You only splay a hand against his chest as you attempt to chuckle.

"You're being ridiculous." You say, "If you need to cum so bad, use your hand."

"Nah," He shakes his head without ever breaking eye contact, "That would be a waste, wouldn't it?" Mingyu's eyes frantically search your features for the same traces of lust so shamelessly displayed across his own visage. His lips are parted with his quiet breathing. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

It felt like a betrayal on everything you held dear, admitting that the idea of him cumming inside you with the purpose of getting you pregnant turned you on. It felt like a betrayal on your career and your goals and aspirations.

However, Mingyu's sensibilities are completely clouded by unshakeable lust. He is so easily stimulated by every single thing about you, the softness of your body, the familiarity of your scent and the mental image of seeing you actually pregnant with his child. It has him pushing you further against the bathroom wall until the coolness of the stone sank steadily through your night dress.

Mingyu's hand immediately rips the offending article of clothing, pushing your night dress up slowly and feeling his own cock ache at how you silently comply.

"It's really easy, baby. I just need you to tell me you want me to cum in that little pussy of yours and I'll do it. Just wanna…" Mingyu's incoherence during states of exceptional lust always succeeded in making you absolutely wet. He became an insatiable, talkative and blubbering mess.

"...Just wanna make you happy," His breathing picks up almost as easily as yours, and inside himself, Mingyu releases a shotgun prayer that you want this just as bad as he does. He hopes your mind has been flooded with the exact same fantasies of him, sliding his bare cock into your soaking cunt. Him ramming into you and finishing inside of you and-

"Ah- fuck," He hisses, unable to get your panties down all the way before he's letting his fingers drift across your slippery folds. "Look at how wet you are, baby. You really do want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, don't you?"

Mingyu's cock twitches uncomfortably in his pants while he drifts his fingers over your puffy clit, pulling a strangled moan from your throat.

"Feels good, baby?" He whimpers before slotting his hips between your legs. Mingyu's breath is warm against the side of your face as he continues to rub infuriating circles on your clit. "I can make you feel even better baby… if you let me fuck you, I can make us both feel good, yeah?" He's a whining mess - you both are as your hips move in tandem against his hands.

"Fuck, baby I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me I can throw away the condoms, that I can cum inside you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy," Your slip-up would've gone perfectly unnoticed, were it not for the heavy, almost oppressive silence between the two of you in the bathroom. Mingyu's ears perk up like a puppy that had just heard his favorite word, and he pulls himself away to gaze deeply into your eyes with adoration and awe. Mingyu's pink lips hang open as he scrambles back up to his height. He cups your cheeks with both hands, and you lean into his warm calluses as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your cheek.

The kiss he leaves on your nose is delicate and romantic.

The perfect calm before the proverbial storm.

Mingyu then nods slowly as he says, "Well now I'm definitely going to fuck you," the conviction and the bass in his voice urges a pathetic whimper through your lips and you're left to comply limply as Mingyu places a palm on your exposed thigh. He lifts you up until your leg is locked firmly around his hip and he's almost perfectly slotted between your bare legs. The feeling of having him so close to you, in such a starkly intimate position leaves you both momentarily speechless and you're watching each other as if terrified of breaking this spell of lust.

Mingyu is deliberate in his actions as he moves his hand to pull his cock out of his pants, all without breaking eye contact.

"Don't play with me like this, baby," it's the most serious he has ever been, and your back is almost moulded to the wall as Mingyu lines the tip of his aching cock to your dripping cunt. "I was literally so close to cumming in my pants, so if you're playing with me right now-"

"Mingyu," your voice is airy as you push your hips forward, taking initiative, as you always did, until the head of his cock was prodding your entrance. He shivers greatly before stealing a glance down at his cock entering you so swiftly, before he gazes deep into your eyes once more.

"If you want me…" Mingyu whispers as he fully sheathes his cock inside you, overcome by yet another violent shiver. "Baby, you have me."

The first thrust is nearly cataclysmic and he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot. Seeing him so incredibly turned on, so ready to burst at the seams has your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until his gigantic cock was stretching your cunt to what felt like its limits. That second thrust completely drains him of all his composure and soon Mingyu's fucking you relentlessy into the wall as if he both hated you and loved you and did not know which was which.

Your mouth hangs open as you watch him absolutely ravage you. His dark eyes are hooded with lust and he's babbling his incoherent sentences while his long, messy hair brushes over his cheeks. He is absolutely fargone as he thrusts his hips into you, while his other hand is stationed against the wall above you. "Thank you for letting me do this, baby," he damn near whimpers as he pushes himself harder and faster into you, unable to stop the neediness from sinking into his tone. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"You're doing so well baby" You whisper, causing his hips to stutter against yours while a pained moan releases itself from your throat.

Your mouth is still hanging open and Mingyu takes the opportunity to dip down and crash his lips onto yours. The kiss is furious and desperate and you realise this is exactly what you love about him. You appreciate how easy it is to please him, how unashamed Mingyu is of displaying his emotions. He is loud and passionate and it drives you absolutely insane.

"Fuck-I'm close," He breathes, as he peppers kisses along your face. His hand squeezes desperately at your breasts as he pants in your ear. "Tell me to cum inside you- pleasepleaseplease,"

You are operating purely on the lust distributed from Mingyu's incessant whining and whimpering until an idea strikes you so vividly you almost wonder why you had not done this before.

In between your feverish panting and Mingyu's ravaging motions, you delve your head into his hair before peeling his face away from you. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion before you slither your hand down to lock your palm around the his throat. Your hand doesn't fully enclose his neck but you succeed in adding pressure, causing the man before you to roll his eyes into the back of his skull in absolutely ecstasy-

"Oh fuck-I'm cumming-" his body spasms before you in a euphoric daze, quickly triggering your own orgasm as you continue to choke him and move your hips in tandem with his cock.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" He swears as he clamps his hand around your thigh as if begging to spread you wider, to push in deeper until he's filling you up completely with his load. It's messy and so wildly intimate, you're both lost in the crevices of your own respective pleasure. How anyone could make someone feel as completed as you two currently feel is so unimaginable, you both struggle to find the words. Mingyu is a panting mess above you while you attempt to ease your runway heart.

It strikes you then that you're perhaps afraid, now that the lust has cleared that the post nut clarity might rid him of his earlier statements.

All you do is watch as he places another kiss on the tip of your nose before easing his cock out of you.

"I'll run out to buy Plan B tomorrow. You don't have to -"

He shushes you almost immediately as he pads over the bathroom sink. Mingyu hums softly as he ruffles through the medicine cabinet until he finds what he's looking for. All you can do is watch as he dumps the entire contents of your birth control pills down the toilet. He never breaks eye contact, only maintaining a wide slightly manic smile.

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[gothamundernightlight]

Random Shit the Waynes Do on Social Media

Dick:

- The white whale of D1 and Olympic gymnastics athletes; always stitches their stunts and challenges, executing them perfectly, but no one knows who he is or who trained him

- Shares pictures of random children, and the whole internet becomes a detective trying to figure out if Bruce Wayne adopted another kid or if his gymnastics students won another trophy

- Photo montages of Haley being the cutest, which slowly transitions into Haley in whatever cute hat the internet can send to Dick’s PO Box

- Random video of him skydiving while giving tips on what to do if your chute doesn’t deploy. He never deploys his chute doing the video and no one can tell if it’s a bit or not.

Jason:

- AI Voiceover text posts providing surprisingly insightful analysis into classic literature

- A full six part rant on the Broadway adaptation of “The Great Gatsy”

- Random selfies complete with wildly made up backstories of any and every new injury he has

- Prank war on Damian specifically (this was intended for Talia but his finger slipped and now the whole internet loves it)

Tim:

- Randomly goes live to do study/work/research with me sessions complete with an actually decent Lofi soundtrack that no one can find (He totally mixes it himself but won’t admit it)

- Did ONE social media vlog for WE’s marketing division and it went so viral he gets forced to do more. The dead eyed stare he gives the camera with every stupid dance the intern teaches him makes the video top-tier

- Cute couples videos with Bernard

- Skateboard tricks (and fails)

- Screenshots of text conversations between him and his siblings discussing the most random shit??

Cass:

- Dance routines/pre-show/GRWM videos

- Shakily filmed videos of her kicking Dick’s ass and everyone just calls her a baddie in the comments. She doesn’t know what that means but she appreciates the love.

- Her and Steph’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

Steph:

- Posts riddles and puzzles and how to solve them. She’s really good at it. Riddler hates her.

- Apartment tour of all the purple shit she owns. She’ll never admit that the room she’s showing off is her Wayne Manor bedroom, so everyone believes she just has a moderately sized loft apartment somewhere and she just never shows the kitchenette

- Her and Cass’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

- POV shots of her going up to the boys asking them random questions. Dick matches her energy. Jason tells her to fuck off. Tim is barely conscious. Damian always has an overly rational answer to take the fun out of it. Duke just stares blankly at her (he always comes back later with a proper answer now that he’s had time to think about it). Bruce just stares blankly at her

Damian:

- Art reveals that never get many views but he’s still proud of nonetheless. Dick always comments on them to hype him up

- Accidentally recreates a popular vine that went viral and it’s just him insulting fellow GA kids under his breath but one of them says hi to him and he’s instantly polite back. His most popular video

- The multi-part experiment of him trying to Pavlov Tim, and when it actually works, Tim just chases Damian around the manor. The video cuts to black frames after Tim takes a flying launch at him

- All the pet videos. There are so many. People try to cancel him for exploiting them, but Damian clearly demonstrates that he would never force his animals to participate for views and how they will just leave if they don’t want to do something. Batcow is in the background just two-stepping unprompted

Duke:

- Every morning without fail, he posts a daily sunrise pic of Gotham, with a positive affirmation caption. One day he’s sick and he wakes up to a thousand messages of people panicking because their favorite poster has disappeared. He never misses a sunrise again

- Passionate rants about local government. Will not shut up about it. He might be an anarchist, but he’s forever remain optimistic that one day the systems that define society will one day actually work for all people. Bruce has every single one saved so he can implement Duke’s ideas into reality

- Boxing videos of him training with Luke. It’s never meant to be a thirst trap…but sometimes it is

- Dumb selfies. Duke unironically loves taking them, no matter what face he pulls, what filter he uses, not even caring where he is. This gets him in trouble the one time he posts one of him leaning off the edge of a high rise roof

Babs:

- Constant lectures on cybersecurity and internet safety. She teaches this at the library as a volunteer but feels she can reach a lot of people by building a platform

- Computer build stuff. Brands reach out to her for her reviews and she thoroughly discusses each product in length

- Rarely posts about her disability, but absolutely tears people to shreds when they make ableist comments about her. The only time she brings it up first is when City Hall takes over a month to fix their elevator and she calls them out on it

Harper:

- Electronics repairs. She constantly takes things apart to teach people how to fix it, and this can range from toys to cars. On more than one occasion , her video has been interrupted by someone who planned to be using the vehicle she’s just taken apart

- 2 AM hair dye/maintenance sessions. She constantly gets comments from men being like “Therapy works too, y’know” or “No, you’re so beautiful? Why would you do that to yourself.” She responds to the comments with a video of a gun pointed at the camera with the sole caption being “Fuck Off.”

- Gym videos. She and Dick work out together and he’s the ultimate hype man

- Outfit montages of her getting ready for a random gala and she’s always pulling off the most masc-looking suits that look gorgeous on her

Helena:

- Target practice. She does all kinds of trick shots and crazy crossbow stunts in a wide variety of outfits. Her most popular video is of her in a corset and platform heels.

- Her and Steph bonding over all things purple

- Outfit of the Day posts. The girl has expensive tastes and she absolutely shows it off.

Bruce:

- Occasionally does promo stuff for WE (because Tim refuses to do all of it, and their social media intern won’t back down)

- Shares absolutely wild stories from his college years that somehow always get proven to be true even when the whole comments section is just like “this seems false???”

- Kid tour. He saw one mom do it and felt sad bc he’s never get the kids to agree, but somehow they all did (Alfred bribed them.)

- Shares everything from each one of the charities he’s involved with. Has reposted every single one of their posts on his own personal channel. It raises them hundreds of followers each time.

- One of the kids posted a video montage of Bruce being Brucie and it’s so utterly humiliating? But he won’t delete it because all of the comments say he’s their favorite billionaire and that’s more than his own kids will say.

- Random Pride Month post. Every year it catches people by surprise and every gossip magazine always wonders if Bruce is coming out. He’s just being an ally (and potentially is in denial).

Alfred:

- Prefers not to use social media, but one of the boys filmed him doing random things to teach the internet how to do things properly, like making the bed, doing laundry, etc. Is the internet’s favorite grandpa.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I saw a post in the My Adventures with Superman tag claiming that Lois "finally" has a character. I really like the show and it's version of Lois too, but I want to make this clear: Lois Lane has been around for over 80 years and she's always been a distinct, dynamic character with a lot going for her, every bit as admirable as Superman. This isn't a new thing!

Like any character Lois has had some bad adaptations, but she's been a great character from the beginning, and I wanted to show off some panels from comics over the years so anyone new to Superman lore can see why she's a beloved character and the MAWS portrayal is building on that, not starting from scratch.

