#his biggest bully is the author themselves

[zodiac-keeper]

So his yorishiro huh….

[laughingcatwrites]

As a reminder that good exists out there, a coworker recently confessed to me that he found out his child is questioning their identity (kid's gender redacted for this post). The kid is keeping it from him, so he can't say anything to them or show that he knows, but he's doing his best to get mentally prepared and educated so that he'll be ready whenever his kid does feel comfortable enough come to him.

For context, this guy is a big, bulky middle aged dude who loves sports and typical outdoor "manly" activities. As his coworker and friend, I know he's a kind and sweet teddy bear of a person, but his kid probably views him as a stern, authoritarian figure, the way most teenagers view their parents. His family lives in a conservative area, so I'm sure between that, their dad's looks and interests, and the fact that their dad is a Figure of Authority, the kid is worried that they won't be accepted.

But you know what? When he found out about his kid, the first thing he did was reach out to his closest queer friend and ask for resources for parents of questioning children. His biggest fears are that his kid will be bullied or discriminated against and won't feel comfortable enough to be themself. His second action was to find himself a mentor in another parent who went the same situation (kid coming out in a conservative town). The other person is preparing him for some of the struggles his kid may face and the fights he may need to take on as a parent to make sure his kid is safe and treated well.

Something I want to emphasize for people focused on language as the primary method of allyship is that when we spoke, he used some outdated terms and thoughts about gender and sexuality. That does not make him bad. These were the terms and thinking used about questioning teenagers when he was growing up and he never needed to learn more current ones. But now that he does have that need, he's throwing himself in head first because that's his kid and he's darn well going to make sure that his kid feels welcomed and has a safe place to be themselves even if they never come out to him.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

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[ultralightpoe]

Full House - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.

Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.

Part ll HERE

(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )

Enjoy!

(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)

Eddie Munson was many things in life. 

Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course. 

Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week. 

Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year. 

It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight. 

So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?

Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way. 

“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy. 

His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….” 

Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”

“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes. 

“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”

“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”

Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin. 

Was he blushing? Shit, he was. 

Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder. 

“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair. 

“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”

“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”

“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”

“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying. 

“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”

“She hit me!”

“He pushed me!”

“And then she bit me!”

“He pulled my hair!”

“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”

“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent. 

“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”

“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny.  Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”

“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”

He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school. 

“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”

And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”

The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy. 

Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.) 

His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him. 

- 

“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”

“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling. 

“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”

“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs. 

“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”

“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”

“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

  “Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour. 

You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling. 

“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her. 

“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”

“Motley, do not-”

“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up. 

Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard. 

“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit.  “Mama! Daddy Eddie!” 

“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes. 

“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape. 

Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves. 

- 

Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away. 

They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers. 

They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp. 

Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head. 

“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”

“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up. 

“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap. 

“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”

“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time. 

“What’s the rush?”

“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted. 

- 

Blurb song inspo hereeeee . 

The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar. 

Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music. 

Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you.  Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well. 

You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along. 

“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders. 

They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it. 

“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you. 

“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”

“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”

“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.

“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”

“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down. 

“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly. 

“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily. 

“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”

“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling. 

“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”

- 

Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair. 

You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv. 

Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls. 

He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair. 

“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him. 

It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”

Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks. 

Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god. 

“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him. 

“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.  

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

- 

Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face. 

That someone was Gareth. 

His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now. 

But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys. 

Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit. 

The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”

“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm. 

“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile. 

“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch. 

The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad. 

They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!” 

“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat. 

“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it. 

‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”

“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”

“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”

Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers. 

Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system. 

An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it.  Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends. 

“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing. 

“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face. 

“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”

He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off. 

- 

“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend. 

Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look. 

 You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”

“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”

Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”

“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs. 

“Where is El tonight?”

“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace. 

“You good?” 

“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’

“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead. 

“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”

“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy. 

“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs. 

“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital. 

He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything. 

Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her. 

- 

Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee 

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him. 

This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn. 

You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking. 

Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece. 

“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”

Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were. 

“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”

“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers. 

“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile. 

“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy. 

“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood. 

“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh. 

“Language, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”

“Woah.”

And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.

- 

Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table. 

Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth. 

“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away. 

“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”

“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.

“I knew it-”

“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”

A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”

“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs. 

“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes. 

“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense. 

“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”

“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”

“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”

He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”

“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”

Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy. 

- 

It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it. 

He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare. 

Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her. 

“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”

“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”

“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”

He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”

“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide. 

“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over. 

“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed. 

What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!” 

Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs. 

“Did she say-?” He starts.

“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door. 

Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-

No.Fucking. Way.

Part ll HERE

(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)

Taglist:: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel

[starcrossedreaders]

HELLO! I noticed that your requests are open AAAAH! BUT before i will tell you mine i need a silent minute to appreciate your work. ......

THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR WRITING STYLE, YOUR CREATIVITY, YOUR MIND, YOUR BODY, YOUR FAMILY, YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD AND OF COURSE FOR YOU!!!! because your writing style?! Im always kicking my feet how you picture Leon skdjdkdnrekekddjfj. So umm yeeah my request, if you will so kindly agree with writing it down, your majesty. KABEDON!🧎‍♀️ Yeah you saw right KA-BE-DON. I, because i love, once again your writing style, let your fantasy bring out the best of you! Love you and now i will, finally take my leave. (I dont want to pressure you so, if i can, feel free to ignore this! And sorry if there was some kind of a mistake! English is not my first language tee hee) SENDING LOVE 🦫

Author's Note: KABEDON!!! Whenever I think of Leon and kabedon I can only picture a cocky RE2 STEP BRO LEON. So that's what I just wrote :) and Im not sorry. ENJOY!

Warnings: StepBro!Leon, stepcest Fem implied reader. Oral male receiving, sloppy toppy, cursing, uses of names like whore and slut Leon being a meanie weenie :(

Summer was always a dreadful time for you. Divorced parents were nothing to take lightly, especially when your mom packed her bags and moved across the country. In that short period of time, she found a wonderful husband who just also happens to have a son your age. Leon, the biggest asshole you have ever met in your lifetime.

These first few weeks have been awful, the teasing and bullying were getting on your nerves. Today was going to be no different. Your mom and Leon's dad went off to work in the early hours of the day, leaving you two alone once again.

Rolling over in your bed you could hear Leon's loud music playing in the garage. Looking at the time on your phone you groaned. 8:30 in the morning and he's already working on that damn Jeep. Whoever told him that building a Jeep was a great idea is stupid.

Rolling out of bed you lazily put on some shorts. Swinging your door open the cool A/C greeted you. Basking in the cool air you took your time to walk to the connected garage.

When you opened the door loud music spilled into the quiet house. Scanning the garage you were met with Leon's back contorting with each movement. The garage door was open and his Jeep was parked half-way into the garage. Leon was ducked under the hood as he worked on something. His t-shirt was tucked into his jean pocket. His other pocket had an assortment of tools. You watched as a bead of sweat ran down his neck onto his back, entranced by his tan skin and muscled back.

Cringing at the thoughts that ran through your head you walked down the few steps and stormed over to his speaker and slammed down on it, abruptly stopping the music.

"Good morning to you too," Leon wasn't phased one bit. This wasn't the first time you've done this to him these past weeks.

"Seriously Leon, you're going to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood." You watched as Leon worked on the engine hands on your hips.

He twisted his arm to tighten a bolt before he carefully ducked out from under the hood. Grabbing a work rag he turned around and leaned on the car. Leon gave you a look of annoyance but you were too busy admiring his arms.

