#obscure : chapter 1

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

this distance I keep is not divine chapter [1/4]

70s AU, I guess??

Fandom: Warrior Nun

Ship: Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice

Rating: M

Word Count: 15k

Chapter summary: Ava takes a trip in a milk truck, A strange greeting, Michael's sermon, Ava notices the girl in the sun, Milk with Mary, ROOOOOXANNNEEEEEE , Deliveries to the convent, Ava has a Heart, Flirting with a nun (or soon-to-be), Ava waits for an answer ...

[fumikosushi]

His Name Is Isaac

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Main Characters: Leo Manfred x Zlatko's Creature "Isaac"

Trigger Warnings: Drug mentions/use, graphic violence, PTSD flashbacks/triggers, death mentions, eventual smut.

DNI if you're not 18+, please.

Can also be read on AO3 here

Summary: Working to better himself, Leo has found himself on slightly better terms with Markus these days, making him more sympathetic to the android cause. While old and bad habits still often find ways to intrude on his life, he doesn't make the choice to leave behind an android that is clearly on the verge of shutting down on his way home one day. Little does he know, he and this android have met before some time ago; Before Leo even thought to get clean. How will having to face someone he's downright abused fair? He has no clue, but he does know that he wants to be better.

Notes:

- This takes place post revolution where Markus and Leo are on speaking terms. - New Jericho has taken place of the fallen ship 'Jericho' and androids are in a slightly better place than they were before as well as during the game.

Chapter 1

If things were different, if Leo hadn't actively made attempts to change after his altercation with Markus, he wonders what would have ended up becoming of the android he found tonight. The last thing he expected on his way home was to run into a clearly heavily altered android. Only reason he saw the guy was because of those bright, orange glowing eyes. Even though most of their altered body was concealed with clothing it was still easy to see their being disfigured. What's worse? They looked barely functional. Parts of their body was covered in snow; Lights of his eyes blinking slowly in and out as though he could visibly see the life leaving their eyes. Despite that, Leo ends up leaving. Walking away and mentally telling himself that it's not his problem.

Guilt strikes him as he nears home. Just a block or so away from where he saw that android. Could he really bring himself to just leave them there after all the progress he's made to improve himself? Could he ever face Markus again - someone whom he's finally on speaking terms with again after apologizing for everything he's done. Not before getting clean though. Or making strides to, anyway. For the most part things were going his way but.. Was this the world testing him somehow? He sighs and before he knows it, he's returned to the android and decided to make the difficult journey of dragging them back to his apartment. It's a struggle, but seeing as the situation appears to be dire, he makes the call to Markus. Tells him he's found someone who needs their help whilst struggling down the snow covered side walk; An android taller than he is being practically draped over his back. Relief washes over him once he finally reaches home and gets the guy inside.

As Markus told him, he turns the heater up a bit before grabbing some blankets. An attempt to warm the frozen android while waiting for help to arrive. And oh, they do. Needless to say, Markus appeared surprised upon seeing that Leo was telling the truth. He'd only come on the off chance Leo was being honest, not wanting to risk losing one of their kind in doubting what is essentially his brother. Markus and others from New Jericho end up taking the android with them and just like that he's suddenly left on his own.

Left to his thoughts now, Leo furrows his brows, head tilting slightly in thought as he thinks about how if this were any other time in his life he likely would have left that android to die. Hell, he wouldn't have even thought it could die. Before, he would have thought they were just some stupid, lifeless machine. Like how Leo originally thought of Markus. Yet he had grown jealous of the android. Jealous of the relationship Markus had with his father - one that he, himself so desperately wanted from him. Unfortunately, his father has now passed though he also can't help but to wonder if Carl would be proud of him for changing. For the better, of course. At least he hopes he's changing for the better. Exhausted from the day, Leo ends up going to bed without eating. Who could blame him after lugging that big guy all the way to his house like that?

A few days later and Leo finds himself wondering if that android made it. He assumed he would hear something from Markus, but he has to remind himself that Markus is a busy go. So, even when Leo is the one to contact him first, he tries his best to be patient. He's not really sure why he feels so concerned. Even if Leo leaned more toward seeing androids as living things now, it didn't change the fact he didn't know them. Maybe it's because he'd gotten involved? Rather than a text from Markus being the answer to his questions Leo is suddenly greeted by said android. He hadn't expected them to just show up like that, Leo answering the door like normal after hearing the doorbell to be greeted by those bright, orange eyes again. "Whoa.." They look more interesting in the daylight. Less scary than they did in the dark where he found them. He's sure if there wasn't light reflecting off the snow that he likely would have left the guy to die.. You know, because he's a bit of a wuss that way. He supposes they're lucky things turned out the way they did.

Leo shakes his head and momentarily closes his eyes tight. Where was his mind even wandering just now? Gawking at the android like some kind of weirdo while his thoughts drifted. He must think he's crazy. Just looking at them he can tell that they're surprised by his reaction. Though.. not really. They have to deal with that a lot. He assumes so. "Fuck - Uh.. I mean - you're that dude I helped, right?" The conversation is already awkward as hell. He can feel it and it makes him stiffen, standing uncomfortably. "Looks like you made it. Good on ya." What the actual fuck was that, Leo? Seriously?

The silence is what gets to him. They're not responding? Not only that, but as he actually exams the android's face - that red colour in their LED.. that meant something bad, right? Was he.. Were they scared? "Y-You.. You're.." Finally, they speak though their words don't make sense. Brows furrow in confusion before Leo lets out a small huh? in reply. "Do I.. know you?" The answer to that is complicated. Of course Leo wouldn't remember them. They looked so different then. Unaltered, appearing more like any other android you'd find on the street. "You.." They pause and leave him more confused than ever. He feels himself getting a bit impatient though at least they're speaking again before Leo makes that known. "We had an unfortunate encounter once.." Their gaze averts only to settle back onto Leo again. As though he thought it silly to let his guard down by looking away from him. "I looked.. different then."

Oh. Now he gets it. There's one particular occurrence that comes to mind when they say that. It'd been a few months before he was injured by Markus in their fight and in one of his drugged stupors he.. wailed on an android pretty hard. To vent his frustrations, in a way. Thinking about it now? What he did wasn't right. He feels guilty - he should. "Hey man, I'm.. It probably doesn't mean shit," Leo begins, hands hiding in his pockets as he sort of shrinks into himself "But I was uh.. a different person back then. I'm.." One of his hands withdraws from his pocket, fidgeting and finding it difficult to keep still; Hand rubbing the back of his neck lightly "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry, dude. Probably doesn't mean shit coming from someone who beat your ass, but I know I fucked up."

The apology is almost comical. It's awkward, Leo clearly doesn't know what to say in order to properly express himself, and the android is visibly.. smiling? Trying not to chuckle at him? Yeah, that's what he's seeing right now. "I.. believe you. The fact you saved me after all of that.. I believe you." Even if Leo didn't realize who he was it's still clear that they changed in their saving an android as a whole. Not something someone who hasn't changed would do, they think. "I'm not sure I can really trust you.. but.. I do forgive you." Because as Leo could see, he wasn't the only horrible human that had gotten their hands on him. Though he would consider Zlatko to be far worse than Leo, that's for sure. "Maybe we can change that?" Leo is blinking in surprise. Are they suggesting they be friends? "Man, you're weird as hell." A bit of amusement is within his voice, gaze drifting almost awkwardly off to the side. "But fuck it - why not?" His foot kicks at the ground a bit, small smile tugging at his lips. "Gotta name, man? Or should I just call you Genos or some shit?" A snort of amusement escapes him. "My name is Isaac."

"Name's Leo."

