#but like he didn't live with his uncle did he?

[runninriot]

Four Stockings make a Pair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 24

prompt: Stocking | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, feelings realisation

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

   "Wayne, I'm back! Brought a little surprise for you!" Eddie calls out, feeling just a bit guilty when his uncle happily pokes his head into the hallway only to stop dead in his tracks.

   "How was- Oh. Hey, Robbie!"

Wayne hobbles towards them and, despite leaning heavy on one crutch, opens his free arm for the little girl that runs straight at him.

   "Grandpa Wayne! Why didn't you tell us you hurt your foot? We would've visited you a lot sooner, right dad?"

Something about their interaction makes Eddie's chest feel tight, hits him with a hint of jealousy but also makes his heart grow three sizes because it's nice to know that his uncle has people here that care for him when he's not around.

   "Hey, Wayne. Sorry to barge in like that. We, uh, we met Eddie at the community centre and-"

Watching Steve fumble for his words, awkwardly standing in the doorway like he's feeling caught, is almost too much to handle. But as endearing as it is to watch his pretty face turn pink, Eddie has mercy on him.

   "Robbie and I were craving your famous hot chocolate, so I invited them over."

Wayne shoots him a look that feels like a silent agreement to 'talk about this later' before he turns back to the girl with one of those rare smiles he doesn't give out freely.

   "Is that so? Well, we better make some then. Why don't you two get set in the living room while Robbie and I get on with it. You wanna help me, sweety?"

   "Yesss! Can I, dad?"

When Steve agrees, she takes Wayne's free hand and carefully leads him in the direction of the kitchen while telling him all about her afternoon.

   "We saw Santa today! He was so nice. And we took a picture with him and I told him what I want for Christmas!"

When Eddie and Steve enter the living room, Eddie's eyes immediately fall on the Christmas tree Wayne must've put up while he was gone - so much for resting his leg. Next to the tree, over the fire place, he notices four instead of only two stockings hanging from the mantelpiece and it makes him wonder if maybe Wayne was planning on sharing his little secret, had Eddie not already found out about it today.

It's hard to realise what he missed out on while being too focused on his own life. He could've visited sooner, more often - Wayne keeps telling him it's fine but Eddie still feels bad about only making his way back home twice a year.

   "I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve starts after a moment of awkward silence, “This must be so weird for you."

   "Nah, you're good. I guess I was just surprised Wayne hasn't told me about it."

   "Maybe he thought you wouldn't approve? I told him we haven't exactly been friends back then, because I was kind of a dick," Steve says bashfully and that startles a laugh out of Eddie.

   "What? No, Harrington. You were fine. Your friends, they were assholes but your only fault was that you were too cool to hang out with someone like me."

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh and it's a beautiful sound Eddie wants to hear more of.

   "Oh, shut up. You were waaay cooler than me!"

This goes back and forth for a while, with them bantering and play fighting with each other like friends, like it's never been any different between them. How it could’ve been all those years ago.

   "So, uh, you and Robbie. Why did you move back to Hawkins? I always imagined you'd make it into the big city, somewhere far away from here."

It's an instant mood killer, Eddie can tell by the way Steve's smile falters and his shoulders drop. But it's too late to take it back and he really wants to know.

   "Uh, you know. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out to be what you wanted it to be. Hawkins seemed like a good idea to get away from... everything. Until I realised that I had no one left here."

There's a sadness in Steve's voice that breaks Eddie's heart. He has to fight the urge to pull him into his arms, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

   "Then Wayne kinda... found me. I had just moved back and everything felt wrong. I was ready to just give up but then this stranger came into my life out of nowhere, asked if I needed help and- that's how we ended up becoming fam- friends."

His little slip-up doesn't go unnoticed and it makes Eddie feel all warm inside.

   "Wayne's always had a weak spot for strays,” he jokes, “Took me in when my life was falling apart, too. He's the best. I'm glad he found you."

Eddie reaches out for Steve’s hand, takes it in his. It’s not a hug but he hopes it still offers some comfort.

It should feel strange, to have Steve and his daughter invading in his home, fitting right in where it had always just been Wayne and him. Somehow making it feel... complete.

Making it hard for Eddie not to drown in the flood of emotions resurfacing from where they've been buried for a long time.

He thinks about Robbie's wish and wonders, if there's a universe in which he could be that person.

They let go of their hands when they hear Robbie and Wayne enter.

   "Eddie, look! I made mine with whipped cream. Like yours!"

And, yeah. He's already too deep, he can feel it.

The rest of the day goes by in a haze and when it's time for Steve and Robbie to leave, Eddie isn't ready to let them go.

   "Wanna spend Christmas with us?"

The question is out before he can think it through.

   "If- if that's okay? I don't-" Steve looks at Eddie, seems unsure.

Again, it's Wayne who saves them both.

   "We'd love to have you here."

[bjorkshire-pudding]

Ok ok ok so

Sorry to dissertate on your post op but I need to talk about this.

In all my rereads of the manga and this arc being in my mind over the years, I never, ever connected the dots, not until this arc was animated.

Jugram's uncle was abusing him. Those marks on his arm that just looked like scratches in the manga? A lot clearer in the anime as bruises.

The way he physically curls in on himself when Bazz calls him Jugo and says, "Please don't call me that, I don't like it", and the way we see in the scene immediately following it that his drunk uncle calls him "my precious Jugo" and says "you know I can't do anything without you"... and the way Jugram further curls in on himself and cringes?

The way, when Yhwach destroys the village and burns down both boys' family homes, Bazz is angry about it, but Jugram is totally indifferent about the fact that his uncle died in the fire?

None of that even clicked in my mind until just recently, when this episode in the anime aired.

We don't know if it was just violence or if it was also sexual abuse/violence, but either way, his only relative, who was tasked with taking care of him and should have been protecting him, was mistreating him in a horrible way.

I would always say to myself, "Why is Jugram so loyal to this dude who basically destroyed his life?" But to Jugram, Yhwach was not the enemy. He was his savior. He rescued him from his uncle and an awful situation.

What makes my heart hurt even more is that Bazz probably didn't realize what was going on either, or maybe he knew something was wrong but just didn't catch the gravity of it. So maybe he thought the same way I did - "why are you loyal to this dude who ruined our lives?"

This scene... this scene now is so much more heartbreaking than it was when I read it the first time years ago.

"I thought I'd feel much worse...losing to you..."

BLEACH: THE BLOOD WARFARE (COUR 3) EP. 12: Friend

[ihfmseatsoch]

He didn't know he'd have this much fun 🚀

Jimmy Zare x Curly's daughter!reader

she/her pronouns used, reader is described as female.

genre: smut, dark fic !!

warnings/content: dead dove, age gap, (reader is 18 and jimmy is pushing 40) intox, coercion, virgin!reader, manipulation, underage drinking, dubcon turned noncon, implication that jimmy was attracted to reader when they were a minor, rough sex, hair pulling, jimmys a terrible friend what else is new -_- sorry curly

—

Jimmy spending the night at Curly's wasn't uncommon. In fact, he's been a constant presence in your life from the moment you first opened your eyes.

He's been through bouts of homelessness, seeking refuge at you and your dad's house for a month or two until he got back on his feet. And during that time, Curly would ask Jim to babysit if he would be home late or couldn't pick you up from school- whatever the reason, it's a wonder why he entrusted his daughters safety with Jimmy of all people.

He swore around you. Smoked right next to your fragile eight year old lungs. Made completely age inappropriate jokes that went over your head whenever you somehow convinced him to play Barbies with you. Let you chew a piece of nicotine gum when you were ten, which you immediately spat out on the living room carpet.

Jimmy saw you as a surrogate niece. Plus, it was amusing to him to teach you swear words and snicker when you cluelessly say the word "cunt" around your poor father, who'd done his best to protect you from bad influences.