As he wiped the grease off of his hands his forearms would twist causing his veins to reveal themselves. Trailing your eyes up you tracked his defined collarbone and dragged your eyes down to his chest. His v-line hid behind his boxers. His jeans hung off his hips showing the elastic of boxers. Sweat dripped down his chest down to his grease-covered stomach. He had noticeable abs that moved as he pushed himself off of the car.

Leon watched as you practically undressed him with your eyes. The smirk that adorned his face was almost cocky if it weren't for his boyish features that still remained. To enamored by your thoughts you didn't notice Leon push off of his Jeep and stalk over to you.

Before you could chastise Leon again your back hit the wall as a soft don rang to the left side of your head. Leon's musk scent wafted to your nose as his body heat radiated into you. Your nose bumped into his chest as you looked up at him. Leon was already looking down at you with that stupid smirk on his face.

"Y'know it's not nice to stare, especially at your own brother." His voice was deep and husky. His hot breath fanned over your face.

Scoffing you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting, besides it's not like you're my actual brother."

Leon clicked his tongue. "I wasn't the one staring sweetheart." The name made your stomach twist and thigh squeeze together.

"Whatever, just keep the music down." You tried to duck under Leon's arm to leave this awful situation.

Before you could make your escape Leon's hand wrapped around your hair and shoved you to your knees. The hard cement bit into your knees as you slammed to the floor. Leon's hand held the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He angled your head so you looked up at him. His other hand came down and cupped your cheek. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip before he pushed it into your mouth.

"God, you look so good on your knees little sis." A groan lay dormant in the back of his throat.

Your eyes scanned over his body trying to avoid his icy blue stare. Trailing down to his groin you were met with his member tight in his jeans. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"See what you do to your brother. Walking around in those skimpy shorts. You're practically begging to get bent over and fucked." His lewd words made your pussy clench around nothing as the hot arousal made your head heavy and full of want and need.

Pulling his thumb out of your mouth his hand went up to his jeans and unzipped them. He pumped his dick a few times before he pulled the raging cock out of its confinements. It sprang out, tip red and oozing pre-cum. The sight made your mouth water, but everything about this was wrong. So so wrong but in that moment any and all reason went out of the door.

Grabbing your jaw he pried your mouth open with ease. "Stick it out," His voice was dark and filled with command. Your nipples harden against your shirt as Leon's uncut cock neared your mouth.

Listening to him you stuck your tongue out and looked up at him, eyes glossed over. The sight made him twitch.

“What a good girl you are, helping your big bro out.” He tapped his tip on your tongue twice. 

Strands of salty pre-cum stick to your tongue before Leon slowly slid his dick in your mouth. It was huge, to say the least. He stretched your jaw wide open leaving it to soon ache.  For Leon though, your mouth was heaven to him. 

Your tongue wrapped around his dick closing your mouth around him as the tip hit the back of your throat. Gagging tears brimmed your eyes before Leon quickly pulled out of your mouth.

Hissing Leon’s deep voice rattled through you. “Fuck you’re such a fucking slut. Now suck it.” He tapped his dick on your mouth once before he put both hands on the wall above you for stability.

Doing as told you gripped his cock. He was so thick, the thought of him being inside of you sent stars to your vision and slick between your legs. Bring his dick towards your mouth you kiss the tip. This simple action had Leon groaning and throwing his head back.

“Fuck don’t be a tease.” Rolling your eyes you left small kitten licks along him.

You wish his pants were down, you wanted no, needed to taste his balls. Moaning you sucked his tip in your mouth. Your moans vibrated up to his balls, Leon let out a shaky breath curling one of his hands into a fist. He was just so big in your mouth. Your jaw ached as your clit pulsed with need.

“G-god, your mouth.” His words were shaky. He rolled his hips pushing his cock further in your mouth.

You move your hands on his thighs for support as you take him deeper. In one go Leon grabbed the back of your head making a makeshift ponytail as he shoved the rest of his dick in your mouth. He moaned at the overwhelming feeling as you gagged. His tip kissed the back of your throat, gagging you. Your nose was met with his curls at the base of his cock.

“Look at you, taking my big cock so well.” He watched as you coughed. Pulling your head back he watched as his pre-cum and drool fell dripping down your chin. 

Pulling you off of him he gave you a moment to breathe before he was shoving himself right back into your mouth. His tip teased the back of your sore throat once more. Salty tears ran down your cheeks as your hole turned syrupy. You grinded down on nothing with need.

“Goddamn. Look how pretty you look, letting me throat fuck you like the whore you are.” Leon’s hungry eyes pierced into you.

“Didn’t know my sister was such a slut.” His words had you squeezing your eyes shut the further he fucked down into your throat.

“M’gonna cum.” Your muffled moans clouded Leon’s vision.

“Yea? I’m gonna paint your pretty little throat and you’re going To .Take. Every. Ounce.” WIth each word he slammed his tip in the back of your throat.

“Fuckfuckfuckkk.” With one last thrust his cock was throbbing as white cum spurted out painting the back of your throat as promised.

He slowly slid his sensitive cock out of your mouth leaving a trail of salty cum in his wake. When he pulled it out his dick went limp as his blue eyes went soft. Cupping your cheek he wiped your tears away as your cringed, swallowing his seed.

“Such a good girl.” Wiping your mouth Leon helped you up and even handed you a bottle of water.

The cold water soothed your sore throat, turning towards Leon you pointed. "What happened just now stays between us. Our parents can't know." Your voice was stern and laced with a plea.

Leon only scoffed before he smirked. "What? It's not like I'm your actual brother." His mocking tone pushed each one of your buttons.

"Besides I'm sure the neighbors heard you choking on my big fat co-" You were quick to cut Leon off.

"Stop!" You groaned in embarrassment and stormed off to the few steps leading into the house Leon hot on your heels. Before you could twist the door knob he grabbed your arm.

"Hey," His voice was soft as you turned to look at him.

"I promise this stays between us, no one will know not even Chris." You scanned his face body sagging before you said. "Thank you."

Smiling he took one step up to you. Cupping your face in between his hands his blue eyes scanned over your features before he leaned in a pressed a soft and sweet kiss to your lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Taglist: @hermizery @alewesker @ballorawan740 @lastaceylia00 @chunnies @d10nsaint @darklinxx

[ladyazurith]

You mentioned in one post that you think one problem with the game is that it twists itself into pretzels to fit the various different narratives, even when it doesn't make sense for the characters. Can you talk more about that? (Because I totally agree.)

Very much so! It's really bothersome. The first thing is in the individual chapters they tend to act like the students don't know each other well outside their own dorms, almost like they're practical strangers who have never interacted before. When everything else points to the opposite. Take Chapter 5 for example. They try to act like Ace and Deuce have no idea who Epel is, yet in Ace's CR story, he clearly meets Epel during their sorting. Never mind how they behave during events. And in chapter 2 when Cater is with Yuu and the others scoping out possible targets, it's presented like he doesn't know most of them well, when he clearly knows *everyone*.

Then from there, it's how the characters act in their individual chapters. Chapter 1 is mostly okay in this regard. Events with Riddle happen quickly enough that him having a major change of heart and acting "normal" in material from then on isn't too jarring.

But moving on from there it's a trainwreck. The chapter's overblot victims/ antagonists can get a little bit of a pass, but even then it stretches things.