[captorcorp]

the dream machine game is only $5 today for the full thing!!!!!!!!!

it's a really neat point and click adventure about exploring the dream world and your new apartment, and the whole thing is claymation/stop motion/otherwise 3d props??? they seriously put so much time into this over like 7 years and like nobody talks about it

if you like dreams and/or machines and point n click gameplay go check it out 🥺

[intercomkris]

october 13th 1995 : georgina liu, jennifer clifton bestfriends forever! since the 1980s - jaime's diary from sixth grade 🧸✏️

[completeoveranalysis]

[2]

Oh! A new friend? Or is that the tree guy from a thousand years ago? 

Uhhh I’m sure I can find the chapter he was in. Please hold. 

WAIT IT IS HIM!

THE GHOST BOY WHO HELD HIS HAND AND REMEMBERED HIS BIRTHDAY AND GAVE WATANUKI HIS LAST REMAINS AFTER HE MOVED ON. 

EXCUSE ME I WAS NOT PREPARED TO REVISIT SUCH EMOTIONAL CHARACTERS WITHOUT WARNING???

IS HE VISITING HIS DREAMS? AND HE REMEMBERS WATANUKI’S PROBLEMS FROM ALL THE WAY BACK THEN??

Clamp this is a crime you are committing against me. 

[kelbunny]

I'm filled with a desire to make a hot man oc with an eyepatch. No particular reasons.

Except I still have reference sheets to work on so it'll need to wait

[teletogami]

okay hear me out fans of both Norse mythology and danganronpa:

komaeda and loki in the death of balder

[itsbenedict]

mutual 1: conventional morality is nowhere near cringe enough to be based. you agree.

mutual 2: i'm going to liveblog my attempt at solving this obscure statistics conundrum you've definitely never heard of

mutual 3, reblogging mutual 2: oh, yeah, the Obscure Statistics Conundrum, we've all seen it. i have strong opinions on the obvious easy and simple way it should be solved, somehow

mutual 4: i need. to fuck that old man.

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 6: [twenty-post long reblog chain arguing about politics with a stranger in stubborn defiance of the obvious fact that the stranger is not reading a single word they're saying]

mutual 7: here's my take on the latest chapter of the current Wildbow serial that you're going to have to blur your eyes and skip past because you haven't found time to read all five million words of this cool thing you don't want to be spoiled on

mutual 8: what if [the most deranged shit you've ever heard in your life]- and we were both girls?

mutual 4: don't forget i need to fuck that. old man. please.

mutual 9: [automatically generated link to a post on some ideologically extreme underground social media site with ten users that they use instead]

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: god every single thing about my life situation sucks so fucking much i want to cry and now you do too

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 10: reblogging that last picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 4: that old man. you know. what i need.

mutual 11: here's today's doodle :) [outlandishly beautiful piece of original art which gets seven notes]

mutual 12: only posted eighteen spicy takes about gender today, so here's a new one i just came up with. is this anything

mutual 13: hey, wanna look at this pornography that somehow hasn't gotten taken down by Tumblr yet?

mutual 14: [a pun so bad she gets put in the fucking Hague]

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 5: picture of a bird

mutual 15: [21st reblog on the politics reblog chain where everyone is talking past each other and has zero intention of persuading anyone]

mutual 4: i need to FUCK that old man. what do you mean he's dead

mutual 8: what if i fucked that old man. and we were both girls.

[pandoraslxna]

Lost and Found – Chapter 1

Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 3.9k

Summary: There was this scent. Like a distinct call for his name that only he could hear. And Lo’ak was under no illusions about who was the hunter and who the prey. Every instinct told him to run like hell and catch this thing, this prey, that smelled so sweetly. It belonged to him.

Warnings: explicit smut, dub-con, enemies to lovers, somnophilia, (kinda forced) oral, size kink, squirting, praise, fated mates, scent kink, piercings, predator/prey chase, alien biology/anatomy, a/b/o elements (heats, ruts, knots, scent marking, biting, etc.), kidnapping, possessive behavior, body worship, this is written in Lo‘aks pov so I’ll be using 'she/her' instead of 'you' for the reader

Notes: I’ve always wanted to know how the story of my Neteyam fic "lost & found" would play out if it was Lo‘ak instead of Neteyam, so I hope you guys will enjoy this little surprise fic. Basically my first spin-off work lol. Please give this a chance, even though the first chapter isn’t my best work 🥹

Credit for Lo‘ak pic on the left: @aeralithiel 🩵

There was this scent.

Lo‘ak hasn't stumbled in the forest in years, not since his first steps on the soil, not since long training days with dad, reading tracks and hunting lessons with mum and lanky limbs that have by now grown into board muscles and lean flesh.

Any awkwardness had fled when he had completed his iknimaya, the one with his people and then again, with the metkayina during his families stay at the sea clan. Now, at twenty-eight, every step is predicted. Calculated. Steady. He still knows these forests like the back of his hand.

Despite that, he feels as though he should be stumbling, running into branches, tripping over obscured rocks. The pounding of his heart and the adrenaline he can taste in the back of his throat tell him so. Lo‘ak didn't need a trail on the ground to follow, which was good, because whatever it was that had left this scent hanging in the air hadn’t left one. He didn't need splatters of blood, the sight of terror or the remains of a fight, not even boot prints in the dead leaves. No, he could smell it from miles away. Like a distinct call for his name that only he could hear.

He was under no illusions about who was the hunter and who the prey. Every instinct told him to run like hell and catch this- this thing, this prey, that smelled so sweetly, it felt like his teeth would begin to rot any minute now. His tongue curls over his fangs. They’re itching to be rammed into something and bite. Claim. And Lo‘ak feels so animalistic, so feral. His nose twitches, scenting the air once again.

He finally comes to an halt by a clearing, surrounded by tall trees with overgrown branches and thick leaves that cast various shadows over the mossy ground, leaving most of it covered from the warmth of the sun. Lo‘ak inhales shakily, heart still beating a foreign rhythm inside his chest that makes him clutch his fist against it to calm himself.

It’s so silent here, it fills him with unease. The forest is never that quiet, unless there is danger close by that the great mother is trying to bring to his attention. His ears turn against the soft breeze of the wind, focusing. There’s nothing. Nothing, but the soft hum that is coming from a few feet ahead. The sound of something, or someone, breathing. Low and steady, oblivious to the hunter in close proximity.

Bow in hand, Lo‘ak crouches low to the ground.

The first thing Lo‘ak remembers being taught by his father was how to be quiet. To be a stealthy warrior. A quiet hunter.

Looking back, he knows that must’ve been his first lesson solely for the reason because he has always been a talkative kid. Even now as an adult, silence doesn’t come to him as it comes to his older brother when needed. Countless slaps to the back of his head had been served as a reminder to bite his tongue. Even now, Lo’ak has to focus and concentrate in order to be quiet.

Any good hunter knows how to follow tracks, stay downward of the winds. The element of surprise was their best asset. Sometimes all they find are sun-bleached bones, offering little clue to potential prey. So they continue on. Taught to be patient, careful and quiet.

But Lo‘ak doesn’t have to be patient for very long this time. He doesn’t even have to search the ground for tracks or listen to the whispers of the wind. He finds his prey right there, served on a silver platter, laying in the soft grass like an offering from Eywa herself.

A human. All soft skin and short limbs.

Spellbound to the sight in front of him, Lo‘ak doesn’t pay attention to the stick he involuntarily steps on and it breaks with an echoing crack. He winces at the sound that would’ve earned him a smack if his brother was anywhere near him right now, but the human in front of him doesn’t raise from its position. Is it sleeping?

