#brian kyle

[whywhywhymoney]

Heya fams! 👋 I’ll def answer your ask but probs on my dc side blog sometime. 

Same question right back at you! Karl and Felicia Kyle HCS! You already did tell me a bit which was really good! You’re so creative. 

Use this ask as a place to ramble about the Kyle fams if you’d like! Also ikrrr, I think Brian Kyle can have some nuance too. It’s super impressive you’ve made a 3 gen fam tree for em! Love that. I’m so intrigued! 

I gave Brian a sis. Turned the Calabrese fams into Brian’s in-laws through said sis. So Sel can still have her cousins without having Rex Calabrese as her dad like dc retconned at a point! 

Maybe you should make an obscure character masterlist for your fave characters in fandom? If ya wanna. Sounds hectic but then you can cross-reference it and people visiting your blog can read up bout the blorbos and find out about more underrated characters! 

ooh see, that's where my imposter syndrome is gonna kick in hard because I definitely don't consider myself an authority on any character, I just like what I like and get really into it, and then when I find out it's obscure I'm like - whaaaa? But it's peak!?!?

I dunno if I could make a Masterlist, I think other's have covered that better than I could, but I appreciate the thought

I do feel you on Selina's cousins, even though I wasn't a fan of the new 52 retcons I think Valentine's run really redeemed it and it's definitely put in the work to be a nice alternative origin for Selina (I think the Falcone thing was just so boring and unimaginative, and doesn't serve Selina's story all that well, but that's me)

Ultimately though I hugely prefer Brian and Maria Kyle's Troubled Interracial Working Class background for Selina above everything else. I think it's just so rich, and works incredibly well when correlated with real life. There's one thing I do hold onto from the New 52 and it's Bruce's birth year (and Helena's by extension) being set in stone as 1973. And I've kinda used that to workshop everything else about the Kyle and Wayne families as I think it was a febrile moment in real history.

I've mentioned before on my blog but, the idea of Brian and Thomas both being Vietnam War vets is very compelling to me, and how it informs their actions. And for Brian too, as someone who I have as being born in the 50s, it's not at all unlikely for him to be a 2nd gen Irish immigrant - presumably with still strong ties to Ireland. I knew pretty quickly that I wanted to incorporate that as part of his backstory, and make him witness to some of those real life tragedies that happened in that timeframe. So even before he marries Maria/goes off to Vietnam, this guy has seen some real shit.

What I really wanted to work out - is why someone like Maria (a Cuban refugee) - would marry someone like Brian who in his few panels has shown to be casually racist. There had to be something there. And for me, I think I wanted Brian and Maria to be able to relate to each other on a deeper level through their homelands and the differing struggles happening in either one.

In my hc, Brian gets along pretty well with Maria's dad, as he can completely relate to the Irish struggle and picked up arms himself as a teen in Cuba (whether Brian actually did the same with the IRA is something I'm gonna keep as officially unconfirmed bc I think it's funnier in universe if everyone debates about it).

But yeah I've given both Maria and Brian big families (bc Catholics in the 40s/50s? Cmon). And both of them are the youngest child in their respective families. Brian has like 4-6 siblings imo and Maria has 2 much older sisters. I have Maria's family history solidly down, I like to think her mother (who has shown up in a couple of my fics as Selina's unnamed grandmother) was a Canary Islander (this contributes to the Kyle sisters ethnic ambiguity), while Maria's dad was from a well off family who saw the injustice around him and was fuelled to make it better. It got him into trouble and so his father sent him off to America in the 30s when he was 18/19. And he comes by his girlfriend's house the night he's supposed to leave and she decides to throw caution to the wind and go with him. Sometime after they settle in Gotham she gets a letter from her father telling her to never come back 🥲😔 poor baby.

But yeah a lot of this was me going through why there was a sizeable Cuban community in New Jersey (which is basically Gotham) pre-Revolution, and realising it mapped out ridiculously well for the political ideals that I wanted to have run through the Kyle family.