Like Ruggie for instance, he is very shrewd and isn't above taking advantage of a situation. But he's not evil, he very clearly cares a lot about his home, his grandmother, and the other kids who live in the area with him. The idea that the character we see in every other situation would cause serious harm to someone else over a game is kind of ludicrous. He could have very easily risked expulsion if things had gone too far, and then he wouldn't be in a position to help *anyone*. Leona is even kind of iffy to me. While Leona tends to go out of his way to appear uncaring/unmotivated/lazy, he's actually an incredibly good dorm leader who cares about his students. Most of his real issues are internal, and harming innocent people who aren't even part of his beef with Malleus just seems out of character to me. Never mind what he does to Ruggie. Some of it can be explained by the build up of blot but not all of it.

And then Chapter 3, Azul, Jade, and Floyd. For the most part, I can see the tweels going along with everything because they both thrive on chaos. But Azul's plan is just...stupid coming from someone who's a professional businessman. First off he has no shortage of workers for the lounge. Ruggie frequently takes shifts there, and Cater while not a waiter also does a lot of work with them. But the whole sea anemone thing was just gross. And apparently, there was nothing in the contract about not disparaging their employer. It might have caused a spike in business at first just because people want to see what's going on for themselves, but overall, he'd ultimately hurt his business and drive customers *away*. Never mind the whole bullying backstory comes out of NOWHERE. Like I do have sympathy for Azul and what he went through and he is one of my favorite characters, but Ch 3 suffered from poor writing in my opinion. Narratively the whole thing was a mess.

Chapter 4 is handled better in my opinion. For the most part, I have the least amount of complaints about what goes on here. My biggest one though is what I mentioned before, Characters tend to exist in a bubble during their chapter events. You can not tell me that Cater nor Lilia wouldn't have tried to figure out what the hell was going on with Kalim. Or Silver for that matter. Never mind how Kalim had the authority to keep his entire dorm at school over a holiday when it's shut down?!!? I get his family is rich and powerful but, that still seems like a stretch idk.

Jamil I think was a least handled well otherwise, his actions and motivations seemed consistent with his character. In the end, he didn't really want to harm anyone, he just wanted his freedom and was desperate. The only real question is what did he think was going to happen next? Even if Kalim got kicked out of NRC then he would have only had about a year and a half of 'freedom' it wouldn't have solved any of his problems. And if Kalim had turned up dead, there would have still been severe repercussions for him and his family. IDK for someone who is supposed to be good at planning and scheming there definitely were parts that weren't well thought-out.

Chapter 5 and Rook is where this conversation started I think but I'll touch on it again. His actions at the end of chapter 5 are COMPLETELY out of character for what we know about him otherwise. Hiding his obsession with Neige from Vil, and then revealing it IN FRONT OF him while he's still licking his wounds from his overblot is just...if this was the only context we had for Rook, no one would be calling them friends. He had no real reason to reveal he was the one that cost them the competition.

The reception to this was so bad that's why we have the start of chapter 6 where Vil gives his speech about professionalism and why he's okay with Rook and what he did. I don't believe the narrative that Vil wasn't hurt at all, not with how he's shown to be so insecure especially where Neige is concerned. Sure I might buy the part about Rook voting for NRC not hurting him, but not the rest of it.

Never mind otherwise Rook isn't cruel. Especially not to Vil, and his actions were just that.

This is also biased, but the fact that Cater was cut from the team, and the reasons why rub me the wrong way. I know that they just wanted Jamil and Kalim because they were the previous chapter's focal point and Ace and Deuce because they're tied to pretty much everything because of Yuu and the story. But Vil keeps talking about being a professional, admitted straight up that Cater's audition was *perfect* but brushed him off and passed him over anyway. (Also Ironic because Cater's VA actually is a musician/singer/ensemble group member and not a traditional VA) but that's off course of the question lol

Also, I will never not be salty that RSA won with their song/performance. All for the narrative. And THEN they gave us a shot at seeing some kind of revenge or at least a win over them after the VDC with Epel's hometown event and yet again WE STILL LOST. I don't understand that one either. It's just frustrating for the players to be put in that situation again needlessly. There was no real narrative/story reason we had to lose.

Chapter 6 we finally get away from the narrative that the characters can't know who each other are in the main story at least -_-;. overall I don't have too many issues with Chapter 6. (other than the mini games -_-) Idia's character is kept consistent. We get some fun moments from the cast, and for the most part its in line with what we know of them and their characters. Azul and Riddle are gold, Jamil needed to hear what Leona told them. (tho it was a little pot kettle but then again that meant that Leona knew what he was talking about). And over all things don't seem AS forced. Had hoped things were gonna get better.

Then Chapter 7 rolled around and they murdered Lilia's character. The character we knew would NEVER treat his family like that. He even gives Malleus a speech in Cater's Halloween SSR about how he'll always be there when he needs him. He's consistently been shown to value his family and connections. It was just such a drastic change I am still baffled. I understand why he would be leaving, but to not really talk to those around him or explain what's going on and make an effort to keep in touch and stay in their lives? It's absurd. Of course Silver and Malleus broke down, if in high school my dad basically told me he was dying and that he was going far away and I'd never see him again, I'd have lost it too, and I'm not nearly as close to my dad as they were to Lilia.

I know they needed something to trigger Malleus's overblot but again this just seems like poor writing to me. The idea of Lilia loosing his powers and possibly dying I think would have been enough if they'd framed it right to push Malleus over the edge. That's difficult /emotional enough and they wouldn't have had to completely destroy Lilia's characterization to make it work. They could have even had the scene with Silver and Malleus when SIlver breaks down crying in front of him after trying to stay strong in front of Lilia so as not to worry him.

I'm trying to reserve too much judgment until we see the entirety of chapter 7 but unless there is some unknown reason for Lilia to have chosen this method of leaving, I don't know how to really justify it.

I get sometimes characters have to make difficult choices it is what helps make a story interesting, but if those choices arise from conflict that's not framed well or meaningful, it loses its potency. It comes across like us as the players and the characters themselves being cheated.

[madstronaut]

got totally blindsided by a whole fucking beautiful chapter on IRL a/b/o pack dynamics in a sociological nonfiction nyt bestseller book I was reading

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU, ISABEL WILKERSON FOR INCLUDING THIS CHAPTER IN CASTE (great and challenging read btw, highly recommend) i am also honestly like why is there a whole chapter dedicated to this is she secretly an A/B/O fan LMAO

a few choice quotes for all my fellow a/b/o fiends out there:

"True alphas, the behaviorist told me, are fearless protectors against outside incursions, but they rarely have to assert themselves within the pack, rarely have to act with aggression, bark orders, or use physical means of control." speak softly carry big dstick vibes

"True alphas command authority through their calm oversight of those who depend upon them. They establish their rank early in life and communicate through ancient signals their inner strength and stewardship, assert their power only when necessary. An alpha generally eats first, decides when and who will eat afterward, inspires trust through firm shepherding for the safety and well-being of the pack."

"An alpha is not necessarily the biggest or fastest but usually the innately self-assured one who can chastise a pack member with a mere look or low voice. A true alpha wields quiet power judiciously apportioned."

"You know that you are not seeing a true alpha, or, put another way, you have encountered an insecure alpha, if he or she must yell, scream, bully, or attack those beneath them into submission. That individual does not have the loyalty and trust of the pack and endangers the entire group through his or her insecurities, through his or her show of fear and lack of courage."

"We owe our misperceptions about alpha behavior to studies of large groupings of wolves placed into captivity and forced to fight for dominance or to cower into submission. In nature, wolf packs are more likely to consist of extended family systems, packs of between five and fifteen wolves, led by an alpha male and an alpha female, whom the pack trust and has reason to trust for the survival of them all." ok let me interject here to briefly proclaim *clears throat* ALPHA FEMALE SUPREMACYYYY

"The main characteristic of an alpha male wolf is a quiet confidence, quiet self-assurance...you know what's best for your pack. You lead by example. You're very comfortable with that. You have a calming effect."

