#both in terms of i refuse to put a child through that

[yardsards]

let's play "do i actually wanna be a dad, or do i just wish i could give myself a better childhood, and am projecting that desire onto a hypothetical child?"

[randxmthxughts]

Tunutu (Crush) - Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

summary: although neteyam had never reciprocated her feelings, choosing him was always an easy decision for y/n, one of those she could make in a heartbeat. so when another man tries to win her affections, neteyam suddenly becomes aware of what he has been missing out on

wc: 7,7k

contains: childhood friends to lovers, first love/puppy love, jealousy, long-time crush

a/n: the way i completely made up everything about the vayätu-creature. sometimes i just write without a plot and although i was very excited for this idea, it was so difficult to finish it. i hope you enjoy reading it, please let me know if you do

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Come on, Lo’ak, don’t take it to heart,” Kiri nudged her brother, “You know that Neteyam has been having a hard time lately, it’s not that he pushes you around on purpose.”

You emerged from behind the thick bushes, finally finding Lo’ak and Kiri sitting on a log, engrossed in a conversation. Your curiosity piqued at the mention of Neteyam.

“Why is Neteyam having a hard time?”

Kiri stiffened under your expectant gaze, but before she could even signal to Lo’ak to hold his tongue, he was already spilling out the truth. She groaned in frustration at how senseless her brother could be at times.

“Because our parents have been nagging at him to choose a mate lately.”

Neteyam must choose a mate. Your heart dropped at the statement you had been dreading to hear for years now, ever since he had first passed his Iknimaya. It was never going to be you, you were used to the thought, but nothing could have prepared for the weight of bearing it now.

“You are such a skxawng,” Kiri hissed at Lo’ak, swatting his arm. She shot you an almost apologetic glance.

“Why? It’s not like it is a secret,” Lo’ak rolled his eyes, finally drawing a connection between your sour expression and Kiri’s sudden irritation, "Neteyam has to choose a mate soon, so that the grandmother has enough time to prepare the new tsakarem. He's been putting it off for far too long."

“It is not easy to choose someone to love for a lifetime,” Kiri added with a sigh.

But it was. Choosing Neteyam was always an easy decision for you, one of those that you could make in a heartbeat. He had been your tunutu since childhood, a curious fascination with the older brother of your friends that eventually grew into a frustratingly intense crush, haunting you at every stage of your life. It was by Eywa's grace that your paths crossed with the Olo'eyktan's children when you were about six years old, learning to hunt and running through the forest together until the eclipse. On the second day of playing with Kiri and her brothers, you had boldly declared your love for Neteyam to everyone in the village, turning it into a big inside joke among the clan. If you had known that it would follow you far into your teenage years, when kids your age were relentless and cruel, you would have been more guarded about it. The guys teased Neteyam for having an admirer so clingy, it seemed as if he had grown a second tail. But no matter how much they tried to get to you with their taunts, it never seemed to bother him.

Even as a child, Neteyam had a maturity that went beyond his years. He seeked no entertainment in punishing someone for their feelings, something they cannot control. On the contrary, he admired your loyalty and dedication to him, the way you had remained his close friend, despite his gentle refusal of your romantic overtures. And so, that’s how it went. Your relationship grew stronger over the years, you learned and failed together but were always there for each other to offer a supporting shoulder. It hit a rough patch for a short period, right after both of you had completed your Iknimayas, when you tried to distance yourself from him to avoid any rumors. But Neteyam was persistent to keep your friendship, and so he did. Eventually, your feelings for him were pushed to an afterthought, as you had come to terms that Neteyam was never going to choose you. You had made peace with being just his friend, but your heart still sank at the thought that soon enough you will be replaced.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Kiri’s concerned voice caught your attention.

“Sure,” you gulped, forcing a small smile, “Lo’ak is right, it’s not like I didn’t know.”

“Right,” Lo’ak nodded hesitantly.

The siblings exchanged a knowing look. At times, your crush on Neteyam was sweet, entertaining even. But the two of them also got to live the nasty side of an unrequited love through you. Especially Kiri, who had shared the pain of knowing she couldn’t be with someone she loved, often commiserated with you in it.

“Maybe this is a sign for me to start looking too, you know? Find a mate,” your blabbered without a thought, trying to cover any traces of the stinging pain.

“Huh?” Kiri's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she glanced at Lo'ak to see if he was as taken aback as she was. This was new.

You had never expressed the desire to find a mate before. Knowing well that Neteyam did not reciprocate your feelings and there was no point in getting your hopes up, the idea of being with somebody else appeared in your mind quite frequently, you just never voiced it. It was scary, the prospect of settling for someone you loved less, simply because there was no other choice. 

Your parents had often spoken of their own bond, a relationship that began as platonic and it was only natural when they decided to choose each other for their companions. Companions, not lovers. Though your mother had assured you that once they had completed a Tsaheylu, everything changed. That the blessed bond is a connection deeper than love, one that is impossible to ignore after experiencing everything your mate had gone through. So with a heavy heart, you had to accept that one day you might have to face the same fate.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” Lo’ak stood up from his seat and walked over to you. He placed the back of his palm against your forehead, as if checking for a fever. 

“I am not ill,” you chuckled, shoving him away, “I mean, I’ve known for a long time now that I’ll have to accept the advances of another man at some point. Why dwell on something I can’t have?”

It burned your throat to say the words but it was only the truth, and truth hurt. Kiri and Lo'ak agreed hesitantly with you but were still unsure if you meant it. It was as though you were convincing yourself more than them.

“Oh, Y/N…” Kiri began but Lo’ak was quick to interrupt her. 

“No, don’t do that, Kiri,” he shushed his sister before she could even express how sorry she felt for you, “You’re right, Y/N. Do you have any idea how many of my friends keep asking about you? You should get out there and have some fun, I mean, Txi’pu’s practically turning purple when he sees you.”

“Txi’pu?” you questioned, “Didn’t he tame his ikran at like… twelve?” “Yes, yet the man is flustered by your mere presence,” Lo’ak chuckled, “But he seems like a cool guy, maybe you should give him a chance.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Hey, what’s that about?” Neteyam nudged his brother, staring in the direction where you sat.

The communal dinner was in full swing, right after Lo’ak had given Txi’pu the green light to approach you. You were engrossed in conversation with Kiri, as she nibbled on her food, when Txi’pu gathered up the courage to come up to you and offer you a plate of cut-up fruit.

Lo’ak followed his brother's line of sight and straightened immediately, intrigued by the interaction. He grinned in satisfaction, as he watched you shyly accept the gift.

“Txi’pu is going to ask Y/N out,” Lo’ak explained.

“Poor man,” Neteyam snorted, watching you intently, “She’s clearly not interested.”

Neteyam braced himself, eager to enjoy how you would decline Txi'pu's offer. He had seen you reject advances before with such poise and kindness that the men didn't even realize they were supposed to be offended. It was always amusing to watch. But as he saw you take Txi'pu's hand and stand up, a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“What’s happening?” he questioned with a strained voice.

“Looks like she said yes,” Lo’ak shrugged.

Neteyam shot his brother an angry glare, as if it was entirely his fault, before turning his attention back to you. He watched Txi'pu led you away from the clan, his eyes following the sway of your hips. Eventually, as the two of you disappeared from his line of sight, Neteyam clenched his fists so tightly that the pain from his nails digging into his palms went unnoticed.

He stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the noise surrounding him. The fiery glow of the flames painted him in a crimson hue, adding to his already intimidating demeanor. Lo’ak frowned as he watched his brother walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out after him, but Neteyam was already gone.

That night, Neteyam laid in his hammock, unable to fall into his usual deep sleep as he gazed up at the starry sky. The distant sound of your laughter reached his ears, and he couldn't tell if it was real or just a figment of his own imagination. He had never felt this way before when you got attention from other men because you never reciprocated it. He wondered what you saw in Txi'pu. Would you be happy with a man like him?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Neteyam returned later than usual from his hunt, his body tired and mind restless from the lack of sleep. As he made his way towards the communal area, his attention was immediately drawn to you, seated with his siblings, engrossed in a conversation that seemed to captivate them. Neteyam felt a surge of energy within him at the mere sight of you talking so animatedly, he couldn’t wait to join and hear what you were saying. Quietly, he slipped in between Lo’ak and Kiri, so as to not disturb you, and his heart dropped upon the realization that the topic of the gathering was your walk with Txi’pu.

“Did he take you somewhere nice afterward?” Kiri asked, grinning.

Neteyam kept his gaze trained on the ground, not wanting to appear to be invested in your babbling about the last night, yet he hung onto every word you spoke. His patience was running thin, Kiri’s tail whacking him on the back with increasing excitement as you shared more details. He clenched his jaw in annoyance.

“We went to the waterfall, the one by the cliffs,” you smiled, “It was very beautiful.”

“Oh, that’s a good spot,” Lo’ak chimed in with a mischievous grin, “Girls are always impressed when I take them there.” 

“Yeah, sure, Romeo,” Kiri rolled her eyes at him.

Neteyam cleared his throat loud enough to catch your attention.

“I think it’s too cliche. The waterfall,” his voice possessed a hint of annoyance, “He clearly hadn’t put much thought into impressing you.”

“No, it totally depends on who’s taking you there,” Kiri argued.

Lo’ak intervened too, and as the two of them went back and forth about it, Neteyam’s eyes locked on yours. He studied you intensely, trying to read whatever was going on in your mind. You seemed pleased with the outcome of the last night, of the time you spent with another man. He wondered if you had truly moved on from him, and he felt a pang of guilt for secretly wishing that you hadn't. You stiffened under his penetrating gaze, sinking deeper into your seat. 

"How was your hunt?" you hoped to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable tension that had suddenly taken hold.

“Nothing special,” he shrugged, then reached for the pouch on his loincloth, taking something out of it, “Here, I brought this for you.”

Neteyam had made a sweet habit out of bringing you small treasures from his hunts. From simplest rocks to wildflowers, he always admired how you managed to turn them into something beautiful. He thought that the vibrant blue feather he found this morning would look nice braided into your hair.

You accepted it with a smile, admiring the unique pattern. And as he watched you observe it, Neteyam just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the moment. His usually cheerful expression was clouded with gloominess. He had hoped that you would confide in him about Txi'pu's unwanted advances and ask for his help, but instead, you seemed content with the outcome of the previous night.

“Thank you, Neteyam,” you beamed at him, but he could only manage to give you a faint smile.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam tousled the edges of his loincloth, irritation babbling in his chest, tightening so hard from within, he felt like he could snap any second now. His mother’s words, usually held dear to his heart, sounded like an annoying screech, as she went over the same topic: finding a perfect mate. Somebody on whom he could rely on when he becomes the Olo’eyktan, when the responsibilities are too much to handle. That the poor girl, whoever she is, must be prepared for her role in the upcoming few years, and that unlike Neteyam, she didn’t have her whole life to train. So he was being unfair to her by postponing the decision, leaving her no time to adjust.

His grandmother sat silently not too far, hands occupied with work, as she occasionally nodded to agree with Neytiri’s words. There was nothing new about them, it was the same lecture that has been passed down in generations through Mo’at’s lineage. She was sure that one day Neteyam would pass it down to his own children.