Lo‘ak remains frozen in place until his very fingertips begin to tingle in anticipation and he can’t help himself anymore. He steps closer. Close enough to come to realize that the human is a female and she is unconscious. He crouches down next to her limp body, so much smaller than his own that it frightens him to think that she is all alone out here, seemingly unprotected to the possible danger that lingers in the forest.

Lo’ak studies the woman for a long moment, hesitant at first, but soon he can’t stop his hand from moving to carefully brush the hair obscuring her face out of the way. And what a sight it is that greets him.

Behind the glass of her mask is a face so pretty, his breath momentarily gets stuck in his throat.

An angel. That’s what comes closest to a word that could describe her. Lo‘ak remembers his fathers stories of angels and suddenly, she is the missing piece to the puzzle in his imagination. She his what his mind has always failed to comprehend when imagining these mythical creatures from earth.

The woman's face is delicately structured, with high cheekbones and soft skin. Her lips are plump and softly shaped, slightly parted as she exhales a breath. Her features are harmoniously balanced, with a gentle curve to her jawline that adds to her overall beauty. The contours of her face are accentuated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, casting a serene glow. Her brows are naturally arched, framing her closed eyes, which seem to hold a depth of emotion even in slumber. There is something ethereal to her appearance, as if she is a part of the forest itself, an enchanting presence amidst the foliage. Truly, such beauty could only be created by eywa herself. And it felt like finding her here was like a gift from the great mother. A reward of some sort, possibly.

Lo‘ak would’ve loved to admire her for longer, just sitting here, looking at the strange little female. But there was this scent. There had to be reason for no one to have scented her other than him. She was meant to be found by him, he declared. The great mother had gifted her to him and no one else. And this scent was so much stronger now that he was up close to her, the tang of sweetness strong enough he could almost taste it on his tongue. Almost. And that alone made his mouth water in anticipation.

He wanted to taste her. To claim her. Her body called for him and who was he to ignore this call?

The muscles beneath his tattooed arms flexed as he carefully moved his body to shift position, leaning down over her unconscious body to press his nose to the soft curls and strands of hair framing her face like a halo. The subconscious flinch her body gave when his breath fanned over her skin did little to quell his delight when he ran his hand over her rounded shoulder and discovered she was smoother than any surface he'd ever touched and was silky like that of a flower petal. And she smelled delicious, but this was not quite the scent he was looking for. Running the flat of his nose along her jaw and throat, he inhaled deeply searching for the source of it. Her skin was so warm to the touch, he may or may not have let his lips glide along her collarbone as he took her scent in. Not quite a kiss yet, but close enough. Just the barest of touches that made his skin tingle.

He couldn’t deny the fact that the thin material of the black top that clung to her body like a second layer of skin was as much a treat to his eyes as it was an annoyance. If he had any say in this, the little tawtute [human] would wear significantly less. Still, it left enough room to his filthy imagination that he didn’t mind it. For now. There would be enough time for him to unwrap this piece of candy any time soon. For now, Lo‘ak settled on the one place on her body that was radiating so much sweetness, it nearly made his mind go blank from the intensity.

Soft thighs, the softest he has ever felt beneath his palms laid there in front of him, spreading so easily for him to settle between as his nose passed the dip of her navel. With both of them in his hands, he could spread them to press his whole face against the rough fabric of her little green shorts that barely hid her from his hungry eyes. Inhaling deeply, it nearly made his heart jump out of his chest as this pure sweet scent hit his nostrils and filled every vein of his body with adrenaline and the urge to lick, taste, bite, kiss and fuck.

Mine, mine, mine, his inner voice yelled at him. Mate her. Knot her.

Soon, he thought to himself, as he licked his lips eagerly. But first, he would have to still his hunger or he fears he would loose himself right then and there.

With what little sanity was left in him, Lo‘ak couldn’t find the patience necessary to undress her properly, so he unsheathed his knife from his chest and ever so carefully slid it inside the front her shorts. The sound of fabric ripping apart at the seam as he cut it in half made goosebumps raise all over his arms.

The little female however didn’t even flinch. Still so deep in her slumber. He might need to find out about the reason she was unconscious, but that would have to wait until later. Right now, all his senses were entirely fixed on his most priced possession.

Eywa, that scent. It was so intoxicating.

Even better yet, was the sight in front of him. What a pretty, pretty pussy that was, he thought. Red and puffy and in need for someone, for him, to take care of it. Poor thing. How long must she have been waiting for him? Her slick was messily spread over those gleaming lips and Lo‘ak spread them apart with his thumbs to get a better view.

"Aw, nìn nga [Aw, look at you]," he murmurs, "Fìtxan sevin sì tumpin [All pretty and pink.]

Her tiny little hole leaks more clear, sticky fluid as it’s spread open and drool dares to spill over the corner of his mouth at this. Truth be told, it looked barely able to fit his finger, but the thought alone made his cock unsheat and harden to his full size below his loincloth. She would need a lot of patience and preparation, but if Lo‘ak was one thing, it was determined to fulfill his goals. Just a small glance above her entrance sits her clit, the small nub looks just as needy and is just begging for his attention.

No longer able to withstand the arousing scent of the tawtute, Lo‘ak finally, mercifully, gives his first kitten lick to her cunt. And great mother, she tastes delicious. Tongue sharp and pointed, he glides the wet muscle through her folds with a groan. He takes great pleasure in the way the small little metal ball that sits on the middle of his tongue runs from her entrance to her clit, where it sits perfectly on top, before he closes his lips around it and bestows her her first kiss.

Lo‘ak had gotten several body modifications over the past few years of his life. The tattoos were his first, made by the olo’eyktan Tonowari himself after successfully mouting a tsurak. Followed soon by the tunnel earrings that were inspired by his mothers and then the piercings on his ears made by some of the younger humans at hells gate. The one on his tongue was Spiders idea and even though it earned him pointed looks of his people at first, not even the most uptight na‘vi woman his age could resist her curiosity of the little metal ball and how it might possibly feel as he ran it over her most sensitive parts. He would have to thank his human brother forever for this. And he can tell that she likes it, too.

The metal ball adjusts to her body heat quickly, prickling on top of his tongue as Lo‘ak makes it circle and bump against her clit. This motion rewards him with the first sound of what could soon turn into a beautiful moan. For now, it’s a breathy little sigh, with her brows drawn together and the muscles in her thighs tensing and jumping slightly.

Oh, she likes it very much, he can tell.

Lo‘ak presses his face harder against her cunt until all he can taste and smell is her. Her juices are already running down his chin, yet he can’t get enough of her. The difference in size makes it easy for his tongue to reach all these wonderful, delicious spots inside of her. He curls and thrusts it until the females back arches off the ground. A guttural groan escapes him as he kisses and licks her clit, loving the way she responds more and more to his touch.

Glancing up, Lo‘ak catches the way her breathing seems to quicken, the way her soft stomach tenses and the noises falling from her parted lips increase in volume. The first real moan tumbling down those beautiful lips is like music to his ears and he nearly comes inside his loincloth from the sound of it. What a beautiful voice that little demon has. Soft and feminine and so full of need. He wants to hear her beg in that sweet tone. Wants to hear her call out to him. Wants to hear moans turn into screams of pleasure that will make her voice go hoarse.

"Kalin 'u. Oe fpìl tsal lu krr ne tìtxen si [Sweet thing. I think it’s time to wake up]," he purrs against her sensitive skin, watching the way she instinctively jumps as his warm breath fans over her spit slicked skin. His tongue darts out again, but this time he aims for the pillowy flesh of her inner thighs. He licks a board stripe over her skin, kissing until it turns a pretty hue of purple that matches the shade of his tip, which was currently oozing heavy droplets of pre-cum onto his tewng [loincloth]. Eyes so heavy with lust, he can’t stop himself from letting his kisses turn more feral. Open mouthed and wet, until his fangs graze her delicate skin and sink into her flesh.