"At the bottom of the hierarchy is the omega, the underdog, the lowest-ranking wolf, arising from natural personality traits in relation to others in the pack. The omega generally eats last and serves as a kind of court jester who acts as an escape valve, often picked on by other wolves. He bears the brunt of the tensions they face in the wild, where they are subject to attack from predators or from rival packs and during lean times in the hunt for prey."

"The omega acts as a kind of social glue, allowing frustration to be vented without actual acts of war...the omega is so critical to the pack structure that when a pack loses its omega, it enters into a long period of mourning, where the entire pack stops hunting and just lays around looking miserable, as if there were no longer a reason to go on. The loss of an omega can threaten social cohesion and put the entire pack at risk. Depending on the composition of the pack, an omega might not be easily replaced. The new omega would mean a demotion for one of the lower to mid-level pack members. Either way, the pack is destabilized. After all, these roles are not artificially assigned based upon what an individual wolf looks like, as with certain other species, but emerge as a consequence of internal personality traits that surface naturally in the forming of a pack."

tagging my fellow a/b/o + werewolf au fans/moots/beloveds:

@obsidiangravity @the-californicationist @ghostgorlsworld @http-paprika @deadbranch

@gemmahale @frogchiro @yeyinde @ghouljams @shotmrmiller

(i bless you all with enough inspo and hcs and fic ideas to rival loads of rut/heat-induced knotti-)

anyway, HAPPY JULY FOLKS WHAT A GREAT WAY TO START THIS MONTH

[malehypnofantasy]

Casey pretty much loathed the life he got to endure in uni. The past 3 years has been nothing but hell for him with all the isolation, bullying and the way some of his professors turned out to be major dickhead that either treated him like crap or took credit of his brilliance for themselves when they wouldn't even be able to finish their researches without his help or insight. He hated the fact that despite being smarter then most people, he's overlooked and swept aside just because he doesn't have the authority or the look that could help him gain the spotlight he knew he deserved. Until one eventful night when he turned 21 and his body started to glow in the middle of the night while his jackass of a roommate Ethan slept like a log as he's too spent after fucking his girlfriend like rabbit in the opposite bed.

The following morning, Casey realized that something clearly is different from the way he looked in the mirror. He's more.....radiant, and his eyes sparkled brilliantly under the bathroom light. That's when all in a sudden, Lila, Ethan's girlfriend, appeared right next to him as she opened the bathroom door

"Happy birthday Casey. You probably haven't fully realized it but let me help you out," she said with a rather monotone voice as she suddenly grabbed Casey's head and her eyes started to glow

Flow of memories of ancient practices and secret tradition of his family freely went right into his brain, injected his head with ideas and capability beyond his usual mortal knowledge. His whole body radiantly glow as the memories filled every corner of his body so he could wield the magical power that belong to his family since he's a responsible adult in their eyes upon celebrating his 21st birthday. When Lila eventually dropped to the floor as the messenger that possessed her went away, Casey looked at her with different gaze. The once unapproachable and mean cheerleader co-captain now looked like nothing but a distraction to him, so he forcefully woke her up and made her leave the room with not a single word said. The recently powered magician then turned his attention to his douchebag of a roommate, smirking at his slumbering muscular form that would soon become his plaything

Truth be told, Casey utilized the gym rat's body as his lab rat. He doesn't know how far of a control he can wield and exercise upon other people or what kind of other powers his body can manage, but another messenger from his family already informed him that he doesn't necessarily have the physical prowess to handle too big of a power so he needs to not only train his magic, but also his physique. But before working on his physique, he decided to test how far he can control another people through his words and Ethan came in handy in that regards. Ethan was unaware this whole time that he has been subjected to mind conditioning by Casey. As Casey mentioned his trigger word, Ethan instantly fell asleep despite several seconds before he just intensely cheered for a football team he's rooting for.

Casey then decided to execute his plan as he planted this idea to Ethan that he's been gay all along and he only can get hard while serving Casey. The ideas of girls repulsed him. The idea of disobeying Casey terrified him and his biggest joy in life is to do things in accordance to Casey's order. Casey then told Ethan to also set a "smokescreen" while in public or with other people as to not raise any suspicion and would only be his devoted self when Casey and him are in private or when Casey said his trigger word. As the jock snapped awake from his slumber, his eyes softened upon seeing Casey as he addressed him with respect and slight fear

"Oh Master, very sorry. Did I fall asleep here when you want to watch TV? Please, don't hesitate and sit down here, Sir. I'll scooch to the floor,"

"Calm down, Ethan. No need to do all that. I just wanna ask. Say, aside from me as the all powerful controller, who's the strongest guy in this school that you know?"

"Physically or socially, Sir?"

"Hmmmm...both,"

"The Dean and the Provo----"

"Not them, dummy. The students, I meant,"

"Ohhh the students. The twins in Pike are certainly the craziest in terms of physique, one of them got stabbed and then beaten the shit out of his stabber and 3 other guys----"

"Sounds like a threat,"

"---while socially, Ben Richards clearly bodied everyone. Part of the billionaire Richards retail & real estate family and his uncle is a high-ranked DoD officials, a decorated and highly respected war hero,"

"Not even the frat president, huh?"

"Nah, he's just Ben's pawn. Ben's too lazy to do anything by himself. He'll prefer someone worked it for him,"

"A pawn to do all his bidding, huh?"

"Yep, you got that right,"

"Well, what do you think if we paid a visit to meet Ben, do you know his whereabouts?"

"Not really, but I can ask around,"

"Then ask around. I would like to meet with him in private,"

Read Part 2 here

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Blowing Raspberries by u/Apprehensive-Year513

Blowing Raspberries Jealousy is a green eyed monster over which one eats their own heart out. The Princess of Wales is obviously a big provocation for Meghan Markle. The jealousy she has for the next Queen is palpable, on full display. In 2020, Catherine had to celebrate her birthday with the news of Harry and Meghan "stepping back" from their royal roles. In 2023, Harry's fictional autobiography was released around her birthday. It's a well observed pattern that this couple cannot handle the Royal Family being in the headlines. They are predictable. This is a farce and a sham. It is sad that a woman in her forties is so threatened by another, resorts to grade school tactics. For all her speeches about feminism, she has no feminism for women she is envious of. Catherine committed the great sin of not wanting to be her worshipping best friend thus she must perpetually suffer the consequences. She has a functional husband, who is her equal and clearly is still smitten with her. Her children and family are absolutely besotted with her. She has a purpose and role in this world as well as the captivation of the international stage. She has everything Meghan doesn't have. She is everything Meghan is not and will never be. Meghan isn't fooling anyone except her cabal of toxic sycophants. Catherine bravely shares her health story along with the announcement of her attendance at Trooping the Colour. This was on the back of a relentless storm of bullying of where she in fact was, when anyone paying attention knew where she was; at home recovering from health issues. In an unsurprising fashion, more of Meghan's jam just happens to make an appearance. Raspberry jam from a business that has no products to sell, a business with the worst launch model imaginable. Jam can be purchased to support a local business not line Meghan’s greedy pockets. Meghan isn't seen for weeks and it's just another day. Catherine goes on medical leave and the press collectively loses their minds. Meghan has to be the pettiest woman in media. She also is without subtlety. To target a woman battling cancer is beyond the pale. She has no shame. Harry, who once had a close, warm relationship with Catherine lets his wife demean the sister he never had. They have thrown all benefit of the doubt out the window. This couple deserves each other. People don't support Catherine because they think she's perfect or above reproach. Catherine is appreciated for her dignity and steadfastness. She has an elegance for young girls to emulate, which Meghan lacks. Meghan complained the media was pitting the two women against each other when she is the biggest culprit of such. Many more plates have to be smashed to compensate that she will never have the love of the people. A problem she set in motion herself. At every opportunity, she blew it. In the old Vaudeville shows, a hook extended from off stage to pull away a bad performer. The world is laughing at this couple. They aren't respected or inspirational. They are mocked around the world. They have literally turned into tabloid parodies of themselves. Which is humorous given they take themselves so seriously as world leaders. They will never be in on the joke because they are the joke they have made themselves out to be. Laughingstocks green with envy. post link: https://ift.tt/NevL85x author: Apprehensive-Year513 submitted: June 16, 2024 at 04:51PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Alr i'm gonna assume the best of newer and younger Pjo fans spreading misinfo on punk!Percy and by extension irl punk history and culture by guessing you guys aren't doing it on purpose and were just lied to about us so here's a bunch of debunks and clear ups on punk and why Percy is which also works as a sort of list of tips on how to write punk characters,canon and headcanon and completely original