Lois in the golden age comics (1939 through the 1940's) was shown to be a career-driven woman who didn't take shit from anyone. This was an era where a lot of women were entering the workforce because men were serving in WWII and there was excitement and change in the air, and Lois was meant to be a reflection of that. She fought against the sexism of her boss sticking her with the advice and gossip columns because she was a woman, and she was go-getting reporter out to get a real story. From the beginning she was fearless (sometimes reckless), driven, and had no patience for Clark Kent's (feigned) cowardice (and was always full of sick burns). She never let anyone push her around.

And she's been pretty consistently like this her entire run as a character. Of course, there were some bad writers, and there was a time in the 50s when all female characters had to be marriage obsessed (Lois wasn't the only one hit with this, Wonder Woman was too), but she reverted back to her firebrand self in the 60's and 70's, and when the 80's came along, characters started getting more filled in backstories, including her- this was where we started seeing stuff about her home life, her childhood moving around as a military brat, and her troubled relationship with her father and sister. She had an interior life, inner conflict- and she still kicked ass and always got the last word in. As someone invested in journalism, she is THE coolest fictional journalist to me.

This was also when comics started focusing on Clark being who Superman WAS rather than a pure act, and we got to see their relationship really grow and Lois fall for Clark, not Superman. So here, have some panels of Lois being great and see the scope of her own personality.

Lois also has lots fun little quirks and hobbies comics readers know about- she takes her coffee a certain way, she doesn't cook much because she's so on the go (so Clark is the one who cooks in the fam), she likes to sit on Clark's desk when they're talking (this happens in other Superman media too), she REALLY likes monster trucks and Clark REALLY doesn't but will support her anyway:

Also, she's always seen through to who Clark really is:

Anyway. Have more of my favorite Lois panels because I have a lot:

also this one because I'm gay:

[drchucktingle]

Good evening Dr. Tingle! Would you ever like to see a film adaption of Bury Your Gays? I think it would be so neat (especially with all of the tv and movie references present in the novel). If there ever was a movie, who would you want hypothetically cast?

HELLO BUCKAROO this is always a fun question to consider actors for a book adaption. when writing i sometimes CAST IN MY HEAD and sometimes it is just kind of a made up buckaroo. there are really only two characters in BURY YOUR GAYS that were cast in my head while writing and i will mention those below.

ultimately WHOEVER was to trot in these rolls i would be happy with, so lets just consider this a fun way through imagination. i will say that i would prefer to cast queer actors, but also i know the business of hollywood means sometimes that does not work out to get the movie on screens. if bury your gays was turned into a movie i would really have no say in any of this anyway, but queer actors would be my preference when possible.

despite all of that, when writing MISHA, the actor in my head was NOT a queer actor as far as i know (although for some reason us queer buckaroos have given him a pass to play queer characters which i think is very funny and interesting, i guess we just love him a lot regardless) anyway lets kick it off there

MISHA BYRNE

when writing BURY YOUR GAYS i was picturing none other than BILL HADER. maybe it is because i was watchin a lot of BARRY at the time, not exactly sure why but thats the truth.

that being said i think i would be great to get a queer lead in there. so if that was the case i would say LEE PACE, and of course we have the ultimate fan cast MISHA COLLINS

TARA ITO

this is the other character that was FULLY IN MY HEAD as i wrote it and mentally cast from day one. it also kind of coincides with the trot of a tv show i was watching at the time which was PEN 15. so tara in my mind was always MAYA ERSKINE

ZEKE ROMERO

not exactly a known actor in my head, but when considering options i think that OSCAR ISSAC would be very good

JACK HAYS

there are a few options for this, but i keep thinking of a very clean shaven MURRAY BARTLETT in a suit. another options would be ZACHARY QUINTO especially if we get chris pine as chris oak because thats just some incredible META KIRK AND SPOCK action for the sledgehammer scene.

now onto the dang villains.

CHRIS OAK

okay so obviously we gotta cast CHRIS PINE in this role (i might have an in). however if that does not work out i would like to suggest COLMAN DOMINGO

THE SMOKER / UNCLE KEITH

would be neat to have the monsters also play their inspiration. in the case of THE SMOKER i think STEVE BUSCEMI would be incredible

MRS. WHY / AGENT Y

last buck not least i propose ELIZABETH DEBICKI as MRS. WHY

if you have not read bury your gays yet but now you are DANG INTERESTED then you can get it here. thanks for reading buckaroos feel free to reply with your own castings. I AM NO EXPERT you know my art just as well as i do so i am curious your thoughts. LOVE IS REAL

[pumpkinpaix]

You have questions! We might have answers.

What is this collection?

As Maria puts it: this collection is a critical look at some of the things that we, the editors, think have made CQL such a hit around the world. Of course, part of that success comes from the webnovel MDZS and the show CQL themselves—we love the characters, the mystery, and the drama, who doesn’t?! However, the authors in our book also look at topics like translating danmei (both officially and unofficially), adapting danmei for new audiences, and interacting with fandoms and fanworks. The larger argument of the book is that all of these things played a huge role in CQL’s visibility and success, and we wanted to start making those moving pieces visible, especially for audiences who mainly watched CQL in translation.

You keep using the word “academic”—what does that mean, exactly? 

Maria: Ok, not to get pedantic here, but this actually touches on some things that I’m really excited about for the book. Traditionally, academic work is written by people who have a deep expertise in the subject (signified by having a PhD and doing specific kinds of research), and then the work itself is peer-reviewed (i.e., sent to other experts in the field for them to evaluate whether it’s sound, original, and interesting enough to publish, without knowing who wrote it). And both of these things are true about our book—our authors have deep knowledge and the book was peer reviewed—but also. We specifically asked for chapters from younger scholars and from fans who also have deep knowledge about topics that academia doesn’t always know or value enough, and we include an interview from the fan-translator K. who did the Exiled Rebels translation. So the hope is that: this book is academic, and also—more!

Who are you? 

Yue studies adaptation, fantasy, and popular culture texts using a feminist lens. She wrote an early, influential article about danmei adaptations and also has a book about feminist adaptations of Chinese fantasy.

Maria studies fanworks, contemporary fantasy, and genre literature. She’s scrambling to finish her dissertation right now.

How were the chapter spotlights chosen?

Voluntarily! The concept of a small social media promo was kicked around by some of the contributors and those interested in the idea filled out a short interview with what they wanted to share. We'll be posting about 2 introductions and 2 spotlights a day for the next week or so!

Who's running this social media campaign anyway?

Not the publishers! A few enthusiastic collection contributors got together and, with the assistance of the editors, have put this promotion together. We do not in any way represent Peter Lang in an official capacity! We just worked hard and wanted to share. :)

Are you making any money off of royalties from this book? 

LOL not even remotely

What about this promotion?

also no. alas

Where can I find this book? 

You can find our listing on Peter Lang’s website here. As for other retailers, a quick search should turn us up!  

How can I access this book if I cannot buy it from Peter Lang / [book retailer of choice]?

As collection editors and contributors who signed a legal agreement with Peter Lang, we have granted Peter Lang exclusive right and license to edit, adapt, publish, reproduce, distribute, display, and store our contributions, and we must cooperate fully with the Publisher if the Publisher believes a third party is infringing or is likely to infringe copyright in the contribution. 

That being said, these are academic papers, which means that contributors may make copies of the contribution for classroom teaching use! (These copies may not be included in course pack material for onward sale by libraries and institutions). Of course, any linking, collection or aggregation of chapters from the same volume is strictly prohibited.

(FAQ may be updated periodically!) (all posts on Catching Chen Qing Ling)

[tsuvvy]

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 1

Your Chance

The Batfamily is getting intel and weapons back from a dangerous villain. But he had a bodyguard. A child bodyguard who didn't really seem interested in their task of guarding the villain. You seemed more interested in killing Cassandra.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of killing, talk of weapons, use of weapons, use of electricity in fighting, cussing, ik Jason and Damian are skilled and can adapt to many different types of fighters, but for the sake of this, they were caught extremely off guard..

Word Count: 3.1k

You looked down at your palms, letting the volts of electricity flicker and surge around your hands. You let out a breath.

This was your one chance. Your one chance to prove to your dad that you weren't a failure. You could kill. You could kill more efficiently and quickly than Cassandra ever could. And you could do it in cold blood, unlike Cassandra who was left disgusted with her first kill.

And you would prove it by killing her.

The moon was bright in the sky, just as the bat symbol was. You stared at it through the window with a kind of hope most didn't have. The hope that you would kill someone that answers to the bat symbol in the sky.

You struggled with speech. You grew up sheltered, only being taught to kill from the moment you were put on the ground to crawl. You were a lot alike to Cassandra. But you were a quick learner. You could quickly pick up on the speech of others, and the body language to decipher a little bit of what the words might mean in different situations.

The words you knew were a small amount that you couldn't get out of your mouth without a bit of struggle.

“No, that Cain guy sent this kid,” you glanced over your shoulder to look at the desk behind you where a man in a nice suit sat. He was lazing around in his chair, his legs kicked up on the desk as he looked at you. You remember your dad calling him Kerrim. Kerrim didn't realize you were looking back, “one creepy ass kid,” he added the remark onto his statement from before. “He said they're one of the best, but I won't buy it till I see it.” He smirked in doubtful amusement.

Orphan, Red Hood, and Robin worked diligently to avoid the cameras of the building and avoid guards that walked around.

Though it wasn't easy.

“I wasn't expecting the guard to be so high up..” Red Hood grumbled, peeking around the corner at a few guards that were speaking in the hallway.

“And what did you expect?” Robin grumbled back, looking up at the man, “That this guy was dumb? No. Someone can't make it this high up into the drug business by being dumb.” He sent a scowl at Red Hood from behind his domino mask.

“Aww, did you just call me smart?” Red Hood smirked from behind his helmet, looking down at Robin.

“Focus.” Orphan reminded the two, “We have to take the guards out, we can't get past them any other way..”

“On it.” Red Hood said.

“Wait-” Red Hood was already turning the corner, immediately alerting the guards to his presence.

“Huh.. Guess someone can get up the drug business by being dumb.” Robin remarked as he watched around the corner with Orphan.

“Intruder!” One of the guards had yelled into his walkie talkie clipped to the breast pocket of his vest. “Intruder in sector G!”

Red Hood was fighting with the other guard. Knocking him off of his feet by kicking under his legs and knocking him unconscious by kicking him in the head.

“Shit!” Red Hood yelled when alarms started going off and red lights started flashing everywhere.

Orphan and Robin looked to the camera above their head they had been in the blind spot of. It was now angled directly towards them.

‘What did you idiots do!?’ Tim yelled through the coms in their ears.

Red Hood had started fighting with the other guard, having a bit of trouble before Orphan rushed forward.

“‘You idiots?’ It was Red Hood!” Robin retorted back into the coms as he too moved around the corner.

Orphan had rushed past Red Hood and landed a flurry of well calculated hits and kicks to the guard. One of the kicks that sent him colliding into the wall knocked him out as well. He slid against the wall falling to the floor.

The three looked down the hall at the sounds of footsteps. Many of them.

“You are an imbecile. An imbecile!” Robin yelled at Red Hood before he turned around the corner again, already running down the hall before Red Hood and Orphan followed.

“Well sorry I was taking initiative!” Red Hood yelled at the kid in annoyance.

“In here!” Orphan called, beckoning the two into a room that looked to be for something like storage. It was big and barren enough to hear an echo.

“They went this way!” The three stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the door in anticipation when the guard had yelled that. They expected anyone to walk in at any moment. But they heard a group of bounding footsteps pass the door.

Your head whipped around at the flashing red lights and the alarms sounding throughout the whole building.

“Shit!” Kerrim screamed, jumping out of his seat in an instant, his hands on the desk. “How the hell did they get in without getting noticed!?”

You were practically already at the door. “Hey!” He screamed at you, “Where the hell are you going!!?” But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge you. “Get back here, you little rat!!” And you were out the door.

“Damnit!” Kerrim slammed his hands against the desk before whipping around and kicking his swivel chair, which went rolling. His kick barely did anything to the chair. “Cain said you were one of the best!” He yelled after you. Or.. More at the door you had just exited through. “But the best know how to follow orders!”

Kerrim started pacing around the room, grumbling and screaming frustrated curses that also held anxiety for the situation with intruders in the building.

All you could think about was the chance you had just gained. You knew it was her. Or at least someone from the accursed Batman vigilante group. But even if it wasn’t Cassandra. You could get her attention by killing another she cared for.

This is your chance

You have to take it while you have it.

You can't pass this up.

Despite not expecting to meet the intruders almost right outside Kerrim’s office, just down the wide hall. Neither looked to be Cassandra to your disappointment. But you recognized them to be Robin and Red Hood. People affiliated with her.

The three had taken a moment to regroup and catch their breaths before they had slipped out of the storage room door and listened to Tim’s directions to get to Kerrim's office.

Red Hood and Robin froze at the sight of you, but you had already unsheathed your sword with the swiftness and speed equivalent to that of a bird's. They weren't expecting a kid to come out of Kerrim’s office. Especially not a kid that looked to be the same age or younger than Robin.