His cock throbs heavily at the first claim set onto the small tawtute [human] female. It’s followed by another, and another. Lo‘aks is careful, though, to not break skin and draw blood. He could never forgive himself for hurting the fragile human. Once he deems her marked enough, he switches back to burring his face against her sweet cunt. He‘s more frantic this time, groaning and breathing heavily as he suckles on her folds and makes out with her clit until its swollen and puffy between his lips.

Behind him, his tail trashes vividly against the mossy ground, eager like a puppy waiting for a treat. He wants her cum. Wants to know how it taste. How it feels soaking his face. He want to make a mess, wants to let the little demon claim him as well. He wants everyone to smell her on him and know they belong together.

The intense tension of her muscles is the first sign of her approaching orgasm that Lo‘ak takes note of, so he doubles his efforts. Her body craves release and he will happily give it to her. But then she turns restless. Squirmy little thing begins to wriggle under his touch, hips jerking away from the assault of his tongue and he grunts in disapproval.

But she‘s so small, easy to hold down. His shoulders are enough to keep her thichs spread and folded, knees nearly touching her ears as her lower body is contained by his massive frame. He holds her wrists tight above her head in one hand before she can even claw and push at him. Tiny wrists. Bones like a bird's.

And then finally, her eyes flutter open.

Lo‘ak watches with the intensity of a predator catching sight of his prey how these pretty pupils slowly focus down on him. The human gasps and he grins, wide and dangerous.

Suddenly she’s making these new sounds, little high pitched noises and whines, as he tongue fucks her. Her head turns, left and right, trying to hide her face from him, but there’s nowhere to hide. Precious thing. He can feel her core clenching hard around nothing.

"My name is Lo’ak," he smirks at her from between her thighs, making her flinch despite the soft tone in his voice and the breath stutter in her throat. "Can you say Lo’ak, baby?" Lick after lick he spoke, making sure to bring pleasure to her as she tried to comprehend his words. Her mind must be a mess, that much was obvious to him. Even though he imagined waking up like this from such a deep slumber must be a nice surprise, he could clearly see her inner turmoil. Her body wanted her to enjoy this, so close to her pleasure high. But her brain, the logical thinking part of it, was struggling to figure out if she could trust him. If this was right.

"Lo‘ak," he repeated, soft and slow and lovingly as he kissed her clit. More tenderly this time to put her whole focus onto this task. "Say Lo’ak, come on. Say my name."

He would make sure she knew she could trust him. That she was safe. But this would need so many words and so much reassurance, it was hard to do it now with his mouth full of her. Later, paskalin [honey]. He will prove himself as a good man later. But he had to prove himself as a good mate right now.

After a moment of intensely staring into her eyes to make sure she understood him, to signal her that he was no threat and she could enjoy this to her hearts content, it finally clicked.

"Lo..ak," she whimpered, the finest sound his ears ever had the pleasure of picking up. Nodding eagerly with a moan, Lo‘aks tail curled tight around her ankle as he sucked a filthy, rewarding kiss to her clit that made her throw her head back in bliss.

"What a good girl you are," he purred into her folds, "Such a smart thing."

She could tell him her name later, he thought. For the moment, it wasn’t important. He just needed her to scream his and he would promise her, the next time he would scream hers for the whole world to hear. Let everyone know what a perfect little pussy she had and that it was all his now.

Heart beating rapidly in his chest, Lo‘ak doubled his efforts to push her over the edge. Putting more pressure on her thighs to keep them further apart, he leaned half his weight against her body to keep her pinned and folded, her head now entirely framed by her knees, with her weight balanced on her upper back and her pussy high up in the air to reach all the spots that made her hips jump and legs shake. As he did so, Lo‘ak took a mental note of her flexibility. He would make great use of this in the future.

Aware of every new twitch and shudder, Lo’ak was adjusting the patterns of his tongue accordingly.

He was sucking and licking so hard, made sure to hold straight eye contact with her, who was having a hard time keeping herself from moaning too loud. He was running the tip of his tongue along the creases of flesh, around and back down, dipping into her, and then returning to press against her clit, playing with the tiny ball of steel against that sensitive little nub. Her slickness was coating more than just his mouth now. His nose too and his chin, threatening to run down his throat. Lo‘ak was entirely lost in her taste, feasting on her as if she was a fruit he had grown addicted to.

"S-Shit," she was cursing through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut as her whole body began to tense beneath him. "Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna– come!"

A low, throaty groan that nearly sound like a growl broke free from his mouth at the sound of that. "Let go, sevin [pretty]," he reassured her, barely lifting his lips enough to detach from her clit. "Come for me, little tawtute [human]. Let me taste it."

It was heat against heat, hot mouth against hotter skin, and then she throws her head back and sobs with relief. His sharp tongue flicks over her clit a final time, and she breaks into a thousand pieces.

Noisy little demon, he muses with a grin, paying close attention to the way she screeches and screams his name, moans loud and shameless and her clit pulses under his tongue. He presses his mouth closer to her, making sure none of that sweet sticky liquid goes to waste as it leaks in little squirts from her tiny hole. She tastes devine and Lo‘ak closes his eyes and groans as he savors it all.

Like a Nantang [viperwolf] cleaning its pup, Lo‘ak makes sure to clean the tawtute [human] of all remaining spit and slick, showering her lower half in kitten licks until he deems her clean enough and finally manages to detach his mouth from the space between her thighs.

Breathing heavily, he pulls back, letting a hand glide down his rapidly raising and falling chest, skimping over his abs, to locate the throbbing pain between his own thighs he only now grows aware of.

"Kalweyaveng… [son of a bitch]," he curses under his breath. He finds his loincloth soaked with his own cum, yet his neglected cock was still standing proud and tall, eager for attention. Giving his own length a quick squeeze, he hisses through clenched teeth. He needed more. More of her and her delicious little cunt. The arousing scent that was still radiating off of her wasn’t helping with that either.

Leaning back on his heels to sit up straight and gently lowering her legs to the ground again, Lo’ak glanced down at the female‘s face to find her lashes kissing the apple of her cheeks. Passed out again.

That’s okay, he thought, unable to wipe the cocky smile from his face, as he ever so carefully scooped the sleeping human up into his arms. "Sleep well," he cooed in her ear, hoping that even deep in her slumber she would be able to hear him, would feel the way he pressed his clothed cock against her as he carried her away. "There’s enough time for this later, ma’muntxate [my mate]. You’re mine now."

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[yumeka-sxf]

According to this tweet from Endo, today's new chapter will be the final installment of the "Henry x Martha backstory" arc...and it definitely went out on a high note! The part where Martha meets Henry's wife was absolutely heartbreaking...in particular the below page, starting with an upside down view of the scene, showing how the world is literally warping for Martha, followed by shards and shreds of her various memories with Henry, all the while the "throb, throb" of her heart is overlaying all the panels. Definitely one of Endo's best portrayals of a truly shocking moment.

It's also interesting that we never see Lucia's face, despite her having a big panel when she first appears.

Endo has done this before with other characters, Loid's parents being the other big example. We also never see their faces, despite them appearing several times during his flashback arc.