So the obvious one out of the way first:Percy is actually not canonically a skater boy!There have been exactly two lines of this context in the entire franchise and one was in Som when he mentioned skateboarding once and then never again and the second was in Moa when Piper said he and i quote 'looked like a skater'.Sorry to past cishet Pipes but that's not a thing and Avril Lavigne making a cisheteronormative lyric that's extremely underservingly stuck around for forever dosen't mean she was right that he is one,it means she had internalized homophobia and gender stereotypes and no actual knowledge on alt subcultures because again,'looking like a skater' isn't a thing,it's a sport and not an aesthetic

With that,here's what actually makes Percy a punk:He was a bully beater from a young age and it escalates into full blown direct action for the whole saga,hates authority figures not for the sake of it but because he knows from experience that they're almost universally awful,is anti-corruption including his own by fighting against his intrusive thoughts to turn evil,does activism by helping fix the greco-roman mythos world system whenever he gets the chance to no matter how small,advocates for the rights of less fortunate people both mythical and human,hates rich people,fits entierly out of the box conformity in all aspects simply from the way he is even disregarding his demigohood,respects all minorities and is extremely kind to kids to the point that he adopted Nico and Hazel as his younger siblings and pseudo-kids because they don't really have parents(Hades/Pluto is abusive + Maria and Marie are dead).He fills out every punk requirement to a T,including being part of a marginalized group since he's poor and mentally disabled(audhd with dyslexia,bpd and ptsd)

He was a hero and Luke was a villain because they both hated the gods for traumatizing them and had nonpretty trauma responses from it but Percy still tried his best to stay kind not for his own sake but for his mom and the innocents in the world he knew didn't deserve cruelty and he provided and still does a safe and loving space for children specifically because he was a troubled but good kid once too and wants to be the positive adult figure for them he didn't get to have except Sally.Luke choose nihilism and that grew into turning a serial child abuser with bigoted ideals(his biggest targets being women and poc and in Kelli's case both)and fascist tactics.They weren't 'two sides of the same coin' and they're not even the same currency-Percy's a punk,Luke's a pig

Romantic attraction to someone based off them being 'ideal' by society's standards goes against punk beliefs!Our whole thing is nonconformity and that changing your true self to fit in makes you a sellout so this is why Perachel was canon and honestly i'd go as far as to call the 'outcast punk dude x perfect prep girl' a myth made up by normies who don't wanna date us for our actual personalities and just think we look hot so they objectify us.Related,it's ooc for Percy to be written to use kinds of flirting and dating treatments purely because 'it's what guys are like' since it's canon they hate traditional masculinity and consider it a burden they only force on themselves as a defense mechanism from trauma of being mocked for being 'not normal'

Ascention to godhood or into a titan inherently disquilify being punk and is an insult to irl punks.You literally can't be punk AND in control of a corrupted system,it's our lifestyle to fight them,not perpetuate them.This also applies to him dating deities,being rich in any way or an abuser.Dark Percy is Bootlicker Percy

Sorry to y'all who still think Hot Topic is a funny joke in 2024 of all years but they sold out to capitalism and conformity a loooooong time ago so Percy wouldn't be caught undead near that place and couldn't afford anything anyway because they've upped everything to rich people prices.He'd be going to thrift stores,family bussiness and small shops.Knowing how much free time he has probably knows how to DIY things that don't even exist and he buys all his games/consoles and legos secondhand

No Taylor Swift for him,her music's too corny and fabricated for him to not hate it but there's also how she's a huge bigot,a major bully and a whole ass poluter so🤷🏽‍♀️His favorite band is definitely My Chemical Romance but All Time Low,The Cure and Ramones are up there too

Please draw him with an actual battle jacket and proper piercings-By which i mean give it patches and a hoard of pins and draw it like a BATTLE JACKET,not a LEATHER jacket and actually google kinds of piercings instead of just slapping metal wherever onto him

He is NOT masc or an 'i'm too cool and edgy to like cutesy and kiddy things' type.Every single trans woman i've met in the Pjo fandom have said Percy's an egg and super femme and she does too much actual punk shit instead of trying to look the part to be a poser to care about her image anymore.She loves Polly Pocket,Warrior Cats,Animal Crossing,Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends,Bluey,Blues Clues,MLP,makeup,glitter,yk2/90s/80s toys,cats,Lo-Fi Beats,Cookie Monster and her second favorite color is pink,she loves naturally acting like a momdad and her gender fuckery includes a neopronouns hoard

Would most definitely have radicalized Nico and Hazel into goth punk and pastel goth punk if Rick let them be a proper trio and speaking from experience,it's entierly possible she does it completely on accident by making them want to be like her because of how nice and protective she is to them and what cool things she does

Few last points:She's definitely a heavy energy drinks consumer,a socialist,does vandalism,did actually super heavy research to go full punk once she realized she is and would never be friends with Harry Potter and in fact would probably kill him if they met since ACAB

[rahrizzle123]

BNHA/MHA Final Chapter 430 Spoilers

So it's over huh.....and I think it was....eh it was alright, but ofc I have some issue with it.

Hi to restate for people who don't know, I love the LOV mainly Tomura/Tenko( I mainly call Tenko), but that bias doesn't makes me hate everything about BHHA. I just understand the villians more then I need to cause if Hori won't give them a happy end I will in my head.

With that out the way. Rankings? Heros? It's stated that the amount of heros have stabilized so the ratio to villians are lower, but that - I Don't get it. Does it mean more people around to help or just "hey yea more heros so we can send anyone sketchy to jail." I wouldn't know cause they don't really emphasize on that

And to my biggest point. We still have heros and raking like as a whole? Did we not listen to what Tenko was really trying to fight for? He didn't want OFA that was AFO telling him that. Tenko wanted to shut down heros and rankings as a whole so people can figure out how to help themselves. So everyone is equal and everyone gets training on their quirk weather they want to be a hero or not. People can't use their quirks at all without a hero license or they are deemed a villian

I doubt that's changed at all. So no Deku did not help at all. And the new kid Dai is getting bullied about his quirk, so no nothing changed.

Tenko was literally abandoned because people assumed without a quirk or a license you can't do anything at all and why even try, it's not your problem. Yes one granny helped a kid but that's one person. It never showed the entire chapter more quirkless ppl or even just normal civilians helping people out.

On the hero side, yea the manga is good I liked it, Deku still got to be a hero even without a quirk(still mad he didn't keep one quirk not even float).

On the villian side really mad they all just kinda died and got forgotten. Yes Spinner said he'd make a book AND HE DID which is a very popular book it seems, and Compress read the book. But thats.....that's kinda it for the villians. Which sucks. Nothing really changed for the LOV specifically. And it hearts my heart.