“What the hell!!?” He screamed, just barely dodging the slashes of your swords. Robin had unsheathed his own sword, raising it and bringing it down to attack you. But you ricocheted the attack, blocking it and throwing the direction of his sword in another before you raised your leg, kicking him in the side and sending him colliding with a wall.

“Who in the hell is this kid!?” Red Hood shrieked, dodging slice after slice of your attacks. For a little kid, you were extremely strong, agile, and obviously professionally trained in fighting. Well enough to be able to have a chance at winning a fight with a grown man twice your size and a boy trained to be an assassin since birth.

‘Their fighting style's familiar..’ Tim muttered into the com. ‘Wait, where did Orphan go?’

You let the electricity conduct into the grip of the sword. It didn’t take too long for it to travel up into the blade, starting to wrap around it. Red Hood raised his gun up, having the intention to use it to block the slice of your sword. But he hadn't expected it to cut through. He felt a shock in his arm, and soon it went numb and tingly for a moment. The half of his gun he still held fell from his hand and collided to the ground.

He jumped back, staring at you from behind his helmet in shock.

The electricity in your sword had traveled into his gun and then his hand to produce the effect that it did.

“Red Hood, are you okay!?” He heard through the coms in his ears.

“Cassandra..” You spoke in a somewhat shaky and strained voice, like you were struggling to speak. “Where.. Is she?” Your voice, apart from the struggle it took to find the words, was somewhat muffled due to the cloth of the mask you wore over your mouth.

“What..?” Red Hood asked, confused. The struggle you had with your speech took him aback.

“Where..” You swallowed, “where is Cassandra.”

Red Hood was at a loss for words. He was confused on how a kid like you that appeared out of nowhere was so skilled with a sword and a power as adept as electricity. He knew children could be good fighters, Cassandra and Robin being prime examples. But you? Something was different about you. Your fighting style was familiar, just like Tim had noticed. But the other thing was.

“How do you know Cassandra?” Robin spoke coldly behind you. Yeah.. That was what Red Hood had been getting to.

You didn't respond, which caused Robin’s brows to furrow and his eyes to narrow on you behind his domino mask.

“Fine, I'll say it again. How do you know who Cassandra is?” His voice was more stern, growing a venom in it that could kill like a Cobra’s.

“Where is she?” Your voice still held that shake and struggle in it.

Something about you reminded Robin of someone. But he couldn't place his finger on who.

Neither of the two watching you noticed the way you were charging up a surge of electricity within your hand. Neither noticed it before you were throwing your arm out towards Robin, shooting it at him.

Robin was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting you to be able to charge up your ability so quickly. He couldn't move quick enough to dodge it.

Just before it touched his middle, he was being tackled from the side. He looked up in surprise at Orphan.

She was already standing up, directing her attention to you.

“I’m right here,” She told you.

Your eyes widened somewhat, and you turned to look at her better. You couldn’t believe it. There she is. And not in some old picture or low quality one your father had managed to get someone to take. It was her in front of you in the flesh.

You’re taking your chance.

Red Hood lurched forward, thinking your attention was fully on Orphan. Though it wasn’t. You had made sure to keep both Robin and Red Hood in your peripheral vision. A surge of electricity started to travel through your arm before getting to your hand. The surging light seemed to wrap around your arm and now your hand as it traveled. Your palm collided with his stomach. Your touch seemed more gentle, but the powerful shock that seemed equivalent to a defibrillator shocked Red Hood’s insides. He stumbled backward.

His limbs felt numb, the room was spinning, he couldn’t focus and his whole body was in pain.

“Red Hood!” Robin and Cassandra cried, so did Tim within the coms. Red Hood stumbled a bit more.

Your attention was already back on Cassandra. You held your sword in both hands, rushing forward and slicing at the black haired vigilante. She moved quickly, you couldn’t deny it. Quicker than the first two did. Though you could tell you had only caught Robin off guard, you knew he could fight better. But that didn’t matter. Now Cassandra is here. Now she is your priority.

Again, she was quick. She dodged your countless attacks you threw at her with your sword. Robin had gone to Red Hood’s side, checking his pulse.

You swung your sword, but Cassandra slipped under it and rushed forward. Your eyes widened as you saw her hand was going for a pressure point in your wrist, crap. No.. It’s okay. You’re fine. You were trained just like her, if not better. And you have an advantage.

You threw your sword to the side, it was the only option so you could keep control of your hands. If you held onto it, she would have paralyzed your wrists for as long as she felt necessary. Electricity surged and wrapped around your calf, traveling down to your foot. You pushed backwards with that foot, putting your weight on the leg you didn’t have electricity rushing through. You raised your foot, kicking Cassandra with a strength that could knock down one of the heavier training dummies at the Manor’s gym.

Cassandra couched, stumbling backwards for a moment while holding her side you had kicked. She had winced in pain, closing an eye tightly to somehow deal with it. Her side was throbbing, and she knew the electricity had traveled into her arms and legs because she could feel her fingertips throbbing, and her legs had felt weak for a second. But, she recovered quickly. The two of you looked at each other, in some sort of a stand off like you see in those western movies. But two of you were now fighting hand to hand.

“Orphan,” Robin called from the side, Red Hood had recovered some, being able to stand now. But he still looked a bit disoriented.

“Go,” Cassandra said, “I can handle this.”

Robin and Red Hood listened, heading towards the door behind them. You didn’t care. Again, Cassandra is your priority, not them.

“Right.” Robin said, going towards the door. You didn't care about protecting Kerrim. It's not like he meant anything to you. Plus, your father will be proud when you kill Cassandra. Far prouder than if you kept some random drug lord alive.

You lurched forward, immediately catching her attention again. You threw a kick at her which she had dogged and you ducked under the punch she sent at you. You winced when she kicked your side and you caught her leg. You pulled it forward roughly, also pulling Cassandra towards you and let go of her leg; you punched her in the face. Your fist collided with her jaw.

Cassandra ignored the slight pain radiating within her cheek and threw her arms out forward and around you. She wrapped her arms around your middle tightly. You tried to push against her, but she was strong. Stronger than you were really expecting. She pushed you forward until your back hit against the wall of the wide hallway roughly. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but you recovered quickly. You raised up your own leg and kicked the heel of the boot you wore into Cassandra’s abdomen. She stumbled backwards, holding her abdomen with one arm, and the other arm was at her side.

She looked at you with a wince on her face, her jaw clenched. You rushed forward and started sending electrified punches and kicks at her, but she dodged them all, some just barely. But she dodged them all.

You were growing more and more frustrated. And with that, your attacks just grew more and more aggressive.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she blocked a kick of your’s with her forearm. She couldn’t see your whole face because of the mask you were wearing to at least hide the bottom half of your face. But she could see your eyes. And she saw the way your brows furrowed. She recognized it. She recognized the dim look on your face. She realized it was the one she used to have when she was about your age.

She realized you couldn't understand what she was saying. She felt a pain of empathy fall through her body, landing in her stomach.

You had no idea what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish. But you could tell she was holding back. She wasn’t fighting as well as she could have. Your father made you watch videos of how Cassandra fought when she was your age. She was incredibly skilled, you knew that. And how she was fighting now was that you’ve seen from a novice from the League of Assassins.

Your father realized not long after you grew more of a consciousness for yourself that you had a short temper. You get frustrated easily. And he also realized your meta human ability might be tied with your emotions. You and your electricity got stronger, more relentless, and faster.

And Cassandra had noticed this too. She was amazed with you. You were so young, no older than 14 or maybe 13 and you were already so in control of your abilities. And you were quick. Very quick.

You were about to high kick her in the side of her head, but you made a mistake. You slipped. The foot you put all of your weight on slipped on the ground. Your eyes widened. Cassandra grabbed your wrists and decided on falling with you.

You winced when your back hit the ground roughly. You felt your head knock against the ground roughly as well. Her forearm was against your neck, and she had both of your wrists pinned to the ground above your head. You felt one of her knees pressing firmly against your abdomen, and her other foot was on the ground next to you both, holding her up.

You felt your head pounding, and your eyes grew heavy, no doubt because of it’s collision with the ground. You looked around. Your vision was mixed with spots of different sizes as you looked at the walls and dim lights on the cieling that seemed greatly bright now. Soon, your gaze landed on the woman above you.

Cassandra. Crap.. Cassandra had you pinned to the ground. You need to get up. You need to fight. You need to kill her. You can’t lose, not like this when you’re so close to your mission.

You tried to push against her grip on your wrists, and you tried to push your abdomen up to maybe push her knee off of you, but it wasn’t any use. You were too weak, and you were too tired.

The most you could was charge up a weak volt of electricity into your arms and send them up to your wrists. All Cassandra felt was a tiny shock like static shock from a door or clothing.

Then everything went black..

Chapter Two ->

[raysrays]

All Jokes Aside

Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Tsuguko! Reader

CW: Teasing, fluff, Gn Reader, suggestive flirting, new relationship.

Scenario: Ever since taking on the role of Tsuguko and lover to the Flame Hashira, you’ve noticed a delightful shift in the atmosphere during your training sessions lately. But what happens if your teasing goes a little too far.

Request by: @kanashi-z

A/N: thank you all so much for all the requests!! I’m so behind and I’m terribly sorry! I promise I will get to all of them soon. Appreciate and love all of you <3

You and Kyojuro had been training together for a good while. So, when he suggested the idea about you becoming his Tsuguko, you were all in, no hesitation. But then, he went a step further, asking for something more. That's when things between you two began to shift.

He had always embodied the qualities of kindness, care, and loudness, but now, there was an added layer of affection that wasn’t always present before. The transition wasn’t instant; it took a few months for both of you to fully adapt to this new closeness. You however quickly started to get the hang of it.

As you two trained, the cashing of swords rang though the training grounds. You might not have matched Kyojuro's strength, but every man has his weaknesses. It only took a few training sessions together for you to uncover his.

His smile widens as he effortlessly knocks you off your feet, sending you tumbling to the ground. He stands over you, his gaze looking down with confidence.

“Still too slow for me, little flame,” he remarks, his tone oozing with self-assurance.

While Kyojuro is undeniably kind, you’ve recently discovered that outside of his mentorship role, he can be quite cocky. But you know just how to bring him back down to earth.

Accepting his hand to help you up, you close the distance between you, personal space forgotten.

A grin spreads across your face as you notice a slightly flustered look creeping onto his face.

“Little flame… as much as I enjoy our closeness, we’re supposed to be training,” he murmurs, his voice softer than usual, a complete contrast to his constant loud demeanor.

Your hands, now free of your sword, now drift up his arms slowly.

“We’ve been training for quite a while. Perhaps it’s time for a break,” you suggest, a knowing glint in your eye, a look he’s grown accustomed to lately.

He frowns, a hint of pink starting to paint his cheeks as he meets your gaze. “Sunflower, the day is still young. It’s not time for a break yet,” he counters.

You can’t help but smile at his resistance, laying on your flirtatious tone. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself, Master,” you tease.

He notices, of course. “Kyojuro,” he corrects you.

“You’re not just my Tsuguko anymore; you are my partner. Address me as such,” he asserts, you relish in the adorable look on his face as he avoids your gaze.

But you love every moment of this, knowing exactly which buttons to push to win this battle.

“Okay… you really shouldn’t overwork yourself, Kyojuro,” you utter his name like a sacred mantra, knowing the effect it has on him.

He can’t help but let his mind wonder, contemplating how it would sound in different circumstances.

Your hands slide down from his arms to his hands, still clasping his sword.

“You’re already so incredibly strong, Kyojuro. There’s no need to push yourself so hard,” you urge softly.

He looks at you, confusion evident on his face. “Y/N, that doesn’t make sense. I should always train to become stronger—”

His words are abruptly silenced as you press your soft lips against his.

His body tenses momentarily before gradually relaxing. It only takes a few seconds for him to reciprocate the kiss.

He pulls back nervously, his gaze darting around to check for any onlookers, though he doesn’t seem to mind much.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this out here, my love,” he says breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours.

You smirk and plant a small peck on his jaw before swiftly kicking his legs out from under him, sending both of you falling to the ground.

Despite his attempt to catch himself, he falls, gazing up at you as you end up sitting on top of him, a smug expression gracing your features.

“Am I still too slow for you?” you tease, unable to contain your laughter at his current predicament.

It was a rare sight indeed to see the Flame Pillar sprawled on the ground, his sword knocked out of his hand, with his Tsuguko sitting triumphantly atop him.

To any observer, it would seem as though they were interrupting something intimate.

You had never witnessed the man so embarrassed in all your time together. His face flushed crimson, torn between anger at your recklessness and arousal at your boldness.

However, your triumph is short-lived as you suddenly find yourself flipped onto the ground, with Kyojuro pinning you beneath his arms.

“You truly believe you can outsmart me, little flame?” His demeanor begins to shift back to its original confident state.

His hand moves to gently caress your face before leaning down to whisper in your ear, his voice low and intimate.

“You may have caught me off guard this time, but don’t think I’ll allow it to happen again. It’s foolish to think you can outsmart a Hashira.” There he is, back to his cocky self.

As he pulls back to gaze at you, you can’t help but crave more of him—his beautiful hair, those golden eyes, that annoyingly smug smile that seems to fit him perfectly.