“Are you paying attention?” Neytiri asked again, and Neteyam had to nod to convince her that he did, though he stopped listening a long time ago, “She must be strong, resilient. It is important that you choose wisely. I believe you are mature enough not to be fooled by beauty only -”

Y/N was undeniably beautiful. Was he fooled by her appearance? By the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, those two beaded braids, adorned with some that he had gifted her, framing her face and complementing the yellow of her eyes. By the way her body moved, like the flow of water, gentle and natural, as if every movement was planned out by Eywa herself. He couldn’t deny that sometimes his eyes lingered on her longer than a friend's should. Sometimes, even the way she sat close to him, their thighs pressed against each other and her small delicate shoulder nudging his, could make him too flustered.

“Led not only by her heart but also by her mind,” Neytiri continued.

Surely, you were smart, capable for your age. Neteyam would even dare to say that you were smarter than most of the adults he had known, probably smarter than him too. And you were kind too, with a heart so big that you willingly offered support and loyalty to him, though he had done nothing in return. If it were any other girl, she would have likely cursed him out and refused to acknowledge him for the rest of her life.

“Prepared to protect her clan and her family.”

Would Y/N be a good mate, ready to take on the responsibility of tsakarem? The thought was fleeting but heavy enough to ooze his head with delight. Neteyam took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling overwhelmed by how much the descriptions expanded to you. Neytiri paused, observing him for a moment.

“There is someone already, yes?” she asked, failing to conceal her hopeful tone. 

Neteyam’s eyes snapped back to his mother, as she waited for him to answer. He could only shake his head and mutter an apology before scurrying away. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

No, it was wrong. Not after all those years of rejecting your affections, of not noticing when he crossed the lines and you didn't mind, he couldn't just swoop in now. Neteyam had struggled with this thought for many nights since the rumors of you letting Txi'pu court you began to circulate. You would tell him, right? He was your best friend, he had to be the first to know. But then again, it was probably foolish to believe what others had assumed. He had heard you say it to Lo'ak.

"I'm just taking things as they come," you shrugged, seemingly unbothered. Neteyam wished you would give him more of a reaction, so he could make some observations, "I don't think he and I are there yet."

But how could he believe it when he had seen you with Txi'pu repeatedly - the other day, the day after, and yesterday. He had noticed how you accepted the cut-up fruits from the warrior during communal dinners, held his hand, laughed with him - how it all had become somewhat of a habit. Neteyam struggled to maintain his appearances - he’d rather stay hungry than see you leave early with Txi’pu. Why him? The question knitted his eyebrows together in a deep-wrinkled frown, and he turned in his hammock once more, coaxing another annoyed whine from Lo'ak.

"Could you please stop?" his younger brother whispered, trying not to stir the rest of the family.

With sunrise approaching, it seemed unlikely to get any sleep anyway. Neteyam huffed and rose from his hammock, determined that a walk would clear his head. Maybe he was being selfish, greedy to keep you all to himself. But the idea of you being courted by someone else didn’t seem fair, especially when he had rejected everyone, every potential suitor suggested by his mother. Secretly, Neteyam wished that she would say your name, and then he would give her a sign that he wasn’t opposed to mating with you. But was it really unfair? After all, he never really gave you a chance.

His feet carried him away, making a few laps around the village. People were beginning to stir, emerging from their homes to begin their daily chores. Neteyam headed to the camp, intending to start his training early. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard your name.

Txi’pu and his friend were standing in front of the training hut, grinning widely and snickering about something. About someone. Neteyam hesitated to reveal himself, but his curiosity got the best of him, and he moved closer, trying to eavesdrop. The camp was beginning to get busy with the morning session, and just when Neteyam heard Txi'pu's malicious words about you, rage surged through him. In a split second, he made a decision. The rest was just as rushed, a heated fight took place between the two men.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You, go to Tsahik, now,” Jake ordered to Txi’pu with a scowl, then turned to you with a softened expression, “Y/N, please take care of this knucklehead,” he gestured to his son.

You nodded, hunching slightly, disappointment evident in your demeanor. You weren't sure how you felt when you first saw Neteyam on top of Txi’pu, punching him too hard for it to be considered a part of the training. Luckily, Jake was there, pulling his oldest son away from the other warrior before bigger damage was done.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Neteyam sighed.

“You do not look sorry,” Jake scoffed, “So stop with the lying, and go get cleaned up. We will talk about this later.”

Similar to Neteyam, Txi’pu refused to meet your eyes. He looked guilty, even more so than Neteyam. You wondered what had caused their fight, the thought consuming you so much that you almost missed Neteyam walking away from you. Anger began to bubble up inside you at the lack of information. It wouldn't have surprised you if it were Lo’ak, but Neteyam rarely resorted to using his fists.

“What happened?” you asked again, catching up to Neteyam. 

But he only shook his head, refusing to reveal the reason. As the two of you headed into his family hut, you gently shoved him to sit down and began shuffling through his mother's baskets. You quickly settled on picking out one of the healing balms, the one that usually stung the most. You were furious. For not telling you what had happened, for getting hurt, for attacking Txi'pu; that’s not who he was. Careless, reactive.

“Just say it,” he gritted through his teeth, feeling the cut above his brow throb under your fingers, “I can feel that you’re mad at me.” "You shouldn't have attacked him like that," you replied, your voice laced with irritation. More than anything, you hated when Neteyam got hurt.

“He deserved it.”

"That's not the point," you replied sternly. "This isn't like you. You don't go around punching people."

“Why him?” his voice cut harshly through the air, his amber eyes searching yours desperately, “Out of all people, why would you give yourself to him?”

“What?” you frowned, “I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what he’s telling everyone,” Neteyam rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t believe you. You shook your head, partly to convince him you were telling the truth, partly denying the fact that he believed somebody else over you.

How could he truly think you would do that? Knowing how much you valued the sacred bond, how could you, a woman he had grown up with and seemed to know through and through, give herself to a man with whom she had spent only a mere of two weeks. Without feelings, or even proper courting? And even if it was true, wasn’t he supposed to support you regardless of what you did? The thought stung, bringing anger into your voice.

“And what if I had given myself to him? It is none of your concern,” you snapped, pulling away from him with a sharpness that left him reeling. Your words were meant to wound, to protect Txi’pu and to strike back at Neteyam, “You had no right to attack him like that.”

“But I had,” he hissed, frustrated with how oblivious you were at reading his actions, “I have every right to make a call, when you can’t.”

“That’s not fair,” you shook your head firmly, as if denying his words, “You don’t get to act possessive over me.”

Neteyam retreated slightly. Did he reveal too much? He had always been aware of the deep-seated feeling in his chest that riled up every time he saw you but had never dared to give it a name. He couldn’t let you recognize it before he’d bring himself to confront it first.

“Do you think I did this for you? I am the future Olo’eyktan, and it is my duty as a leader and a warrior to keep skxawngs like him in tact,” he retorted, his voice dripping with venom, “I am not some lovesick puppy.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, struggling to reconcile this angry, unfamiliar version of Neteyam with the man you thought you knew like the back of your hand. His face was masked with rage, as he took it out on you for a reason that had still remained unclear. ‘Lovesick puppy,’ did he mean you?

"Got it," you spat out.You knew better than this - to trust that he wouldn’t hold your feelings for him against you one day.

“I didn’t mean to -” he regretted immediately, grasping at your hand but you yanked it away from his grip and stormed off.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Bro, what’s wrong with you? Dad looked like he was going to skin you,” Lo’ak plopped down next to Neteyam.

The older brother sat defeated on the cliff, feet dangling from the abrupt edge mindlessly. He stared out into the distance, the sun setting over the rainforest. 

“I don’t regret it, Txi’pu is disgusting,” Neteyam spat out, anger still lingering in his voice. 

“What did he do?”

Lo’ak pushed for answers, since the reason for the fight was still unknown. When the fight was broken off in front of the other warriors, Neteyam refused to voice it. He didn’t want to repeat the nasty words spoken by Txi’pu when you were there and embarrass you in front of the others, even worse, he didn’t want to hurt you. Neteyam didn’t care enough to defend himself, didn’t care for the scolding he got from his father after that. Frankly, he didn’t regret attacking Txi’pu at all, drawing blood felt good. But his father pressed, knowing exactly how to prod the words out of his oldest son. Jake decided not to intervene in the matters of your friendship then, he only advised his son to be mature and clean up his own mess. 

“He was saying these things about Y/N, and I couldn’t just let it go,” Neteyam gulped, his fists clenching in anger, “He told his friends that she gave herself to him without a Tsaheylu. That after years of pining for me, he had finally ‘cured�� her... some shit like that.” 

“What an asshole,” Lo’ak sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah…”

Both brothers sat there for a moment, giving each other the space to process their conversation. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the wind through the vines and the distant calls of the banshees. Eventually, Lo’ak decided to break the silence once more.

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but you shouldn’t have caused a scene like that. You got yourself into so much trouble.”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam turned to look at him, a little frustrated, “It was about Y/N. How could I let it slide?”

“No, I know, I agree,” his little brother was quick to raise his palms in the air to show he was still on his side, “I’m just saying, you never act like that. Maybe the jealousy got the better of you.”

“I am not jealous,” Neteyam protested, “I just can’t stand it that she chose to spend time with some asshole and then got herself hurt.”

“It’s her life, she can make her own choices,” Lo'ak placed a comforting hand on Neteyam's shoulder. He could sense that his brother was battling with something deep within himself, that the boundaries were blurring. 

“But he doesn’t deserve her.”

“And you do?” Lo’ak asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“W-what?” Neteyam scoffed, standing up to show he was done with the conversation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay if it took you so long to realize. Just don’t make her wait any longer,” Lo’ak shouted after Neteyam, who was already walking away.

Neteyam's eyes widened with a sudden realization. It was as if Lo'ak's advice had struck the exact spot in his mind that had been bothering him for days, offering a simple solution to his inner turmoil. It was like medicine to his aching soul, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Txi’pu's apology came quickly but lacked any genuine remorse. It was as if he had been forced into it, and by the look on his face, you suspected that he had been, most likely by Jake. The thought of the Olo’eyktan having to waste his time like that and hear about the stupid rumors was humiliating. Neteyam, on the other hand, took his time, letting you cool off, while he would figure out his feelings. Though he hadn’t suspected that the lack of his apology drew a distance between you that you were previously unfamiliar with. He’d steal glances at you during the dinners but that was it. Your best friend, the man you have been in love with, didn’t feel like a safe person anymore. 

He was confused about it too. Couldn't tell if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or if he was genuinely blind to how much he used to relish in your presence. He gazed from afar with a longing look as you sat, looking pretty as ever. Your eyebrows were knitted in a gentle frown, eyelids halfway closed, as you huffed air out of your plump lips. He couldn't help but steal another glance in your direction, as he watched your head pull back with a loud whimper, your mother's hands quickly braiding another section of your hair, gripping tightly as you struggled to keep your neck straight. It would almost make him laugh at the way you reacted to pain, if he hadn't been so distracted by how pretty you looked.

“Stop gawking,” Lo’ak nudged him with an eye roll, “Just apologize already. It’s been days.”

Neteyam shook off his distracting thoughts, but the knife he was supposed to be sharpening remained as blunt as his mind, struggling to keep up with whatever Lo'ak was saying to him.