With the few examples we've had, to me it seems like Endo hides the faces of characters who 1) appear as flashbacks only and 2) who have had a significant emotional impact on the character whose memories they appear in, but at the same time, that character has since done their best to get over the painful memories associated with them. So they basically represent some past trauma for the character (even if they don't necessarily dislike them) but in the current time, they've more or less left that part of their past behind. Hence why their faces are obscured in the character's memories. This is also why I think we'll never see Loid's parents or Lucia's faces outside of flashbacks. This is just my interpretation of course, and I'm curious if there will be more examples in other characters' flashback arcs.

But back to Henry and Martha, I also liked the fact that, despite her broken heart, Martha still saw Lucia as a good person and became friends with her. Henry seems to love her as well. This actually ties back very well to what Martha tells Becky at the end of her story about how dangerous it is to latch onto preconceptions and prejudices without knowing the truth.

In Becky's simple world, she would see Lucia as the "evil seductress who stole Henry away" and Martha has to get him back. But as Martha said, things aren't always that simple and don't always adhere to our preconceived notions. Sometimes things can't end up exactly how you want or expect, so you have to be grateful for what you have and see things as they truly are, despite living with lingering regrets. In fact, this whole speech from Martha at the conclusion of her flashback was extremely deep and profound. Not many people can write both comedy and drama so well, but Endo is certainly one of them.

Also, is this Wiesel's first appearance? Still waiting for the doggy play date chapter with Wiesel, Bond, Max, and Aaron! 🐶

Since it's been so long since I read the first chapter of this arc, I couldn't remember if Martha had actually revealed the identity of her lover in her story, but makes sense that she didn't. I can imagine Becky storming into school yelling at Henderson and causing total embarrassment for all 😅 Funny that she almost guessed correctly though.

I'm surprised we never found out how Martha started working for the Blackbells, but that's an easy enough mystery to solve - she needed work after the wars were over, and being a bodyguard suited an ex-soldier. Also seems like she never told Henry her true feelings either...maybe by the time Lucia died, it was too late and they had both grown somewhat apart by then, and/or they had some additional falling outs about Martha joining the other wars, etc. It just wasn't meant to be and the message of the story was Martha coming to terms with that and being wiser for it.

In conclusion, this was a great arc that really shows Endo's range as a writer who can do both comedy and drama very well. Despite Henry and Martha being side characters, I have a feeling that the struggles they experienced will have relevance later in the series. But for now, I look forward to seeing the Forgers and other characters again (and getting back to the last major uproar of Anya telling Damian about her powers...seems like ages ago, lol). Endo will be taking a well deserved break, so the next new chapter will be on August 19th!

I also have some new posts planned in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for those as well 😀

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶

NSFW — slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, flirting, mutual pining, angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, sort of grumpy x sunshine but eddie's just tired, reader and eddie are mid-late 20's

chapter: 1/20 [wc: 5.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 1: Surprise, Surprise

“Yes.” A simple answer which spawned as many awkward scenarios, as it did great ones. Your name was spray painted on the side of a bridge, you spent nights learning to tango on abandoned rooftops, the amount of tales you accrued of bad dates could fill a self-help book.

Whatever the question was, the answer was “yes.” Life was more exciting that way.

Well, your policy usually lended itself to exciting adventures, anyway.

Currently, you were sat behind a desk with your boss, Mr. Moore, who slouched on his black stool with his cheek propped on his fist, pointing a pencil at a customer’s pink invoice sheet in front of you, explaining who to call in the spiral-bound catalog for the parts to be shipped.

The tall counter top partially obscured the both of you from employees and customers alike, but as you soon realized, the number of employees was slightly above two, and the customers even less; and if any of them paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell from the disorienting mix of exhaust fumes, dirty oil, and grease wafting in from the glass door on the left.

Thus began the first day of your new job at David’s Auto Repair. Boring.

————

Your second and third days were hardly different. Arriving at the butt crack of dawn and beginning the routine that definitely wasn’t in the ad in the newspaper: clean the bathrooms (hey, at least they had two), start the coffee pot after scrubbing off years of neglect caked onto the inside, and organize the paperwork Mr. Moore left for you in his office.

Oh, and most importantly, after locking up your bike outside the front door, you made your way through the echoey workshop and poked your head out the back door to the parking lot–which, by all means, was a gravel alleyway with overgrown trees blocking your view beyond the sleek black car parked next to the dumpster.

“Morning!” you greeted the one employee who arrived early and stayed late. “Eddie, right?”

The man leaning against the gray brick wall didn’t bother acknowledging you. Didn’t lift his head from its dropped back position, nor open his eyes. Definitely didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth to bestow you the gift of his chipper attitude, nor did he uncross his arms to offer you the bare minimum wave.

And much like the other days, you sat perched behind your desk and beamed up at him as he walked past you to the break room. And as usual, he slid his gaze to you. And like normal, he didn’t say anything.

But he did hold your eye contact for a fraction of a second longer, albeit, he looked a bit frightened when he did, as if he were suspicious of your smile.

You listened to the clunk of his heavy boots fade down the hallway, then return with him holding a mug of coffee.

This time, as he walked by, he remained vigilant, and your grin went ignored by his stupid big brown eyes surrounded by envious lashes.

Lucky you, the reception area was essentially a glass cage. Behind the black pleather seats for customers was the glowing blue sky, and beside you were floor to ceiling windows showcasing the artificially bright garage where the man in grease stained coveralls twisted gaudy rings off his fingers and placed them on a tray with his coffee, before picking up a dirty rag and popping open the hood of the car he worked on past closing last night.

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” you mumbled in a mocking tone, sneering at his red name patch–Eddie. “Jerk.”

————

Friday was different. You locked up your bike, chucked your backpack into your chair behind the desk, and made your way to the back of the garage for the routine, “Good morning.”

For some reason, you decided to reveal your whole self; more than your head stuck out the door, or rising above the countertop customers leaned on when trying to schmooze deals on parts–hell if you knew how to do that, anyway. You didn’t get paid enough to bargain.

You stepped onto the uneven gravel and surveyed the scenery, looking both ways down the alley to the major roads on either side leading to the heart of downtown Hawkins. Absolutely dismally silent. Void of life. Except for the small things you never noticed, like faraway birds, the hum of a distant motor, buzzing bugs before they disappeared for the cooler months. You felt the dew settling on your forearms, and swore you could smell impending rain on the cloudless day.

“Is it always this quiet?” you asked, face pinched in confusion as you took it all in. “I swear I can hear my own thoughts.”

Eddie may not have appreciated your joke, but he did surprise you.

He kept one of his arms crossed over his stomach, and took the cigarette from between his lips to flick the ashes. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked the dilapidated fence across from him.

Feeling cheeky, you schooled the thrill out of your voice from getting a response out of him, and said, “What gave it away?”

A drag on his cigarette was his wordless answer. Fair.

“I’m from New York.” The implied City followed without clarification. “Just moved here last week. My roommate’s from Hawkins, and she had to move back to help take care of her parents. They’re older and her dad has some health problems, and yeah, I couldn’t afford rent on my own, so you know, why not. Why not follow her to a town so small it’s impossible to find on a map.”

All your talking earned you a magnificent thing. Eddie finally opened his eyes, if only to pin you with a mild glare, and a skeptic pinch between his brows.

He said more to himself than you, “You must really like your roommate to come here.” The inflection at the end was both amusement and contempt, no doubt.

“We met in our first year of college and became best friends like that–!” You snapped. “Both theater kids going to school for acting, and we later made a comedy troupe with a few other people. When she asked if I wanted to move with her, I said ‘yes.’” Inclining your upper body towards him, you explained, “It’s sorta my thing. If anyone asks me anything, I say ‘yes.’ Obviously, I can veto shit that’s dangerous or crosses any boundaries, but it’s my policy to try everything. Life makes better stories that way.”