But Jimmy was always an exception because, well, Curly could never say no to welcoming his best friend into his home. And it's not like Jimmy would ever hurt you, his precious daughter. He'd never stoop so low as to put you in any danger.

Right?

Tonight, Jimmy's not here because he's homeless. He'd just gotten back from a long haul– five months to be exact, and he tagged along with Curly back to his place. Figured he didn't feel like immediately going back to his shithole of an apartment and would use Curly's picturesque, clean home as a place to crash. It always had a distinct sense of... family. Belonging. His own home didn't have that.

Maybe he was jealous of you and your privileged life; a father who adored you and spoiled you damn near rotten, academic excellence, and a clean-cut lifestyle. It was like you were immune to the scars and vices that had marked him. Your untainted nature irked him to no end.

Still, the thought of corrupting you, making your stray from that perfect little life of yours, had some sort of twisted appeal to it. One thing about you is that you love your Uncle Jimmy. You've looked up to him since you were in diapers, seeing him as the stereotypical "cool" uncle figure. The loud music he blasted on his beat up truck radio and the way he always reeked of a pack of Marlboros represented a world of rebellion and freedom you'd never experienced.

He's not sure exactly when he habitually started sneaking quick glances at your chest to see how big your tits were growing, or when the sight of you lapping at a melting popsicle in the summer made his dick twitch in his pants.

He did well at holding himself back. The sole reason for that being he didn't want to catch a case anytime soon. But the day came when you were finally legal, his chest immediately felt lighter as the weight of his deep seated guilt that he felt for even wanting to fuck you at all left his body. You were fair game now, and you had the type of beauty he wouldn't let go to waste.

So when you an up to him and hugged him, your supple young tits squishing against his as you squealed about how much you missed him during his time away from Earth, he'd already made up his mind.

He'll have you one way or another.

That night, after Curly went to bed early after the exhaustion from five months of work hit him like a cement truck, Jimmy was left alone on the couch, beer can in hand as he mindlessly watched two wrestlers he didn't know a thing about senselessly beat eachother up as some form of entertainment as he slipped into a slightly tipsy state.

And when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, too light to be Curly's, he knew you had stepped out of your room. He turned his head, looking up at you from his position on the couch. His eyes ran over your form, taking in your pajamas. A tank top and shorts that hugged your figure in all the right places. Not exactly made for modesty.

"Hey..." You greeted him, waving sheepishly as you tried to keep your voice down as to not wake your father. "You're not asleep either." You state the obvious.

Jimmy shakes head, swallowing down the remaining liquor on his tongue before replying, "Nah. Can't sleep." As curt as always. He pats the spot on the couch beside him, gesturing for you to come sit with him.

"You're up pretty late. Thought you'd still be givin' yourself a bedtime."

He refers to– well, more like mocks, your disciplined and clean-cut lifestyle. He assumed you'd still be going to bed at 9:30 sharp. You laugh lightly at his jest, not picking up on the sardonic tone of his words.

"Not tonight. Don't have school tomorrow 'cause of... some holiday. I forget."

You plop yourself right down on the seat beside him, blindly trusting and naive as always, never once suspecting he'd have any ill intentions with you, so completely at ease in his presence. It'd make him feel guilty if he was a better person, or less drunk. Unfortunately for you, he's neither.

"Lucky you." He drawls, taking another sip of his drink. Once when you were little, maybe five or so, you'd curiously asked what beer tasted like. 'Bitter horse piss', he replied back to you. It made you laugh uncontrollably, but he wasn't lying. It still tastes like shit.

He doesn't miss the way your eyes fixate on the can with that same curiosity she had all those years ago. Your liver is most likely untainted, never tasted a drop of liquor in your idealistic life, he thinks. He can't help but want to exploit your inexperience, break down that golden child persona of yours.

So, without a second of apprehension, he holds the can out in front of you, almost tantalizing, and asks, "Hey, kid. You still curious about what beer tastes like?"

Your eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected inquiry. "Huh? Oh, um... No, not really." You shake your head, nervous smile plastered on your perfect face. Of course you were a terrible liar. In fact, you've never had to lie before, never had a reason to.

"I know bullshit when I hear it. You can be honest with me, I'm not gonna snitch to Curly or nothin'."

"...I guess." You cave in laughably quick, toying with a stand of your hair to ease your guilty conscience, as if having a single sip of alcohol would turn you into a delinquent. As if your precious reputation would be forever tarnished if someone found out.

He can't hold back a hoarse chuckle. "There we go." He says, before holding it out to you once again, this time more insistent. "C'mon, kid. Just a taste. It won't kill ya."

You trepidly reach out to grab the beer from him, the metal now warm from being held in his palm. You swirl it around and watch the brief whirlpool that forms, torn between your ingrained knowledge of the dangers of alcohol and the desire to try it, the substance you've been told was a deadly poison closer than it's ever been to your stomach.

"...I dunno..." You hesitate, looking up at your dear, reliable Uncle Jimmy for reassurance that this is okay. It's almost amusing for him to see you conflicted about such a simple task. Your obedient nature, that need for approval, is exactly why he's able to pull this off without a hitch.

"Oh, come on. It's just one taste. It won't hurt. I wouldn't let you do somethin' dangerous, you know that." He coaxes further, a gentle tone softening his usual blunt demeanor. You trust him.

"Well... Okay. If you say so." You brush your nerves aside and bring the can to your lips, a rush of bitter liquid coating your taste buds. You make a face at the unfamiliar flavor, but choke it down to impress your uncle, who's engrossed by the way your lips look as they close around the rim of the can, where his own mouth was moments ago. Something warm twists around inside his gut as he watches you swallow the bitter beer, the way your nose wrinkles as you grimace in distaste. Oddly satisfying.

"Yeah, it's an acquired taste," He remarks, ogling you with a focused intensity. "You've gotta take a few more swigs to get used to it."

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, expression twisted into one of disgust. "Are you sure? It's really gross." You attempt to hand the beer back to him, but he pushes it right back towards you.

"C'mon. Don't chicken out now. You'll get used to the taste after a while, I promise." He persists, committed to his goal of getting you to lose your inhibitions. If anything gets to a young girls head, it's peer pressure.

You're always to quick to give in to him, and that gives him a power trip like no other. He's got a pretty young thing wrapped around his finger and you can't untangle yourself. "Eugh... Fine..." You show clear disinterest in continuing, but anything for your Uncle Jimmy, right?

You take another gulp, this one bigger than the last. Then another, and another...

With every swig, he watches the flush on your cheeks deepen, the resistance fade. The effects of the alcohol are already starting to show.

"That's it. Attagirl. You're doin' so good." Jimmy reaches up to run his calloused fingers through your hair, petting you like a stray animal he's trying to get to warm up to him. Your vision grows hazy, your usually sharp and intelligent mind disoriented by the alcohol in your system.

"M' kinda dizzy..." You groan, not enjoying the way the foreign drink is making you feel so far. You barely even register the hand he's placed on the exposed skin of your thigh, too inebriated to think too much into it.

"You okay there, kid? You feel nauseous or anything?" He feigns concern, playing up the caring older uncle role, pulling your body closer to his so you can rest your head on his shoulder to stop the room from spinning.

"Mmm." You close your eyes, leaning into Jimmy's body, your entire body warm and fuzzy. Having your body so pliant in his hands is only making this easier to go through with. He continues stroking your hair to make you feel a sense of safety. To get you let let your guard down completely. "Feels so weird... is this normal?" Your words slur together.

"Yeah, it's normal. Don't worry. I'm right here for you. You trust me, yeah? I'm gonna make sure nothin' bad happens to ya."

"Thanks Uncle Jimmy... You're the best..." You snuggle up closer to him, your soft young body pressed to his scarred, jagged one. He's such a good uncle, isn't he? Taking care of his favorite girl while she's drunk.