He wished he could just go back in time and stop himself from lashing out at you, from taking his frustrations out on the one person he cared about the most. He regretted pressing on the wound in your heart that had been bleeding for him for years, hurting you in the place where it hurt the most. The distance between you two had become unbearable, but he couldn't bring himself to close it. It felt different this time. Throughout all the years of your friendship, you had never fought like this. You had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. Misunderstandings were usually quickly resolved with sincere apologies. But the venomous words that had spilled out of him due to jealousy had stung like no other, ‘I am not some lovesick puppy.’

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam’s voice quievered, “Can you talk to her for me? She might listen to you.”

“Really, dude?” Lo’ak raised an eyebrow at him, “You want me to apologize for you?”

“No, I don't want you to apologize for me,” Neteyam frowned, already getting irritated, “Just make her talk to me, please.”

“Fine, but you owe me,” Lo’ak stood up abruptly, with a huff. Neteyam’s eyes widened at his sudden movement.

“Wait, are you going right now?”

Lo'ak gave a nonchalant shrug as he glanced in your direction, still seated in front of your mother. Neteyam thought it would be too humiliating to watch his brother beg for your attention while he was right there. You would think him as pathetic, a mighty warrior afraid to approach his friend of fifteen years.

“But she’s busy,” Neteyam's voice trailed off, eyes following as Lo’ak jogged over to you.

He watched the way Lo’ak greeted your mother with respect and earned a kind smile from her. You took your time to grant him your attention, tail swishing lazily from side to side, while Lo’ak made small talk. Neteyam stiffened once your eyes landed on him with a newfound harshness. He had never seen it from you before, and he could feel his heart sink in his chest. 

What was Lo’ak telling you? Neteyam strained his ears to try to catch some of the conversation, but the soft murmur of your voices made it impossible. All he could do was pray that the little shrug you gave was meant to be for him, a chance to let him explain himself.

“I will be tracking a Vayätu after the eclipse. If he wants to apologize, he can help me first,” Lo’ak relayed your message to Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your ears perked up at the faint rustling sound, eyes already scanning the area, hunched over from behind the thick bushes. The mysterious spell was casted over the forest with the presence of Vayätu, a creature just as ethereal as it appeared. You felt it was near, just like Eywa, lingering somewhere in the dark. The bioluminescent shimmered over its sleek iridescent fur, concealing the creature, but the two sets of prominent yellow eyes stood out in the densest part of the forest.

Among your clan, Vayätu was one of the most valuable creations of Eywa. An animal rarely shown in the forests of Pandora, that despite its incredible speed and agility, was delicate, easy to scare away. Its only defense was disappearing into the foliage, blending with the surroundings. If a Vayätu got hurt once, it would never return to the same area. 

Then there was the medicine that came with it. Deep within its long neck, the creature had a gland producing thick, viscous substance highly prized for its medicinal property, used to ease the pain for treating big wounds, or fed to women before giving birth. Retracting the liquid wasn’t harmful to the animal, similar to the way your eyes would produce tears when crying, but there was a certain routine to it. Requiring at least two hunters, one of which would hold the animal down, while the other one would gather the substance. 

You stiffened immediately, hand reaching for your leather rope - a signal for Neteyam to prepare for the attack. Simple. You had done this before once, worked perfectly together, and then couldn’t stop laughing as the adrenaline rushed through your blood, jumping through the trees to hurry back home and announce your victory. But it seemed like at that moment, as he was kneeling beside you staring up at your profile, Neteyam had forgotten everything he knew. The apology, along with the confession he had been crafting carefully for days now, were ready on the tip of his tongue. He had to wait for the right moment.

Your skin was adorned with bioluminescent freckles that resembled a star constellation, just like the ones he used to stare at with his father on clear nights. Your eyes glowed softly, narrowed as if concentrating on something in the distance, and Neteyam was too distracted to pick up on it. He had seen you many times from many angles before, yet he couldn't help but be captivated by the way you tensed up, the definition of your lean, delicate arms, and the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed quietly and steadily.

Neteyam was so entranced by the way your body moved that he didn't notice when you jumped forward, your form confident as you chased a shadow. His attention was quickly drawn to the two sets of yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, before disappearing in an instant. He realized that he had missed the signal to attack first.

The forest came alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and cracking branches, as you ran after the Vayätu, hot on its tail. But the extra set of legs gave the creature an advantage, it was faster, putting a prominent distance between you. Frustration bubbled within you at the realization that you were alone in the chase. Where the hell was Neteyam? You were not set for this; speed wasn’t your strength. That was Neteyam’s part, you were better at sneaking. 

“Neteyam!” you called out loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

You pushed harder, heart racing, as you refused to let the creature out of your sight, because once you did, you would never see it again. Neteyam caught up then, quick on his feet, as he articulated through the trees. He felt guilty for getting distracted, he had to prove himself to be helpful for you.

You, you, you. You were all that filled his mind. With determination, Neteyam lunged forward, his lean muscular body fluidly navigating through the dense undergrowth of the forest. His eyes remained fixated on the Vayätu up head, never losing sight of his target as he closed in on the ethereal creature. With a sudden burst of speed, he leaped towards it, his arms outstretched as he managed to tackle it to the ground.

You were still a few paces behind, your blood pumped with adrenaline, as you watched the scene unfold. Quickly, while Neteyam was still holding the animal down, you dropped to your knees right next to them. 

“Where the hell have you been?” you hissed angrily, your eyes already darting all over the trembling creature.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” he mumbled. You only shook your head, dismissing his apology.

Elderly often instructed young hunters to calm their prey, make them feel safe and connected to Eywa. Following their advice, you reached to gently stroke the creature’s neck, whispering soft prayers to soothe its fear. Neteyam’s gaze was glued to you, as if something intimate and intricate was happening, something that only the two of you could comprehend.

“Okay, get ready to apply more pressure,” you warned, before taking out your wooden flask, crafted out of the root of the Home Tree.

Neteyam only nodded, watching the way you worked. The creature trembled under your touch, but his grip was unyielding, letting you collect the precious liquid and gently store it away. With a pat on his arm, you signaled for him to release the animal. Neteyam leaned back, panting heavily as the Vayätu sprang to its feet, shaking its head and snorting in frustration before darting away into the darkness.

Both of you stood up and remained quiet for a moment, as he wiped away the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. You were too covered in dirt, body exhausted from the chase. Yet, the triumph took over you once the realization that you had been successful settled in. A small smile crept onto your face.

"Nice work," you spoke quietly, “Even though you almost snoozed.”

He chuckled weakly, a little embarrassed. Amber eyes scanned your face, tracing the now smudged patterns of yellow paint. 

“Let’s wash off,” he offered.

The tension slipped right back in and hung heavily between the two of you, as you walked ahead, letting Neteyam trail after you. Navigating through the dark forest was easy, you had taken this way to the pond many times before. There was no need to check if Neteyam was still following, you knew he was. He wouldn’t let this opportunity slide, not after sending Lo’ak to talk to you. You weren’t going to deny it - you missed Neteyam terribly, and a part of you had hoped that the apology would be sincere enough to soothe the pain left by his words. 

The water was still under the shimmering moonlight, creating a perfect mirror of its surroundings. You carefully removed your belt, ensuring that the items in the pouch didn't spill, and placed it on the ground. Neteyam followed your lead and quietly put down his weapons.

“You wanted to talk,” you began first, the harshness returning to your voice.

Sure, it was disappointing, the way things turned out with Txi’pu. You couldn’t help but pity yourself for being played by the first guy you decided to give a chance to. The thought of him holding your hand now seemed disgusting, sent shivers down your spine. But it was easy to dismiss it because for the past week, the sting left from Neteyam’s words was much worse. You wanted it to go away, desperately.

“Y/N… I am so sorry, I truly am,” Neteyam took a long breath, forcing you to look at him, “I wish I could take back everything I said.”

"Don't apologize if it's how you really feel, Neteyam," you replied, your voice catching in your throat. "I just wish I had known sooner, so I would stop acting like a ‘lovesick puppy’ around you."

“No, no, I didn’t mean it,” he raised his palms in the air, as if to stop you, “I didn’t even think. I only spoke out of jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” you scoffed in disbelief. Did he really try to lie his way into forgiveness? “Why would you ever be jealous?”

Neteyam sighed and took a few steps closer to you. Almost too close. Of course, as friends, you had been even at a closer approximation before, but there was something different about it now. Too intimate, like no one else was supposed to see it. Your eyes flickered up to his face.

"Because you gave a chance to somebody else, and... I hated it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing you hold his hand instead of mine, laugh at his jokes, accept his gifts...it hurt me, more than I care to admit. Do you understand?"

You blinked in confusion, though your heart raced at the mere possibility that he was hinting at what you had hoped for a long time. Neteyam waited for you to answer his question, but when you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out. Then you felt him reach for your hand, long fingers intertwining delicately with yours. Goosebumps covered your skin in an instant.

“Every time my parents talked about choosing a mate, I got frustrated because all I could see was your face… you by my side. And I was so confused, I didn’t know what it meant back then, but now I do,” words spilled out of him with sincerity, “I like you more than a friend, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.” “’s better late than never, right?” you attempted a faint smile with a croaky voice, though your heart was racing like crazy.

Then, as he leaned in, every thought seemed to wash away, and all you could focus on was him.

“Can I just..?” he trailed off, his arms open for you.

You nodded, stepping into his embrace. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, savoring your scent. He had missed you so much and had been dreaming of holding you in his arms ever since the fight. All he wanted was to keep his arms around you, both gentle and strong at the same time. And sweet like honey, his voice dripped.

“I see you, Y/N.”

You pulled away, searching for his face.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and your own heart skipped a beat at the question. 

You could only stare back, frozen, as Neteyam’s fingers brushed hesitantly against your face. He leaned in and waited for you to push him away, but once he was sure you wouldn’t, his lips ghosted over yours. A beat, and with a shaky breath, he pulled you closer. You surrendered to the feeling immediately, hands finding their way to his chest, trying to touch, feel every part of him, just to convince yourself this was real. With a soft gasp, your tongues intertwined, his taste like honey, sweet and intoxicating, marked you as his own.

The kiss broke, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I should have waited for your permission."

You shook your head weakly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted more.

"Don't be sorry," you nuzzled his face with your own, "I...I wanted this for a long time."

Neteyam felt like his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He was lightheaded, intoxicated by you. By the way your lips tasted, by your scent, by the feeling of your hands on him. He kissed you again, more desperately this time, pushing you back slightly, stepping into the the pond. You followed him without a word, the water lapping at your ankles.

The water was cool around you, causing a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure, maybe it was just Neteyam. He pulled you closer, dipping the two of you into the water half to your waist. There was only one thing on his mind - he needed to take care of you, wash away the stress and the tiredness he had caused, and make up for it with his love. 

You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to his embrace, as he began to run his hands over your back, gently massaging your shoulders and arms. Some of the water he cupped had dripped over your back, relaxing away all of the tension in your body. You could feel yourself leaning onto him more, as if your knees were ready to give out any second now.

Neteyam’s hands continued to roam all over your body, exploring every curve he never had the chance to touch before. Everything that he had dreamed about was right there, under the pads of his fingers. He scooped another handful of water, bringing it to your face this time, washing away the dirt and the traces of paint off your face. You let out a sigh of pleasure, when his thumb grazed the blue stripe over your cheekbone. 

