re-watching The Thundermans and Allison 100% thought Max was gay for a second or smth along those lines 😭
"My parents say I'm going through a phase, too."
"What, an awesome-hair phase?"
"Heh, something like that."
that awkward, almost self-deprecating chuckle before he says "Smth like that," is insane and would 100% make me think he's gay and his parents are super unsupportive 😭 i wish there were more Max Thunderman fics on ao3, he means so much to me
just saw the words "Adirondack style chair" be used in a fanfic and i genuinely had to look that shit up 😭 i was like, "YOU MEAN THE WHITE PICKET FENCE LOOKING CHAIRS ???"
why is writing smut so hard. i'm literally looking away from my screen as i type cause i'm just so. WHY IS WRITING IT SO HARD ??? i do have a slight aversion to sex but PLEASE, PLEASE, I'VE WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE, WHY IS IT ALWAYS SO FUCKING DIFFICULT
the idea that every summer will be as hot if not hotter than this for the rest of my life is unbearable i need to (remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health) murder an oil executive
It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
i was so worried about that, omfg. but we're good !!! the doctor gave me some lotion and antibiotics and she also gave me some ideas for good body wash to use in the area, so yaaayyyyyy
oh i knew that was blonde hair holding baby Jon in that flashback. my fic is now null and void but i still feel compelled to write a series about mega depressed Lex raising Jon, but maybe now with Kara joining him, lmao (not as a ship ofc, ew)
also the title is: i see the stars (one day you'll see them too)
He has only a few more minutes before he has to slip into the sewers and escape through there. He can only pray that neither Henshaw nor his forces find him before his escape. Once he's in the sewers, he'll be lost to them.
The fire has almost reached his safehouse. The fire has been reaching everywhere lately, but Lex has hope his barriers will hold. He doesn't have any real muscle protecting him, but his tech has always done the job.
Lex glances down, eyes catching on the piece of ringed silver hanging around his neck. The two dog tags clink against the silver band, encrusted with a sapphire.
He was always stupid like that, his mind supplies unhelpfully.
He shakes his head, as if to rid the thoughts from his mind. It's the last thing he needs right now. Being remorseful about what's happened in the past. Lex has lived through sheer force of will alone. And the fact that he'd sooner kill himself than allow Henshaw and his monsters to do it for him.
The door far behind him whirs open, and Lex turns at once, broadsword in one hand and his gun in the other. His finger is hovering over the trigger. He almost pushes his finger in, but then he sees who has arrived.
Scowling, Lex turns back around, placing his weapons down. She is no threat. Especially not with the Man of Steel to protect her anymore.
“Lane,” he says coldly. He continues typing on his computer.
“Lex,” she says. She sounds weak, tired. He's not surprised. She's no doubt been on the run for days without that protector of hers.
“Where's Kent?” he asks.
As much of a bumbling fool Clark Kent can be, Lex does enjoy his talks with the man. He especially loves — used to love — getting him riled up about Superman. It was always deliciously fun to watch him try valiantly to defend Superman and what he does, though he must have known the efforts were wasted on Lex, who held no care for the alien.
Lane makes a pained noise, answering Lex's question without even needing to.
“My condolences,” he says plainly, still largely ignoring her.
He hears the door whir shut, though he knows that she still stands somewhere behind him.
“Lex,” she says again. Pleads, really.
Sighing heavily, Lex turns back around, eyes inspecting her at once.
She's wearing tattered jeans, a torn black shirt, and that huge green trenchcoat of hers she always wears. She's holding something, too, though Lex can't be bothered to care about what it is. If it's a bomb and she's looking to kill him for his part in this, as revenge for Superman's death, let her do it.
He hasn't got much going for him anymore, though he hopes she'll wait a few more minutes. Maybe if he told her what he's doing, that he's trying one last hit towards Henshaw before he goes underground and disappears, she'd let him. Hell, they'd probably share a laugh about a job well done before they go out in an explosion.
He winces despite his best efforts not to.
Some weak part of him hopes it's not a bomb. He doesn't want to go out that way. Not like…
“What do you want?” Lex demands, half-bored and half-irritated with how she's interrupted him.
“I–”
Lane is cut off by a sudden boom that rocks his safe house. Lex doesn't react, far too used to them by now, but Lane turns away from the sound of the explosion, her shoulders hunching in on herself, as if she's imagining Superman behind her, shielding her. Stupid, but romantic in a way.
Despite Lex's hate, Superman would be a good asset to have right now. He's better than Henshaw.
Then, to Lex's absolute horror, the bundle Lane holds in her arms begins to wail.
“No,” Lex murmurs, backing away, eyes wide and his hands reaching back to support himself against the edge of his desk.
Bundled in her arms, in Superman's signature red cape, is a baby. A young baby. A few months, at most.
“Lex, please,” Lane says as she limps forward. Her left ankle is twisted and there's blood running down her pant leg. He can see it running down from her thigh, too. There's blood all over her, in fact.
“What do you want?” Lex repeats, more cold than before. He's no longer bored, but he is certainly irritated.
“It's his,” Lane whimpers.
“What?” Lex asks breathlessly. Irritated and confused. He loathes being irritated and confused.
“It's Clark's baby,” Lane says.
“Obviously,” Lex drawls.
“No!” Lane shouts, then winces. Her ankle gives out beneath her, so she's forced to put her weight onto her right leg. “You don't get it! It's Clark! It's Clark and he's — Clark is — was–”
Lane can't get it out, but Lex was a genius at 8 years old. Years ahead of his peers and even his professors. He can understand the context clues given to him by one very upset mother.