Your unique brand of wisdom furthered his obvious distaste for you.

Eddie inhaled his vice until the orange glow burned to the filter. Smoke fell from his mouth in a rush as if he were about to speak again, but he didn’t. He merely stared at you. And if he were having a staring contest, he won.

“Well, have a good day, then,” you said, spinning on the toe of your shoe.

You sat in your glass zoo for the day shuffling papers, making calls, and filling out forms. Most definitely not talking to the guy who appeared annoyed at your very existence.

Unfortunately for him, Hawkins was tiny and the pickings were slim.

Maybe it was his eyes, or the way the short layers of his choppy hair cut escaped his low bun to curl themselves in face-framing waves, or the fact he was twenty-years younger than the other two mechanics, but you took a liking to Eddie, much to his dismay. And due to your affinity for his annoyance, you noticed the subtle changes in his appearance sooner than you should. 

————

Dark purple circles announced the lack of sleep under Eddie’s eyes before the bags could. Bloodshot and struggling to open past a sliver, he sucked down half his cigarette before the routine minutes of peace he carved into his strict schedule were interrupted by the newest knot in his muscles.

“Good morning!” you said.

“Morning,” he returned without thinking about it. Rookie mistake.

You stood closer this time, inching down the brick wall, approaching him as if he would startle like a wild animal to get a better look at the years wearing heavy on the fine lines etched into his face. Perhaps no longer ‘fine.’

“You good?”

He didn’t have the energy to put up his usual front. With his chin dipped to his chest, he kept his eyes closed, nearly drifting to sleep as he muttered, “Long night.”

“Ah.”

Your clumsy shuffling alerted him to your movement, and he reluctantly observed you standing a few feet in front of him, rocking on your heels. He filled his chest with an incredulous sigh before you even spoke.

“You seem like you could use some cheering up,” you beamed. “I could juggle for you! Should I do three or four?” Eddie’s jaw went slack, and the cigarette stuck to the wetness inside his chapped lips. You bent down to gather large rocks into your palms, opting for four when he didn’t answer.

You stood up and stepped back. Made a big show of tracing invisible arcs above your head with your gaze, readying your hands. Sucking in a breath. Building suspense while his expression slowly crept into one of tempered curiosity.

Tensing, you tossed all four rocks into the air, and made a genuine effort to catch them before they fell unceremoniously around you, bouncing off the gravel in your scramble.

Clasping your hands behind your back in feigned shyness, you announced, “I don’t know how to juggle.”

For a moment you thought he was going to continue to regard you as if you were a bug in his coffee.. Then his veneer cracked.

He snorted. The cute way, when someone’s trying to suppress it. A subtle shake in their shoulders, keeping their head down, and their smile hidden behind the heel of the palm.

Eddie hugged his arm tighter over his chest, and chastised himself, “Why’d I let that get me.”

And truly, when he flicked his gaze to you with the lopsided remnant of his grin, you were imprinted with the heat of his wonderment, and your body remembered that feeling. Sensing it later when you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil, rattling off a series of numbers and letters for engine parts, and you snuck a coy look over the phone at the exact moment Eddie turned around to ask Carl for a wrench instead of getting it himself from the tool box near the window.

And he felt your stare during lunch when you promised an irate customer their car would be ready by the end of business hours, and hung up the phone with the type of heavy-handedness one used when implying a ‘fuck you’ without stating it.

You pushed yourself from the desk and went to the fridge in front of the circular table in the break room, eyeing Eddie’s odd choice as you walked by. A bologna sandwich–fairly normal–but also a stained orange tupperware container with an array of dried out microwaved leftovers. A corner of spaghetti, pale instant mashed potatoes with three peas stuck on top, unidentifiable sludge that may have been beef stew at one point, and a handful of Kraft mac n cheese.

Pitiful amounts of food that most people would’ve thrown out.

Not that you should judge. Your lunch was the blandest rice-based meal your roommate’s mom made the night before. The woman had never heard of salt, much less other spices, but she was letting you live in their attic for free until you and Bobbie found a place to live.

Breaking your chain of thoughts, you smiled at Eddie on your way out.

He didn’t look up from his paperwork.

Wholly ignored.

————

Over the rest of the month, you learned there wasn’t a definitive pattern to which days of the week were hardest for Eddie, but it was clear when he was enduring the worst.

As the evenings grew cooler, you left the lobby door open, and in doing so, were wise to the bite in his words, the edge to his voice. The quick apologies to Carl when he let his frustration show. The fluidity of ‘fucks’ flying past his mouth, the way he wrung his nape while staring into the distance, and the lurking stress of bottled emotions causing his teeth to grind.

He approached you with concern spurned from the windows being painted black with night.

“You don’t have to stay behind, you know that, right?” Eddie got your attention in the doorway. You blinked at him, still seeing the words of the book you were reading swim past your vision. “I have a set of keys. I can lock up when I’m done.”

It was the most he’d said to you in two weeks. Three entire sentences composed of more words than he’d uttered if you added them all up since your juggling stunt.

“I don’t mind.”

A meager response which resulted in a standoff.

Eddie wasted no time bunching his shoulders at your defiance. He left streaky fingerprints on the door handle as he reached for his neck, and tucked his fingers under his collar to run his thumb along his chain necklace in a self-soothing gesture. A layer of grime coated his skin. His disheveled hair stuck to his sweaty, dirty neck. The front of his coveralls were blackened with grease, as was the white tank top he wore underneath, peeking above the unfastened top snap.

On the other hand, you overturned your palms and glanced around the barren room. “Is it really that much of a bother that I’m sitting in here being quiet?” you drawled.

“Yes.” Automatic irritation.

“It’s not like I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t have a comedy routine to rehearse with your roommate?” he intoned in complete monotony.

“Ha-ha,” you replied, just as emotionless. You thought about correcting him in regards to you and Bobbie no longer doing stand up, but decided to grab your backpack and leave without putting up a fight. His concern about you staying late may not be genuine, but it was evident he wanted–or needed–you gone. You didn’t want to push his boundaries when he showed this level of discomfort, especially when the burden of fatigue wore beyond acceptable exhaustion, and he was ready to snap, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.

You surrendered, “Bye, Eddie.”

No reply.

In total darkness, you unchained your bike and hopped on, pedaling past the mailbox when you heard the thunderous slams of the service doors being lowered shut.

And you made it to the edge of the trees before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street, cracking your neck at the speed of which you whipped around to gawk.

Your heartbeat skipped, then timed itself with the extreme drum beat and opening wail of a guitar accompanied by high-pitched screamed lyrics.

The music may have been muffled, and the inside fluorescent lights struggled to penetrate the dense fog from the upper warehouse windows, but it was as if Eddie was subjecting the desolate parking lot to his own personal Judas Priest concert, hearing be damned.

You didn’t even know the dusty radio in the shop worked. But whatever helped him blow off steam, you supposed.

————

Today was a good day.

Eddie liked Fridays. Most people working weekdays did, but when he came inside early from his morning cigarette, and you hadn’t finished sweeping the shop, he made a point to idle around the orange car at the center, seeking your attention and offering an apology. Not a spoken apology, mind you. But it was rare he initiated eye contact, and when he did it with the purpose of showing deference in his softened features, you understood.

You forgave him with a gentle lift at the corner of your lips for an incident yesterday afternoon, wherein he grunted at you to leave him alone when you were telling him about one of the plays you and Bobbie acted in. Sometimes you required your own reminder of when you were being annoying, and gave him an apologetic smile for bothering him. He nodded. All was right with the world. All was forgiven and now he could get to work.

He wiped his hands down the sides of his coveralls, and leaned his upper half through the open car window to reach the latch for the hood.