His hands then strayed lower and lower, found their way to your hips and lingered there. He couldn’t move, thumbs pressed into your skin, leaving hot traces. You could feel the heat building in your chore, the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue probing gently at your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and you felt a rush of heat flow through your body.

“Neteyam…” you sighed softly, your hands reaching for his loincloth, tugging at it weakly.

“Yes?” he asked, as he dipped his head to kiss your neck.

“I want you,” you managed to let out, hand reaching lower to stroke over his length. He pressed into your palm with a groan.

“I want you too,” he planted another kiss to your neck, “But we have to wait…”

“What? No,” you shook your head weakly.

“Mhm, yes… I have to court you first,” he spoke in between short breaths he took, mouth never leaving that sensitive spot on your neck, “Do it properly. Earn your affections.”

“Neteyam, you know you had me all this time,” you chuckled weakly.

His chest heaved as he pulled away slightly, his hands still cradling your cheeks. He looked deeply into your eyes, a small smile curling his lips as he studied your flushed face for a moment.

“I want to do this right, Y/N, will you let me?” he asked softly, like he had already planned out the whole thing in his head.

Butterflies churned in your stomach, and you nodded, your own lips stretching into a lovesick grin. He planted another gentle kiss on your forehead.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (lkm if you want to be added): @bigdikzaddy @awriana @scarletrosesposts @abbersreads @mechformers @my-love-of-books @avatarbyamara @robin-the-enby @netemoon @minjix @nilrilie @grierpilots @suntizme @live-laugh-neteyam @misscaller06 @darkacademictrash @arminsgfloll @omnifanfic-copycat @crazyforteyam @sakura-onesan @laylasbunbunny

[thefirstknife]

Some lore tabs that killed me dead and I'll never recover from them. Seasonal gauntlets are about Zavala realising and coming to terms with the fact that he is mortal and has mortal pains. Also, finally, the full confirmation that Guardians resume aging when they lose their Light:

He moved his chair back and considered his knee. What had he done to hurt it? He had not exercised yet, he had not gone on his usual patrol… he had done nothing. Why would a knee hurt from doing nothing? The riddle dissolved. He was starting to age.

But also:

He allows a hand to rest on his aching knee. To venerate it. He feels it solid under his palm. It is his, it is real, it is both portentous and precious. He is aging. He will age. An absurd and joyous thought warms in his chest: how fortunate, to have lived long enough to grow old. How invaluable, to make the space between himself and the horizon matter. How much time is left? And is it best spent with his knees under a desk?

Genuinely crying over this. How fortunate to live long enough to grow old. Man. Also at the end he asks for a break for one week and Ikora offers him two weeks.

The next one just... I have no words. It has to be read in full. It's about Saint going through it, having memories of his past and also dealing with the guilt with what's happening to Mithrax. Truly every sentence in this one is a gutpunch all the way to the end. Excerpts:

The hum of activity was overpowering yet reassuring to Saint-14 as he stopped to watch an older Eliksni expertly weave fabric on a well-worn loom. The woven symbols were unique and unfamiliar to the Exo, but he watched in awe as an iridescent glow emerged within the vibrant cerulean cloth. Fit for a Kell, Saint mused to himself— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory echoed in his mind. All he could feel in this moment… was shame.

Saint remembering his crimes against the Eliksni and feeling shame.

He hurried past the weaver and through the crowd, landing squarely in front of a tea stand, a sample placed in his hand before he could open his mouth to refuse. He looked down. The opaque liquid steamed in his cup, pungent and medicinal. Like distilled Darkness, Saint realized— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory filled his sight. All he could feel in this moment… was sadness.

Tea reminded him of all the stuff with Osiris and he is not processing it well. I say excerpts but I have to put the rest entirely because like. Okay.

Saint placed his favorite keepsake, a small stuffed bear, on the Kell's throne. Gently, he adjusted the lavender ribbon at its neck; the crisp satin sat in stark contrast to the bear's hazy black eyes, to its slightly worn ear and well-loved fur. A gift, once a comfort to a child of the City. A gift, once a comfort to Saint in the face of loss, in the face of— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory swelled in his heart. Osiris. His strong laugh. His deep, soulful eyes. The warmth of his smile. Of his touch. Memories of comfort, but all he could feel in this moment… was guilt. Intense and overwhelming, like daggers cutting through him, sharpness bleeding through sweetness. Saint breathed deeply and stared at the medical equipment around the empty throne before him. "The cost of my joy," Saint whispered, and he wept.

He has a teddy bear. He once gave it to a child, but someone returned it to him when he was grieving about Osiris, to comfort him, and he'd kept it. And he put it on Mithrax's throne because he feels guilt that Mithrax is suffering because he helped him and Osiris.

I'm ending it all.

[merakiui]

I havent heard a lot about Android Jade, do you have any thoughts on that cutie??✨

Thinking,,,,, android Jade who is so fascinated with you when you're pregnant. He didn't quite understand the excitement or emotions surrounding the announcement when you and Azul realized you were expecting. Is it really so important? He can kind of understand it when Azul fusses over you and is always sending Jade or Floyd (or both twins) out to do the errands you used to run. Azul knows you're plenty capable, but he worries intensely and it's in his blood to plan for every outcome as a businessman. He just wants to make sure you carry to term and deliver a healthy baby. Besides, the androids can take care of the grunt work. Don't push yourself.

Jade didn't think it was such a big deal, but then you start showing and oh. It occurs to him you're carrying another human being in that belly of yours. Suddenly, the usually stoic android is reduced to the equivalent of a starry-eyed child on Christmas morning. He's so curious, even more so when your eating habits change dramatically. You crave all sorts of unique combinations and Jade's more than happy to prepare each one for you.

And then there are the emotions, so many of them, all happening in extremes. Some days you are effortlessly happy and bubbly, full of laughter. Other days you are miserable and gloomy, sobbing over how your favorite shirt no longer fits or how you're certain Azul thinks you're ugly or how you feel and look like a bloated whale! >_< Jade is amazed to witness each one of your moods, all of them just as genuine and perplexing to him. He approaches it tactfully, albeit terribly logical: "Of course your shirt no longer fits. You've grown to accommodate the baby, Master. That is natural." Or: "If Master Azul thought so, he would certainly say something. I may be unable to provide an adequate response, but I assure you he would never think such things. You should ask him." Or: "You are not a whale. You are a human." ^^;;; he may not be the best when it comes to empathy, but hearing his objective logic sometimes makes you feel better. It even manages to get you laughing.

Azul spends more time with you than he does at work. He refuses to leave you alone. Jade finds his nature...clingy. Incessantly clingy. When there is business that Azul absolutely must attend to, Jade sends him on his way and promises him that you are in good hands. Jade and Floyd will look after you. In fact, Jade almost wants Azul to stay at the office most days. Azul can be so greedy with your time. :/

Jade has always thought you were pretty, but now that he's looking at you, backdropped by flowers and radiating that fabled pregnancy glow in a soft maternity romper, he realizes you're absolutely beautiful. He can't stop staring. He stares when you're eating. When you're snotty and crying. When you're laughing. When you're frowning over old clothes. When you're rubbing lotions and oils onto your belly and whispering the sweetest things to the baby, singing the loveliest of lullabies. He stares when you're bathing. When you and Azul are making love. When you're eagerly putting the nursery together, painting the walls alongside Azul. And Jade realizes he wants to be there with you. Not in the shadows. Not as your servant but more. Maybe the concept is too human for him to dissect, but he thinks he wants what Azul has. He thinks he wants to be Azul.

He's not supposed to think. He's supposed to compute, assess everything through a logical lens and then act on the command.

Jade doesn't understand at first—the substance leaking from your breasts. He's silently amazed as he watches you grouse over it, complaining that you're sick of this always happening, that you're so tired and sore, that you wish Azul was here. Idia called him into work because it was important (i.e. investors were there for a meeting, and Idia doesn't like handling those aspects of work. Azul does it best). You're muttering under your breath as you shuck your shirt off and press it against your leaking tits: "I swear I'll strangle Idia the next time I see him! I'll seriously kick him in his knees. That ass—bad guy! Not-so-nice guy!" You correct yourself for the baby's sake. Jade thinks it's cute.

He offers to help even though he's not sure what he's meant to do. He's run through all of the data he's stored on this matter—on human lactation. Things doctors tell you. Things science tells you. He's not sure what he's doing when he sits down on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you to sit on his lap. He has you pull the shirt away so he can close his hands around your tits, his synthetic skin soft and warm against you. If you wanted to protest, you don't. You relax against his chest, sighing dreamily as he massages you. It's messy, thin trails of milk dripping from your teats, but it feels good. An utter relief. Jade is gentle and slow, an expert masseuse. You allow yourself to drift off, to be handled in this way. There's nothing to it. Just your android doing his duty in place of your husband. To Jade, it's everything. And he imagines Azul's dead and buried somewhere at the end of the world, and it's just you and Jade and the little one in your belly.

His hands are slick with milk in the aftermath. You're sleepy. You can barely stand with your eyes open, and he has to wonder if you're aware of how darling you are. He cleans you methodically, helping you into a new shirt. When you aren't looking, he licks a stripe up his palm to analyze the flavor and break down the components of...colostrum. That's what it is. Or, in simple terms, it's milk.

He's captivated, and he suspects he'll only be even more so as time trickles by.

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[ashtavula]

Hi, I've been reading a lot of your work lately and I absolutely love them!

If it's not a bother can I request Jamil, Azul, Vil and Riddle with their S/O being the children of the great seven? Like they got isakaid there instead of yuu (I'm going to ask for all the Overblot boys because personally I think Idia, malleus and Leona are somehow related to the great seven, either a direct Descendants or distant relative)

Anyways thank you so much if you decide to do this and it's alright if you don't I just really love your writing style and works on the Overblot boys!!

This is a really interesting idea, considering all of the boys really respect the great seven!

Jamil, Azul, Vil, and Riddle with a reader who is the child of the great seven

Jamil:

-Jamil is usually reluctant to show off how smart he really is, but he feels like he has to prove his intelligence when he's with you. You are, after all, the child of the Sorcerer of the Sands. He fully believes that you must be just as wise as your father, even if you actually aren't.

-Jamil never refers to you by title, since it just reminds him that he's a servant, and you are the child of a grand vizier. He knows that you don't care, but he'd rather avoid bringing it up. Instead, he calls you habibi when you're both alone, and he can be more affectionate.

-He refuses to hear anything about you possibly returning to your home. Jamil knows that your father wouldn't approve of you dating a servant, and he can't stand the thought of losing you forever. All he can do is hope that you'll stay, against all odds.

Azul:

-Azul practically begs you to share what you know about your mother. He's always admired the Sea Witch, and he wants to know all there is to know. He'll light up if you reveal some of her wisdom to him, or show him how some of her magic was done.

-I assume that you're also an octopus mer, and that puts Azul at ease because you're like him. The two of you will both curl up in his octopot, giggling as his tentacles tangle with yours. Azul sweetly calls you his precious pearl as holds you, though he'll blush if you give him a pet name too.

-Azul is terrified that you'll leave him one day, and he tries his hardest to make you want to stay with him. He'll spoil you, and he constantly strives to prove that he's worthy of your love. He loves you too much to be able to bear losing you.