I'm sorry Tenko. I'm sorry Leauge Of Villians, you author did not love you guys enough to give at least half of you a decent end❤️‍🩹

But at the end of the day is did enjoy BNHA/MHA. Even with its flaws(mainly around the end) I think it was a fun ride. I don't regret it.

[ducks-and-stuff]

SKYBLING HATER POST /mean

okay so that last repost I did had the exact opposite intended affect on me and now I want to write about how much I hate Pearl and Grian and skyblings in general and sure I don’t watch a lot of their content nowadays and I never watched Pearl’s side of Evo but guess what? no-one is reading this anyways so here we go: 

So first off, do- do Pearl and Grian, like, interact that much on camera? Obviously they’re friends cause Grian invited her to the Life series and  Evo and stuff but when they’re recording they tend to do their own thing in different directions. This might just be because Pearl is upside down all the way in Australia time differences but even when playing on the life series neither of them seem to really spend vast amounts of time with the other. Just a quick cool quick little interaction or teaming up because convenience or they respect the others skill. Or maybe I just don’t watch either’s perspective enough, who knows, just haven’t seen them spend quality time with each other a lot on there. 

As for Hermitcraft, Boatem was a really good group but, uh, guys? Friends? Fellas? there were 5 members of Boatem, not 2. Why are we not going around headcannoning Mumbo and Impulse as brothers if living together makes Pearl and Grian siblings? I don’t remember them interacting all that much in season 9 either, but both did choose to live relatively close to at least one other Boatem member, Impulse and Pearl sibling au when? 

So maybe it’s beacause of Evo then. Maybe it’s that little ol’ Minecraft series that Grian left half a decade ago, cool. Pearl had a sad little montage, good for her. I’ve also heard someone say they were canonically siblings in that series but I’m not bothering to do actual work for this rant so… fun. Point is, all that was a long while ago. Sure their content has gone in wildly different directions since then with being Hermits and Emperors and little copper golems but basing their current relations off of Evo is still relevant, right? And to that I have to say, ABSOLUTELY. I’m a sucker for Evo’s ending and people who love each other finally managing to claw their way back into the other’s arms or literally any other story revolving around the end of Evo ever. I will hold onto my half a decade old Grian and Pearl headcannons till the end of time you hear me???? Authors out there including Evo angst in your work I love you so much, you make me cry. Characters separated by the gods themselves are best characters, and if the only way I’m going to get that content is if they’re blood related then I will swallow my pride and enjoy it to no end! Write more Evo affecting the present stuff and I will uh- give you this random dust bunny in my pocket. Fair trade. 

But- ahem- yes, back to complaining. Jimmy and Pearl. Guys. GUYS, I write Pearl and Jimmy interactions all the time, I’m the Pearl and Jimmy guy! And even I don’t think they interact that much??? As for the present, They have good moments together yeah because they’re both hilarious but they have their own little groups they tend to stay within. Pearls being a girlboss with her best buds and Jimmy’s being bullied by his. Have they even ever teamed in a life series? Did they ever really talk on Empires that much? Jimmy invited her to help with his Christmas village building which was a really nice surprise and they hung out on Evo, but, anything the fandom is both glued to and recent? 

Honestly, my biggest issue is just that is seems like the age old trope of tying a female to a more popular male character and I hate it. Obviously in the world of male dominated mcyt this is kinda hard to avoid but… this headcannon with most popular kid in school Grian specifically when I don’t even see them interacting that much? I understand Grian and Jimmy because they actually have a lot of close, consistent interactions but every time I see Pearl in the mix I just have to pause and question it. There was a really good post a while ago about how people tend to assign her as oldest because reason that is probably ‘well, girls are more mature’, and yeah, why are we doing that? Why are we all just putting her into a trio she’s rarely seen with nowadays anyways? She’s a public menace, not a menace to these two in particular.

With Grian especially it seems to me like it could be a case of sure, woman in her own is cool but what if it was woman and DUDE EVERYONE ALSO LIKES SO MUCH?!???? HOW AMAZINGLY AMAZING. They’ll fit together like two puzzle pieces from different boxes with the same color scheme! So fun right? To me it seems as though this dynamic was not based around these three close friends who were like siblings, but instead, Grian plus his loving family. One member of which is going to wander off to find Gem and Impulse anyways. 

So yeah, I say free them all, but especially Pearl, from this dynamic. Share her chaos! Give her a mace! Set her lose onto the world! 

Or, don’t, lol. Ultimately the point of a fandom is for everyone to have fun, and if shoving these little guys together is what makes you happiest then go for it! I just like complaining and I see a hint of underlying sexism in the headcannon being so widely accepted on what seems to me as such little basis, but who’s a random internet user to stop you from doing what you love. 

Just because I have a personal problem with something that isn’t really hurting anybody doesn’t mean you should stop, like I said, I love writing stories about Jimmy and Pearl clinging onto each other after Evo regardless of my belief that they don’t really do that at all in their content today. So yeah, write your stories, make your art, and remember to have fun with (any very non-problematic 👍) things regardless of what anybody else says! Best wishes to you MCYTumblr! Everyone’s art and writing and we weaves and whatever over these little guys we’ve all decided to cling to is absolutely beautiful to witness! 

[wc-confessions]

TPB is my favorite series like the basic ass mf I am but. BUT. It also contains one of my biggest personal pet peeves in all of Warrior Cats. Which is saying A Lot with how botched this series’s writing is is in places.

Nightpelt not getting his nine lives while Tigerstar does??? Make it make sense. Genuinely what the fuck Starclan. We know they knew exactly how Tiger would turn out but somehow decided that poor Nightpelt, who was just trying to guide his fractured and weak clan through Brokenstar’s wake, and through even more tragedy and misfortune afterwards, wasn’t worthy enough Apparently. What did Night even do for them to hold him in such contempt? Besides *checks notes* being middle-aged and having a chronic illness?

There’s the fact that Brokenstar was still alive and on his last life yeah, but so was Pinestar when he left Thunderclan and that didn’t seem to be an issue other than Sunstar only getting eight lives (which is still way better than no extra lives). Brokenstar also broke the Warrior Code seven ways to Sunday before being exiled so it feels weird for them to still have recognized his authority.

For a long time my headcanon was that Starclan didn’t *actually* give Tiger his nine lives, he lied about it when he became Shadowclan’s leader, and when Scourge killed him, it was his one single life ending in such a jarring and gory way that it just *looked like* he died nine times in a row. Even if it was kind of flimsy, it was still more acceptable than what canon said.

With what has been written since though, this headcanon falls apart pretty badly. First, Tiger’s destiny to be evil - even if there’s a strong argument to be made that it was a self-fulfilling prophecy by how adults like Pinestar, Goosefeather, Thistleclaw, etc acted around him or directly treated him as he came of age - has been known about from his birth to the point where they tried to get his own father to commit infanticide! Starclan has had plenty of time to communicate amongst themselves about it, let alone watch over what has been happening to all the living and recently-deceased cats.

Second, we see Tiger’s nine lives ceremony. While we only know the backstories and full motivations of a couple of these characters, there are at least nine named cats who support him being leader enough to grant him a life. Even though these lives are meant to symbolically help in areas he’s lacking, and could be read as just acting in the best interest of the living cats within the leadership decision already being made as opposed to meddling in it… why didn’t they offer Nightpelt the same chance? Why weren’t they like “here’s the areas you need to work on and the life lessons you need to learn, and we’ll respect the circumstances created by the living” to him, too?