"I know, I know. I'm the best uncle a girl could have. Always lookin' out for you, right?" He mutters, his tone becoming a tad more gravelly as he begins to drop his act. He slowly pulls your tank top straps down, your judgement and perception too clouded for you to question his actions.

"Y'know..." The beginning of your sentence is interrupted by drunken giggles before you can continue, "I used to have a crush on you when I was little." You confess like it's the most casual thing in the world. But to him, it only fuels the fire in his gut.

He pretends to be surprised at your admission, when it was always painfully obvious how much you adored him. You always looked up to him, asked your dad if you could spend every moment of your free time with him. Every time he turned around, you'd come running up to him, eager to show him some cool rock you found, or show off a drawing you made in class.

“Oh yeah? You had a thing for your old uncle, huh?” He teases, unable to hide his satisfaction. You finally register his hands on you when he pulls the front of your top down, revealing your bare tits to him, not covered by a bra. Your nipples pique at the sudden rush of cold air against them.

"Jimmy...?" You become confused. Why is he doing this all of a sudden? Surely he would never have those kinds of thoughts about you. He wouldn't hurt you. "What are you... doing?"

He looks down at you with faux innocence. "What do you mean? I'm just making you a little more comfy. It's gettin' warm in here, don'tcha think?" You feel him grope the fat of your breasts roughly, causing you to wince and let out a soft whine. You've never been touched like this before. Never been touched at all, in fact. Curly did his best to keep you safe from any boys and men that'd want to selfishly take advantage of you. He never expected Jimmy to be that kind of man.

Neither did you.

"Fuck, kid. Can't believe you've been hiding these from me this whole time. Prettiest fuckin' tits I've seen in a while." He grunts, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something more sinister. It scares you, seeing your uncle act like this. Squeezing and prodding and pinching you like you're nothing more than an unfeeling object.

Yet you still feel arousal twisting deep inside you, making your cunt gush with fresh slick as his thumbs rub in teasing circles along your nipples. You let out a moan, unsure of where the sound even came from, because if you were more in control of your body and reactions you'd never allow yourself to enjoy this.

"Shh... quiet, kid. Don't want daddy to hear you, yeah? Wouldn't want him to know how much of a little tease you've been." His accusation is completely false, you've done nothing to tempt him. Not intentionally, at least. But it's easier for him to convince himself that this is all your fault. You asked for this when you decided to be so fuckin' cute and pretty around him.

He moves your body, handling your limbs like you're a doll, so you're sitting in his lap, your legs straddling him. You can feel his dick under you, hard and straining against his jeans, prodding at your clothed clit. The stimulation causes you to jolt, attempting to lift yourself away from it, but he roughly forced you back down into his lap, purposefully grinding your hips into his.

"Don't do that. Don't try to run from me. Just relax, kid. Uncle Jimmy's gotcha. You know I won't hurt you, right?" His breathing grows heavy, his voice low in a way you've never heard him speak before. You can't focus on your discomfort and fear when he's forcing you to rut your aching pussy against his cock, and with your brain being under the influence, his blatant lie makes sense to you. So you nod cooperatively. Jimmy wouldn't hurt you. Of course he wouldn't. That's the silliest thing you've ever heard.

In the span of a few minutes you went from naive to downright stupid.

"I– I know. M' sorry..." You're not even sure what you're apologizing for. Are you apologetic for thinking he'd do something as vile as rape you? Maybe. This doesn't even count as assault, does it? Not when you're sitting on his lap so willingly, allowing him to maneuver you in whatever way he pleases.

"It's okay." He seems to accept your ambiguous apology, and you feel him move onto groping your ass, kneading the ample flesh. He breathes out a nearly inaudible swear. "Just sit right there, nice and still. I'll take good care of you, kiddo. I promise you that."

You never had any reason to doubt him before. Now, you're too drunk to think clearly. All you want is to make him happy. Make him proud. After all, you've always looked up to him. Who are you to question why he's pulling down your shorts, stripping you completely bare?

Who are you to question why his fingers are gliding along your slick folds, brushing against your sensitive clit just to watch you squirm at the feeling.

"Jimmy..." You whine, "I've never... done anything like this..." You decide to at least warn him of your inexperience, not like he's unaware. Everything about you screams 'virgin'. That's part of why he wants you so bad. You're so much more... pure, than the women he usually hooks up with.

"Mhm, I know." His response is almost condescending, but it's a turn-on for him to hear it out loud, for you to admit you'd never been this close to a man in your life.

Before you know it, he's guiding your hand to something hard and thick, something you can't even wrap two fingers around. Your vision is blurry and your dizziness is making it difficult to focus on what's in front of you, or what's even going on around you. But you can hear him speak, instructing you.

"Fuck, that's it. Can you feel that? Feel how fuckin' hard you're makin' me?" He grunts. Your eyes widen as you realize what he's got you holding. His cock throbs in your clammy palm, and now that you're getting a good look at it, you can see just how huge it is. Your thighs clamp together like your body is subconsciously trying to protect you from him shoving himself inside you when you can barely take one finger.

"Jim, it's not gonna fit..." You speak timidly, genuinely afraid he'll tear you right open. "I– I can't..."

"You'll be fine." He says firmly, like he's reprimanding you for your apprehension. That alone gets you to shut up, which he's grateful for. He's not patient enough to deal with your whining the whole time.

Everything else beyond that is a blur, so you're not exactly sure how you ended up with your face in the couch pillow, ass in the air, the thick head of Jimmy's dick prodding against the entrance to your virgin cunt. "Be gentle." You plead, mentally and physically bracing yourself. There's no escaping this.

"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy huffs, clearly no longer in the mood to pretend that he's gonna be careful with you. "Just keep it down."

Before you can even respond or meekly protest, he pushes himself about halfway in with one sharp thrust, ripping a loud yelp from your throat. He immediately takes a fistful of your hair, shoving your face down into the pillow as he slides the rest of himself inside of you, your walls pulsing around him.

"I said keep it the fuck down. You're supposed to be smart, aren't you?" He leans down to whisper to you through gritted teeth. "Do you want your dad to come out here and see how much of a fucking slut you are?"

You tremble under him, body stiffened from fear and pain, your pussy sore from the harsh intrusion. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, both at his aggression, and the ache between your legs. He sighs deeply, like you're the problem here.

"This is what you wanted. Don't try and tell me it isn't." He pulls out, before roughly slamming back in all the way to the hilt, causing you to cry out in agony, the sound muffled by the suffocating cushion you're forcefully smushed into. "Here's a life lesson, kid. Don't dress like a whore, and you won't get fucked like one."

You weep softly. He's never been so mean towards you, never spoke to you with such deep seated vitriol. "J– Jim, please, you're h– hurting me–" You lift your head up to look back at him, hoping that when he sees the tears streaming down your reddened eyes, he'll feel some sort of sympathy for you. Go back to being the Uncle Jimmy you know.

Instead, what you're met with is another sharp tug at you hair, irritating your scalp. "God, just shut your fuckin' mouth for once. This is what pretty girls like you are good for." His cock jackhammers into you so rapidly, you physically feel him repeatedly ram into your cervix, making your insides feel tender and bruised all over.

You accept that there's no getting through to him, so you allow him to violate you with what feels like every ounce of strength in his body, tears silently flowing down your cheeks as you pray for all of this to be a nightmare. Just a bad dream you'll wake up from and be back in reality, where your Uncle Jimmy is still just as amazing as he's always been. He's taken care of you so many times in the past. Made you laugh until your ribs hurt when he cracked a crude joke.

The man with your blood streaking around his cock can't be the same person. No, this is a monster. An evil monster that Jimmy would protect you from.

He grunts animalistically when he finally pulls out and spills his hot, thick spurts of cum all over your ass. Your legs shake, barely able to hold yourself up. Your eyes are wide, shell shocked. Jimmy takes a moment to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his furrowed brow before giving your ass a light smack, making you wince as he inflicts even more pain onto your poor body.