Vil:

-Vil doesn't want to push you too much, but the Fairest Queen is well-renowned for her poisons. Surely, you've learned from her, and can teach him. He also asks a lot about her beauty routines. He'll be ecstatic if you share any of her secrets with him.

-Vil adores being able to call you his beautiful prince/princess, and he tends to flaunt your relationship. He preens if you compliment him in return, and gets ridiculously happy if you call him your perfect prince. He feels tempted to record you telling him that, just so he can play it whenever he wants.

-He acts like he's not worried about you potentially leaving, but deep down he's scared that it will happen. He'd do just about anything to get you to stay with him, even if it meant facing off against the Fairest Queen.

Riddle:

-He gets even more serious about following the rules of the Queen of Hearts after realizing that she's your mother. Surely, you're pleased that he remembers all of them, right? Riddle would be baffled if you told him it wasn't necessary, or if you went so far as to criticize your mother for making up so many ridiculous rules.

-Riddle still refers to you by your title, but it's become a term of endearment. He'll kiss your hand as you stroll through the rose maze, and will affectionately call you his prince/princess. He also gets flustered if you refer to him as your prince. Or even better, your king.

-He worries that you miss your mother and your old home, but he desperately hopes that you'll stay with him. If it came down to you going back to your original place, Riddle would choose to go with you. Nothing is more important to him than his love for you.

[raayllum]

Seen some discussion on this and I think the big takeaway being "Rayla is taking Runaan's place here as the leader" is underselling it in some ways, tbh, since I think it's a lot more indicative of how S7 is going to challenge Rayla at her core of whether she's like Runaan, and what version(s) of Runaan that means.

Rayla has always had similarities to her father / mentor. Keeping secrets about her own harm, the emphasis on sacrifice, her view of herself as an assassin, goodbye kisses to their lovers, leaving people at home to protect them, her little silver pauldron that matches his, wielding his bow-blade in S5, and her ponytail hair clasp, etc etc. Some of the lessons she's learned from Runaan have been helpful, allowing her to protect herself and her friends; some of them have been less so.

I told you: I am already dead.

I've talked about this before but the bulk of the characters in TDP have a 'shadow self' for lack of a better term—a person in the narrative/history or in their family that they are struggling with whether to be like, if not actively striving against it (Janai with Queen Aditi, Ezran with Harrow, etc). However, it's a bit more complicated than that. As noted in previous metas, Callum's parallels to Viren have gone from being indicative of a mostly negative path (dark magic use to the point of corruption, Aaravos' manipulations, etc) to also indicating a positive path: breaking away from Aaravos and dark magic (5x09) and doing more heroic deeds (6x08) because you refuse to sacrifice the people around you. It's shifted from "Callum is like Viren" to "Callum is like both of Viren's arcs, bad and eventually good," as when he inevitably breaks away from Aaravos' hold, he will ultimately be paralleling his main foil in a positive way as well.

It's a similar matter for Rayla with Runaan, with the way Runaan parallels Viren being a fun bonus, down to being resurrected and deeply regretful of how they've treated their child(ren).

Is she going to be Runaan the assassin, who keeps their oaths/promises no matter what even if that means sacrificing everything they hold dear, including their family? Who believes that the mission is too far gone now for a detour, or to go off track entirely? The Runaan who put duty over love and tried to kill someone he loved, even if it ended up destroying himself, too?

Or is she going to be the Runaan who regrets doing so, who is lost but found through love, who is brought back and brings others back? Who carries Runaan's bravery and guidance but sheds the lesson of sacrifice at all cost, of yourself, of others? And instead is devoted to preserving life, rather than taking it?

CALLUM: Rayla's brave. She saves people. [...] Rayla is selfless, strong, and caring. That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla.

As Runaan and Rayla have both had time to unlearn their previous mindsets and build upon new ones, I think they will continue to challenge each other to reject the duty > love mindset, and that they've had to embrace a healthier, more balanced view of love and sacrifice for themselves and its impact on others around them.

[aimbutmiss]

I feel like Roger loved both Buggy and Shanks equally, it’s just that he REALLY saw himself in Shanks and less so in Buggy, which made Buggy feel like the less loved child, just because he didn’t quite have the same “Oh wow we are just immediately on the same wavelength” like these two

If you asked Roger though he would have spoken about both of them with equal pride. He may see himself in Shanks but Buggy is … Buggy is just his own entire thing and sometimes Roger is kind of stupefied at this young pirate just putting so much into showmanship and being FLASHY and by god this is a greedy little shit but that just means he is just always going after something.And once he gets it he’s gonna show it off in the flashiest way possible that’s just so infectiously joyful to witness. Also- bombs?! Who taught him that?! Rayleigh did you teach him that? He didn’t teach him that! How’d that boy get so crafty! Hey guys check it out Buggy made a BOMB! Haha, hey may never know quite what’s going on with this brat but what a lad! His little firecracker…

Buggy wasn’t unloved but he was a massive causality of Shanks “chosen one” status (another one of these is Shanks himself imo but that’s getting into theory corner), because in his eyes that didn’t leave him to be anything else.

Yessss I do agree that Roger didn't really have a favourite, just different approaches to the kids. If there was any favouritism it would be unintentional, like I've said before. Because I really don't think Roger was that type of man. He loved those kids, they were basically like his sons.

I also agree that he saw himself in Shanks. And he saw something completely different in Buggy. Not just in the way that he was different from himself and Shanks, but he was different from everyone. Roger has never met someone like Buggy before and that fascinated him. This little kid was so... flashy, as he put in his own terms. And he was a go-getter. Roger was convinced that kid had the potential to flip the world upside down if it would get him what he wanted. And there's something so refreshing about that kind of unending determination. The only thing that stood in the way of that was his inferiority complex. And oh did Roger try to make it better. He tried his best to treat him and Shanks equally. Always told them both they could do anything they put their mind to, and that he loved and cared for them deeply. But it just didn't seem to penetrate through Buggy's thick skull. Him giving his hat to Shanks did NOT help. I think that small action was truly the catalyst for the "chosen one" complex you talked about. I mean the effects of it are still very much present, with Luffy and all...

I don't think Buggy was really a casualty in Shanks and his "chosen one" status (at least not as big of a casualty as Shanks himself) because he didn't let himself get stuck because of it, like Shanks did. He knew he couldn't reach his full potential in his friend's shadow, so he left. He started a new life because he refused to be stagnant. And he had a goal, a dream, that did not match what Shanks wanted. So of course he left, because Buggy always goes after what he wants. He chose to go forward, but Shanks stayed there. He could not move forward. He was destined to be forever that little boy on Oro Jackson, the pirate king's chosen one, and that teen Buggy left in Loguetown. (Taylor Swift - Right where you left me, literally)

On a lighter note... those damn bombs!!! Who taught him???? Literally no one. I'm convinced he just threw shit together. And honestly, Buggy is very smart. He figured how things work very quickly at a young age, and he was always good with his hands. It's another thing Roger always felt proud about him. "His little firecracker..." Anon shut up right now I will cry 😭😭 that's so cute

Thank you for this!! Sorry for replying late, I knew I was gonna write something long so I wanted to do it when I had the time

[twstfanblog]

So how did azul find his girls???

Evil Dad AU meeting story 2 unlocked!

As stated, Azul's girls sink a ship that he had promised safe passage. That deal falling through really puts him in a delicate position so he's of course, PISSED. He demands the Tweels look into who sunk that ship and potentially fucked up his whole operation. The Tweels come back saying...by the rumors that...the Sea Witch...was the one who did it... Azul, The Sea Witch: Azul: WHAT!? After more research, they head to where this 'Sea Witch' is supposed to live. Finding an abandoned coral cliff close to a coastline, Azul is already angry and demanding whoever is impersonating him comes out RIGHT NOW. So imagine their surprise as what could only be described as 'Little Girl Azul' pops out from the coral to yell at them to be quiet. After a few moments of the Tweels looking back and forth between Azul and who is CLEARLY his daughter, Azul finally remembers what he was doing and starts demanding she tell him who she is Charysa: What do you have a monopoly on being an octomer? Azul: I-No! I just- Charysa: Look. I'm a very busy girl and I haven't got all day unlike SOME PEOPLE apparently. Just speak your wish and I shall grant it, for a price of course. It's a back-and-forth of sass and underhanded comments before Charysa agrees to not fuck with the route anymore if Azul brings a contract detailing a fair deal for them both. Azul, not really knowing how this young girl sunk a whole ass trading vessel alone, decides to agree to said terms. Azul DOES write the contract and they come back to do the deal, only the mer who exits the coral is SCYLAR. a fact none of them notice because as far as they know, there was only one. it's more sass, but now this child is MOCKING Azul saying this deal wasn't fair in the slightest and if he assumed she couldn't read (Like he couldn't at her age. BURN) Azul snatches the contract back, ready to point how she can't read because the contract CLEARLY SAYS-... The contracts change during each meeting. The sisters switching back and forth to get around any verbal contracts by saying they were only going to keep their word for a week. Knowing Azul only talks to them each once a week with the travel time to get to their coral cliff. Azul is BLINDED by his frustration about being mocked by a 'toddler' but the tweels are more aware that something is going on and that One is more than likely Two. They also...can do basic math and are 90% sure these kids are Azul and Yuu's children. A fact that Azul refuses to accept because he's been getting the run around by CHILDREN.

Azul: Those smug little upstarts are not- Jade: Remember. They'd also be Yuu's children. Azul: Azul sighs, finally relaxing and allowing himself to think about things clearly. Azul: By the Seven, they're mine...Well…they'll have to be punished for targeting their father… From there, Azul realizes that they most likely have the missing conch. And they're both clearly too young to use it to its full capabilities. While they can't use it to 'take' things, it'll be easy to figure out how to use it to 'replace' things. Like words on a contract.

Azul chooses to use what is basically chemical warfare. Makes a scenario where he can spill a potion into the water during a meeting without the current twin knowing about it. It gives them a severe stomach ache, but without knowing the full effect of the potion is concerning enough to warrant a doctor's visit. Scylar, panicked and wanting the deal over with so she can get her sister to a doctor, tries to rush through the signing of the contract Azul brings their next meeting. Azul, smug, snatches the contract out of reach and just coos. Azul: Oh dear! Why so frazzled? In fact, I'm rather surprised you look so well. That potion I used is known to put even the Tweels on bedrest until the antidote is given…then again one of you is on bedrest, isn't she? Scylar: Scylar bolts back into the reef, trying to get to Charysa in an effort to escape. Unfortunately, the Tweels are adults and much faster, so they're both caught fairly quickly. Azul knows they are his and Yuu's children. And now he has the perfect method for getting Yuu to come right back to him and he gets a family. Win-win for everyone in his eyes. But when he asks them where their mother is, they admit they haven't seen Yuu in two years, as the port they use to meet Yuu at was overrun with guards and her wanted posters one day. Azul is mad; One, because that means Yuu ISN'T a mer like he thought which would explain why he couldn't find her over the years. Two, he has to find a clear-cut way to lure Yuu back into the water. As such, he let his children live alone in a dead coral. So, in a turn of irony, he locks the twins into the cleared-out safe room. Claiming them as his two new treasures. (He does let them out as they all get more used to each other. And Azul's efforts to make them trust him via pampering them REALLY pays off.)