The only answer that feels somewhat satisfactory to me is that Starclan isn’t a hivemind and that while many of the cats were cheering during Tiger’s ceremony, cats like Redtail and Goosefeather were in a corner somewhere bashing their heads against a metaphorical wall.

Content warning for US politics ahead.

This also relies on Starclan Tiger supporters to be the Warrior Cats equivalent of Trump voters. Maybe not all of them are bad people but they are at least very easily manipulated into the ideal image of making their nation “strong again,” and are emotionally pulled in by the idea of someone who isn’t going to take shit standing up for “normal people” who they perceive to be like themselves, and are willing to put a vocal bully with a history of opportunistic, shady, and malicious behavior in a seat of power to make that happen. I could see Badgerfang falling into this camp. We know he’s just a kid who was forced into combat too young and that he isn’t a dick but is a victim of circumstance and had his worldview colored by the adults around him. He could have a more optimistic view of Tiger as someone who isn’t going to take shit from another Brokenstar, while simultaneously having a blind patriotic streak because again he was just a child and doesn’t know better than to question the system even if it failed him (based on how he describes his own death as giving his life up for his clan). Someone like this could easily be sucked into wanting the “strong” leader over the one they perceive as “weak” even if the “weak” candidate is more qualified and responsible, or has a more appropriate personality for leadership. (Side tangent I wonder how much Starclan foresaw about how Tiger would die. “Beware small cats” is so… specific.)

Starclan isn’t just a handful of jingoistic Shadowclan cats (+ Pinestar), though. There still should have been enough vocal outcry to make it not seem so cut and dry with Nightstar/Tigerstar, with the information in canon that the reader does get.

I know I’m reading way too far into this silly series with its million plotholes and inconsistencies and retcons, but I just want some answers. Thank you if you endured my pet peeve Night/Tiger rant.

.

[bicheetopuff]

So I made a post some months back. It was my most popular post for a while, not sure why but, it was. But in light of the new chapter I wanted to bring it back up.

At the time, this post had shippy connotations and still does but, I want to talk about the bigger part of the post. I’m sure we can all agree that the picture that chapter 370 is painting is far more important than any possible canonicity of a fanon pairing. I got a lot of reblogs on this post talking what I put in tags so I’d like to extend my point.

I saw people talking about how this chapter is boring and not important and I felt disappointed… but I realized why they feel like that. Because this part of the story isn’t relatable to everyone. It’s the same reason people call Deku a bad MC. The same reason most of the western audience reduces Uraraka to just a love interest. The reason why people find it hard to empathize with and understand Touya or Bakugou. They can’t relate and are only here for the fight scenes. Which is fine. We’re all products of our environments and experiences so yea it’s okay to not find a certain plot line relatable but to say that it’s boring and “not important to the story” is saying that you’re unable to make out the bigger meaning and you’re kinda invalidating the real people that have actually experienced persecution.

The biggest conflict in mha arguably is the way people of authority treat others based on their looks, quirks, and talent. And we can take Bakugou and Hawks as examples for why mindless praise and ego strokes at such a young age can be just as bad as being looked down upon and bullied. They’re different experiences but both resulted in toxic mindsets about themselves and changed the mindsets of the people around them as well (the hero commission seeing hawks’ talent and training him to be a warrior essentially [like nagant but her experience started much older], bakugous friends and teachers praising him to the point where his ego inflated and causing the people around him, including his parents, to believe that he’s an untouchable force that never and shouldn’t need help [minus deku, which is where their conflict came from]).

The mutant rebellion is just a more obvious way of telling what’s been going on for the entire story. Which goes back to the tag in my original post:

I think the morals of the story is why it’s [mha] is more attractive towards POC, the lgbt community, those that have been looked down upon for being different, or people that have experienced having expectations they couldn’t reach being thrown on their shoulders…

What’s being explained in this chapter isn’t just some plot device. It’s a moral that’s applicable to real life and you saying it’s not important makes you look like a prick. And it’s not just an issue amongst individuals, it’s an issue highly influenced by celebrities and government officials. Making it a systemic and societal issue, just like it’s being portrayed in mha.

tl;dr

If you can’t relate to anything that’s going on or being said in the recent chapter and you don’t like it, shut the hell up and skip the chapter. Let the people who can relate gain a little bit more respect for Horikoshi for even thinking about addressing an issue this blatantly.

[ctheathy]

Yandere Hawt Saus Headcanons

Yandere Hawt Saus x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author’s note : Yeah, I’m gonna be that one weirdo that writes xReader for Chikn Nuggit. What r you gonna do dude, I’m too far gone.���

You and the cast are either both human//gijinkas or animals.

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Bullying // harassment • Guilt tripping • Begging • Superior mindset • Possessive+delusional behaviour • Abandonment trauma • Isolation • Threats+blackmail mention • Hawt Saus has a mental breakdown lmao

Ah yes, one of the, if not the most distinctive character from the Chikn Nuggit series. He’s known to be quite the cruel squirrel with a vile blabbermouth, having no shame whatsoever in speaking his mind completely and occasionally throwing rude commentary left and right. He doesn’t understand that his poor choice of words affects others and this has caused him to become quite the ... Disliked character in both the cast fromout viewer point and among his witnesses themselves, often showing pure hatred in his screentime appearances. But even so, there’s been one particular episode that made us look fromout a new and unexpected perspective; one that has implied that he does in fact have his reasonings behind why he behaves the way he does. This point of view has also made me believe that he’d be one of the easiest characters among the group to grow these dependent and complicated feelings torwards somebody, who unfortunately, just so happens to be you.

Right at the start of you two meeting one another, Hawt Saus has had... mixed feelings about you. At first glance at your excessive sweetness he had already made you out to be just like all the others around--being just as similar like those absolute weirdos, causing him to act just as cruel as he would torwards any other acquaintance in his circle. But instead of backing off and avoiding the red squirrel at all costs like the others would, you would instead never quit showing him your neutral and basic kindness you’d give the others. I can see him being both confused and in severe denial about it at first, not believing a speck of the gentle demeanor you had to offer. Literally nobody wanted nor tried to get along with him, it would be considered a miracle for his doing if somebody only stuck around for a day or two. You must be trying to define him as some fool, aren’t you? tricking him only to leave him in the dust right afterwards.

But there’s gonna be some point where he cannot deny these desires for tenderness any longer, not caring much anymore whenever they end up being false or not. He might come off as quite picky and judgemental in any connections he might face, behaving like he has seemingly high standards; when truthfully saying, all he genuinely wishes for would be one singular being who doesn’t leave him after a noticeable while of sticking around, after seeing how truly awful he can get at times. Or perhaps it’s even quite the opposite. After all, he did always have an imagery of being this confident and self centered animal who cannot be brought torwards insecurity no matter the costs. It’s almost close to becoming realism in his own head, creating an entire different identity in behaviour to try and deny the fact that his current biggest fear would be any other realising he is realistically just as soft as they are. The catch being that despite the urges growing rapidly in the back of his own head, he could never grow close with another without the cracks of his made up facade slowly starting to show.

When getting close with somebody, I cannot picture him as much else other than severely possessive; wanting nothing more then to be your favourite person and actively fighting those who try getting close to you whenever he’s around. Which is also something you’d rarely see again when emotionally getting to him, personal space. He’s always holding onto atleast some part of your figure, hugging you from the side like it’s his only support, giving you ramblings and gossip to no end, literally forcing himself into your comfort zone, and for anybody else who just so happens to be around those particular personal moments? Well, they’ll be the unlucky one for the day that will figure out what it’s like to have upset a trashmouth, leaving you to profusely apologise.