“You’re just upset I managed to get the jump on you,” you retort, unable to resist.

“Hardly,” his voice is smooth, alluring, causing your cheeks to flush involuntarily.

Nervous at how your plan has backfired, you glance around under his grasp, “Maybe we should continue this somewhere else,” you suggest, accompanied by a weak smile.

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you. “After the way you’ve been acting? I think more training is exactly what you need,” he responds firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Yes sir.”

[fushiglow]

Gojō Satoru's rude awakening

I'm refusing to let myself seriously entertain the possibility that Gojō can come back after chapter 236. However, that's because I'm trying to protect my future self from disappointment, not because I think it's implausible — and I really want to talk about this image!

A couple of days ago, @runabout-river shared an interesting theory about what might happen next for Gojō. The post itself is well worth a read, but it was the choice of the above image that really set my mind alight. This scene is fresh in our minds after the anime adaptation of Hidden Inventory, and timing is clearly never an accident with Gege Akutami. So, why is it relevant now?

We see Gojō giving himself over to his past, lost in his happy dreams of his youth, only for Megumi — Gojō's first student and a symbol of the future that he envisions — to bring him back to the present by telling Gojō, "You're the one who called us here, please don't go dozing off."

In other words, "You're the one who dragged us into all of this, don't go pretending this isn't reality just because it's nicer in the past."

In my immediate reaction to 236, I said:

Gojō's dying bloody smile shows he's at least happy in his final moments. [...] Although, if Gojō actually is at peace in death, maybe that's the reason Gege will bring him back. He'll *never* let that man be happy, I swear.

It was just a joke, but seeing @runabout-river's post made me realise that Akutami has already set a precedent for 'punishing' Gojō for looking backwards. When he's dreaming about his past, Megumi scolds him and brings him back to the present. When he 'lets his mind wander' to his blue spring in Shibuya, he literally gets locked in a box where time doesn't pass, only to immediately find himself at the bottom of Japan's deepest ocean trench when his students bust him out to fix the problem he created.

As a side note, in both of these moments, the anime adaptation played a melancholy version of Gojō's Limitless theme — the audio representation of Gojō's youth. I'll eat my hat if it doesn't play again when chapter 236 is eventually adapted (I shared some more insights into some of the easter eggs hidden in the season 2 score in my mini review of the Hidden Inventory soundtrack if you wanna read).

If Gojō dies here, looking backwards to his youth, then he's taking the easy way out and that's what I find hardest to swallow about 236. Gojō leaves what is potentially the most difficult conversation he'll ever have — telling Megumi the truth about his father — to Shōko. He leaves his students to deal with the fallout of his failure to cremate Getō's body. He's saddling the people he loves with the responsibilities he leaves behind, and that's not fair.

However, we won't know if that's what's happened for sure until the whole story is told. Gojō doesn't mention his students in this chapter, and lots of people were bewildered that he seems unconcerned about their safety in a world without him. While that could simply be explained by his faith that they've "got it from here", there's a chance that he genuinely didn't think about it and he's about to get a rude awakening as his punishment — hence, "I pray that this isn't just a delusion".

I would *adore* it if Shōko dragged him back to life kicking and screaming, hauling him away from his pleasant fantasy of youth to tell him, 'No, you and Getō don't get to leave me behind to pick up the pieces again'. Because isn't that Shōko as a character? The one who's left to pick up the pieces in their wake? The one to heal the wounds and lay the bodies to rest while everyone forgets she's even there?

It would be the most character development she ever receives, and I'd love to see how Gojō and Shōko's dynamic changes when he's not the 'Strongest' anymore. So, in Shōko's own words:

[blurredcolour]

VI. "Trust Me, Doll..."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

War is hell and every time it seems you and Bucky adapt to your new normal, the game is changed yet again. When at last Victory in Europe is achieved, the pair of you can finally focus on forging the way ahead.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Grief, Mentions of Death, Imprisonment, Pregnancy, Childbirth in Retrospect, Child Rearing, Motherhood, Era-Typical Sexism and Marital Expectations, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Sex While Trying Not to Be Overhead] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note(s): This is it! Oh wow, we made it, kids! Thank you to each and every one of you for your incredible engagement with this series it has truly been an inspiration! I love all of you and have more Bucky thoughts brewing!!!

As always, letters/telegrams have image descriptions that can be accessed by clicking the 'ALT' button. Special thanks to Marina @precious-little-scoundrel for helping me untangle numerous plot points in this series. I could not have done this without you, darling! This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7444

-------------------------

Your sudden return home in mid-February had been decidedly awkward. Without time to send a letter of warning, you had spent a lot of coins on a phone call in a telephone booth at the hospital in New Jersey while you awaited the arrival of a WAC commanding officer to process your discharge.

To say your mother had been surprised to hear your voice over the line was an understatement. Mercifully, your father had already left for work that day and you had only had to break the news to her. Given the frosty welcome you had received from him by the time you managed to reach the steps of your childhood home, you hated to think what his reaction would have been if you had informed him that his unwed daughter was kicked out of the Women’s Army Corps for being pregnant without the softening interference of your mother.

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. The war had left its marks here too, though. A gold star banner hung proudly in the front window, in honor of your brother, and your mother’s garden out back had mostly been turned over to the growing of vegetables, with a huge stockpile of jarred preserves now overflowing the pantry. But the two bedrooms at the top of the stairs belonging to you and your brother, separated by a small hallway that was really no more than a glorified landing, were exactly as you had left them in 1942. As if they were frozen in time. Dusted and cared for, but ready and waiting for you to pick up your old lives.

Only your brother was never coming home, and you had returned home but entirely changed. After the relentless pace you had maintained since enlisting, the thought of remaining at home in idle leisure was too off-putting to even contemplate. You allowed yourself a few days of adjusting to the violent change in time – at least when you had traveled to England you had been afford several days at sea to transition. Flight across the Atlantic had been utterly jarring, and it had taken great discipline to turn your nighttime back into day.

But once you had re-acclimated to the North American clock, you had promptly ventured out to find yourself gainful employment at a nearby grocery store. The owner, Nick, was a friend of the family. A kind man who did not seem interested in asking too many questions about why you were back early, was simply eager for the help around his store. It was most definitely not as mentally taxing as the work you had previously undertaken as a WAC, but it was money, and that was sorely needed as babies were expensive.

Your mother seemed fretful about you working in your ‘delicate condition,’ but the demands of the position paled in comparison to the one you had just left, and you rarely worked more than six hours a day. There was still plenty of time to sit with her, improving your knitting skills as you started on a baby blanket. Your mother was duly impressed you had picked up such a feminine skill abroad and seemed more than happy to pass along helpful hints.

In all truth she did appear to be struggling, dwelling frequently on memories and nostalgia for happier times. It was difficult to say how your father was coping in the wake of your brother’s passing. Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to.

You had sent a letter to Bucky immediately upon your arrival, as promised, still not divulging the full extent of the situation, but it had been stocked with reassurances and re-direction. It appeared he had not yet received it based on his letter that reached you in mid-April.

Damn that man, but you did love him so. Baby animals – had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? Gnawing ruthlessly on your lower lip, you found yourself pacing around your room, one hand rubbing at your lower back, sore from standing all day with the growing weight of your swollen abdomen.

‘Or is he simply fishing for more information, unconvinced?’ You wondered to yourself, sighing heavily.

He was simply too intelligent for his own good. Another man would simply have taken your words at face value and left it at that. But there was a reason you had not fallen in love with another man. Had not given yourself to another man.

With another deep sigh, you dug out your writing supplies and drafted a reply that acknowledged his statements but neither confirmed nor denied them. There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. Particularly after enduring his current stay in a prison camp.

As the weather grew ever warmer, it became increasingly difficult to conceal your predicament – no matter how baggy or oversized your dresses were. Your engagement ring only went so far in polite society to protect you from judgemental stares and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house. May seemed to drag on, though you certainly managed to knit a wide variety of nearly perfect baby clothes for different stages.

Perhaps the brightest spot came one evening when your father emerged from the room opposite yours and left the door open for the first time since you came home, revealing not the preserved bedroom of your brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table. As you stood in your doorway in shock, eyes brimming with tears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gruffly muttered, “baby needs somewhere to sleep after all,” before trudging down the stairs to the bedroom he shared with your mother.

June burst onto the scene with the Allied invasion of France and the good news only continued with the signing of the GI Bill on the 22nd. Your years of service and honorable discharge earned you, and your very active and rapidly growing baby, subsidized medical care. It could not have been timelier as appointments became more and more frequent, your due date looming at the end of July.

Much like her father, Clara Mae had a mind of her own when it came to her time of arrival. She was born in the middle of the night on July 22nd at the local veteran’s hospital – one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you.

The choice of her name had been rather easy, derived from Bucky’s middle name - Clarence. While you could not give her his family name, or even list him as her father on the birth certificate without his signature, you could at least give her this for now. He had already given her his mischievous eyes and unmistakable ears. Time would tell what other of his features she would share. If the grey-blue of her eyes would settle in the color of the stormy sea like his. If the slight dusting of fuzz of her head would grow into luscious, dark curls.

Sitting there in sore, stunned exhaustion as they carted her off to the nursery, you looked up as your mother sidled over, the broad grin of a recent grandparenthood still splitting her face.

“We have to write Major Egan right away and let him know. Oh he’ll be so thrilled, a sweet little girl to come home to now!”

The force with which your face crumpled, physically unable to bear to weight of all your falsehoods and desperate attempts at inner strength one moment longer, sent your tears scattering down the front of your hospital gown. Your mother snapped her mouth shut, completely taken aback by the abrupt shift in your mood, before she collected a wad of scratchy hospital tissues and tenderly wiped at your eyes.

“There now, I know. It’s been a tremendous effort, and things are very difficult.” She soothed and cradled your head to her breast, rubbing your back softly.

Despite becoming a mother yourself not a full hour ago, it seemed you were still very much in need of one yourself.

“What if he doesn’t want me, mama?” You gulped and looked up to her pathetically as you finally gave voice to perhaps the greatest fear that had been stalking you since the realization that you were pregnant had come crashing down upon you. “We’re not even…it’s not even real…” Your eyes dropped to the false engagement ring that mockingly glinted up at you from your left hand.

She sighed deeply before her hands grasped your face and forced your gaze to meet hers. “Well, pumpkin, I’d say that a man who writes to you despite the difficulties is one of the good ones. And usually it’s the good ones that do the right things.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly, as much as her tight grip would allow. “But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…”

There was another maternal sigh before you were gathered close in her arms once more. “Let’s hope for the best then. I’ll get Felix from down the street to bring his camera. We’ll send a photo of sweet Clara Mae and see if she can’t work her magic on him.”

------------

The Allied invasion of Western Europe had felt like a gift from above, flooding Bucky’s life with a new sense of purpose, and shattering the grim monotony that had calcified everything around him. The gnawing hunger, the biting cold, the evasiveness in your letters, the constant worry and uncertainty he felt for both himself and you. There was surely only one explanation, at least only one rational, sane explanation for your early discharge. But he’d had far too much time on his hands to postulate and theorize all manner of possibilities and their catastrophic outcomes.

June 6 had brought an abrupt and decisive end to that, a sharp divide to their life in camp, and a need for preparations now that the Commonwealth forces were closing in from one side and the Russians from the other. It was early September when he received your life changing letter, two small photos tucked securely between your folded, scented pages. One of you, looking so very beautiful it made his heart ache fondly. And the second of a very tiny infant with remarkably familiar ears.

He huffed fondly and turned back to the letter to read it properly as you finally confirmed what he had long suspected.

Shaking the envelope once more produced a square of paper with the stamp of his daughter’s – his daughter’s – footprints on it.

Cradling it in one palm, he could not help but gawk at the small scale of her. She must be truly tiny…only 20 inches.

“Your girl finally explain herself?” Buck leaned over his shoulder, and he nodded, holding up Clara’s photo.

His friend barely contained a snort and Bucky scoffed in return. “I know – poor girl’s got my damn Dumbo ears. Couldn’t even deny she’s mine if I wanted to.”

“She’s beautiful anyway, despite your influence.” Buck smirked and handed the photo back carefully. “Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Clara Mae.” An involuntary grin of pleasure overtook him as he said it, quite enjoying the way it sounded. You had picked well.

“Your girl did an excellent job. Be sure you tell her so.”

“You know I will.” He replied with a firm nod.

------------

The twelve weeks it took to hear from Bucky were both a blur and an agony. Clara did her utmost to keep the household, and you in particular, thoroughly occupied. You were somewhat relieved that your parents were sleeping on a different floor than her, that it gave you a chance to dart across the hall and mollify her discordant wails with a fresh diaper or a feeding. But on those nights when even you could not seem to sort out what ailed her, your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm.

Truly, for such a small being, she had the entirety of her grandfather wrapped around her littlest finger. Clara was the first he greeted upon returning home from work and the last he kissed goodnight. None of this would have been possible without his willing arms, nor your mother’s endless wisdom when it came to washing bottles and diapers and Clara’s vast wardrobe of tiny clothing. But in the quiet moments, when she was busily suckling in your arms or just as you were falling asleep, your thoughts would always fly across the Atlantic to barbwire fences and Bucky.