[capnportofficial]

I posted this on Reddit because they're much more negative about Sidney, but it's going here too.

(Note: In this post I use "obsession" both as the dictionary definition of the word, and as the fanon concept. The fanon concept will be capitalized as "Obsession", and the dictionary definition word will be capitalized as "obsession".)

Sidney Poindexter is a great character. We have more information about his life than we do about any other ghost. We know the year he died (1958) and approximately how old he was (17 or 18, because he was in senior year).

He has a great design. While the color green is often overused in other ghosts, Poindexter has no green in his design at all, and yet still manages to fit in with the rest of the ghost designs. His monochrome color palette is arranged very well, and it fits with his personality and backstory and lair- he's stuck in the time period he died, stuck in that last year of school. He's black and white like a photo from that time period.

Poindexter even introduced the term "halfa"! The majority of the fandom uses it, but in canon, Poindexter is the only one who ever says it.

Speaking of fanon concepts and Poindexter, Poindexter's obsession with bullies is very similar to the fanon concept of Obsessions. People say Danny has a protection Obsession, but Danny's only protecting the town because, to quote Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility." Meanwhile, Poindexter sees the entire world in terms of "bullies" and "people who need protecting from bullies," even lecturing Skulker about it! Skulker is a gigantic hunter made of metal and guns who wants to skin a child, and Poindexter is a tiny little nerd with 0 physical strength whatsoever, and yet Poindexter bosses Skulker around repeatedly.

Poindexter's obsession and trauma drive the plot of Splitting Images. He's a teen/young adult who faced a tragic death, implied to be either murder or suicide, and both are horrible options to go through. As a result, he's fixated on the thing that caused his death, his bullies and bullies in general. He's so obsessed that he jumps to conclusions and refuses to consider that he may be wrong. This personality flaw causes him to be the villain of his episode, despite him being a morally good person.

Poindexter sees himself as the hero and Danny as the villain, which is a very interesting thing for the villain of an episode to do! Many other villains in the show just want to cause problems on purpose. Poindexter thinks Danny is the one causing problems on purpose.

We see that when Danny is in Poindexter's lair and body, he can only see through the mirror to the human realm when he's actively looking through it. This shows that Poindexter is very likely to not have seen Dash bullying Danny, and it's coincidence that he saw Danny's revenge.

To me, Poindexter is the most ghostly of the ghosts. He's stuck in the past, he had a tragic death, he haunts a specific location, and there's even an urban legend about him!

Splitting Images, and therefore Poindexter, is often hated for its bad forced moral. But The Ultimate Enemy also has a bad forced moral. At least Splitting Images plot has a Watsonian explanation in the form of Poindexter's personality and trauma being the thing driving the plot. Meanwhile, in The Ultimate Enemy, the plot is driven by burger sauce ex machina. I've seen many people who dislike Poindexter due to the forced moral of Splitting Images, but like Dark Danny despite the forced moral of The Ultimate Enemy.

To me, Dark Danny seems like a flat one-note villain. Despite the grief that caused his existence, he doesn't seem to care about the people he's lost, or about anything really, and merely focuses on destruction. He wants to recreate the events that caused him, yes, but what is his motivation for causing the apocalypse and destroying Ember's vocal cords and putting Johnny in a wheelchair before any of the time travel stuff happened?

Poindexter is much more nuanced in personality and has a sensible motivation for causing problems. (Not sensible as in it's a good idea, but it makes sense given his personality and trauma that we already know.)

I'm not saying people should dislike Dark Danny. But please, give Poindexter a chance. He isn't any worse written than the rest of the characters in this show. I brought up Dark Danny in comparison due to the fact both their episodes have dumb forced morals, but I could easily compare Poindexter's writing to many other characters as well. He's much more fleshed out than the majority of the ghosts. But this post is getting too long, so I won't.

[19burstraat]

queering futurity in crooked kingdom

if I had any real time for this (I do not) I'd be tempted to write a real essay about it, but I have a dissertation and two other real essays for my actual degree, so let's do a bad tunglr bullet point analysis. I'm... largely generalising and paraphrasing here, and I suspect this has a billion things to iron out or that I forgot about, but I hope this might be a bit interesting regardless of how much you may or may not know abt queer literary theory lmao.

in extreme short, there is a subset of queer theory around what is, in essence, queer time. there is a heteronormative future/'futurity', and it is marriage, children, a good job, a nice house, and dying at a good age after a fulfilling life. queer* and trans people both reject and often cannot access this: plenty couldn't/cannot get married or have children, or had to surpass lots of obstacles to do so, many queer and trans people were or are killed young, or died prematurely in the aids crisis. and so we get queer temporality; a resistance to the heteronormative future that is refused or inaccessible, and to reproductive futurism; the concept that people value the future over the present... and this manifests in kicking back against things like the symbolic 'child' as a representative of futurity. not real children, but empty platitudes like think of the children! think of the future for your children! there can also be a development of a death drive, which is sometimes literal and sometimes metaphorical, which is, again, basically a rejection of 'the future'.

while the grishaverse doesn't have homophobia as such, you can still do queer readings, bc it is ofc influenced by our world, by virtue of being Written By A Person From Our World. and especially in kerch, there's still stuff like patrilineal inheritance... buuuut reproductive futurity & friends are very deliberately destroyed by the end of crooked kingdom. mostly by the usual culprit (taps sign that says IT'S KAZ AGAIN LOL) but by the narrative and the other characters as well. walk w me! I don't think this is a real analysis more just a lot of Thoughts but... nvm

*used here as an umbrella term since the theory I'm pulling from is the field of queer theory

the two men (van eck and rollins) who are most concerned with reproductive futurism (having heirs and a legacy, 'building something that will outlast them'), are promptly buried under the rubble of their building efforts by our usual culprit. kaz uses the mentality of legacy and lineage against them both; he kidnaps van eck's pregnant wife to use as a bargaining chip, and he uses rollins's son and heir against him, because he knows what's most important to these men is their line, their work being handed down. he deduces that rollins has a son through rollins' vanity around building something to 'last', and his naming of the kaelish prince. rollins is literally themed around monarchy and descent; the king of the barrel, the kaelish prince, the emerald palace. kaz, for his part, is the bastard of the barrel. the illegitimate son, not produced by any conventional family structure, ketterdam his mother and profit his father... and therefore he is the perfect person to blow up this imagined monarchy

wylan is rejected by van eck for his disability, for being supposedly incapable of continuing his father's legacy; and so we gather that the actual child doesn't matter to van eck, it's what The Child represented to him, which was the future of the van eck company. the illegitimate kaz restores van eck's disowned son to the succession through sheer trickery, and jan van eck's trading empire is succeeded by his son he attempted to reject, and his farm-boy barrel-tough boyfriend. they bring home the first wife that van eck had committed, for failing to produce the 'perfect' heir. no perfect heteronormative future here!

(also by virtue of wylan and jesper being a mlm couple, there is now way less emphasis that can be put on the idea of biological children 'continuing' the line, and it somewhat stops the expectation that ruined wylan's life from being passed down)

the two m/f couples are also very distant from this idealised reproductive futurity. matthias dies, ruining any idea of a 'conventional' future he could have had with nina, and while his death is generally more about the extremist brainwashing stuff explored w the drüskelle, it does blow to shreds that futurity even more, and nina's power is also a very literal HEY GUYS. LET'S THINK ABOUT DEATH... plus she leaves ketterdam to take matthias to be buried at the end of the book.

kaz and inej both do very dangerous jobs and separate for long periods of time. they may marry or they may not, they may have children or they may not, they may be physical with one another or they may not. it doesn't really matter; they'll try, but we don't get to find out how far they may or may not get, which honestly I kinda like. their future is open, the river running carrying inej to the sea. also, inej makes an explicit rejection of this kind of 'normal' future:

So he wasn’t fit for a normal life. Was she meant to find a kindhearted husband, have his children, then sharpen her knives after they’d gone to sleep? How would she explain the nightmares she still had from the Menagerie? Or the blood on her hands?

we don't really know whether or not kaz as a character is queer (I do not think kaz knows either lol) but it doesn't really matter, you can still read him as a queer figure both a) just if you want to! and b) in this sense of queer temporality, bc he's the crux of a lot of it. we already covered the bastard thing and his happy habit of kicking reproductive futurism when it's down, and as Edelman says: 'If the fate of the queer is to figure the fate that cuts the thread of futurity...' well, kaz 'build something new. watch it burn' 'he knew exactly what he was going to leave behind: damage' brekker is our man!

he does not give a single flying fuck about the future. he destroyed van eck and rollins' legacies, and he'll do that shit again. he doesn't have enough of an ego to consider a 'legacy' for himself besides destruction, which is a rejection of a legacy in itself. his plans for the future amount to fucking shit up and making a bunch of money to use to do more damage, until he gets shot/stabbed/hanged/drowned/whatever, which he constantly anticipates.

kaz also has a massive distrust and disdain for traditional family structures, because he's seen them crumble twice; his actual family are all dead, and the hertzoon con was built on creating a convincing family mode to lure them in. "my mother is ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour; my father is profit, I honour him daily" is a sneer at paterfamilias type families where the mother is there to just give birth and the father is the head of the family, to be honoured and served, rather than loved. he also has zero sympathy for the 'think of the children!' thing, bc he knows it's disingenuous; who thought of him? no one. rollins was happy to con kids with the false promise of family and safety, and all the people he paid off were happy to turn the other way. was there no one to look after you? no, there wasn't. his mother is ketterdam: filthy, feral ketterdam. no nurturing mother has he!

So he threatens Alby and Hanna with no qualms, because while he doesn't actually ever intend to hurt children (...not physically anyway, apparently upsetting them is fair game FJJFJD), he knows the power of the threat— the idea of the child— is often more impactful than the actual act itself. ("Inej, I could only kill Pekka’s son once. He can imagine his death a thousand times.") it certainly works on rollins and van eck! he'll make you think of the damn children alright!

inej takes direct action to defend actual children, not just the idea of them, and then we hear in rule of wolves she's hated by the kerch government for it because she's fucking with their profits. (look also to how they flapped about searching for wylan, one rich man's kid, and are completely useless about hundreds of forced indentures. what a surprise...)

she reunites with her parents, but she worries persistently about whether or not they will accept her for who she has become, and we are never quite told whether or not they do. we like to think so, but we don't actually know. and although she gets to see her parents again, her future is on the wraith, not with them.

most people have dead or splintered families, actually. only inej has both parents, and for three - four years, they didn't have a daughter.

The general proximity to death in general is very potent; nina's power, kaz's whole backstory, the camping out in a graveyard. jesper's recklessness and love for fights, inej being ready to die rather than be a captiver again and kaz's response to that being 'not just yet', rather than not at all...

all following into the whole no mourners, no funerals thing!!! the fact that they know they won't be remembered or cared about if they die!!!

Edelman: 'Choosing to stand, as many of us do, outside the cycles of reproduction, choosing to stand, as we also do, by the side of those living and dying each day with the complications of AIDS, we know the deception of the societal lie that endlessly looks toward a future whose promise is always a day away.'

SOC:

Inej's mother and father might still shed tears for the daughter they'd lost, but if Inej died tonight, there would be no one to grieve for the girl she was now. 