The perfect opportunity to mess with him presented itself in all its glory. But first, you couldn’t resist taking a long.. long look at his backside, head tilted, mouth more than a little hung open.

“Huh?” He nearly banged his head on the roof, rounding on you with the sharpest glare in the Midwest.

Under the guise of perfect innocence, you kept brushing the broom over his work boots and toward the dust pan. “Sorry, sir, just doin’ my job. Gotta clean up the filth.”

“An actress and a comedian, huh?” he posed, allowing his smirk to foster as he gripped the edge of the door. “Gonna tell me you were a clown, next?”

“Actually..” You were interrupted by Carl coming in, followed by the near-retired Kevin who worked two days a week.

You greeted them loud and proud, overdoing it in the joy department at the ripe morning hour. Asking about Carl’s wife, and Kevin’s dog; really laying it on thick for the purpose of sending a message to the looming ghoul behind you: I’m annoying you on purpose now.

Still, as you entered the lobby, you caught sight of the sneaky grin on his face before he turned his back to you. A tight-lipped thing he was clearly trying to rid himself of while pulling his hair back into a low bun, and taking the time to tie up a bandana to keep everything out of his face, thus losing his security blanket from the world perceiving he wasn’t in a permanent bad mood.

And of course, Eddie kept up his act through lunch. Stomping through the lobby in that way people did when they were so very obviously trying to appear aloof, and coming across as anything but. Eyes staring straight ahead, but too wide and too aware to not be soliciting a reaction from their periphery. Chest out, muscles flexed. Posture the very opposite of casual, causing them to walk in a stilted manner like a robot.

And his charade continued when he came back from the break room, rounding the corner with softer steps. Slower. Hanging onto the precious milliseconds where your back was to him, and he could absorb your image freely without being noticed. Then, he lifted his chin and returned to his project, pretending you weren’t there.