You hoped your letter reached had him. You hoped it had all of its contents still, that none of them had been lost while being reviewed by the censors and whomever else pried into your mail. His reaction? Well you could not even dare to hope what that might be. It would cause your entire body to tense almost painfully and prevent your lungs from filling with air.

Every day you did your best not to look too eagerly as the postman delivered the mail, flipping through the envelopes calmly, hiding your disappointment when his reply was not there. Your agony came to an end, at last, in mid-October. Hearing your soft gasp, your mother offered to take Clara on her morning walk – it was generous to be sure, but you were also more than aware that she enjoyed the attention warranted by pushing the gorgeous girl through the neighborhood in her pram.

Settling down at the kitchen table once they had left, you sliced open the envelope anxiously.

Tears of relief were tracking down your cheeks by the time you reached the end of his letter, making it difficult to read his words clearly. He had replied. He was not angry, nor dismissive. He called himself Clara’s father. And there was an oblique, very Bucky-like proposal in there. Your watery laugh echoed in the empty kitchen before you sniffled in a very unladylike way. God, you missed him so very much. By the time your mother and Clara returned, your tears of relief had been replaced by sobs of longing that had her tiptoeing through the house, deeply concerned his letter had been one of rejection.

Looking up at her apprehensive face as she peered through the doorway, you smiled through your pain and nodded. “It’s good news.”

“Oh, well…good.” She gave you a somewhat bewildered smile and found a handkerchief for you to once more clean yourself up before you gathered Clara close.

“Your daddy says he loves you, peanut. What do you think of that?”

Clara’s face stretched into one of her toothless grins that came just as easy as Bucky’s did, and you fought the urge to cry again. “Yeah…me too.”

Your reply to Bucky’s letter was accompanied by a holiday card fingerpainted by Clara, now that you were confident in the mailing time of roughly six-weeks, as well as another set of dry goods for him to share with his friends. Time continued to march on and in an effort to better document Clara’s rapid growth, you purchased a user-friendly camera, having Felix give you some lessons.

Mid-January, Clara received a gift from her father – a stunning ink drawing of him done by one of his roommates apparently. It had been over a year since you had looked upon his face and the breathtaking detail captured by the man who drew it, A. Jefferson based on the signature, inflicted an intense barrage of memories. You promptly went to a five-and-dime store to purchase a frame for it, setting it on the dresser in Clara’s room next to a model of a B17. You made a point of showing it to her every day, telling her stories about her daddy – only the appropriate ones of course, wanting her to know him.

That it was also self-soothing was simply a bonus.

That letter was the last one you received from him. As Clara’s features sharpened into Bucky’s, and his dark curls framed her face, it was his gaze staring up at you from your arms as the weeks ticked by with no word. When the abnormally harsh winter yielded to spring once more, there was still no reply to your January letter. The war was all but won, the Germans quite literally surrounded, the Russians in Germany and yet there was nothing.

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat.

‘Please let him be alright.’

Your mother had been in the kitchen, working on lunch, but silently appeared at your elbow, ghosts of her own heartbreak etching her features.

“Deep breaths. Anybody can send a telegram, not just the War Department.” She murmured and knelt down beside Clara on the rug to play with her as you forced your leaden feet to move towards the door.

Accepting the yellow envelope from the infuriatingly neutral-faced boy, you confirmed that it was indeed addressed to you before impatiently tearing into it.

Exhaling shakily you smiled in relief. Major Cleven must have escaped. That he would have spent the money to send a telegram to update you on Bucky, and to share a message from the man himself, was quite moving. You could not help the chuckle that escaped you, however, at the fact that this was twice now that Cleven had terrified you in the process of trying to share good news.

“All is well?” Your mother asked softly from the living room, and you turned quickly with a smile.

“Yes, he’s ok, his friend somehow made it back to England and wanted me to know he’s doing alright.”

The smile she gave you in return contained no small amount of relief.

The Russians were in Berlin by the next time Western Union made its second delivery at the beginning of May.

‘Please, when we are so very close to victory, please.’

Even less patient with this envelope than the last, you felt a swell of elation at just the first word.

And he meant it. It was not entirely as soon as either of you would have liked, given that Victory in Europe happened not a week after that telegram, on May 8, 1945, but Bucky certainly did come to you and Clara as soon as it was possible.

It was a hot afternoon in early July, the wind having abandoned everyone when the sun rose that morning. Clara was in a bit of a mood courtesy of the heat and her desire to move about the house independently. Certainly, she had been crawling for months, terrorizing everything and everyone in her path, but as of late she had been pulling herself to her feet and trying desperately to take those first few wobbly steps towards upright freedom. She certainly could manage it while gripping tightly to your fingers for balance, but today her chubby cheeks and granite eyes were screwed tight in consternation as she swatted your hands away to go it alone.

“Alright peanut, off you go then.” You smiled encouragingly, sitting back on your heels as beads of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

Letting go of the edge of the coffee table, she wavered and wobbled, overcorrecting her round little infant body before landing heavily onto her bottom with a squawk of frustration.

“So close, so–”

The rapping of knuckles against the wooden frame of the screen door cut off your statement and you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet.

“Let’s go see if that’s the postman with Grandma’s package, shall we?” You smiled and tickled her soft tummy with your free hand, earning a giggle accompanied by her gap-toothed grin as you headed over to the front door.

The man standing there in uniform was most certainly not the postman, however.

“Bucky…” You whispered in shock as he stood before you, in the flesh, after nearly two years of constant worry and concern.

All that separated you now was a flimsy screen door, which you lurched forward to shove open. His eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of you, Clara peering at him curiously. The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully.

“It’s not real.” You murmured quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, and stepped back to invite him inside.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor was all the warning you had before he was pulling you tightly against him, burying his face into your hair. Pressing your face against him in return, you clung to the back of his uniform jacket, wondering if he had always smelled this good or if he had bought new cologne since returning stateside. A sudden strangled sound came from his throat, and you straightened quickly to see Clara had a ruthless grip on his tie and a wicked grin on her face.

“Ta.” You said firmly, holding out your hand and she surrendered her stranglehold on the piece of fabric which you carefully tucked back into his jacket.

Bucky smirked down at her slightly, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed wonder. Clara, for her part, did not seem the least bit fazed by him whatsoever. Her chubby little fingers moved to trace the shiny buttons of his jacket before stretching up to brush along the coarse hair on his upper lip.

“You like my mustache, Miss Clara?” He grinned and pretended to devour her finger as it strayed too close to his mouth, sending his daughter into a fit of giggles and making your cheeks ache from smiling so wide.

An involuntary yawn suddenly overtook her, and you glanced at your watch, nodding as the time confirmed your suspicions. “It’s nap time, I’ll just take her upstairs.”

“Can I come?” He asked softly, making no move to release his hold on you and you nodded quickly, pressing your lips to his cheek softly before leading him to the stairwell at the back of the house.

“This place looks exactly how you described it…” He murmured softly, threading his fingers through yours as he followed.

Looking back to him, startled, you swallowed down the swell of emotion that had been threatening since you had first laid eyes on him. “I told you about it once, in that…hotel room in London…almost two years ago.”

“And I’ve imagined it almost every day since.” He assured you easily as you climbed the stairs, making you shake your head in awe.

Glancing through the open door into your room curiously for a moment, he followed you into Clara’s nursery, grinning softly as his eyes landed on the drawing he had sent.

“You gave it to her.”

Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours and he smiled gratefully before reaching out for your left hand, his thumb stroking along the band of the ring there.

“You know, this isn’t very believable, doll.” He muttered and you felt yourself tense as you eyed him, suddenly nervous in his presence after all those months apart. You had been separated longer than you had even known one another. “I’d have bought you a much bigger rock.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Laughter, something that felt so foreign to you after its long absence, bubbled up from your chest while tears simultaneously flooded your eyes. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours at last, the kiss distinctly salty despite the best efforts of his thumbs to swipe your tears away. Laying your hands atop his, it began to sink in that he was really home, he had truly made it back to you. And Clara. There was no more need for constant fretting and pleading mantras. He was here.

“In fact I did.” His statement, a continuation of his discussion about your fake engagement ring, felt disorienting as it interrupted your inner musings, and you watched in confusion as he sunk to one knee right there in Clara’s bedroom, slipping the piece of costume jewellery from your ring finger before tucking it one of his pockets.

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, watching him clumsily slide the heavier ring onto your finger before his mouth was on yours once more, demanding and possessive.

Pressing against him, you would have completely forgotten yourself if not for the sound of your mother calling your name from the bottom of the stairs, tone laced with confusion and worry – surely from finding the front door open and a piece of strange luggage in the front hall. Bucky pulled his lips back and pressed his forehead to yours, hot puffs of his breath caressing your face.

“Parents’ house…”

You let out a small laugh of chagrin. “Parents’ house.” You confirmed before pulling back and guiding him out, leaving the door slightly cracked so you would hear when Clara awoke.

Miraculously she had slept through the entire exchange, a superpower she had surely inherited from her father. Descending the stairs, introductions were made, and you did not miss the way you mother’s eyes lit up as she took in the new ring on your finger. Your father was slightly more difficult to win over, still smarting from the perceived mistreatment of his little girl. You were more than a little convinced he might be taking Bucky to the toolshed to shoot him when he asked for the man to accompany him out there for a chat after dinner.

Your aggressive scrubbing of the dishes in the sink as you watched anxiously out the window amused your mother to no end.

“He’s just ensuring Major Egan has your best interests in mind.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he, mama?” You worried your lip and she laughed, wiping Clara’s sticky fingers clean after her joyful decimation of a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“He will do no such thing.”

By some miracle, the pair of them immerged unscathed twenty minutes later, shaking hands and sharing a laugh. You rediscovered the ability to exhale and prepared Clara for her evening walk, which Bucky insisted on joining. Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight.

Not only was the vantage point much better, but she had unfettered access to all the intriguing bits of his uniform to occupy herself with as the pair of you followed the usual route around the neighborhood. While no one had taken it upon themselves to be overtly rude to you, something about seeing all six foot two inches of Major John Egan carrying his carbon-copy daughter with you on his other arm seemed to go a long way to repairing your somewhat tarnished reputation around town.

People who had politely nodded or offered no more than tight-lipped smiles were now openly waving and calling greetings as you passed.

“Sure are popular around here, doll.”

“I assure you, it’s the pair of you.” You smirked at him and Clara who was busily tugging at the flap of his breast pocket. “Everything alright after your visit to the toolshed?” You asked now that you were far enough away from the house that your father would not hear.

He nodded easily. “Your father and I are of like minds. You and I are going to the registrar’s office tomorrow to get a marriage licence and then we’ll get this little one’s birth certificate sorted as well.”

“He wasn’t…too harsh on you?” You asked with more than a little trepidation.

Bucky looked to you softly. “No more than I deserved.”

“You deserved no harshness, we both know full well how this happened…”

“I sure didn’t stop you. Couldn’t have, even if I had been able to think straight.” He smirked and kissed your temple. “So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.”

Sighing fondly you continued your progress until Clara was slumped against his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. By the time you returned to the house, your mother had set up a small camp bed in the nursery for you and moved Bucky’s things to your room for the night – everyone agreed there was no way he could possibly be expected to sleep on the sofa. He was simply too long. Wishing one another good night in the hallway with a lingering kiss, you pressed your lips together as your mother cleared her throat expectantly from the landing below and slipped into the nursery for the night.

It was difficult to say how long you had been asleep when a faint noise, your ears now well trained to listen out for the smallest of disturbances, woke you. It was most definitely still dark when you raised your head, immediately looking to the crib to see Clara sleeping peacefully on her stomach, index and middle fingers of her right hand suckled soothingly by her full lips. Shifting your gaze in the dimly lit room, you jumped slightly to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, clad in his boxers and undershirt, silently watching her sleep, expression pensive.

Sliding to your feet as gracefully as the low bed and your thin cotton nightgown would allow, you padded over to him quietly to whisper, “everything ok?”

“She’s just so small…” He replied in a hushed voice, gesturing with his hands, eyes still fixed on Clara’s sleeping form, and you smiled fondly.

Reaching out, you gently manipulated the distance between his palms to represent how small she had been as a newborn. “She was only that big a year ago.”

His eyes tore from the crib to study the small gap between his hands before lifting slightly to drink in how little you were wearing, how thin the material was to try and make sleeping in the summer months bearable. His eyes briefly flicked to yours, revealing the rapid dilation of his pupils before his mouth descended onto yours ravenously.

Sliding one arm around his waist, you pressed with the other against the centre of his chest to guide him back across the hall, closing the door to your bedroom behind you as you quickly surrendered and parted your lips for him. He grunted eagerly, pressing his fully hard length against you through the thin barrier of your clothes, making you gasp at the rapidity of his response.

“The damn sheets smell like you, I’ve been hard all night.” He groaned and you quickly smothered his mouth with yours, well aware just how loud he tended to get.

If you were lucky enough to get away with this, you were going to have to be as quiet as possible.