Talking about the others, they are also to gain a whole lot more garbage from him now that you’ve came around. He knows that you’d be one to get along with them well, realising how wonderful of an entity you truly are. Due to this, he’d actively push you away from them and when contact with you does occur, he’d easily be one to either just threaten the bunch himself or go after any potential blackmail he can get his grabby hands on. Anything to keep them on an acceptable distance between you. As Sody himself has said, he’s unpleasant; but it had unexpectedly multiplied even more so when you got into the picture-- He may has had his troubled emotions with you at first, but I assure you those got swapped around real fast after you just happened to reduce his emotional desires to such a great extent.

Though when pushing his behaviour aside and if the mutual contact is coming fromout the darling themselves, however; he might already be pushed far enough to snap, having caused in quite some embarrassing moments occuring outside the house. When doing so he feels betrayed in a way, his insecurity blinding the common sense in his mindset and throwing all logic out of the window in order to keep you with him. It’s irresponsible to act off emotions, he knows this, but he is desperate. He views you as the only one who could ever legitimately love him the way that you do, and he doesn’t plan on having limits in order to keep things that way.

There’s one you’d already remember in particular. All you did was hang out with Chikn on a weekend afternoon without telling him, all had went just fine until the two of you had surprisingly walked into him on the way, truthfully assuming it was already him looking for you in distress to begin with. There was quite the offense in his tone, wanting to know why you had been here, with nobody but that dog for that matter. After calmly explaining the meetup the two of you were having together and not seeing a big deal with it, you were ready to turn around and continue off with your day. But Hawt Saus? He went berserk- Everything honestly became rather blurry after that, but you remember him screaming at the both of you at the top of his lungs with teary eyes, catching the attention of many bystanders and publicly humiliating not only you, but himself. There even was a point where he was close to getting physical with Chikn aswell, and you were sure if it wasn’t for his size, he surely could have made some serious damage; little paws grabbing, scratching and pulling onto the fur in a blind rage, leaving the pup mortified. In the end it was you who had to literally pry him off, kindly asking the dog for cancellation with the plans from before and in the meantime dragging the squirrel off with you in order to have a very serious conversation about this.

Very much a crybaby. Despite how minor his responses might be torwards any other’s complaining about his worsened demeanour, usually just taking them with a grain of salt, your opinions and comments have a whole lot more effect on both his self confidence levels and thought processes. When scolding him about his inappropriate behaviour, clearly showing your unhappiness about his unwell intentions; he breaks. He’s absolutely had his moments like these before, but they were nothing in comparison to this breakdown. Literally crumbling to the floor and latching himself onto your feet, going as far to beg for your forgiveness in order to get those little bits of kindness back you’ve so cruelly ripped away from him. You knew there was a part of him guilt tripping you, but you couldn’t get yourself to say no to his now shattered state. And that fact alone made you question yourself if it was truly the best idea to have treated him as lovingly as you always had,

Much less having agreed to a legitimised relationship with the unstable squirrel.

[90363462]

Is it OK to wear Ye’s sneakers now?

OPINION: Are we supporting Kanye if we wear his shoes? Can we separate the art from the artist? What do we do now that he's been canceled?

Touré

Nov 2, 2022

Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.

Now that Kanye has been canceled, what should we do with his stuff? I mean, can you still wear his shoes and clothes and listen to his music? 

This is a question we’ve grappled with as a culture many times over the past several years when prominent creators were unmasked as horrible people. Can we still listen to R. Kelly’s old music? Can we still laugh at Bill Cosby’s old jokes? Can we still watch Woody Allen’s old movies? I think the Kanye dilemma is even more complicated than those questions for several reasons. His mistakes are not crimes. Also, Kelly, Cosby and Allen were defrocked in the twilight of their careers when it was relatively easy to stop consuming their older work, but Kanye’s in the heart of his career — his shoes and his songs are still ubiquitous. 

I see Kanye’s ugly shoes and slides all the time — I live near a high school, and after school lets out, all the kids stand around talking in packs on the sidewalks, and when I pass by them, it seems like every fourth boy I see is wearing Yeezys. If you go to StockX, you’ll see that Yeezys are one of the biggest sneaker brands in the culture. Many people have publicly or quietly burned their sneakers, but I see many people still wearing them. In light of what we know now about Kanye, should people keep on wearing them?

The first part of answering that question is addressing this question — can we truly separate the artist and the art? Can we continue to enjoy someone’s art after we know that they’ve done or said horrible things? Yeezys are intimately tied to Kanye — their popularity flows out of the popularity of his personal brand. They would not have been nearly as successful if they were made by an anonymous designer rather than someone who’s thought of as a wealthy iconoclastic creative genius. Wearing Yeezys, like wearing Air Jordans, is partly a salute to the man behind the brand. The life success of Jordan, the ultimate winner, is part of what you’re buying into when you buy Jordans. It animates the shoes. You don’t buy Yeezys purely because you like the aesthetic. You buy them also because you think he’s cool. You can’t honestly dissociate the artist from the art when the art is as deeply intertwined with the artist as Kanye is with Yeezys. To wear them is to say you support him.

The shoes are a part of his brand. They say he’s brilliant, he’s an influencer who sets trends and follows no one, he’s someone who sees things differently than everyone else and brings new things to life. Before the MAGA chapter of his life, his brand was a witty rapper and fashion designer who zigged when others zagged. Where most rappers called Hit-Boy or Metro Boomin for beats, Kanye collaborated with James Blake. Where most rappers had album covers that were stylized photos of themselves, Kanye called in the brilliant visual artist Takashi Murakami. Where most want their clothes displayed beautifully, Kanye wanted his Gap stuff to be in trash bags that you had to sift through. 

But over the past few years, in his MAGA era, he’s become a conservative firebrand who’s comfortable saying antisemitic and anti-Black things. He’s supporting Trump and hanging with professional race-baiters like Candace Owens. He’s become the Black Archie Bunker or perhaps a rapping Alex Jones. He’s a victim, he’s a bully, he’s a race traitor. This is his brand now, and he’s worked hard to rebrand himself in this way. I can’t see Yeezys or hear Kanye’s music without thinking about the right-wing lunatic Kanye we have today.    

Let’s be clear: The problem is not that Kanye has a different political opinion than most Black people. The problem is that he won’t stop with the hate speech and hurtful comments that normalize hate speech. At this point, if Kanye were tapped to host a show on Fox News, he would come across even wilder than most of their hosts. 

Some people may say, well, I just like the shoes, I just like his albums, I’m not into the political stuff. I’m sorry that’s not OK. If you wear his shoes now, you’re saying that you don’t care about his antisemitism and his anti-Black racism. They’re not a dealbreaker for you. You can move on from that. You can’t say I exempt myself from politics because politics will still shape your life even if you don’t vote. Music can be listened to privately, which makes it a little different, but wearing his shoes is a public gesture. If you support him in spite of his ugliness, are you saying that his comments are OK? That’s what it looks like to me. You’re saying I’m able to move on, but we cannot just move on. 

The cancellation of Kanye is actually good for society. It’s not acceptable to be antisemitic and anti-Black in public. These are not reasonable positions. We cannot allow this to be part of the public discourse. Black people, if you’re still willing to support someone who’s committed to stepping on our community every chance he gets, you have to ask yourself why am I OK with repping for someone who hates me? Why am I able to ignore Kanye’s racism? No shoes in the world are so dope that they could make me forget that their designer is racist.

Touré is a host and Creative Director at theGrio. He is the host of the podcast “Toure Show” and the podcast docuseries “Who Was Prince?” He is also the author of seven books including the Prince biography Nothing Compares 2 U. Look out for his upcoming podcast Being Black In the 80s.

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