"Don't worry, kid. You won't remember shit in the morning. Thank the alcohol for that." You're not sure if he's trying to be reassuring. Regardless, it's not.

But he didn't lie. You wake up the next morning in your own bed with a pounding migraine, clothes still on your body. You feel disoriented as you rub the sleep from your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach, along with a sharp, throbbing pain between your legs.

All you remember from last night is sitting next to Jimmy, and then... everything else is fuzzy. Thanks to your headache, you can't find the strength to dig deeper into your memory. You inexplicably feel like you've been hit by seven trucks at once from every angle, and it's only 7:30 in the morning.

If any memories do resurface, you'll assume you're recalling a nightmare. Uncle Jimmy wouldn't do that to you.

He loves you.

—

(i havent written smut in a hot minute sorry for being rusty >_< also not proofread thoroughly im eepy)

[hawkinsbnbg]

all i want for christmas is you

prompt: christmas | word count: 1000 | rated: T | tags: ex-hookups to lovers, fast burn, getting together, future fic. | @steddieholidaydrabbles | ao3

steddie bingo prompts: cuddle, sing, guitar | @steddiebingo

It was finally Christmas and Eddie was gonna meet Wayne's mysterious partner, who had been a famous topic in their conversations lately.

Not that Wayne had mentioned seeing someone, yet. But he knew his uncle well, or he'd like to think so, and Wayne wasn't the type to just talk about some random people during their weekly phone calls.

And since he'd been hearing about Stevie this and Stevie that for months, he'd braced himself for the family dinner™ when he visited Wayne this year.

That was why he didn't expect to see Steve Harrington when opening the door.

It'd been what? Ten years and the other man still looked as beautiful as ever. Even without his signature polo and khakis, Steve still managed to look unfairly cute in his winter outfit, big doe eyes and rosy cheeks, sweet and fluffy like a cute muffin.

Eddie wanted to eat him.

Before he could say anything, however, Wayne appeared from behind and pushed him out of the doorway.

"Come in, son. You're gonna freeze your ass off if you stay out there any longer."

Steve ducked his head to hide that endearing shy smile of his and stepped inside the house as prompted, sighing in appreciation when the warmth embraced him.

Standing awkwardly next to Wayne, Eddie held the cookies Tupperware Steve had brought over, watching him take off his maroon knit scarf, mittens, and earmuffs then change his shoes and hang his jacket.

As Wayne pulled him into a fatherly hug that Eddie had been given hours ago, a lightbulb moment finally happened to Eddie.

"Holy shit, you're the Stevie! What're you doing here?" Eddie didn't mean to sound so blunt, wincing internally at the hurt flashing in those hazel eyes.

Thankfully, before he could ruin everything with his loud mouth, Wayne interrupted gently.

"I invited him here to have dinner with us. You got a problem with that, son?"

"Nope," Eddie wisely shook his head, then gave Steve a (hopefully) charming smile. "Don't mind me, sweetheart. I was just worried that I haven't bought a gift for you since I didn't– You know what? I’m gonna go set up the table. You two continue catching up, okay?”

His retreating tactic only worked for about two minutes before Steve joined him in the kitchen. Without Wayne as their buffer, he didn't know what to say and neither did Steve by the look of it. But the silence was stifling and his self-control had been shot to zero anyway.

“So, you're friends with Wayne, huh?”

“You could say that,” Steve glanced at him briefly before looking away again. “He talks about you a lot, you know. Said he’s really proud of you. For living your dream and making a life out of it.”

Unable to help it, Eddie swayed closer, breathing in the familiar floral and fruity notes from Steve's cologne and body wash, smiling when he caught the sweet scent of baked cookies.

“For the record, he also talks about you a lot, Stevie.”

He felt a little drunk when Steve's ears and cheeks colored in a lovely shade of pink that matched his sweater vest, and realized how much he’d missed this. The easy flirting. The natural way they moved around each other. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, or maybe it was the domestic air of the occasion, but he could see them like this one day—happy, in love, together.

Eddie shook his head. All those years, and here he was, still just as hopeless.

Dinner was a delightful affair. Wayne made it his duty to regale them both with their embarrassing tales, more of Eddie's than Steve's. Turned out, Wayne had helped him get acquainted with the neighborhood when he first came to live here. Once they found out about their mutual love for sports and gardening, they’d become fast friends and the rest was history.

(“Wait. You walked here?? In this weather???”

“There are only a few flurries and I don't even live that far away from here. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh, says the man who has pneumonia and still took a stroll when it's brass monkeys outside.”

“Like you're one to talk. Remember when you sprained his wrist and ankle because you refused to use the front door like normal people?”

“Listen–”

“Boys.”

“Sorry, Uncle Wayne.”)

At some point, Steve revealed that he was teaching at Hawkins Middle, and proceeded to gush about a bunch of kids Eddie had no idea about but still grew fond of anyway if only because they were the reason for the smiles on Steve's face.

After doing the dishes, they joined Wayne in the living room, drinking hot cocoas by the fireplace and bickering over their tastes in movies and music. Eddie got to show off his guitar skills, playing every request from Steve and Wayne.

They all sang along to Queens and ABBA, laughing when he missed some chords. Eventually, Wayne called it a night and retired upstairs, leaving him and Steve on the couch, cuddling and sharing body heat beneath the soft quilt.

Amidst their mindless bantering, he raised a hand to cradle Steve’s face, and asked softly. “May I?”

Like a dream, Steve leaned into his touch with a soft smile.

“Yes, please.”

Oh, sweet Santa. This man was gonna be the death of him.

Once they eventually parted, Eddie suggested that they should kiss under a mistletoe next time, and Steve quickly pointed out they’d just done it considering their quilt was patterned with mistletoes—something they’d failed to notice until they were done kissing. Somehow, that made them break into a fit of giggles, having to cover each other’s mouths to muffle their noises like a couple of giddy children.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Steve asked after a while.

“You,” Eddie pecked his lips tenderly. “It's always been you, baby.”

“You have me,” Steve smiled into the kiss.

And Eddie knew he was gonna do anything to make them work this time.

[exo-raskreia]

JJK should be renamed to "Wasted Potential: The Manga".

It really did turn out to be a story with no substance. Honestly, what an uninteresting epilogue for a manga as popular as it became. Still explained nothing (I knew it the moment I saw the announcement of what the epilogue would contain 😒). Gege keeps on trolling, knowing exactly what the fans want to see but not acknowledging anything. Well, his final author notes only confirm what I always felt; he didn't really care, he really was burnt out & just kept churning out chapters. No passion. The issues with the manga were so glaringly obvious early on to me but only became more noticeable after Shibuya (and 3 years ago was around the time Gege claims he burnt out).

Kinda creepy that Panda is just stuck in a storage unit of the still elusive Gojo Clan & comes to life like a possessed doll if touched. But Yuuta's grandkids?! YutaMaki canon, at least (uh, right?).

Don't care about Nobara's part (Gege once again wasting final panels on an irrelevant character—the mom). We got some more backstory for Sukuna & Uraume (or is it a limbo of sorts?) yet still leaves us curious & hanging. And while I don't mind Yuuji ending up with Ozawa, what a waste of panels too. Except for a cameo that explained nothing, we don't even know what happened to the other member of the main trio, Megumi (man, Gege really did him dirty overall, I feel bad for his fans 😬).

Also, can't believe Sukuna's twin was actually Yuuji's grandpa instead of Jin (Yuuji's dad). So that means Sukuna is Yuuji's great uncle. I preferred him being just the uncle tbh 😅...

[Edit] And once again... no acknowledgment of Gojo's fate. The only confirmation we get of his death (ugh) is Nobara saying she wants to "respect the dead" by visiting her mom, whom Gojo had found for her. Seriously, tho? This is the acknowledgment we get? No mourning, no funeral, nothing from those Gojo was actually close to like Yuuji, Yuta, Shoko, Utahime or Megumi? We're supposed to accept it just like that? If this is it, what a terrible handling of Gojo's character 😑. More of my thoughts on that here.