Rucking the hem of your nightgown up over your hips, he pivoted to deposit you onto the edge of the bed, settling between your thighs as you worked one another’s underwear off. Pressing skin to skin, his head fell back, and you quickly slid your palm over his mouth to smother his eager sighs, rocking your folds along the length of him as you gnawed on your lips and swallowed your own keens. Bucky’s eyes bored into yours hungrily as he mirrored your movements, almost daring you to keep quiet as he continued to moan against your hand.

Silence became impossible for you too as the blunt tip of his cock snagged on your entrance and he rocked his hips forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. Falling back onto the mattress, you slapped the hand that had previously been propping you upright over your own mouth to smother your eager groan as your eyelids fluttered in the struggle to remain open. Shifting forward once he had settled fully inside you, Bucky’s face hovered just above yours, eyes still pinning yours as he began the eager push and pull towards ecstasy.

Desperately trying to keep your hands in place over your mouth and his, your back arched at the long forgotten and very heightened sensation of being so very stretched by him, trembling with each brush of his pelvis against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands planted onto the mattress on either side of your head, fisting into the sheets as his hips snapped demandingly into yours, each sharp exhale from his nostrils cascading across your knuckles as you felt the tension building within you.

Sweat glistened on both of your skin, the efforts in the lingering heat of the night only making you both slick as you writhed beneath him, heart hammering inside your ribcage. And still his eyes would not leave yours. The one time you gave into the urge to clench them shut, he sent them flying open once more with a sharp nip to the meat of your palm and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.

You could feel him clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, desperately driving into you until your body shattered in release, nearly going limp with the force of it. Bucky nestled his face tighter to your palm as, with two more erratic thrusts, he followed suit with a harsh cry, thankfully still smothered. Slumping forward, utterly spent, you cradled him close a moment before shuffling and maneuvering to rest against the headboard with him properly nuzzled against your neck, and his legs mostly on the bed.

Stroking his hair lovingly, every so often scratching your nails along his scalp, you could not help the fond smile as his harsh breaths evened out and the weight of him grew heavier against you when sleep overtook him. Sighing softly, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to join him in rest.

The next time you opened them you were alone, tucked beneath the sheet, the soft light of dawn filling the room. The distinct sound of Clara’s giggles carried from across the hall, and you sat up, grabbing your summer housecoat and peered into the nursery to find the pair of them perched on the camp bed engaged in a very entertaining game of wooden blocks it seemed. Bucky had retrieved the model of the B17 from the dresser and was frequently swooping it down to destroy whatever Clara’s clumsy little hands built, much to her delight.

“Ah, Mommy’s up.” Bucky’s statement revealed that you had been caught and you smirked, stepping into the room to kneel on the carpet beside them. “Did we wake you?”

Shaking your head softly, you kissed Clara’s head and then Bucky’s cheek. “Did she wake you, though?”

He shrugged. “Probably my turn anyway.”

You smiled tenderly, laughing as Clara clutched at his arm to demonstrate that she had assembled a new construction in need of his attention. Watching fondly, you blinked slightly to see a new addition to the dog tags, crucifix, and medal that he normally wore. Amidst the collection was now the faux engagement ring you had sported for over a year. Reaching out, you traced your finger along it, raising an eyebrow in silent question as his eyes met yours.

“To remind me of that time I was overly reckless.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, pressing your lips to his firmly.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he pulled you snuggly into his side, continuing to entertain Clara easily.

“We’ll get the licence today but, what kind of wedding would you like, doll?” He asked quietly.

“Just a date at the courthouse is fine.” You assured him with a nod.

“You don’t want a big wedding or anything? Honestly doll, anything you want and it’s yours.” He assured you softly.

You laughed watching your daughter gnaw on the corner of a wooden block. “Seems a bit hypocritical to put me a white gown don’t you think?” You smirked and shook your head when he looked ready to defend your honor. “I don’t need all those fancy things John, I just need you.”

When he finally came up for air, your lips more than a little swollen from his attentions, he huffed a laugh.

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the parachute I smuggled home now, though…”

“Well, Major Cleven’s getting married soon, isn’t he? I’m sure Marge would appreciate it. She seems lovely from the letters we’ve exchanged.”

He turned to you wide-eyed, struck silent, and you could not help but laugh. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of women, John.”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “Trust me, doll…I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you.”

-------------------------

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas, @carpediem1219, @blueberry-ovaries

[opal-owl-flight]

Welp cue Neo 3 getting themselves in so much danger that 3 has to save their dumb a*s.

HAPPY BIGGEST RUN!! Guess it kicks off the high action segment of the Neo3 arc :)

(this ask has been sitting in my inbox awhile.)

Neo3 refers to working with Agent 7 and going undercover in Grizzco during the biggest run.

more notes on what transpires in the biggest run below!! Id draw more of this out but Im v tired wdkefk

Before the comic above, there is the matter of pre-biggest run preparations.

"|We'll have to protect right on our home base.|" signs the captain, their eyes steely and cold. "|We have to evacuate everyone.|"

"Aye aye. But I beg to ask -- how are we supposed to protect our identities?"

3 clacks their beak.

"|Dont wear the uniforms. Let us appear like a legendary team taking initiative.|"

"I-if I must suggest, Captain."

They turn to face the newly recruited Agent 7, whos shaking as he spoke. "...I-I can loan us all some Grizzco gear. Itd hide our identities really well."

"Ah, so we play into their game." Says Neo3, anger barely hidden in her half-snarling voice. "Id rather die than wear that."

"Then you can help Three find the root cause of that song theyre hearing." Says 4, "Since you can hear the dirge as much as the hordes can."

3 is so proud of their agents being so capable...

They nod their head. "|Sounds like a plan. Four, join Agent 7 in evacuating the citizens.|"

4 rolls her eyes, grabbing 7s arm. "I wont let you down. And Ill make sure Agent 7 here doesnt, either."

"Hey! Ow! Thats uncalled for! Raaain!!!"

--------

The comic takes place after the source(s) of the so called "Death Dirge"s locations are found (so its 3s next set of commands after the blurb above).

For context, Inkadia and the Splatlands had built infrastructure on migration routes for economical reasons or whatever and thought the salmonids a nuisance. Think of dams being built on irl salmon routes. Or cities being built on dangerous areas (volcanoes, fault lines, etc) and adapting to the danger. The mindset for big runs is "we'll deal with them when it happens." Instead of. Making room for them.

This biggest run is the biggest migration that uses a route thats been hasnt been used for several hundreds of years.

In the middle of the CITY.

Not only that, The Death Dirge is actually Grizzco using devices emmitting magnetic fields to attract BIG numbers and to make them all gather as close to the city as possible (like, attracting even the ones using the other migration routes/the other turf stages).

3 and Neo3 had found these sources and 3 set about dismantling them (alone for the first two, with Neo3 in the last since her task was accomplished). The last one however involved a mechanical defense system that includes a mech (which 3 had to use a well-placed special on to destroy, and as a consequence is very worn out after) and a harpoon trap system thats meant to catch whatever is messing with the devices without the permission to (Grizzco expected that some clever salmonid might get ideas). Thats why 3 gets GOT there...

Theres also 3 mentioning Neo3 getting caught. Grizzco has been interested in Neo3 awhile because of her salmonid-like adaptations.... but thats all I can say for now :)

As for Agent 8, shes in the Memverse by the time the biggest run happens. Having her own anguish abt the platoon being resolved separately before she returns in the middle of the chaos to help out. And also say what she needs to say to 3 and 4...

[solbaby7]

Enchantress

pairing: rhysand x reader

warnings: kinda dark, mild swearing, possession, possibly some smut

summary: You accidentally release something you're not supposed to but maybe its not so bad after all

—

You should've stayed put.

Rhysand said he'd be right back and to stay right where you were but it felt like a hundred years had passed and he still had yet to return. You turn in place, eyes catching on a display on the far corner; far away from all the other precious artifacts Rhysand had been throughly explaining before disappearing.

You'd actually been quite interested.

Ignoring the grumbling sounds of your belly in favor of his voice, rambling on about his great battles; the land his ancestors had pillaged and the great treasures they took as souvenirs.

You stayed in place a minute more, going to far as to call his name but no one responded—and the display looked really lonely.

Your feet are moving before you can second guess it, before your instincts can kick in and sound their warning bells to your brain to stay the fuck away because something certainly wasn't right. The closer you get, the more transfixed you are with the contents; a box filled with a stone that glowed emerald. You hand hovers against the glass and just before your fingers touch it, the display opens; a smoke tinged in green kissing your face and the stone is in your hands in seconds.

It hums in your grasp, deep power residing inside and you're only certain because you can feel it; can hear it calling to you in that hiss of a tone. "Release me for I am your destiny and you are mine."

Rhysand finally returns when your hands are high above your head, eyes dazed as if in a trance and he can barely get the first two syllables of the word 'stop' out before the stone is no more; a series of shattered emerald pieces and a dark force emerges free. It happens so quickly, your eyes widening in realization, a sharp cry before the ebbing darkness is seeping into your skin and fusing into every pore.

Its intrusive.

Cramped.

Like sharing a small room with two full grown bodies and not enough space to breathe or move or think.

"I can fix that," That hissing voice whispers in your ear, freezing cold hands curled around your shoulders but it's not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated. "Just say it. Say the words."

It feels like the walls are closing in, pushing and nudging and squeezing you whole like they did with grapes to make wine and you're gasping for air when you respond. "What words?"

"Enchantress.” One word and your skin is littered in goosebumps. “Call my name and we shall become one."

Become one?

What was that supposed to mean?

There's no time to think—Rhysand always said not to make bargains or deals under distress; not when you aren't thinking clearly and paying attention to the wording but you just can't breathe and right before it all goes black, you gasp out. "Enchantress."

She sucks in a greedy breath, your clothes shifting into something similar to the outfit Rhysand had handed you to wear on a visit to the Hewn City—to the Court of Nightmares. "Such a youthful body." The Enchantress whispers out, voice seeming to adjust to your own; it takes a few tries for the sentences to come out smoothly after so long without a mouth but she quickly adapts. "Much better than my last one."

"Your last one?" Rhysand questions sharply, standing firm but his body language was prepared for a fight no matter how unsure he was about the whole situation. He couldn't hit you; wouldn't be able to use much force and the thought of raking those sharp talons against your brain made his stomach churn in distaste.

"I'm a large package," She grins, dark magic smoking off her figure like the shadows that Azriel summoned. "It's hard to fit it all in such fragile meatsuits but this one seems to be quite used to taking such power."

If Rhys notices the underlying sexual innuendo, he swiftly ignores it. "You can read her mind?"

The Enchantress keeps her distance, eyeing the High Lord up and down, silently sizing him up and there's genuine surprise when she realizes his power was alarmingly similar to her own. "It's our mind now, Lord of Darkness."

"Don't call me that."

She inches closer, eyes glowing at the button she'd pushed and Rhysand's fingers flex at his sides. "You're right, she says you actually prefer Lord of Destruction."

Rhysand can't help the way his body responds to the nickname that's said in your voice with a woman wearing your face, dressed in a body he worshipped night and day. "She says?"

The Enchantress sighed, almost bored when she answers; voice more clipped as she explored the room she'd only ever known from the confines of that damn display. "Your mate is still in here; just pushed to the backseat for a little bit. Don't worry she's having a good time."

"She didn't know any better—"

"Don't underestimate us, she gave full consent. The girl’s probably delirious from the power as we speak."

Rhysand's eyes squint in suspicion, searching for a tell; determining if the mystical being was bluffing or not. "What do you want from her?"

"Nothing really, just a body and maybe even some entertainment if you're up for it. Of all the things that your girl could be thinking about and the only thing on the brain is your cock fucking into her while she's like this." Rhysand sucks in a breath at the words, her tone more like yours than ever before and he can feel the blood rushing between his legs, the growing tent against expensive fabric.

He really couldn't help it. Those clothes, your figure; the promise of fucking his seed deep in your body that was just thrumming with power more similar to his own than he'd ever once detected in his life. "Would it hurt her?"

The Enchantress laughs, a quick shout of a thing that made your shoulders shake. "Hurt her? With all of my power inside of her, she'll be coming before you can even fit all of it in."

She can hear his gulp and even from your spot as backseat driver you don't blame him for a second for considering it. The power was exhilarating, rooting deep in your blood and settling into your bones until just the smell of the High Lord had your thighs clenching in anticipation.

"So, what do you say?"

A pause before the unmistakable click of a lock. "Take off your clothes."

You make a noise, a pleased sound and Rhysand’s knees buckle when the fabric of your clothes melt into water. It drips to the floor, body bare and glistening; ripe for the taking and soaked with want. “Don’t hold back, High Lord. It’s been a long time and I’m feeling greedy.”

He’s too careful at first; fearful of hurting the soul behind the body presented to him while his mouth is trailing kisses up your neck. The Enchantress is more than patient, accepting the exploratory touches and arching into the fingers trailing down the slippery length of your back. “The water was a nice touch.”

“You’re charming but if you don’t touch me, I’ll do it myself.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time—I quite the fan of watching.”

Your eyes light up at the words whispered into your ear and it’s second nature when you grab for his hands and place it between your thighs. “You’re not this talkative in her memories of you,” The mystical being croons, teasingly dragging his fingers up the dripping arousal seeping past your lips. “—are you trying to impress me?”