Going back to Brian though, as you asked about him, I wanted him to experience something that I and perhaps other 2nd gen immigrants have. Where the country we now live in and are citizens of may be 1st world countries, with all the bells and whistles that come with it, but it still isn't home. Brian's family has cut him off presumably since he married Maria, so I assume there were tensions there beforehand. Hc that his mother died when he was very young, maybe due to complications from childbirth, and it was something he had hanging over his head from a young age.

Brian's dad is definitely a hard ass, who's only redeeming quality is that he loves his daughters. But that hasn't extended to his granddaughters (that he has never met. If he ever did he'd love them too). There's friction between the both of them, and Brian is probably craving for some love and affection that he doesn't really get at home, and his older sisters are way too busy tryna get out of this madhouse to pay attention to him. So he acts out, gets in trouble, gets "disciplined" for it way beyond what's necessary.

The highlights of young Brian's life is visiting family in Ireland, specifically Derry which at this time is embroiled in the Troubles. Its dangerous, his family doesn't want him to even leave the front door, and he still has the time of his life just because of the love he's shown. This part is a little projection from myself - I was never badly behaved or anything - but to this day I feel a lot more love and at home when I'm in the motherland compared to when I'm at "home". I thought it was a phenomenon definitely worth writing about.

So already, as you can see, a lot of trauma is filling up inside this guy, way before he turns into the abusive husband we know. And I also just realised I haven't mentioned anything about Karl and Felicia 😭🥲

I have them as 5 years younger than Selina, and as twins of course. Also, as Selina, Maggie and Felicia all have names which aren't particularly Irish, I like to think Brian wanted to name Karl but his real name is Carlos. The nickname is the compromise between both (side note but as Selina is the first child I hc her as having an aggressively Irish middle name. Maggie’s name is long enough as is so she didn't get one. Selina's jealous of that).

I think Karl is theeeee youngest brother to ever youngest brother, he could give Damian Wayne a run for his money. I think while Felicia loves her job as flight attendant and being able to see the world in a way she could only dream of as a poor kid, Karl is very happy to hustle his way through life. Especially after the family is broken up, Karl ends up with his hard ass Irish grandpa, who is no less tough on him than he was on Brian.

In the story that I have plotted out, he's a constant runaway who CPS totally give up on. A subplot/theme that runs through it is the inherent racism in the system where the family is totally broken up, and the one person who would be their best caregiver (Maria's mother) is constantly sidelined as she's not white and doesn't speak English.

Karl's getting run ins with the police over every little thing and every time they find him, they dump him right back at his grandpa. If you've ever read Shazam, he's like a more street version of Billy Batson. He keeps tryna get in contact with Felicia, who was split up from him when they were 9 and has bounced through Foster families since. Eventually they'll all be reunited at some point. But the crux is just how hard you have to fight for family, whether blood or otherwise, and how every member of the Kyle family (including Holly!) Works or doesn't work towards that.

As for Felicia, when she was still with her parents, she was the perfect brat. And I mean in the sense she was angelic to her parents but could be a total demon to her siblings when she wanted to be. But cut her some slack, she was like 6! After they've been put into Foster care, the both of them do try to be reunited with *someone*, and go to the church where their grandmother often is to try to impress that upon her (kiddos she's trying 😩).

When nothing happens after that, Felicia gives up and starts just being a model angelic child again so they don't get kicked out of another Foster placement. Karl obviously doesn't want to accept that reality and keeps fighting. When they're 9, they get separated as Karl is sent to the only relative CPS deems appropriate, and Felicia STILL gets shifted around between Foster parents. She's very resentful of this fact, and resembles Selina in that respect.

In fact, I've made them foils of Selina and Maggie. Where Karl is openly chaotic about what he wants, which can resemble Selina, he's actually just doing it because of how much he cares. And while Felicia outwardly seems demure, calm and respectful, inside she's just as if not more anarchic than Selina and has a seething core of rage that's always so close to the surface. Only Karl can make her break her facades easily.

But yeah, as an occupation, I think Karl would do great as a stand up comedian or musician, or both! Channelling all that turmoil to something positive would be easy for someone as affable and charming as him.

[blueueee]

brian!!