Wonder if Mappa will fix anything but I won't hold hopes for that. I'm only looking forward to the 200% Hollow Purple scene & a few other things.

Anyway, back to Delulu Land. Gojo is living happily as a swallow with Utahime now 😌.

[weirdmultishipper]

I agree with you on almost everything, but I might add onto your last paragraph. From the point of view of a child, parents are literally their whole lives, at least when they are young.

If I were in Cale's position, I probably wouldn't have handled with as much grace and humility as he did. Truthfully, I would've cried all day. But I know even at that young of an age, if I had lost a parent, it would seem natural to me that my father was grieving and I should at least try to comfort him, even if it doesn't work.

Also, Deruth is a noble and Cale knows that as he was being taught about all that. So I guess remarriage is expected? Og!Cale didn't really have anyone other than his mom and dad like the most of us. No siblings, no cousins, no grandparents or aunts or uncles to rely on. Probably not friends either, which is why he tried his best to do what he can for Deruth as he is the only one Cale has.

If I were able to go to that time, I would hug little Cale, kiss his cheeks, and tell him he is doing his best and that is enough. Then, I would go to Deruth, give him a hug or pat on the bag, then say some sense into him so that he understands that:

Yes, grieve and then move on. Get married, have kids, idc. But don't make your son grieve alone, when he has literally no one else, and don't move on when he can't catch up to you.

Og!Cale didn't want to lose another parent. And all his life until the war, he kept doing everything he could to make sure his father didn't ever have to cry again by protecting Violan and Basen.

But little did he know, he still lost Deruth. All because Deruth never had to courage to show his son that he can be his father, not just his caregiver.

Unpopular opinion(?): Deruth Henituse

Let's all face it: Deuth wasn't a bad father to Og!Cale. He was millions of times better than a lot of fictional fathers and I wholeheartedly agree with that. ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

Unpopular opinion: That's doesn't mean I have to like him. (¬⤙¬ )

And I'm all for different opinions. People can view one thing in various different ways, and that's perfectly understandable! I don't like Deruth and that's mine.

Deruth was-no, is a coward. The lovely author of the novel has made it pretty clear. And I don't hate him for it. Being a coward is not a sin, but neglecting your son is.

Like b*tch, most fanfictions make you a better father than you are just because your wife was dead like WTF?!?! Your son's mom was dead too REMEMBER THAT?!?! 눈_눈

And I'm not against Cale and Deruth having a good relationship or those fanfics that basically erase Deruth's wrongdoing because to be honest, I enjoy them too. It's much easier to pretend Deruth was a good father and that our lovely little Og!Cale had a wonderful life than look at canon. o(TヘTo)

Let's recap: Deruth was a decent father until Jour died. Then he went into a deep depression of which Cale tried his bestest to pull his father out of. We know Cale basically ignored his own sorrow just to take care of his father AND the count duties his father was ignoring at the same time. While there is nothing wrong with grieving as losing Jour was very hard for Deruth, couldn't he have at least put SOME effort into assigning someone efficient to handle his duties so 7-year-old Cale didn't have to?

While on the topic of grieving, Deruth not only failed his duties as a count but as a father. I personally have no experience with this, but I had a friend with a dead mother. Even though her father must've been sad too, he put in effort to take care of her and her sister, send them to school, make money, manage the household and everything. Fathers and mothers push aside their sorrow every day to do the bast they can for their children. Deruth, on the other hand, was too much of a fool to do any of that.

Deruth wasn't the only one who lost Jour, after all. Cale lost his mother. The one who gave birth to him, raised him, hugged him, told her all his secrets, whom did the same in return, and was the only other person with the same bright and beautiful hair that he had.

And he could've turned around after a few weeks and fixed everything up and let both him and Cale heal with each other. But NOOOO~ He had to leave his only cute, lovely, wonderful, but most of all GRIEVING son all alone in a cold and lonely mansion for vacation. Like he could've at least taken him along so they could grieve together? But NOOOO~ Cale looks too much like his dead wife and that's so iMpOsSiBle~ ～(　TロT)σ

But he fixed that? How? By marrying the woman on the spot! Bringing in a new countess when no one but him got over the old one and turning up all the dark shades of sorrow into wedding curtains before Cale even knew what was happening! (°ロ°)

But I also know he had good intentions. Being the count and all, he probably knew marrying Violan would mean she could help her with the household. Maybe he also thought that Cale would immediately think of her as his mother.

Now, him falling in love wasn't a sin and Violan is an amazing woman😍, but I think he undermined his son's sorrow just because he found a reason to move on from Jour.😔

BTW, Violan, Basen, and Lily are amazing. They're one of my most fave fictional families and no one can tell me otherwise. Go them! q(≧▽≦q)

And as the years go by, our smart Cale realizes that the vassals and the collateral family are coming after Violan and Basen and decided to throw away his life and soul all for his father's picturesque perfect family; just so that coward can be happy.

And then KRS!Cale comes along (also love him, go my baby make fires 🔥 and steal MONAH!!! 🫰💰💵) and suddenly, Deruth thinks Cale is all "fixed" and "not broken" so he can finally reach out to his son, only it's NOT HIS SON ANYMORE!!! Like, he had over 10 years even after marrying Violan to reach out to him but ?????

But since there are no implications of him raising a hand against Cale, I don't hate him and wish for his death like another certain protagonist's father (I'm looking at you, Kim Dokja's 'father'), but that doesn't mean I can just forgive and forget all of this, okay?

Yes, he let Cale waste his life away because he couldn't even protect the new family member that he brought into the family HIMSELF as the count, so Cale had to do it himself. And from what I can infer, when the Choi Han incident happened in TBoaH, he didn't even show up or visit him even though we know Cale would fight the damn gods if it were the other way around. He did provide Cale with the best treatment and kept an eye on him, but couldn't bear to face him.

So in conclusion: I don't really hate Deruth, but please for the love of peace, family, and chaos DON'T convince me to like him one bit.

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool and Wolverine: KCAU Christmas Special

[Authors note: it is a Christmas miracle that I got this chapter out today... Merry Christmas! The next chapters will still be Christmas themed well into the new year]

Part 3

The flight was nice, and it was pleasant to not be molested by the TSA and hobble around waiting for them to finish looking at Greg's Cain. Always annoying, what could anyone possibly sneak in a cain that wasn't an already affective weapon other than the cain itself! And don't say a sword because those cheap things can ba spotted a mile away everyone knows your gothy cain with a cobra head handle has a long knife on the end of it we here it clanging every step you take.

Ellie picked them up at the Wheeler airport, excited to see her bother and his friend.

She was right there on the tarmac. The second James was off the plane, she jumped, grabbed him in a hug, and spun him around with a strength one wouldn't suspect from the 6 foot tall women of average looking build.

I've missed you so much! Though you did spoil my fun. I was going to kidnap you myself if you didn't show up! I even had a big bag picked out, I was going to put you in!

I hope it was a nice one. You know how burlap is chaffing.

It was a big red Santa bag... wanted to be festive for dad!

Ellie was always playfully teasing of her brother... typical of most siblings... but in career and personality, she more openly took after their father Wade. Ellie was a premier assassin and jr executive of MFM "the Family business" Ellie was in charge of the black ops devision, doing "wet work" for world governments that want culpable deniability when someone turns up dead. Ellie loved her job, her dad's, and her brother and sister... everyone else should probably live in fear.

Greg looked at her, Ellie was of darker complexion than James. but in the face, you could tell they were related, James had told him that technically, she was his half-sister... but they never regard each other as such. That was his sister full stop, they grew up together and only ever knew Wade and Logan as parents.

In a bubble gum sweet voice, she informed James and Greg that this year was going to be a blowout!