Wife, too.
For a moment there, Lex felt a little bad. Losing her best friend, the protector of the world, and her husband within a matter of weeks
Makes more sense now. What especially makes sense is why Clark Kent always got riled up when Lex would insult Superman in front of him. A part of him wants to laugh at the irony. The other part is angrier.
“Clark Kent… is Superman,” Lex says slowly. Then, his expression morphs into a scowl. “What the fuck, Lane!?” he shouts, and the baby wails louder.
“Please!” Lane yells. She holds the baby up, and Lex finally sees it. There, on her side, a gaping wound, blood gushing out and staining her shirt and jacket. “Lex… please. You're the only one I can trust with him. Everyone else is… is…”
Lex wants to shout at her more, but another explosion rocks the safe house. It sounds closer now.
“Fuck, fine,” he says. He hurries forward and grabs Lane's free arm, supporting her over to his chair. He drops her down into it, then drops to his knees in front of her as he tries to inspect the wound. “We'll get you help, Lane.”
“No,” she whimpers, shaking her head sluggishly. “No, no. Not me. I'm… I'm done, Lex.” She places her hand against her wound, and when she pulls it away, dark red blood coats her skin. Lex glances down at the wound, and bile nearly rises in his throat, though he's able to swallow it back down, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He's seen the likes of these injuries before, but on Lois Lane? She's meant to be untouchable. With Superman on her side, always there to protect her, nobody should be able to hurt her.
Except Superman is dead.
Lane's assessment of the extent of her injuries is correct. He doubts anyone could survive this. He can see her organs desperately trying to cling to life, but they're quite literally spilling out of her, along with all the blood that belongs to her body.
“What do you want me to do?” Lex pleads, voice breaking halfway through. He feels traitorous tears in his eyes, and he hurries to wipe them away. With his arms up in front of him, it's the perfect time for Lane to deposit the baby in his arms. “What? N–No, no–”
“Please,” she begs. “Lex, please. He… I think he's like Clark. He's half-Kryptonian. If Henshaw finds him, he'll kill him, or he'll…” Lane begins to cry now, tears springing in her eyes and her voice breaking as she begs Lex. “He'll recruit him. Do what Brainiac did to Kara. Raise him as a weapon. Please, I can't let that happen to my child. My only child.
“Lex.” Lane grabs Lex's hands. He stares up at her, eyes wide. He feels completely out of his depth. “Please, leave me here. Take him.”
Lex turns his head around and looks over his safe house. The cot in the corner he never sleeps on, the sparse photos of what it was like before, his armor. Everything Lex has been for the last few months is in here, bunkered down like he's been, and now it's all going to disappear. Turn to dust and ash and become nothing once more.
“Okay,” he whispers, turning back to Lane, who sobs in relief. “I'll take him.”
“His name is Jonathan Kent,” Lane says. Painfully, she leans forward and places her bloody hand atop his head. “After Clark's dad.” She leans down, despite the protests of her injured body, and places a kiss on top of Jonathan Kent's head. “Mama loves you, Jon. Daddy loves you. So, so much. You're the best of us, all wrapped up in one.” Lane leans back, groaning painfully as she does. She keeps her hand atop Jonathan's head as she continues speaking. “Now, I want you to be kind, okay? Be so kind, Jon. And… and look out for those who can't look out for themselves. Protect them best you can. And… and be good for Lex, okay? He's going to take care of you, now. You're going to be safe. You're going… you're…” Lane's body slumps back, her arms going limp at her side. She whimpers, then says so softly Lex almost misses it, “Clark. I see the stars.”
Lex stares at Lane for a long moment.
Her eyes are still open, and the baby — Jon — is crying still.
“Okay,” Lex whispers to himself. “Okay.”
He wills himself not to cry.
He rises to his feet and closes Lane's eyes, then gently lays her down on the ground. Once that is done, he hastily finishes what he was doing. Once the trap is set, he grabs the longsword off his desk and slides it into the sheath strapped to his back.
He begins to tie Superman's cape around his shoulder, using it like a swaddle for the baby. As he does so, something falls out of the cape and slowly floats to the store. Bending down, Lex scoops up the photograph.
It's Lane and Kent in the country, probably their stupid farm, holding the baby. They're all smiling and uninjured and alive in the photo. Lex swallows back his rising terror, then grabs his rucksack full of everything important and hauls it onto his back — it's very light — and grabs his gun, strapping it to the holster on his thigh, though he keeps his hand near to the handle and trigger.
“Alright, Jonathan,” Lex says. He does not feel as confident as he sounds. “We're going to be leaving now.”
The baby coos up at him.
Now that Lex is looking at the baby, truly looking at him, he can see how much the baby resembles his father. With bright blue eyes and black hair, he looks like someone who belongs to the sky.
“I…” Lex turns back to Lois. She looks peaceful, despite the blood all over her. Lex Luthor has never been a religious man, but he hopes she's in whatever afterlife there might be and greeting Clark Kent. Superman. Lex looks back down at Jonathan, who is still babbling up at him, his little hands reaching up and slapping Lex's cheeks.
There's a bloody handprint on the boy's head, and it makes something swoop in Lex's stomach. He can't say what it is, can't put words to it, but he made a promise to Lois to protect her son, and he will.
“I'm gonna protect you,” Lex tells the boy. “You're safe now, Jon Kent.”
Here's the link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88320381
oh sweet, bald Lex Luthor peek. so anyway, i'm assuming Connor is NOT in this, lmao. anyway, I actually love "couples kid from the future coming back to the past for some reason" trope