[annons-art]

had a shit ton of fun drawing with @notadreamurr!! highly recommend checking out their stuff its super awesome sauce so many fandoms lmao

click for better quality tumblr is homophobic

sorry for the mass amount of tags HAHHA

PROGRAM USED:

magma

commission me!

[fuck-u-maga]

He's right about one thing. No one should confuse a cold blooded killer with Luigi.

[theconcealedweapon]

Luigi Mangione killed a member of the ruling class.

Kyle Rittenhouse killed people who were protesting against the ruling class.

But for some strange reason, there are people who believe Kyle Rittenhouse is a "patriot" and Luigi Mangione isn't.

[jasvvy]

trust ibushi to neck bump off a bicycle.

[kayfabe-is-king]

This was insane! I love that we basically had a non sanctioned handicapped match right off the bat tonight.

[gh0st-patr0l]

This is the Murder Machines w/ Davis btw

[djkerr]

NCIS and NCIS Origins cast members at tonight's Bulls vs. Lakers game.

(March 22, 2025)

📷 @katrinalaw IG stories

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇ ☉ ∇

Songbird on a Wall

this is my first full-length fic. please be kind. this isn’t beta’d

[ tw for references to death and grief ]

The military didn’t leave time for many hobbies.

Sure, the men all went out for drinks most Fridays, and sometimes after they finished drills for the day, they’d have a couple hours to catch an episode of Jeopardy or read a chapter or two of a book, but for the most part, their lives were strictly dominated by missions.

Sometimes, though, the 141 would find time for their own little slices of life. Soap had his journal, Gaz had his computer games. Roach loved fantasy novels, Ghost had taken up knitting. And Price– did chain-smoking count as a recreational activity? It seemed to relax him, anyway.

Sergeant Paul “Scanner” Hamish Mander, however, seemed to be a soldier and only a soldier. He woke exactly at lights-on and went to bed at exactly lights-out. He followed the schedule down to the letter and most days the team had to physically drag him away from the training field.

Scanner was quiet but not closed-off, reserved but not standoffish, polite but not overly social. He was a crack shot with an automatic rifle and had nerves of steel, making him a valuable asset on the field. Every order he was given was executed with precision and without hesitance.

What the team didn’t know was that he also loved music. Scanner had learned to sing and play the guitar from an early age during a summer spent with his uncle in County Clare, though he hadn’t picked up an instrument since before he enlisted nearly eleven years ago. God, he’d been young, hadn’t he? Just a pup, really, with no idea what he was getting into, being fed off of convoluted songs of glory and honor.

He knew now that there was no honor in war. When it was down to him or the enemy, he would fight like a pit-bred dog, tooth and nail, to protect himself and his team.

Scanner realized that his moods had been off as of late; the stress of their work got to everyone eventually. The Scouser had finally hit his limit, so, with what pay he’d had put away for later, he bought himself a guitar and some extra strings, hoping that the music would help to temper his disquieted psyche.

He’d been slipping away to practice whenever he could. He was already good, but he strove to improve, just like in his work. He fancied himself a Michelangelo… now to make sure his art was as good as his reputation.

Now he was awake before the first pale grey light of dawn, perched like a songbird upon the half-wall that surrounded the entry point of the officers’ quarters, hoping to snag a few precious minutes before the daily bugle sounded and he had to listen to Soap groan about the hangover headache the Scotsman would doubtlessly have from the previous night’s intoxication.

Scanner slipped off his gloves to reveal dexterous hands mottled dark pink with burn scars. He almost always kept them hidden– they brought up old memories that he would rather forget. His fingers, though discolored, were still nimble as they plucked out a slow tune on the guitar.

Meanwhile, Soap, who had woken up to take a piss, had overheard the folk-ballad style music and peeped out the door to investigate. Though he was bleary from sleep, he recognized Scanner’s scrawny form up on the wall. Against his first instincts to just barge right into the scene, Soap remained quiet and paused to listen. His piercing blue eyes widened after a few moments, and he trundled back into the building.

Like a whack-a-mole in an arcade game, Soap popped back up about a minute later, trailing a sleepy-but-interested Gaz and Roach. Ghost loomed behind them like a ghoul.