It's going to be great this year, little brother Aunt Vanessa and Dermot, Uncle Colossus, Peter, Jeff, Laura, Warhead, Yukio, Dopender, Father Kurt, and Uncle Morph are all going to be at Christmas eve dinner. Dad is making his famous Lasagna and Papa cought two pheasants with his bare fucking hands for Christmas day dinner it was amazing! Don't worry, Greg. we'll have prime rib for Christmas dinner as well if you find the bird to gamey.

Wait... circle back... Uncle Morph is going to be in town... will he be staying the night?

They got him a room at the Westin Crown Center... why?

You know why!

Oh.... ooohhhh, ha! I guess Dad and Papa really are going to have a Merry Christmas.

What's wrong with having your uncle Morph staying the night? ... and why do half of the people mentioned have weird names? Morph, Warhead, Colossus?

Morph's birth name is Kevin... he just doesn't like to use it... and frankly, dads not a fan it either, so that's what we all call him. Just a preference. As for why it's a concern... I'll tell you later.

Don't be so shy, James. You brought him home for Christmas, so he must be family... its ok if he knows that our parents and uncle Morph fuck nasty any time he's in town.

Jesus christ, Ellie! You know how uncomfortable talking about them like that makes me. *visibly shudders*

I can't help that our parents are possibly the hornie-est men to ever walk the earth! Might as we joke about it.

Well, that totally makes sense about James then.

I don't like where you're going with this House!

What, the offspring of concupiscent old men is clearly bothered by overt sexuality because he, in truth. has had three divorces because he can't keep it in his perverbial pants!

I knew i liked you Greg! *laughs loudly*

I'm not a psychologist, but it sounds like he's got you nailed down, little brother

As she said this, she turned the car into the driveway of the tower they'd both called home. She again let out a chuckle when she saw in the rear view mirror the deep shade of red James was currently blushing.

One park place hadn't changed much. At least not in a way one could detect. The on-site security was now directly contracted through MFM at very reasonable rates, and every floor had been fitted with bomb resistant glass... at least since "the incident" in 2058... Logan and Wade had paid through the teeth for that little upgrade. But other than that, they were actually at peace with their neighbors. 700 W 31st Street was probably the second most secure building in the city. The only one more secure being the Federal Reserve Bank building down the street. Things were going well until they got to the 19th floor, and Greg triped James coming out of the elevator.

My dad probably saw that! Ass!

Saw what! I don't know what you're talking about. Also, are you gonna run to your daddy all week with your problems?

He's actually probably right... there are security cameras... this is the most secure floor in the building. Just our place and neighbor Dave... you're cute, Greg, but I'd take it easy joshing with your boyfriend... dad wouldn't hesitate to shoot you point blank if he thinks you're a threat to one of his babies.

He's not my boyfriend...

Sure James....

See what I have to deal with Ellie!? He breaks my heart!

They approached the ornate double doors that lead into the condo... Penthouse would be a better description. They were actually new. A veneer of teak wood covering inch thick steel with intricate carvings of bullets, swords, claws, guns, and battle scenes. It looked like it belonged on the front of a temple dedicated to God's of war and violence... Ellie put a key in the door, unlocked it, and opened it.

No sooner than they had passed the threshold like a flash Logan was on all fours running at them. Closing the distance, he pounced arms wide open, knocking all three on the ground. Sniffing them and kissing their cheeks, Logan allowed himself to go a little feral and play rough with his kits. It was the holiday season after all... The fact that Gregory was caught in the crossfire knocked on his ass into the dog pile was another problem entirely!

My babies! ... and some guy? *Sniff* Why do you smell a little like Wade!?

For the love of god, please get off my leg!

Logan stood up and helped Greg to his feet. James handed him his cain as Greg quickly pulled out a pill bottle from his jacket pocket and dry swallowed three pills.

By this time, Wade had already walked up to them.

Sorry about my husband. He's very excited to see all of you. I hope you're ok... If you're not, I hope Kitten had you sign the traditional family liability release forms...

Is that a thing now?

It's not Kitten. Wade extended a hand to Greg... he'd slipped a hundred dollars in his hand by way of apology... I know who you are! It's nice to finally meet you, James talks an unhealthy amount about you. I always did like a guy named Hugh. He said, winking at us.

*Confused* my name is Gregory House, Mr. Wilson.

Sure, it is sun-shine, also Ick don't call me that... it's Wade, or Deadpool if ya nasty...

Leaving Greg to deal with pleasantries by himself, Jams grabbed his and House's Bags. Turned right and walked down the halway like he'd done thousands of times in the past. He detected the faint smell of cigar smoke as he walked past the office. It triggered a little nostalgia. It smelled like his dad Logan and the bear hugs he'd given him when he was a child. He always fet safe in the man's massive arms... truth be told for all the madness of his father's... James always felt safe at home. They were a danger to themselves and definitely others... but not him. They'd do anything for him. He was always quietly grateful for that aspect of his childhood.

He'd walk all the way down the hall... last door on the left. His room, the room he was born in, as a matter of fact. Apart from being immaculately clean, it was just as he'd left it since he moved out. It was December. The sun was already setting over the horizon... soon, the automatic blackout curtains would come down and block the entire east wall of his room made entirely of floor to ceiling windows.

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Before that though the golden glow reflected off the fresh snow was brilliant. In the distance he could make out the top of the massive tree in the heart of crown center. The view is bitter sweet... he remembers loving christmas as a kid... it was the only time for sure that both his dad's were home and "Santa" never held back... it was always an embarrassment of riches... now... now christmas was exhausting... there was never enough time, and Wade Wilson didn't exactly loose his zeal, he got older and leaned more into to christmas... James knew he was due to get roped into a big family Christmas sooner or later... he skipped the last two Christmases... his dad face timed him so that he was sure to see the tears...

He tossed the bags on the ridiculously large Texas king bed... he'd unpack later, unless Mrs. Mangracina, the ancient cleaning lady who'd been working there since before he was born, decided to do it... not one of her official responsibilities, but she did shit like that anyway... she fancied herself a butler for the family at times. to James, she was more of a second grandma, only Italian flavored... she and his grandma Al were actually pretty close. They'd go to bingo and Mass at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church on Broadway. She'd confided in the family that she lost her best friend when Althea passed... James fully expected her to be there at Christmas Eve dinner, not as an employee but as a guest and member of the family. A lot of people were going to be there...

If Luara was going to be here she'd take up the guest room... no one was allowed in Grandma's room since she'd passed away... house was in For a surprise... they'd be sharing a bed this week.

Later that night at dinner, Gregory had pulled all of his usual antics and made himself look like a perfect ass... he'd eaten food off James's plate... to the point of just straight-up switching plates with him. telling embarrassing stories and wildly inappropriate jokes at the table... the only people laughing, being Wade and Ellie. They didn't realize what kind of gasoline they were throwing on the fire by encouraging him... or maybe they did. Agents of chaos the both of them. Logan was stoic in the face of it as usual, while Laura actually popped her claws and announced that's enough when she thought Greg punched James a little too hard when he was punctuating a joke at his expense.

The perfect start to a week that was guaranteed to get more chaotic... shortly after Greg and James retired to his bedroom...

James had already showered and settled in to bed with a book when Greg exited the bathroom in his pajamas.

What the fuck is that!

Pointing on at the grayish blue ball of wrinkles cuddling on the bed...

It's Merry, Greg. Do you need an MRI you saw my dad feeding here when we had dinner...

Sorry, let me rephrase. Why the fuck is that... specifically why is it in the bed... Marry has always slept with me since I was little... you didn't let Hector in the Bed?

I didn't... hold on... how old is that dog?

Well, my parents had her before I was born... so tack on a few years, I'd say 47 give or take.

That's impossible...

She's like my Dad's... I'm not a hundred percent certain she can die. My Aunt Vaness told me that Mary is an alternate universe version of my dad, Wade... that's why she's always been close with me... I'm her puppy.