“Is it working?” Violet eyes bore into yours and you don’t need to guide his hand any further, two fingers sliding through while the pad of his thumb worked tight, slow circles around your clit.

She was right; encased in so much power even just Rhysand’s fingers felt like pure euphoria, whiny moans and choppy breaths proving the pleasure he drew from you without even really trying.

Your chest is heaving when you answer, eyes half-lidded and the room smells like lust and jasmine scented oils burning over a candle. “Maybe a little.”

It was a lie.

One he doesn’t call you on when your body does it for you, hips writhing as his fingers curled into you, dragging against spongy walls while pumping in and out and in and out until your eyes squeezed shut. “Open them, you wanted me to fuck you so bad—watch me while I do it.” It takes real effort to follow the orders given and when you do another moans rips out and the smile on his face. “Watch yourself come on my fingers.”

You do, mostly, eyes closing towards the end and when his fingers slide out you quickly realize your mistake.

“You’d think for a mystical being that you’d be good at following instructions.”

Words no longer exist and for once, you’re the one left speechless.

You can nothing but watch as you fall pliant to powerful hands that lift you like nothing and carry you to the thin desk adorned in rare vases and busts sculpted from stone and Rhysand’s swipes them clear off to make room for you. You barely hear them disintegrate into specks; too focused on the clothes at disappear and you have to double check that you aren’t drooling when you take in the inky tattoos marking tanned skin. “That’s okay though,” The High Lord affirms just barely over a whisper when coating his cock in your juices. He’s got a hand curled around your thigh, legs spread wide and your backs propped up against the wall. “—I’m used to beautiful deviants like you.” The thick head of his tip breaches your cunt with embarrassingly little resistance, hips shifting to meet him and a moan drags from your throat when he fit every excruciatingly perfect inch inside. “I could make you my bitch on my worst day.”

You’re prepared to answer, a snarky remark dying on the tip of your tongue when his pace starts; quick and unforgiving. It takes everything to remain rooted in place, not to float away and defy gravity because his cock felt so fucking good.

It’s primal the noises you’re making, body electrified and every touch lingers like he’d branded them on your skin. “Rhysand.”

“Can you take it, baby?” He hasn’t even broken a sweat and no amount of skimming through memories could prepare the being sharing your body for the true extent of the High Lord’s stamina. “I really hope so, ‘cause I’ve got a lot to give you.”

Something flickers in his eye; something dark and twisty, a side of him he always reigned in because not everyone was equipped to withstand such power. You could handle it though—at least you were going to try because if you though it felt good before, the pleasure increases tenfold when that power becomes a tangible thing, slinking out the shadows and latching onto you.

Your vision goes white, another orgasm being worked from you and even as you try to writhe away, the darkness keeps you in place; forcing you to take it—to take him and that perfect cock and that perfect mouth sucking his mark onto your breasts and he lets out a groan when your back arches, his teeth scraping gently against your nipple and your certain your eardrums have burst.

You can only register white noise and consistent warmth encasing your body. It take a while for your vision to focus and once it regulates, Rhysand looks no better than you; hair mussed and cheeks flushed and a quick laugh pulls from his mouth when he looks at the ground.

“I don’t see what’s funny, those were priceless artifacts—probably irreplaceable.”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck; I’ve never come that hard in my life.” The cooling darkness is already kissing at your neck seconds later, a smirk tugged at the corner of Rhysand’s full lips. “You wanna go again?”

[but-a-humble-goon]

top 10 best hand-to-hand fighters in the DCU??

just wanna know ur opinions on this, it's really interesting to see the diff answers ppl give!

There's probably like hundreds and hundreds of characters I'm forgetting or are gaps in my knowledge because this is DC. Also not including Karate Kid because he's around centuries in the future and also that's basically cheating. -Cassandra Cain, (the only person alive who can somewhat consistently beat Shiva when they're both at their best. Name any martial artist in the DC universe and the odds are she's humiliated them. Like half of the shit she does in every single issue is flagrantly physically/biologically/logistically impossible) -Lady Shiva & Richard Dragon (it's established the two meet up to duel constantly and as of yet neither has definitively proven themselves superior so they share a spot) -White Canary (according to Dinah she's as good as if not better than Cass or Shiva but she does also back down from Shiva like a total wuss so that's probably a slight exaggeration, nonetheless she certainly proves herself to be in the same ballpark) -Strix (Shiva calls her one of the most impressive fighters she's ever seen and shall we say everything we see her do certainly backs up that assessment. Plus she has the same acrobat training as Nightwing) -Conner Hawke (He's basically only ever lost a fair fight to one of the above. He fought Shiva and gave almost as good as he got and even Cass concedes he's pretty good and if you know her she does not compliment lightly) -Bronze Tiger (can handily kick Batman's ass as well as basically everyone else in his league like Deathstroke, Black Canary, Catman etc, can at least hold his ground against the likes of the top 3) -Nightwing (he's usually held to be better than Bats and he's handled Deathstroke with relative ease a couple of times. Not to mention his absurd talent at acrobatics. I'd put him at the top of the A tier) -Deathstroke (we're really splitting hairs at this point but yeah, generally Slade's pretty much considered unstoppable by most people. There's a good reason the Bats' standard procedure when going up against him is to just pay him off) -Black Canary (really this spot could have gone to Batman or David Cain just as easily but in addition to being as good as those two Dinah has the best track record when it comes to being the underdog and winning through sheer grit and adaptability. I'd put my money on her scoring a surprise win against any of the heavy hitters on this list over those two)

[bengiyo]

I’ve just finished my rewatch of Go Ahead, a cdrama you will probably never watch because it’s het and mostly about family trauma. But it’s one of my all time favs and one of the best things about it is the strong found family theme—it’s essentially about three broken families and how they join together as one to support each other. It got me thinking about my fav found family narratives, and especially those that are explicitly queer, because there’s often added life or death stakes in those stories. What are your favorite found family stories in queer media?

This is an interesting question, and I think you qualified appropriately right away by bringing up the life or death stakes of this kind of narrative. I think I want to make a distinction between "finding your people" and "found family" because I think these things often get blurred in romance stories.

Favorite Queer Found Family Stories

For me, a good found family story has to be about the found family component of it. Romance can be a significant portion of the story, but the primary driving relationships need to be about the queers being each other's primary network. I think estrangement from your bio family is a critical component, because knowing you are all each other has is a big part of it.

POSE (2018-2021)

It's really impossible to establish what found family looks like without referring to a show about ballroom culture in NYC in the 90s. We were dying. We were being abandoned. The houses gave people a place to be and a sense of purpose. These kids called their leaders Mother for a reason. Every single queer character in this show was saved by another character in this show before going onto save another character in this show. No show has ever done it like POSE.

Despite their fighting and bickering, Elektra saved Blanca. Blanca would go on to form her own house and provide shelter and support for multiple kids. There is a desperation to queer found family for me that makes it so important. Pray Tell's final choices still resonate with me to this day.

Queer as Folk (2000-2005)

We remember all of the fucking in this show, but this is another show where the queers are their primary support network. Their families aren't really there for them. Justin is kicked out of the house and lives with Debbie for a while, and is nursed by his community after being bashed. Michael and Ben adopt Hunter. Brian donates for Lindsey and Melanie. Debbie housed Brian in the past. Emmett's family disowned him, so his friends are all he's got. The community rallies constantly to protect each other.

Part of what makes this show so special as found family, like with POSE, is how often these folks piss each other off and get into huge fights. They fall out repeatedly in this show over fundamental disagreements that are not easily solved. Some of those fights are ugly in a way only people who know you best can hurt you.

The Fosters (2013-2018)

There's no way I'm not including my favorite TV lesbians of all time raising all them kids on this post. These two public servants found each other, made the difficult choices to be together, and keep expanding their family with more fosters and adoptees over time because there's always more love to go around. This show tackled how important it is to be able to call people family, and what it means for that to be a choice over an obligation. These two always found a way to make it work for their complex family and gave a budding queer the space to grow and be a brat of a teenager after saving him from having the shit beaten out of him for wearing a dress.

Sense8 (2015-2018)

From the directors of The Matrix (1999) and the creator of Babylon 5 (1993-1998), few shows are as queer as Sense8. Eight strangers suddenly become connected to each other and cannot turn it off. Half of them are queer in some way, and it's about their adaptation to each other and looking out for each other as they're literally being hunted. This is one of my favorite sci-fi concepts of all time, and I love the way their relationships outside of their cluster play into their dynamics.

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat (2022- )

This is a recent favorite for this, particularly because of Season 2. In Season 1, we know that Nomoto puts a distance between herself and her family because of the pressure to become a wife. In season 2, we learn that Kasuga has severed ties with her family because of the expectation that she surrender her own life to take care of her family. When she tells Nomoto this, Nomoto gets angry on Kasuga's behalf and they decide to commit to living together. They are also building their community around them, and I better see everyone in their new apartment in season 3.

Gameboys 2 (2022)

So much of what's going wrong for Gav in this season is that he doesn't feel connected to the rest of his bio family after his grandmother passed, and he's desperately holding onto all of the friendships he has because he's so lonely. It's why he's still close with both of his exes (Pearl and Terrence), and why he won't let them go. Also, he's falling apart and Pearl is the one making sure his bills get paid on time.

The Shape of Water (2017)

Shout out to my man Doug Jones for always playing creatures that everyone is attracted to. The way this movie is so much about undesirables choosing to love each other and saving each other. Go watch it if you haven't. This film is not about a sexual awakening. It's about loving inside of a white capitalist structure.

Not Queer But Good

Shout outs for my faves. Some have queer characters in them, but aren't inherently or explicitly queer.

The Golden Girls (1985-1992)

No one did it like them. A bunch of aging women living together and making the most of their lives still resonates almost 40 years later.

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005-2008)

All of these kids are estranged from their families, and are building out something that works over the course of the show.

The Good Place (2016-2020)

I really love that this is a show about people who didn't get it together in life getting it together in the afterlife because they decided to work together, and then to care about each other. When you're literally being tortured by devils, you're all you've got.

What Doesn't Fit?

This is where things can get a little bit wiggly, but why I want to draw a line on this. I think that shows about queer friendship are important, but I also think that there's a difference between "we are all we've got" and "these people are the most important to me." So we end up with shows like the following.

Noah's Arc (2005-2006)

I often call this the Black answer to Queer as Folk, but I don't think it had time to fully-develop the found family themes in a way that QaF did with its much-longer runtime. Noah and his friends are super codependent and absolutely there for each other, but I don't think the absence of their families is explicitly attributed to their queerness but rather a byproduct of the focus on their gay life dynamics in LA. I love this show dearly, but there isn't a desperation to this that belies the family angst necessary for found family.

For The Boys (2021)

In many ways a spiritual successor to Noah's Arc, this show falls into the same place. The friend trio at the core of this is the most important relationship in their lives, but this show doesn't have the necessary found family angst.

What about QL?

For me, the biggest problem with doing found family in QL is that the primary genre is romance. These shows prioritize the way these relationships will turn romantic in a way that detracts from the found family component even when it's present. Also, because QL focuses so hard on coming of age plotlines, there's an element more of "finding your people" that supercedes any found family dynamics.

I Promised You the Moon (2021) is a good example of this. The primary drama of this show is about the romance between Teh and Oh-aew and the complications they face once they leave Phuket. Oh finds his people there and blossoms from it, but this is a story about how he and Teh can't get over each other.

As much as I love What Did You Eat Yesterday? (2019- ), the only real component of that is in Wataru's character. Kenji gets along with his mom and sisters, and Shiro is working on repairing the relationship with his family the entire time.

With Thai BL especially, I feel like they're big on friend groups, but not as big on found family. New Siwaj loves big friend groups that love each other, evinced by Love Sick (2014-2015), Make It Right (2016-2017), Until We Meet Again (2019), EN of Love (202), My Only 12% (2022), etc. He's done some great work in the space with queer friends, but not really queer found family.

Cheewin, a former collaborator of New's, also loves friend groups that have each other's backs. Probably his best example of that is Secret Crush On You (2022) with that friend quartet. The closest I think he came to found family was Uea in Bed Friend.

Another example that comes close is the unit that forms on their road trip in The End of the World With You (2023). I often think about this group of queers and the kid they adopted screaming to the heavens that they want to live.

Something I love, but which doesn't count for me is Our Dining Table (2023). There are powerful family dynamics here, but like in WDYEY they're adding Yutaka to their family and Yutaka reconciles with his adoptive family. I don't generally think that adding a romantic partner to your family counts as found family. Besides, Yutaka has a stable job and housing.

Final Thoughts

For me, the stakes are pretty high with queer found family, and it really needs to have a queer basis for me to feel strongly about it. Going back to their bio family is not an option, and often times the terms we use for traditional relationships don't always fit properly (yet another reason why Unknown got so much right). I don't think it's queer found family when they're students in college whose families just aren't around because they're paying for their kids to go to school. Finding your queer community as an adult is a huge part of growing up, but a queer found family is there for the really ugly and desperate parts of existence that your friends might not see.