Scanner had begun to sing while Soap was gone. The Scouser had a fine tenor voice, just the right amount of husky as he crooned out a chorus to a song that sounded like something from a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Old-souled and heartfelt.

“When the rounds of bullets fire,

Keep your heads down.

When the brave ones pass on by ye,

Keep your heads down.”

“Bloody ‘ell,” whispered Soap. Gaz elbows him in the side to keep him quiet, but the Scotsman couldn’t resist another low remark: “Got a fine set of pipes on him.”

“When the hero’s blood runs red,

And you’re scared to raise your head,

Just be glad that you ain’t dead.

Keep your heads down.”

The song was on-the-nose for their soldier’s life, hitting perhaps a bit too close to home for the men. Soap shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Roach’s brow furrowed in concern.

“You won’t win no medals here,

Keep your heads down—“

It was true— none of them were awarded recognition for their black ops. With it being strictly confidential, it couldn’t be risked. The men were under-appreciated by everyone except for Laswell.

“—Don’t be fools who know no fear,

Keep your heads down.”

Soap especially felt called-out by that line. He had a tendency to let his Scottish hot-headedness flare up like a bonfire left unattended and rush into a hostile situation guns-blazing, hackles raised like an angry mongrel. More often than not, it was either Scanner or Ghost who saved the Sergeant’s arse from being handed to him by two-to-one odds.

“We can all lay low and sing,

Duckin’ grenades and bullet’s zings.

Let ‘em chuck most anything,

But keep your heads down.”

“D’ye think he wrote this?” Gaz murmurs to Roach, who just shrugs helplessly. Scanner is still facing away from them, completely unaware of his audience.

“You won’t get no martyr’s send-off,

Keep your heads down.

Just a bullet as your payoff,

Keep your heads down—“

The men collectively winced. It was a grim reality for them. Any mission, any breath, could be their last. Playing the hero or the martyr just threw away the life of one more number on some general’s spreadsheet, accomplishing nothing even when done for the sake of their country.

“You ain’t gonna win the war,

You ain’t gonna make it home,

Cursed; forever more to roam,

Keep your heads down.”

Gaz’s dark-bright eyes were shining with unshed tears now. Soap swallowed hard.

The thought that someday they’d all be removed from the field in a body bag was something that they’d had to accept long ago, but it made their stomachs churn nonetheless. In Task Force 141, there was no such thing as retiring. They fought until they died, the end.

“Thought I’d go out with my team,

Kept my head down.

Captain drilled it into our brains,

Keep yer heads down—“

Ghost frowned behind his skull mask. Was the Captain in the song Price? The Lieutenant wasn’t sure, but he had an unsettled sense that he would find out.

Soap, however, stifled a quiet chuckle, thinking it clever and amusing that Scanner would quote Price in a song. The tough-as-nails, hard-arsed Captain certainly was the kind of CO to berate them for not keeping their heads down and taking proper precautions in a war zone.

Price did it out of care, of course. It was tough love, but Price wouldn’t lose more men than he had to. If that meant a good, old-fashioned hollering session, then so be it.

“Now they’re rotting in their graves,

And I survived, or so they say—“

The men’s eyes widened as Scanner continued the macabre lyrics. The song wasn’t about the 141, then, and the Captain mentioned wasn’t Price. The 141 were definitely not yet dead, despite the carrion birds that flocked in their wake after every op.

“—wish I’d taken mortar with my mates,

But I kept my head down.”

Roach looks like he might be ill. He felt for certain that Scanner had been the one to write the dirge. The speech patterns lined up exactly with the slang-throwing Scouser that Sanderson had come to see as a brother.

But with that realization came another, far more sickening.

They all knew that Scanner had been in the Ranger’s Regiment before being reassigned to Task Force 141. Most of his file was blacked out, requiring a higher level of clearance to be viewed. There was little about his former team or why he had been accepted into the Special Forces.

This song was clearly that story. The men were perceptive— they had to be to survive in their line of work. They could put two and two together.

Wish I’d taken mortar with my mates.

Scanner’s team had been killed in action.