“No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”

pick up what I'm putting down guys please please I don't have time to tease this out properly but like. I think kaz and wylan are the linchpins here. (again)

[secret-engima]

Kumo Thoughts

So this will hopefully be quick but the most common take I see for Kumo in the Naruto fandom is that it's a overly militaristic hellhole (pardon the language) that kidnaps and forcibly breeds any bloodline it can get its hands on and like.

I get it?

the Naruto ninja world is absolutely messed up enough to accommodate a village like that. Especially with- *waves at Kiri*, *waves at ROOT*, *waves at Ame*, *wa-*. But I feel like personally I think that's. The shallowest take? Like if that's how you wanna world build it! You can! Lots of angst and interesting subterfuge down that way.

But we seen in canon that shinobi who live in Really horrible villages do tend to go missing-nin en masse; Kiri is the poster child for this, but Iwa and Suna both have some ... pretty noticeable defections. On the flip side the only REAL Kumo missing-nin we see, iirc, are the Kinkaku brothers.

From The First Shinobi War.

Like- what are things we know about Kumo *really* from the show/s?

and the one everyone harps on in worldbuilding- they tried to kidnap Hinata and Kushina.

HOWEVER. The rest of the things we know about them are:

2. Their Raikage is allergic to doors. He refuses to acknowledge doors. He can and will smash through any wall, window, or other non-door entity in order to exit or enter a room when at all possible. This is not the behavior of a Strict Rigid Militaristic Man this is the behavior of a feral gorilla someone stuffed in an office and expected to do paperwork. Which, granted, A is fully capable of doing his paperwork, by all accounts he's actually really good at running his village. But again. This man is allergic to doors or manners and anyone who is willing to arm wrestle Senju Tsunade to get medical assistance for his own men can't be all bad let's be real.

3. Killer B exists. I feel like he alone is enough evidence against the "military breeding program hellhole" fanon but to break it down. This "brother" of A is not actually his brother. In canon, B is literally just- *some kid*, AT BEST a cousin of the previous Jinchuuriki but that is not confirmed iirc, that was among several other kids that were all lined up and told "we need a new Jinchuuriki and A needs a fighting buddy, run at this training dummy and see if you can help him decapitate it" and when B was the one who succeeded they went "congrats you're his brother now, here's your complimentary octopus monster". And like everyone just accepts this? Not a SINGLE person calls B as a fake brother or points out that he and A are not actually related. Not to mention B has the strongest and most stable relationship with his Biju until Naruto and Kurama work out their bromance, and B was rocking that friendship with his biju *years* before Naruto even knew Kurama was a Thing That Existed.

4. B is also beloved by his village. BELOVED. The people adore him and his weird rapping nonsense. And yeah there's flashbacks in the anime to that not being the case when he was first introduced but B was actually able to work on changing their minds. You really think "small feral child rapping at civilians to make them warm up to him" would have flown in Kiri? In Iwa who canonically keep abusing their jinchuuriki to the point of running off? Nope. No sir. B is also allowed to have a team of his own, and seems to not only be an accepted member of the village but also a much trusted and beloved one who is even allowed his own team? Even Konoha doesn't have that good a track record lbr. It took Naruto face punching the guy who just committed genocide on the entire village for Konoha to go "you know what? We like you now".

5. One of the only other jinchuuriki we see that has fully mastered their Biju state and is on good terms with their Biju while also not being a missing-nin (or brainwashed and then immediately dead) is ALSO a Kumo ninja. Namely the holder of the Two Tails. Now on the wiki it says that she was put through a "detestable" training program but we all know how inconsistent Kishi is with... everything worldbuilding ever. And if we go off behavior alone from the brief scenes with her, Yugito Nii is?? Really stable??? And solid with her Biju??? She gave her pawprint for an Uchiha child's book of cat paw prints for crying out loud.

6. throughout the entire show, Jinchuuriki are consistently treated as the lowest class citizens. In basically every village. Naruto in Konoha, Kushina cried when she realized Minato was going to make Naruto a Jinchuuriki and put him through what she went through growing up as one so you know she didn't have a great time either, GAARA is his own entire dissertation on Jinchuuriki treatment and stability, Fuu was raised by the village leader of her village but had zero friends and was canonically super lonely and isolated, Han and Roku straight up ran away from Iwa because of whatever they were put through, a maneuver only repeated in another village by Utakata from Kiri. But in Kumo we find two jinchuuriki who have mastered their biju, are well respected by their peers and fellow citizens, and are basically treated like any other really weirdo ninja from the village barring needing to be monitored with bodyguards in B's case, which is mostly because he keeps running away to go train under rap artists so you can understand why A is ready to go frothing at the mouth feral at his brother sometimes.

All I'm saying is that if even the village's "monsters" are treated that way, why does everyone stick with the fanon that they're a breeding, bloodline stealing hellhole?

Imo it would be WAY more fun to world build Kumo as the feral mountain ninja-mandalorians of the Elemental Nations, who have a reputation for bloodline theft because they keep finding Actual Strays, Refugees from other villages, and Illegitimate bloodline children and going: YO ANYONE GONNA ADOPT THIS? and not waiting for an answer. Your a missing ninja from Kiri and you're fed up with both them and missing-nin life and want to come work for us? Great. Oh you also have a valuable kekkei genkai that can be inherited? Awesome have you heard of our red light district and child support program or better yet our tax deductible program for marrying one of our lovely civilians and raising a family here where no bloodline purges will ever happen ever. Oh you're a stray Uzumaki on the run from bloodline hunters? Well we may have been involved in destroying Uzushio (depends on your fan interpretation since canonically we do not know which villages did that other than Not Konoha) but we also have hot food, good housing, high ninja standards of living, and free weekly entertainment in betting when our Raikage is going to launch his desk at his brother like a high speed missile because B's rapping got too cringy.

Let Hinata's and Kushina's kidnapping either be the exception to their usual playbook of how they acquire bloodlines (hey it's not their fault if the other villages can't keep it in their pants/can't inspire loyalty) OR have it be seen, culturally in Kumo, as something more akin to a rescue mission. Yes these two girls are useful and have useful bloodlines, that's tactically wise, but also have you SEEN how Konoha treats their jinchuuriki? They have seal master princess and are treating her like a dog on a leash! And literally everyone knows what the Hyuuga do to their own kids if they aren't main branch, and we can't rescue any of those kids without their eyeballs exploding and them dying but hey we can snag the heiress and then any kids she has won't have to be branded so-.

Like I feel that would be so much more INTERESTING? Instead of having Konoha be the only "nice" village and make this weird tonal dissonance for how the "nice" village has the most incompetent leadership (Sarutobi) and underground atrocities (Danzo and Orochimaru) while every other village is Horrible All The Time For Everyone why not have Kumo be actually Really Functional and treat their shinobi and Jinchuuriki well and their horrible reputation is *mostly* (not entirely, because. Ninja.) be cultural clashes between the feral mountain ninja and Everyone Else and propaganda from the other villages who would like their shinobi to STOP DEFECTING TO KUMO PLEASE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVE DENTAL.

Seriously I feel like there is so much more you could do with that angle than just "yet another shinobi village that is Bad and Awful and Needs The Power of Friendship yet somehow has this really stupid goofy jinchuuriki man who loves his brother and his village shut up don't think about it".

[winterdadandspiderson]

WINTERDAD AU #1

(part one because this got way too long. this is essentially the plot of an old fic i started back in 2020 and what would've happened of i'd continued it. i might try and write it again one day, perhaps, if i don't give up after 2 chapters. anyway here we go)

- mary parker was a shield agent when she met the winter soldier, both were on a mission. they fought, but never got as far as mortally wounding each other. mary would always slip away. it was like a game. bucky had been kept out the ice for a few weeks at that point, running a long job. but the longer he's out, the more he starts to remember little pieces, who he used to be.

- mary feels pity for him, seeing through the stone cold image hydra forged for him, to the person within. they fight. but then they also talk. they keep seeing each other while bucky scouts. eventually one thing leads to another and they develop a relationship of sorts. 

- mary later discovers she's pregnant but bucky never finds out. he's taken back, wiped and put under the ice once more. mary quits her job at shield so she can provide for her kid and keep them safe. knowing full well if anyone in shield or hydra caught wind that she was carrying the winter soldiers child, they'd never be safe.

- she's sad that bucky disappeared again, she knows hydra likely had him wiped and iced again. but she moves on, meeting richard soon after who she tells she's expecting a son, that the father disappeared without a word (technically not a lie) he tells her he'll love him like he's his regardless.

- when her son is born she names him peter james parker (during the few weeks they met, the last time they talked, bucky ended up remembering his first name, mary wanted peter to have at least a piece of him)

- peter ends up looking a LOT like bucky. he has the same shade of dark brown hair, facial structure which shows as he grows. but he has mary's eyes)

- the plane crash was really just an unfortunate incident. peter still goes to live with aunt may and uncle ben when he's seven. and then things go as they usually do in canon. the avengers form, yada yada all that stuff, you know the drill.

- when he's 14 peter is bitten by the radioactive spider. BUT. an important detail here is that due to the expiermentation bucky was subjected to by hydra and the enhancements which altered his genes, some of that, though remaining dormant, passed onto peter. but it didn't really do anything, it was just there. but it did keep him alive after the spider bite. without those enhancements in his blood peter would've died. instead, he gained his powers.

- uncle ben still gets shot, which as usual influences peter to become spider-man. and months after tony still comes along and recruits him to fight in germany. peter does.

- when he briefly faces bucky ("you have a metal arm? that is AWESOME, dude!") neither know so that also goes as normal. bucky is bewhildered by the kid who managed to block a hit with so much force behind it, while also shocked to know that he was just that, a kid.

- now one vastly different thing here is that while the avengers do split for a good year, steve and tony eventually talk and make amends. the avengers reassemble, deciding that they need to put the world before their feud. they're not on super good terms, but they tolerate each other. tony still refuses to forgive bucky.

- homecoming happens during the time where things are still rocky between the avengers so peter still deals with vulture alone. but he does see tony more often, stopping by for lab days to work on his suit among other things, to keep up the "internship" charade. tony grows fond of him, though he doesn't admit it.

its post homecoming where things start to go wrong.

[kyufessions]

children

synopsis: a cuddling session with your long term boyfriend leads to a serious discussion

pairings: boyfriend! changmin x g.n. reader

word count: 0.7k

genre: fluff, domestic

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

snow fell onto the windowpane, each snow flurry different from the last. Child’s Play 2 played on the television, a bowl of popcorn half empty on the coffee table that was occupied by empty mugs of hot cocoa and both of your boyfriends feet propped up on the surface. the navy blue fuzzy blanket covered you both, keeping you warm along with each other's body heat as your legs were thrown over his lap. your arms wrapped around his waist as he played with your hair. everything felt perfect, almost as if it were a movie.

even though you loved your life with changmin as is, you wanted more. as you grew older, you had started having growing baby fever. of course you’re still young and wouldn’t mind waiting a few more years, but your want for a child kept growing each day. just earlier at the coffee shop down the road, you noticed a mother pushing her baby in a stroller. the sight of the few month old bundled up in a big puffer jacket and a cat beanie sent your mind into orbit, the smile on your face refusing to leave as you watched them in their own world. it was moments like that that made you daydream of having a child, maybe even children. you don’t know when this feeling came about or why, but it’s stuck with you and not leaving.

changmin watched you zone out for a few seconds, trying to read your facial expression. but when he couldn’t put a finger on it, he spoke up. “babe, are you okay?”

the sound of his voice brought you back into reality, turning your head to him and nodding slightly. “i’m okay, sorry.” you laid your head on his shoulder with a sigh, drawing circles into his skin. “just thinking.”

his fingers running through your hair brings you immense comfort, making you melt further into him. his eyes don’t leave your face, concern filling him. “what about? are you okay? what happened?”

you chuckle, looking back up at him and noticing the worried look in his eyes. pecking his lips quickly, you readjust yourself on his lap and rest your chin on his shoulder. “i’m okay, it’s just-“ you pause, taking in your bottom lip between your teeth. “how do you feel about children?”

he’s taken aback, but thinks for a moment before responding. “i don’t mind children, why?”