Yep, so painfully obvious when he forgot reflections existed and you were surrounded by glass.

~~~

Fridays were the days he anticipated most. Work was grueling, and he had many things to finish before the break for the weekend, but he didn’t mind staying late. He preferred it.

Fridays meant he could rely on someone else handling the stressors at home, and he was free to earn his late hours at the garage, indulging in his loud music, and unwinding the constant state of tension lurking beneath the surface. It was the only way he knew how to cope. To stay sane.

Yeah, he loved Fridays. Until a surprise came running at him in her tiny pink shoes.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and exhaled a long, hard breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” came Wayne’s earnest apology as his nephew wilted; shoulders sagging, head hung. Tapping the wrench he was holding on his thigh. Trying his best to keep it together. “Don’t mean to drop ‘er off on you, but work called me in, so I came here after picking her up.”

Turning away from the engine he was installing, Eddie assumed his authoritative voice, but it came out as a weary sigh. “Adrienne, you know the rules,” he warned lowly, “No running in the shop.” After a beat, he corrected himself. “I mean, no being in the shop at all!”

She giggled as she skipped away from him, sloppy pigtails bouncing with mirth, plastic glittery shoes slapping the concrete floor where a myriad of items she could trip on laid.

“Adrie!” He called out, but she was too busy opposing him to pay attention.

Lucky for her, a certain receptionist caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into a rogue tire.

“Whoa there, little Miss!”

You looked to Eddie for further instruction on what to do with the girl currently laughing up a storm at your feet, but he was frozen. A bit paler, and wringing the back of his neck. Unable to articulate any of the broken consonants on his tongue as he stared at you. You switched your gaze to the older man beside him, but he was equally confused as to why Eddie was having trouble speaking.

Addressing anyone who would like to volunteer an answer, you asked, “And who’s this?”

“This.. This i-is my daughter. She, I, Goddamnit–I’m sorry, can you take her inside? I swear she’ll be quiet. Right, Adrie?”

Seeing the pure desperation settle around his eyes, you assimilated into the role of babysitter, wanting to alleviate his anxiety despite the sudden surge of your own. You held your hand out for her to take, and she did so without a second thought, grasping onto you with her little fingers and standing up, being the one to lead you to your desk.

As the door closed behind you, you overheard the older man clear his throat under the strain of bad news. “The water heater is broken again, and I couldn’t– ..Before I had to leave.”

Their private conversation was sealed behind the glass. You didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was too heartbreaking watching Eddie frantically catch his fingers on his bandana before removing it so he could tangle his curls into his fist, tugging them over his face as he groaned in a fruitless effort to hide himself from the world.

But on the subject of his brunette waves..

His daughter had the same curl pattern. Almost the same cut, too. Clearly Eddie was the acting barber of the family. Something you’d find adorable if it wasn’t for the pang of rejection in your stomach.

Daughter. Family.

The words repeated themselves in your head as your eyes wandered to the black tray beside the tool cabinet. He wore several large rings. Lots of jewelry, in fact, but you couldn’t remember if any of them were a wedding band, and the embarrassment of developing a crush on a married man for weeks without taking two seconds to cross reference his left hand burned your cheeks hot.

“Hi,” his daughter said cutely, swaying from foot to foot while holding two of your fingers.

You crouched to her level. “Wanna draw while we wait?” She nodded, sucking on the tip of her thumb.

Steadying your spinny office chair while she climbed into it, you made sure she was comfortable before bringing out the black stool from Mr. Moore’s office, and sitting next to her. You opened your backpack, flipped to a clean sheet in your sketchpad, and presented it to her along with your colored pencils.

“Hmm, what should we draw?”

Adrie snatched the bubblegum pink color, and began her masterpiece. “Mrs. Teresa read us a book about a mouse.”

Thank God she said it was a mouse, because you didn’t want to be the one to guess what the two oblong circles on the page were.

Adorably, she filled you in on the parts of the story she remembered, and added a triangle of yellow cheese under the mouse, then waited for you to prompt another thing to draw. You followed the nocturnal theme and asked for an owl. She hesitated on what colors to choose, and you helped her pick out the shades of brown and tan.

“How old are you?” you asked while she inundated her bird with too many feathers.

“Four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. “How old are you?”

You raised your brows. “Certainly not four-and-a-half.”

At some point, your arm had wrapped itself around her. Maybe to help shift her closer to the desk. Maybe to collect her in a pseudo-hug when she completed her art. Maybe to let Eddie know everything was okay when he craned his neck to check on you while conversing with the man outside, and you put on your best face, grinning at the story his daughter reenacted about a cartoon she watched that morning at preschool.

“What next? What next?”

“Let’s see.. Can you draw me a bat?”

She was more sure of herself, grabbing the black pencil and outlining an entire colony of bats mid-flight with more attention to detail. “My daddy has bats.”

“He has bats?” you questioned, sweeping loose hair out of her face.

She pointed to her elbow.

Thinking on it for a moment, you perked up. “Oh! He has tattoos?” She recognized the word, nodding vigorously. “Interesting, interesting.”

She’d hardly begun to fill in their wings when Eddie opened the door, and held up the comically small backpack slung on his arm, signaling it was time to leave.

You helped her down from the chair, and she excused herself to the bathroom, which only contributed to the awkward silence when she disappeared down the hall and Eddie was forced to wait at your desk.

It didn’t have to be analyzed, nor stated. The reality.

He had an entire life outside of work.

Duh. Of course he did, but still. It was one he never shared with you. Not like you earned the privilege to know, or to be included in anything he didn’t want to divulge, but with how private he was, it came as a surprise.

Invoking the thousands of dollars you spent on acting classes, you moved on, and kept your tone light, “The butterfly backpack suits you. Not sure about the color, though. Bright pink clashes with your navy blue outfit.”

Tough crowd.

His sulky demeanor permeated in his dull gaze trained on his stained sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dumping her on you like that. Normally my uncle has the day off work and can take care of her, but he’s gotta go in because someone called out sick, so, yeah..”

If it were at all appropriate, you would reach across the countertop to soothe him from picking at his torn cuticles. But it wasn’t appropriate. So you didn’t.

You locked your hands behind your head and leaned back in your chair. “Funnily enough, I worked a brief stint as a clown for children’s birthday parties, so I’m actually quite comfortable entertaining them.”

“I’m shocked,” he said, void of shock. Finding the strength to lift his eyes from the animals she drew on your sketchpad to the encouraging curve of your lips, he tried to match your grin, but it fell flat. “At least you can go home on time today.”

You sucked in a breath for a quick retort, but Adrie interrupted you in her tiny voice, “Daddy! I can’t reach the sink!” And maybe that was for the best before you humiliated yourself more.

Because, the truth of the matter was, you always had the ability to go home on time. It was only because Eddie stayed behind that you made excuses to sit at your desk past your scheduled hours, prattling off some nonsense about memorizing the catalog.

“C’mon,” he said to his daughter, supporting her on his hip. “Let’s get going.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either. The creeping exhaustion he kept under wraps was breaking through. Stress fractures in the mask he wore around others. The sanity he gripped for dear life for the sake of Adrie.

He caught the empathetic pinch between your brows, and used the last of his energy to turn so his daughter could see you. “Say ‘bye,’ and ‘thank you’ for playing, Adrie.”

She waved with the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever wagging their tail. “Bye! Thank you!”

“Bye, Adrie,” you laughed. “Bye, Eddie.”

Like usual, he didn’t respond. Today that was okay.

————

Eddie was on the verge. He was trembling, failing to loosen a bolt on the water heater to investigate why it broke–again–when his hair was yanked–again–and his knuckles scraped a bent piece of metal–again.

He was kneeling on his kitchen floor, craving nothing more than a shower to wash away the work week until his skin burned, but he was not afforded the simple luxury.

No relaxation. Not for him. No one to call on when Wayne was gone. This was his life to fix. On his own.

After repairing cars all day, he was exhausted. Touched out. But Adrie needed something from him, something he couldn’t understand with his tired mind. All he wanted was a break. All he needed was a break from her using his coveralls to scale his body. All he sought was the energy to deal with her pulling his hair.

But he was not spared the fortune.

“Adrie, please,” he resorted to begging. And when she didn’t stop, he withdrew his arms from the closet, and pried her hands off his hair, peeling her away and setting her on the floor.

She made to grab him again, but he used his waning strength to squeeze her arms to her sides, giving her his full attention she fought for.

“Can I get you a snack? Or put something on the TV? Do you want a nap?” He listed off anything, shaking and desperate.

“I wanna play with Daddy.”

Guilt amplified the shame.

He was a shit dad. He knew. He did his best and it was never good enough.

“I know you do,” the words fluctuated in the wake of water stinging his eyes. “I know you do, but Daddy needs to fix this. I can make you a snack and you can eat it in the living room. How ‘bout that?” Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t allowed. She had a penchant for dropping sticky food on the carpet–which was just another thing he’d have to get around to cleaning–but he was willing to bend the rules for the promise of a shower.

Adrienne thought about his offer for a long while, and settled on his deal.

And yet, it was hours.. hours until he was able to sit down.

The water heater required more service than he initially thought, and his daughter wasn’t entertained by herself for very long. She came to him in intervals of minutes, climbing up his back and hanging from his neck. He stopped caring. He didn’t have it within him. He made sure she was safe, and that was it.

He fed her a dreadful dinner, and she was so happy for her overcooked noodles in pasta sauce. He saved the leftovers. Put them in the nearly-empty fridge and took out two beers for himself, cracking the tops before sinking into the couch.

Adrienne stood between his legs while he wrapped her in her favorite blanket, and placed her in his lap. The top half of his coveralls were tied by the sleeves around his waist. No matter how dirty he was, this was how they ended the night. Him staring blankly at the TV, and her cheek on his chest, ear pressed to his white tank top, listening to his heartbeat. Curling her fists into her tattered quilt in response to him nuzzling the top of her head, and resting there in a content hum. Closing his eyes. Turning off his brain. Tipping back swigs of beer until he felt better, and giving her kisses until she giggled and squirmed.

The kisses were as much for her as they were for him, giving and receiving the only affection in his life. Apologizing for earlier when he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Her hug was small, yet powerful. Clumsy, but what he needed. Another person to gather in his arms and have their weight fall asleep on his chest.

He collected Adrie, and gave her a few more doting kisses while carrying her to bed.

“Stay, Daddy.”

Sometimes he did, just to have a real bed to sleep in, but with how long it took to fix the water heater, there was only enough hot water to bathe her. He’d have to wait until the morning.

“Not tonight, Daddy’s still dirty from work.”

It hurt to walk away. It hurt more to sleep on the lumpy couch. Hurt worse when Wayne came home to crash on the roll out bed, and the sun funneled through the windows, and the day started all over again.

Hurt the most when Eddie thought about the surprised look on your face when you learned he had a daughter.

Hurt the least when he imagined a world in which you wouldn’t care, and still flirted with him come Monday morning, because fuck, it was the only thing he looked forward to after Adrie’s meltdowns on the way to school.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2

summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!

The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath. 

The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line. 

You weren’t exactly happy about this.  

The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach. 

Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you. 

Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —

the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that. 

If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily. 

Maybe. 

Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared. 

But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee. 

Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one. 

She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger. 

You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never. 

You weren’t a child.

Just wanted to be one, sometimes.

Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed. 

Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See. 

He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time. 

Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did. 

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five. 

Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention. 

You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.

You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?   

Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you. 

That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.

The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways. 

A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong. 

The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat. 

At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall. 

Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention — 

and you slipped. 

The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge. 

The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height. 

You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally. 

Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle. 

You’d made it?  

No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening! 

Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd. 

But. 

One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.

You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.

You were chosen. 

It wanted you as its rider. 

If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.  

The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly. 

You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw. 

Firstborn daughter excellence. 

Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong. 

Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling. 

“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”

The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you. 

You were all alone. 

The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement. 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life. 

Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.

Flying! He wanted to fly! 

The first flight sealed the bond, after all. 

You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step. 

The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night. 

The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine. 

You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you. 

And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos. 

No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun. 

Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.

When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory? 

Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.    

Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.

And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. . 

 Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up. 

Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this. 

But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!

“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”

Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick. 

Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”

“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”

The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.” 

“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”

“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”

“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”

You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core. 

“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.” 

All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’

You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.

One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood. 

An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.

“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”

Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”

What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”

This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in. 

His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation. 

He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child. 

It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first. 

Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.

Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.   

His teenage daughter. Scared him. 

Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place. 

The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore. 

He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely. 

And then he didn’t. 

“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”

Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”

Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut. 

His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”

“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”

Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”

This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before. 

Here we go again, Jake thought.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”

“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”

He grimaced. “I have to—”

“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”

“They trust me plenty.”

“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”

“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”

“They won’t if you never tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”

“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.” 

“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”

Because he had gone too far already with the older three. 

Trial and error. 

He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step. 

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

Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.  

He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.” 

Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.  

“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”

“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”

“Dad—”

Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”

Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”

He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”

“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”

Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.  

Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”

“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.

“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?” 

Silence.

The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—” 

Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”

“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”

He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”

His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.  

Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.

A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face. 

When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble. 

“Neytiri?” 

She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear. 

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.

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[intercomkris]

october 13th 1995 : yea what do you have against angela moulin anyways? | obscure : story