“Bounced around from base to base,

Kept my head down.

Doctors sayin’ I need space,

Keep my head down—“

“Och, Paul,” Soap breathed out, his expression pained. He knew what it was like to lose mates, aye, but to lose an entire unit at once, and then have to be placed with a brand-new team to start over? It would be an unimaginable grief.

Gaz looked shocked to his roots. His hand was gripping Roach’s sleeve. “It’s just a song, right? Maybe he’s just singing to be singing.”

“He’s not the kind of man t’say something just for the ‘ell uvvit,” Ghost gruffed out, his Manchester accent thick with repressed emotion. “Never ‘as been.”

“Now I’m with the 141,

Though I thought my life was done.

Maybe learn them through this song

To keep their heads down.”

Scanner strummed the final chord and the note faded into a shimmering echo in the still morning air. Sunrise was painting the horizon with pale pinks and oranges, the clouds streaks with lavender as if the rosy fingers of Lady Eos herself had taken up a watercolor brush to delicately layer over the foggy grey of pre-dawn.

Soap took a step forward, his heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete. Scanner’s gaze snapped up and he swiveled, one hand reaching for his empty holster so quickly that he nearly dropped his guitar.

“Easy, now.” Soap raised a placating hand as Scanner exhaled in relief. “S’just me, laddie. Tha’ was a right pretty tune ye was warblin’.”

Scanner hesitated momentarily, already swiftly setting his guitar aside to pull on his usual black gloves, hiding his patchworked hands. “I, er, didn’t know anybody else was listening,” he muttered gruffly. He pulled up his gaiter scarf and plunked his helmet down over the messy crop of his greige hair.

“Ah heard ye an’ couldnae help but come tae listen,” Soap explained, rubbing the back of his neck almost apologetically. He had the decency to look sheepish, at least. “Yer right good. Where did ye learn tha’ song?”

Scanner hopped nimbly from the wall, cracking his lower back with a low groan of relief. “Wrote it. Just a wee ditty. S’nothing special.”

The team’s hearts sank to the pit of their stomach. Roach’s guess had been correct; the events of the song were the events that had led up to Scanner being placed in the 141.

Gaz wiped at his eyes, sniffling. “S’really good. You’re a proper Ed Sheeran, mate.”

Scanner gave a low chuff of laughter. “You’re talkin’ a load o’ shite.”

Gaz sniffled again, but managed a weak smile. “I’m not takin’ the piss, really.”

“Yeah, mate, you’re bloody talented,” Roach added, but Scanner just waved a dismissive hand. As if the Scouser had no idea how the other men were crumbling on the inside thinking about his past.

But Scanner wasn’t quite so clueless as he appeared. Admittedly, he hadn’t known that they were listening, but now he did and he recognized that they would have deciphered the meaning of the words. The lyrics certainly weren’t subtle, by any means. Bordering on blasé, really.

But Scanner was a proud man, even if he didn’t like to admit it. He had once been more open, but an adult life of hard training had overrode whatever natural instincts towards emotional vulnerability that he might have once possessed. He’d built up walls, similar to the one he’d just been sitting on, and like that wall, it would take a helluva lot to knock ‘em down.

So instead of acknowledging the questions that were clearly bubbling just under the faux-calm facade that Soap, Gaz, and Ghost were just barely maintaining, Scanner turned and walked inside.

“Go ahead to the mess hall without me,” he called over his shoulder, as it was their usual routine to eat together before being given their orders for the day. “I’ll put away my guitar and be there in a bit.”

Gaz and Soap shared a helpless glance. Ghost looked as if he wanted to follow Scanner, but was holding himself back, the muscular tank of a man withholding his concern behind his balaclava.

“If yew two are so worried about him,” Ghost said after a long moment where they were all collecting their thoughts and smoothing over their emotions, “then go see Price. ‘M sure he’ll know about whatever this lil performance was.”

Soap looked up at the Lieutenant. The Scotsman was biting his lower lip in the way he always did when he was anxious. The man had a heart as big as Mother Terasa’s herself.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Roach interjected. “Going to talk to Price, I mean. He’s the one who recruited Paul in the first place.”