“would you ever have any of your own?” the silence is deafening as you await his answer.

he shrugs, his fingers never leaving your locks. “with you, i wouldn’t mind having some.”

you smile at him, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the thought of mini ji changmin’s roaming around your future home together. “some? not just one?”

“unless you want just one, that’s fine too.” he brings his lips to the tip of your nose, leaving a small kiss before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “whatever you want, i would be happy with. if you want kids, we can have kids. if you want a small army of cats, we can have a small army of cats. i don’t care as long as we’re in the same story.”

the smile from ear to ear never left your face as he spoke, the words going in through one ear and storing itself away into a part of your brain. if you could see yourself in cartoon form, your eyes would be replaced with hearts and your heart beating out of your chest. changmin returned the smile, laughter escaping his lips as he tilted his head in confusion.

“is this all that’s been on your mind?”

you nod, cupping his cheek in one of your hands. feeling him turn into mush in your hands made your heart race, the butterflies shifting into a zoo. “yeah, i’ve been having really bad baby fever for the past few months. i was scared to bring it up to you in case our views differed.”

his lips placed a chaste kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours as a cold breeze crept down his spine. “it’s not my decision to make about kids because it’s your body, not mine. regardless, i'm happy as long as i'm with you.” his one hand creeps into yours, fingers intertwining under the blanket to keep warm. “when do you want to start?”

eyes widening, you softly smack his thigh in a playful manner. both of your laughters bounce off the walls, smiles being exchanged. “put a ring on my finger and we can finish this discussion later.”

“but chucky and tiffany weren’t married when they-“

“babe, i love you, but please don’t compare us to serial killer dolls.”

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Caller asks if Trump will reveal himself as the Antichrist — many believe he already has

Thom Hartmann

September 10, 2024 2:17PM ET

A supporter of former President Donald Trump wears a pro-Trump t-shirt at a Trump campaign rally at an outdoor fairgrounds, April 13, 2024 in Schnecksville, Pa. (Photo by Andrew Lichtenstein/Corbis via Getty Images)

A listener called into my program recently and asked, “Is Donald Trump the Antichrist and, if so, will he reveal himself at the debate?”

I passed on drawing a conclusion, but then the lines lit up with a steady stream of people over the next few hours offering their “proofs” that Trump was, in fact, the Evil One come to ravage the Earth. That he’s a literal and iniquitous thaumaturge. My first caller clearly hit a nerve.

It’s a fascinating question, though, whether put literally or metaphorically.

Asking the question literally requires a belief in the actual reality of a Son-of-God Christ figure and of an Antichrist opponent of nearly equal but opposite power. This sort of thing fills the Bible, and I’ll get to that in a moment.

But first consider the question from the secular perspective, which argues these two terms represent, at their core, metaphors for the embodiment of good and evil.

In this context, then, a more accurate question is: “Is Donald Trump evil, and thus an antichrist?”

In The Sermon on the Mount, Jesus spoke in the plural when he predicted “false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves.”

After warning that grifters and con artists (in secular terms)would try to exploit His followers, He said, “by their fruits ye shall know them.”

Trump’s “fruits” are pretty obvious:

More than twenty women have accused him of rape and sexual assault.

Hundreds of contractors, customers and employees have accused him of stealing from them or refusing to pay them (or both), as have members of his own family

Throughout his presidency, he lied over 30,000 times and continues to lie daily

He pits Americans against each other by race, religion, and region in an effort to tear our country apart and thus weaken opposition to his authoritarian rule

He openly encouraged violence against unarmed people at multiple rallies and encouraged state violence at a speech to chiefs of police; most recently he encouraged an assault on members of the press

He tried to overthrow and end our democracy

He embraced depraved, ungodly murderers, kleptocrats, and “strongman” rulers while ridiculing western democracies and their elected leaders

He tried to damage or dismantle political and military systems designed to keep peace in the world, including the UN, NATO, and the Iran JCPOA

He reaches out to Jesus’s followers and then directs them toward bigotry, violence, and hatred

As an object of admiration and a role model, he’s replaced Jesus in many white evangelical congregations

He delighted in tearing children from their parents and putting them in cages

He tried to end Americans’ access to lifesaving medical care by killing Obamacare and privatizing Medicare

He watched on TV, like a delighted child, as his followers killed three police officers, sent 140 others to the hospital, and tried to murder the Vice President and Speaker of the House

He lied about Covid (after disclosing the truth to Bob Woodward), causing more disease and deaths in America than any other nation in the world except Peru

The main reason many Christians freak out about an antichrist is that following him will get you banned from heaven or even cast into hell.

But what did Jesus — the guy Trump’s white evangelical followers claim as their savior — say was necessary to get into heaven?

Back in 1998 I had a private audience with Pope John Paul II at his invitation; one of his personal secretaries had read one of my books. He gave Louise and me a private tour of many non-public parts of the Vatican and, the next day, we sat through an open-air concert with Pope John Paul II and about 30 VIPs, including the leader of Germany’s Bundestag, for more than an hour, surrounded by the splendor of Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer palace on the rim of an extinct volcano overlooking lake Albano.

When we spoke privately after the concert, His Holiness’s forceful comments about the work we all must do reminded me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25. It’s an amazing 2,000 year-old story that tells us everything we need to know about today’s “Christian” politics:

Jesus’ disciples had gathered around him in a private and intimate setting.

Finally, they thought, they could ask him, straight up, the question that had been haunting them, particularly now that the Roman authorities were starting to talk about punishing or even executing them: How they could be sure to hang out with Him in the afterlife?

Jesus told them that at the end of days He’d be sitting on His throne separating the sheep from the goats “as a shepherd divideth.”

The nations of “sheep” would go with Him to heaven, the “goats” to hell.

“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me food,” he told his disciples he would say to the sheep. “I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.”

At this point, His disciples — who had never, ever seen Jesus hungry, thirsty, homeless, sick, or naked — freaked out. Whoa! they shouted. We’re screwed!

“When saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee?” they asked, panicked. “Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?” “Verily I say unto you,” Jesus replied, reassuring them, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

This is the only place in the Bible where Jesus explicitly tells His disciples what acts they must perform, in their entirety, to get into heaven.

Feed the hungry, care for refugees, house and clothe the homeless, heal the sick, have compassion on those in prison.

That’s it.

And it’s a list that is quite literally the opposite of everything that Donald Trump advocates, stands for, and has done in his careers, both business and political.

While biblical scholars are split about who the actual “Beast” was that John referenced in his Revelation, many consider it to have been a then-politically-necessary cloaking of the identity of Roman Emperor Nero.

It was clearly a political figure, who represented the antithesis of the values and works Jesus laid out in the Sermon on the Mount and in Matthew 25.

A leader whose actions unleashed “a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.”

Caller after caller to my program offered their own proofs of Trump being the Beast or the Antichrist:

“MAGA” means “magic” or “sorcerer” in Latin and multiple other languages

His grandfather’s name when he emigrated to America to start a whorehouse in the Pacific Northwest was “Drumpf,” which he changed to Trump. John in German is “Johann.” Therefore, his “actual” name is Donald Johann Drumpf — each name having six letters. (Weirdly, the same is true of Ronald Wilson Reagan, the guy who laid the foundation for MAGA.)

He illegally armed the Saudis for their merciless bombing war against Yemen which had five million peoplefacing famine as the Saudi military blocked food arrivals.

His family owns 666 Fifth Avenue.

He fooled millions of evangelical followers of Jesus, just as the Beast is supposed to do.

He put his own red-hat MAGA mark on their foreheads.

He consorts with “whores” and “criminals.”

It was an interesting exercise and conversation, and I was surprised by how many people are actually religiously freaked out about Trump.

But for me, all the proof I need that Trump, if not the biblical Antichrist, is at least a political one, is what he says and does. And I’ll bet that tonight he will reveal himself, both as a disciple of the “Father of Lies,” and through his anti-Christ-type policies.

As Pope Francis today tells us, a man’s “fruits” show us all we need to know about who he really is.

[sirianasims]

As I stood there, surrounded by moving boxes and the lingering smell of fresh paint, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through me. This space was all mine now, a place to prove that I could succeed on my own terms.

And I simply had to succeed. My sisters had graduated years ago, Hailey and her husband would have a baby any day now, and Ivy was opening a dance studio in Windenburg. Liam and Kieran were doing great in high school and were definitely both planning to go to university as well.

I was always the odd child. The only one who wasn’t interested in any sports, the only one who wasn’t top of my class in anything. And now I was the only one who wasn’t going to university.

My parents were a little surprised when I announced that I wasn’t going to Britechester as planned and that I wanted to try and make it as a content creator, but they were supportive. I guess they always expected me to be different in this too.

I posted an update to my followers, but felt restless. Maybe I was deluding myself. What if I failed? What if I couldn’t grow my channel, or if I couldn’t even make enough money to pay for food and utilities? I wandered around the apartment aimlessly for a while, putting away a few things while I tried to silence the doubts creeping into my mind.

It was quiet, but not really. I could hear the traffic outside, people talking, and somewhere, someone was playing the violin. There was so much life out there compared to the empty apartment. A sudden need to get out overwhelmed me and I grabbed my jacket.

San Myshuno was so different to Copperdale, bright lights and colours everywhere. Even though it was still early spring, it was less chilly than I was used to up north.

A street vendor was yelling and the most delicious smells came from her stall. Street food hadn’t really been a thing in Copperdale and I was pretty excited to live in a city where I could go out and buy food this close to midnight.

My mother had made sure to stock my kitchen but I decided to celebrate my first night in San Myshuno by treating myself. It was a brand new feeling. Freedom!

I ordered some Bhel Puri. The smell brought me back to dinners at Myra’s house, her dad cooking the most amazing things while her mom helped us with homework.

Back when Myra was still my best friend.

I shrugged off the nostalgia. I was making new friends now, and if Myra didn’t want to talk to me, that was her own decision.

I took a quick selfie with my food and posted it, making a mental note to set up my equipment first thing tomorrow so I could get back to streaming. Most of my university fund had been spent on the apartment and while I did have some money left over, it wouldn’t last forever.

I couldn’t afford to lose momentum.

As I posted one last update before bed, the silence struck me again. No brothers yelling and running up and down the stairs, no parents laughing in the kitchen. I suddenly felt very alone.

I stared into the darkness, refusing to cry. All I heard was the faint buzz of the city outside the heavy brick walls. And then, something else. The violinist was back.

I smiled as I felt myself starting to drift away on the soothing tones. You’re never truly alone in San Myshuno.

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