Kitten... puppy... you got any more weird pet names?

Why... you feeling romantic?

Greg looked at James with disgust and then shot a look at the dog with less disgust and more incredulity. Quickly changing the subject.

Thats cute and all, but I'm going to sleep on the couch. I can't have a dog jumping on me or you kicking me...

*Sigh* Greg, this bed is so big it'd take effort to kick you... but also, I promise you'd be less comfortable out there. Unless you got ear plugs.

Why?

this is the best room for the noise you can't hear anything on this side of the condo... you don't want to be within ear shot of the Master bedroom here in about an hour... even with all the soundproofing... Also, having guests in the house doesn't always stop them from fighting.

They fight, every night?

Like clock work... some nights are worse than others, sometimes they throw things... I'm almost certain they throw each other across the room. But that's not the worst of it... first comes the screams of pain... and then... I can't believe I'm saying this much less thinking about it... the screams of Ecstasy...

They fight as foreplay?

Yes, and I haven't been ok since I was 15 and figured that out... if my Grandma was still alive, she'd go into great detail about how they used to be worse.

Wait, isn't the guest room next to their room?

Laura Went to a bar, she won't be home until their *gags* done.

Fine... you and your rodent mother scoot over.

Careful how you talk to Mary... she's smarter than most people give her credit for...

Noted, I guess since she's your mom, she's in here chaparoning... so hands above the blankets tonight.

He winked at the dog, who shockingly winked back. Greg shook his head as he got into bed using a few extra pillows to build a barricade between his bad leg and Wilson who despite how big the bed was, is a notorious sleep kicker.

We'd better get some sleep... it's going to be a long week.

Wilson turned out the lights and slowly sleep overcame them.

[calypsolemon]

If i am totally honest I kind of don't like how harsh some of the fandom is at Greg sometimes for being literally homeless and having a magical gem son at the same time. For sure there are places where Greg actually messed up but I feel like in the case of Steven partially growing up in a van and not really having access to medical care and lacking structure because of it is like. Homeless and poor people have kids and its not a moral failing on their part for our society not helping them meet their needs, yknow?

[swag696942069]

Do you guys think that Barty and Pandora still hung out after Reg, Evan, and Dorcas died? (Please say yes I'm gonna throw up!)

[turkicgods]

At first, the god simply rolled his eyes, ready to try his very best to just let the others' words fall away from him like water to a ducks back. Yet there was a sentence there that caught him unawares, making him still, grinding every inch of him to a halt. You & your brothers & sisters were forced into a life you didn't deserve or ask for. The wording struck him harder than he'd ever thought possible, the strange and foreign notion that he and his siblings somehow deserved better than the lot they'd given? Was it odd to know that he'd never really considered that? That he could go against the grain, that any of them truly could?

Even Matyr hadn't fully turned his back on what he was, on his purpose. Maybe he was thinking too deeply into it, but that was his job, as a businessman, as a master manipulator, he had to be able to seed his way into every nook and cranny to understand and gain control from every angle possible, pull every puppet string available to him. But this? Did they deserve it? Did they deserve better? Did he deserve better? After all this time? After his life's work? His twisted view of humanity? His goal of harming the very planet they stood on all in an effort to further punish humankind for simply existing? Why? Because his father told him to.

Temir tried his best to remain unreadable, but the pain was there, hardening that confident expression, tainting it with the doubt that he'd spent so long trying to bury in the darkest crevices of his mind. "You don't know what we deserve... what I deserve." It was the most raw the god had been in a long time, since he'd last lowered his guard and opened up to the woman he'd loved only for it to be thrown back in his face. It frightened him, being so exposed, but for a moment, it was all he had left.

Instead of letting the thought ferment, he shook his head as if physically trying to shake it off. "You forget, information is easy to come by on Earth. Humans aren't exactly difficult to manipulate, particularly when that's your area of expertise. For the god of informants? He has eyes everywhere, spies everywhere... it's as easy as breathing. But gods outside our pantheon? Let's just say networking is more difficult to navigate without stepping on too many toes." He found it so easy to fall back into his usual manner, that air of confidence returning to him even though there was definitely a thick layer of it missing now. "Just like you don't know everything about us, we don't know everything about you. We hear snippets every now and then, gossip, but... it's not as though each pantheon sends out a monthly newsletter." It was a rather amusing thought though.

"And isolation? That means nothing. From what I understand, my dear uncle Ulgen lives in isolation. That doesn't mean he shares in your defiance. As for the sheer lack of other gods partaking in your delightful presence... like you said, this is your domain, it's protected. We have no way of knowing what you get up to in your own little world. For all I know, you could be having wild cocktail parties and fine soirees. I know of at least one of your pantheon who would approve." He explained so that the other could understand where he was coming from, shrugging his shoulders as he looked around him. "So, you'll pardon me if I take everything you say with a grain of salt. More so given how cosey you've been with my pantheon's sky gods. You have to understand how this looks from my point of view?" Though he neglected to mention what it meant on a more personal level. "This... is a lot to take in. Whether you're telling the truth or not, it's... a lot and I've invested my entire existence into the way I am now, to the life I live. How could I possibly turn back now? This is everything I have, everything I am."

HE LISTENS intently, never faltering or backing down as he watches the other god seem to continue his rant. It seemed part of the facade has vanished and now Temir spoke true, as Karthisius had hoped. It is far from perfect but at the very least it confirms a sinking suspicion he'd been having for QUITE some time now. That perhaps there was SOMETHING within Erlik's children that innately led them to craving more. HE WASN'T going to hold out hope for all of them, but at least SOMETHING had to be there.

"Perhaps, but it'll be ALL the more difficult for him to do so if he has to start from scratch now won't it? And YOU are here now. You & your brothers & sisters were forced into a LIFE you didn't deserve or ask for. It is COSMIC justice if you are all ABLE to reclaim your identities. I walked a MILE in those shoes once and I do not intend to allow anyone else to suffer such a fate."

THE NEXT STATEMENT causes Karthisius to frown, FROWN in a way that he so rarely did. It's HEARTBREAKING––heartbreaking to say the absolute least. How could A BEING be made so SMALL as to think their existence––their purpose––was their only source of value. It made his blood boil, but after a moment he draws in a QUIET BREATH, seemingly exhaling out his disdain with it.

"What becomes of those who FREE themselves of the tyranny is that they are given the choice on how they wish to live. MASTERS of their own being. The choice to be whatever it is they choose to be. No longer living under the TYRANNICAL iron fist of someone who by all rights should have NO SAY in what those beings become."

It sounded IDYLLIC, that much he knew for certain. Not everyone could believe in such things, and for a being who had lived so long with no sign of hope, he imagined it sounded silly. It's not until the INQUIRIES are turned on him that he cants his head to the side. He'll ANSWER honestly, but he sincerely doubts he'll be believed so he elects to shake his head instead.

"If your INFORMANT brother knows everything then you should already know the answer––but since you're asking, no. I defied Zeus, OPENLY. Haven't you noticed that not a SINCE OTHER Greek god has spoken of me? Have you not noticed how I LIVE in isolation, while the rest of the gods live in Olympus. No. I do this for MYSELF. I do this because it is what I BELIEVE in. You, of course, are under no obligation to believe it, but whether you do, or do not–a clear conscience is more important to me than any personal gain. I have LIVED as you do, and I can guarantee you that if I can pull someone else out of it, I will."

[kodokugumon]

the fact that so many child abuse laws are like "its not child abuse unless it leaves a lasting mark" is so fucking crazy to me. You can hit a kid as long as your fists weren't closed and you hit them light enough

[roaringroa]

everyday i feel the want to be an aunt grow stronger and stronger

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[moondustinfj]

James: He hates me! Why does your uncle hate me Sirius??