Ghost gave Roach a withering look. “Callsigns or last names only, Sanderson. Don’t make me report ye for breach o’ protocol.”

Roach gave a small huff. “He’s the one who recruited Scanner in the first place,” he corrected with all the sass of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Soap clapped the smaller man on the back. “Aye, Roachie. Let’s go see if the boss man is in his office, eh?”

“Because he’s got some explaining to do,” added Gaz, his expression determined. “We ought to have the right to know the past of our own teammate, don’t we?”

The four men nodded curtly, almost in unison. Whatever had occurred in Scanner’s past that would warrant the words in that song, they would uncover it. You couldn’t run a team without honesty and trust.

And they all felt a bit hurt that Scanner hadn’t trusted them enough to tell them what had happened himself.

What do you think? Should I continue with a part two?

note:

The tune to the song and the first two lyrics + chorus is adapted from “Keep Your Heads Down” by Brian Jacques. Here is the audiobook version for those wondering what the beat of the song is. ( link will take you directly to YouTube and is secure )

The rest of the lyrics are of my own creation.

pt.2 here

[whywhywhymoney]

Small details of Selina's childhood nobody really picks up on that can be really fleshed out:

She goes to Catholic school. For a family that's really struggling it must take an awful lot of effort to afford the fees for 2 children to go to Catholic school - though I'm sure it's subsidised with bursaries and the like, it's still a (considerable) additional expense in a family that already struggles with daily bills. And as Brian is the only breadwinner, it certainly seems like the continued effort to keep both sisters in school seems largely down to him, even if Maria was the one who initially pushed for it. These parents give a lot of shits about their kids' futures, even if Brian is an abusive asshole!

Maria and Selina and Brian all mention at separate points that Brian's family are pretty antagonistic towards them. Selina seems to blame them for Maria's suicide, but never Maria herself. Maria blames them for their uh - marital issues and doesn't think highly of them. Brian at one point must have agreed with her but has spun around to thinking they were right in their objections to their marriage was. To be honest, it's hard to discern his true thoughts as he said this in the heat of the moment in an argument. And what we see of him after Maria dies is a totally broken man, who doesn't have anything bad to say about his wife at all and seems to miss her deeply. People, sigh, so complicated.

Selina does have cousins on her Cuban side. She's mentioned owing them a visit so it's safe to assume Maria has siblings and they were a part of Selina's childhood to a big enough and positive extent that not only does she want to visit them again but she feels she owes them that favour. A fairly big contrast as to how Brian's side of the family is seen by her.

Selina keeps Maria's cross necklace with her. You very rarely see Selina deal with her Catholicism, she very occasionally is seen wearing a cross necklace, in fact Helena Wayne across multiple incarnations has more regularly worn a cross, whether as a necklace (more often) or earrings (I find this an interesting tidbit to file away). However, Selina is very protective over her mother's necklace, and almost loses it when she thinks Maggie's taken it. It does seem like Selina believes in her religion but doesn't subscribe to the institutional aspect at all. Considering how fraught Selina's childhood and teenage years were, it must have taken a lot of effort to have even managed to keep this one small thing with her. But she has, and she's very possessive over it.

Brian overtly does not hit his kids! This is a big one for me, as there's been every opportunity to show it, but at every opportunity it's been shown that while Brian was an alcoholic, mentally absent, and in Selina's case emotionally abusive (although again, his comments about her were always directed to Maria, and as a way to hurt Maria) he categorically did not physically abuse his children. In fact, the very few instances we see of him having to raise Selina alone show a dad who does listen to his kids' and their questions, and answers them thoughtfully enough. Essentially the picture of Brian Kyle is quite a bit more nuanced than fanon allows for, and I'll probably have to dedicate a post to these parents later

[lightningcrashes]

KYLE GALLNER as BRIAN Losers Take All | 2011

[unhinged-bucks-730]

what is wrong with him? 😭

[frontmansdefender]

[under-the-knife]

Our Love Was Like A Sad Song // Real Friends

[treevore]

i know the don callis family's always got me when it comes to homoerotic violent menacing