[seeker-of-stories19]

Jaime & Khaji Da Headcannons

- Khaji makes a habit of naturally and even subconsciously adjusting Jaime’s body to make it more adaptive, it takes a lot of arguments and reminders for Khaji to stop giving him extra limbs and eventually they compromise on night vision and sometimes fangs/claws

- Khaji still secretly does it at night to pull Jamie’s blankets back up when he insists on sleeping in bed because he will kick them off if he gets hot

- Jaime only wears his Gotham law hoodie at home because he’s worried Khaji will destroy it and it’s his biggest comfort item

- There’s definitely an element of horror in having his body invaded in such a traumatic way, but oftentimes the thing that freaks Jaime out more is that it feels so right. He can’t remember and doesn’t want to imagine what his life would be like without Khaji Da

- Jaime routinely spaces out while talking to Khaji and literally won’t respond to his family. It freaks Bianca out a bit but Milagro and Rudy love messing with Jaime and totally take advantage of it to scare him

- Although one time Rudy jumps on him from behind and scares him so bad he gets electrocuted again, even though Khaji knows he’s not a threat they think Rudy deserves it for making Jaime scared

- After that they stick to hiding his stuff when he’s spaced out communicating with Khaji

- Jaime goes to ridiculously extreme lengths to hide the extent of his trauma because he’s terrified of having to explain what Victoria and Carapax did to him

- Eventually his family starts picking up on it and accommodating him without him asking about it, not coming up behind him, letting sit closest to the exits, not making him wear ties or anything tight around his neck

- It gets to the point where Jaime slowly starts venturing out of his room after panic attacks and nightmares, so he isn’t alone and his family learns that the best way to support him is just looking out for him and not asking about it

- Although there are definitely moments when weird things trigger Jaime and it makes them wonder why having stuff touch his neck causes him to lock himself in his room for hours or blast off to sit on top of a building somewhere

- Khaji is the only one who knows what really happened to Jaime on the island and they’re very protective as a result

- Jaime will absolutely have a breakdown if Khaji takes more than two seconds to answer him because he’s terrified of losing that connection again

- The longer they’re bonded the more Khaji learns about human emotions and experiences, eventually they’re able to contextualize the horror Jaime feels over their bonding and feel guilt for causing him pain. They still don’t understand it in truly human way but they know they hurt him a lot physically and mentally which goes against their purpose

- Jaime spends so much time and energy looking for clothes that won’t show off the bumps along his spine, definitely has to wear stiffer fabric than he likes so it lays somewhat normally

- There’s definitely a period where he tries sticking kinesiology tape over Khaji to try and make the shape less obvious because it’s too hot to wear long sleeves and they burn it off immediately

- Finally after months Milagro points out that if people ask he can just tell them it’s a back brace or some type of medical equipment which makes him feel very stupid for not thinking of it sooner

- He has a lot of scar tissue around where Khaji latched onto his spine even with the advanced healing because of the trauma it put on his body. He also has jagged scars all over his back and shoulders with some stretching down his arms and legs from the electricity since Khaji didn’t have enough resources at the time to heal him fully

- Definitely at least one occurrence where he scares a stranger half to death walking to his car at night because his eyes are glowing yellow

- Jaime saying we instead of I when talking about things, “We’re so tired” and “Gracias we appreciate it”

- Khaji is incredibly attached to Jaime as well, having bonded more intensely to him than any previous host and like Jaime they’re also terrified of being separated, although they know it is an inevitable part of their reality

- Jaime’s family being so confused by what a symbiotic relationship is and definitely asking some invasive questions on accident

- Jaime is sort of permanently torn between horror and affection toward Khaji, a constant tug of war between the violation of being forced to share his body and not truly have control over his body and choices and the fact that their connection feels undeniably right, the understanding on a level he doubts any other human being can comprehend experiencing

- But even on the bad days he doesn’t blame Khaji, they were simply doing what they were programmed to without any understanding of the pain or trauma it would cause

- And he knows they understand it better now and regret ever causing Jaime damage

- Clothes never stop being a problem, he ends up putting all the basics in an Amazon list and reordering a cheap wardrobe every couple months

- On nights he goes to events with Jenny or other nicer things he just prays he won’t transform and accidentally destroy his one suit

- Even though he can never convince Khaji to stop burning his clothes they always protect the necklace he wears of his fathers

- No matter how long they’re bonded Jaime still answers Khaji out loud sometimes, when he’s at home it just leads to some confusion and teasing but he gets some nasty looks in public for mumbling nonsense to himself or talking over people in conversations

- Clicking/chirping sounds when he’s happy

A/N I totally didn’t expect to get this many likes so thank you, maybe I need to do headcannons more often! Anyways please feel free to add to these in reblogs if you have any more ideas and use any of these that inspire you in your own stories! But if you do tag me or send me AO3 links so I can see!!!!!

[tarjapearce]

How can you describe miguel mentally and emotionally ?

Oh man... This is a tough one. I'll start by saying that, even though we saw a glimpse of his mindset on ATSV, we still have sooo much to learn and know about him. (We just had it for 15 mins. jsksk)

I did this thing a while ago, focusing mostly on his grieving that addressed the rest just superficially.

I won't say I know him better than anyone cause

1. No. Characters evolve and I feel it'd be disrespectful af to just reduce him to a couple of traits or claim that I know him better than I know my nipple jsksk.

2. He's a complex character that is so well written that makes us all go psychoanalysing his behavior 🤭. (And love me a man that puts me to think)

But jokes aside.

He's emotionally unavailable. Simple as that. And though it might sound obvious to some, (And our savior complex kicks in and tell us to fix him 👀 yeah, I'm talking to us jsksk) there's no way we can do that, cause that's up to him ~. (And you can't help someone that doesn't wants to be helped.)

Healing takes time. And guess who overworks himself to the point of having his cortisol running 24/7 through his body? Miguel. He doesn't have time for therapy. His fear of watching it all go to hell once more is a too fresh wound. Some traumas last decades, and naturally people find ways around it without interacting with it directly to avoid reliving such impairment.

(I do appreciate the fact that in the new comic book, we see him trying to make amends with Conchata though. He's trying!!! :D.)

2. He's a patient man. I mean, he recruited after all versions of Spiderman that have this trait in common: They're perceived as friendly. And they're mostly young adults and teens. (Both are a handful btw. And most stories and comics Peter Parker is depicted as a 18-23 year old)

But they like pushing his buttons, (cracking a joke every 5 minutes, doing whatever they want even when specific orders were given) however. He doesn't strike me as someone that is mean on purpose, he's just wary but not totally closed off towards people. Wich is kinda contradictory on its own since:

You don't go around trusting people first hand upon just knowing them, right? 👀. But at the same time he showed Miles his own canon event, trying to empathise with him before dropping the bomb. (He was mentally preparing him, something he wasn't able to get but to experience the worst way)

A hypocrite truly. And not in the bad bad way (He calls a nerd the NWH Peter yet he is one) , cynic to an extent (Since he keeps repeating he's been the only one trying to keep it all together, meaning he still doesn't fully trusts the people around him.) A showoff (Did you see the way he turns towards Gwen when he first appears? Or the way he says "I was gonna do that") , arrogant to also an extent. ("It's much more cooler than a watch").

He took the job as a leader cause he knew none else was gonna, and if there was another one willing to assume the role, I'm sure he'd be dissatisfied with it's development cause our man likes to feel safe in when he's in control. (A trait often met in people with generalized anxiety)

And when he's not, his brain immediately goes into threat mode, but even so is able to adapt. (I have a theory he learned this the bad way. We've still got to see the origins of his Rapture intake though 🤔)

Now, we know this man is emotionally unavailable, through and through. His love is work. And married to it.

Now, I might get a bit controversial after this and some might not like it, but I don't think he wants another family after that. (We don't know much about this Miguel's background or family except that he was looking for things, and he found Gabi's universe. And for you to look into another universe in need to be happy says enough to imagine his family or is non existent or is really messed up.)

I know we want him to be happy, (And the producers better give him some healing and closure or else.) Cause he deserves everything. But grieving doesn't work like that. A loss like that is unmeasurable, it changes literally your brain chemistry forever. The least appropriate thing you'd do is have another kid or someone after such event.

(I've seen what that is an it's not nice. Specially for the involved kid)

But we're all ill here so Thank goodness fanfics exist ❤️

He allowed himself to be selfish enough to be happy, had his fun but consequences caught up to him. Consequences that he didn't know and now has him perpetuating his guilt and mind berating.

Hence the workaholic attitude, the coldness. He's done with establishing something with people in general, not just someone special. He's done of getting trampled by life, so he sticks with something he knows he can do very well and pours into it. The Multiverse is his hyperfixation.

Keeps him busy, keeps him on control but curiously and contradictory again, it keeps him needed and useful.

He's a walking contradiction. He doesn't need people to watch over him, not cause he doesn't deserves it. He knows that people worry about him, that's why he just minds his own thing to not be a burden.

Self-Sufficient, over achiever (Alchemax CEO & Spiderman, a genius, bilingual, probably more languages on his list cause he leads a multicultural and multidimensional task force babes ~)

He's not bad, he just doesn't know how to direct his anger or allows himself to feel properly and often rationalises his feelings. (Another coping mechanism where you're tired of feeling stuff and justify difficult or negative with logical thoughts)

But again, curiously knows how to communicate. I know it's fucked to say when he threw a trash bin to Miles before that. But! Hear me out.

Retaking the previous point, he was preparing Miles to give him the talk. After he throws the trash bin, he knows that anger won't solve things (Even though he wanted to give some chancla spanks to Miles for being an anomaly) So he chills, and you can see the transition between being completely furious to a more emotional approach. (Parenting surge there.)

He starts explaining everything from scratch, (literally with drawings and stuff) so Miles wouldn't be lost on what he was on about. Then they moved to the canon events, and shows his major trauma to him as a sign of empathy and an invitation to honest talk.

He admits he doesn't like what he does, and if you look closer his face is so damn distressed when locking Miles in the trap. It pains him, but again, someone has to do it, yet none is scarred enough to bear the burden.

I just want to hug him and send him to therapy. Cause he needs it. (Pretty sure he gave up on that too cause it was too time consuming.)

I'd be satisfied if the writers gave him that ❤️. But yeah. That's one of my many takes on him. Hope it helps c:

[jayladfanpage]

What would be your ideal Outlaws team + how would you go about writing/constructing it? <3

My ideal team is, maybe a little predictably, Jason Todd Eddie Bloomberg and Rose Wilson.

Gosh uhm!! First of all, little to no Gotham issues. I prefer Jason when he isn't in Gotham, or is at least not interacting with the Bats, so it's just easier to have him be somewhere else. Most likely, I'd start it off in Hollywood, because I see it starting with Freshly Revived Eddie (p sure he like, just got revived in the new Flash?) not really understanding what happened for him to die and plus he's just... alone. So he texts Jason and Rose to come visit him! But then when Jay and Rose get there (already skeptical bc hello, Jason hasn't seen Eddie since they were 15 and Rose is literally Eddie's ex) Eddie gets kidnapped by a demon/magician/brother blood/etc and Jay and Rose have to go after him and that sets up the start of the comic

I'd take a more magical route with it, personally. Obviously to connect it to Eddie's whole thing as a demon hunter but also to try and fix the All-Caste stuff that Lobdell came up with. Lots of potential there if it came from a better writer. I don't think Rose does anything with magic in canon, but I do always enjoy watching characters have to adapt to seriously fucked up shit. (Plus, she has Slade's meta powers. She'll be fine.)

This is also like, you know, THE daddy issues team. So many conversations to be had between Jason and Rose about their dads bc Bruce and Slade are eerily similar in how they cope with their respective issues. Jason and Eddie can also connect over their bio dads being kind of shit (I say kind of because there's nothing I hate more than physically abusive Willis Todd. I am not kidding when I say that's the worst Jason retcon that Lobdell has ever come up with) and how they never felt wanted or loved by their parents. All three of them can relate to how their parents' abandonment (or, in Rose's case, Slade's lack of knowledge) shaped them as people. Lotssss of parallels to be drawn here

Also, obviously, Roy Harper cameo. But get this. He's here because of ROSE. I do enjoy platonic jayroy (and romantic but I don't want it to be canon) but I think the connection Roy has with Rose is a little deeper. I think he'd want to check on her after so many years (he was her foster dad! for fucks sake!) and make sure that she's doing well, considering he knows how Jason can Get.

There would also most likely be a YJ/Tim's TT crossover because duh, Eddie and Rose were in TT03 and Jason has his whole Thing (negative) with Tim, but I'm gonna be so vulnerable here and admit that the only TT03 issues I read are the ones with Mia in them + #42 + the one where Rose lights up her cigarette with Eddie's mouth fire. So, you know, can't give much insight here. Not really a Titans fan regardless of the team itself but if this Outlaws was to ever happen I'd want the author to include them in something.

Also, I think we should get a special issue where Slade repeatedly gets his ass kicked. Rose doesn't even participate but Jason and Eddie do it in her honor. Just for funsies

OH ALSO. I'd want them to bring an artist from the 2000s back. I just don't like the current art styles nearly as much </3 unless it's Ngozi. Ngozi's art is too cute to say no and I would kill to see her draw Rose!! Or or, Jason Fabok, because his art is just everything