Sirius: Oh...Because I told him you were the one who smoked pot in my room when I visited him in 5th year

James: WHAT??

Regulus *coming inside* : Hey, what's going on?

James: Sirius told Alphard that I smoked pot in Sirius' room in 5th year!

Regulus: What? Were you even there?

Sirius: ...I told him he flew out of the window

James: And why did he believe it?

Sirius: Because I told him what an excellent quidditch player you are :)

James: awwww :) you really-

Regulus: NO. Don't even start. Sirius, James and I are supposed to tell him that we live together TODAY and we can't do that if he hates James!

Sirius: Okay! Okay...I'll tell him.

(1 hour later)

Regulus: So. Did you tell him?

Sirius: Yeah about that. I was thinking of maybe writing him a letter-

Regulus: Okay you know what? You had your chance.

Regulus *goes up to Alphard*: Uncle. James didn't smoke pot in 5th year, Sirius did.

Sirius: YOU ARE SUCH A TATTLETALE!!

Alphard: Is this true Sirius?

Sirius: Yes..

Regulus: And uncle. Sirius was the one who melted your collection.

Sirius:

Sirius: REGULUS' ONLY FRIEND FOR YEARS WAS OUR HOUSE ELF

Regulus: *gasp*

Regulus: SIRIUS AND REMUS BROKE UP, GOT TOGETHER AND BROKE UP. AGAIN!

Sirius: REGULUS BECAME A DEATH EATER THEN WENT ON A SECRET MISSION TO FIND THE HORCRUXES. ON HIS OWN!

Regulus: SIRIUS IS GOING TO ASK REMUS TO MARRY HIM!

Remus: what

Sirius: YOU LITTLE- REGULUS AND JAMES ARE LIVING TOGETHER!!

Alphard: ....That is a lot of information to take in 30 seconds. I will have a word with both of you later. And James.

James:

Alphard: You have been Sirius' best friend for years, stuck by him through his drug problem

Sirius: Oh come on, it's not like he never-

Alphard: And now you've taken on Regulus as well. I don't know what to say. You're a wonderful human being.

James: Thank you, sir

Alphard: Please. Call me uncle.

James: Okay...uncle.

Remus:

Remus:

Remus: Okay so am I supposed to ignore the fact that-

[seungcheorry]

the sound of your baby crying plays loudly from your electronic babysitter device. the conversation dies for a bit, and as you're ready to get up, seungcheol stops you.

"it's okay, i'll go get her", he says with a kiss to your cheek.

seungcheol leaves you with his members, answering mingyu's hundred questions, laughing whenever minghao tells him to calm down and asking if vernon is okay, because the poor dude seems scared of the very idea of meeting your daughter.

"you're all idiots", jihoon shakes his head, arms crossed as he laughs with you.

the commotion ends when you hear seungcheol's voice, but also coming from the device you're holding it.

"hey, peanut", he softly says. "it's okay, appa is here. come here."

you could clearly imagine seungcheol picking her up. your eyes meet mingyu's, and the boy is smiling from ear to ear.

"he forgot the babysitter is on", mingyu states, covering his mouth and giggling like a little girl.

"did you sleep well? was it a good nap?", the leader keeps talking. "i hope you're recharged, because your uncles are waiting to meet you. you're already so loved, and i know you're gonna love them back. they can be too much sometimes but don't worry, appa will always be here to help you kick their asses."

the baby girl in his arms make a cute noise, as if she's agreeing to seungcheol.

"yeah, you already know that, don't you?", he laughs.

"he's such a goner", jihoon comments. "he was already a softie, but now being a girl dad..."

vernon chuckles, agreeing with his hyung.

"okay, let's go", seungcheol's voice echoes through the device again. "here's your blanket, it's chilly outside. are you happy that you're gonna meet your uncles? your eyes are shining, baby girl, you seem..."

his voice fades, and as you hear his steps down the hallway you're quick to turn off your end of the babysitter - you didn't want seungcheol to know that his little moment with his daughter has been leaked.

and as he walks into the living room, proudly announcing your baby's name with a smile on his face, you realize that his members didn't want either.

[rizsu]

+ extra: canon-type family relations: jin itadori & sukuna are brothers, itadori is a child here ( 8 years ).

boyfriend-girlfriend life with sukuna except he thinks he's being replaced — in all seriousness. sukuna's seconds away from destroying his nephew's remote-controlled cars collection.

can the kid move? he wants yuuji gone. he's not jealous of him, he just wants your undivided attention back on him. if he knew beforehand that agreeing to jin's invitation over would result in this, he'd probably fly out of the country with you to avoid it.

manspreading on the sofa with one hand slung over the backrest, he swirls the beer in his other hand. his brother's in the kitchen, stacking the extra beers in the fridge.

“you can help me, you know?” jin calls sukuna out, lacing his voice with slight annoyance.

“nah,” sukuna responds, waving him off.

he's busy watching you sit on the floor with yuuji, pretending to race against time with him.

it's not all that bad when he thinks about it — never mind, it is. the kid's had you on the floor since you walked through the door. not a moment spared for his uncle. all yuuji did was look up at sukuna, stick his tongue out, and engulfed your legs in a big hug.

ever since then he's been sulking in the corner. jin can only pity him for so long — it's been an hour, he needs to get over it.

jin sneaks up behind sukuna, gathering his fingers to surprise attack him. in only a matter of seconds he's subjected to the ear-pinch-and-ring combination.

sukuna flinches, immediately swatting jin's hand off.

“you must've gone fucking crazy!?”

he gets yet another ear-pinch-and-ring combination from jin.

“i have a son, don't curse.”

“fuck that boy,” he whispers under his breath, cupping his ear. it's hot from the pain — most likely already gained a red shade.

even after such commotion both yuuji's and your attention didn't turn to them. you both are far too immersed in the racing game.

the brothers are now both on the sofa: one has his attention on you and the other has his attention on the unattended mail on the coffee table that's been neglected two days ago.

“this one? no... that one? also no...”

“jin, quit mumbling.”

“cover your ears then.”

rolling his eyes, sukuna downs the last bit of beer remaining in the bottle. he's now officially out of beer and too lazy to get one.

being left without a distraction, he's forced to observe jin's house. it's nothing extraordinary. he believes his house to be better.

he voices out a sigh, slouching and spreading his legs further apart. the boredom's hitting him earlier than it usually does — this is your fault. if you weren't busy zooming cars around the living room with yuuji then he wouldn't be bored.

as sukuna's busy with complaining, he doesn't notice yuuji speed walking to the sofa with a broken car in hand. you're right behind him, sporting a smile that says you got yourself in some trouble.

“daaad, the car!” yuuji whines, climbing onto the free spot between his dad and his uncle.

jin hums, raising his eyebrows but his gaze is fixed on the mail as he's still sorting them out.

“it broke,” the boy complains, pouting at the toy.

“it lost control and rammed into the wall,” you explained further, sitting on the armrest on sukuna's side.

sukuna's arm fixes itself around your hips. he's slightly smirking at the news.

that doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're more than familiar with your boyfriend's joy at other's misery. you shot him a glare with a light tap on his shoulder.

“is that so?” jin's attention is now fully on his boy. he takes the glasses off, pulling yuuji onto his lap.

taking the car into his hand, he inspects the damages. it's not too much, and it's fixable.

“dad will fix it later, okay,” reassuring yuuji, jin ruffles his hair.

yuuji nods, jumping down from his dad's lap to return to the toys. as he's on his way, he turns, appearing to have suddenly remembered something.

“(y/n), come play with me!”

“no, she won't,” sukuna answers for you, ignoring the harder hit you gave him on his shoulder.

“i'll be right there, yuuji,” this time you answer, giving him a warm smile and a thumbs up.

“give the boy a fucking brother,” sukuna grumbles, looking at jin with pure annoyance.

jin shoots his brother a smile, giving him no reply before he goes back to reading the final mail of the bunch.