#So let’s say they are merely there to channel their abilities better

[quikyu]

Okay I cracked. Here are some ocs

[emmyrosee]

Sukuna hates how petty you can get when you’re fighting.

There is a part of him that loves your stubbornness, sure, like when you huff at him and make him work for your affection, but right now, you’re on day three of the silent treatment, and he’s losing it.

You enter a room and he’s already in it, you leave. You’re talking to yuuji and he comes in, you stop talking immediately. You haven’t been staying the night anymore, and you haven’t given him a kiss goodbye any time you’ve left. Even his ma is questioning what he did wrong, and he can’t give her a concrete answer.

He’s losing it.

Hes spammed texted you, he’s been trapping you in rooms by leaning in the doorframe, he’s been trying to get yuuji to be his messenger, but nothings working. You’re not biting.

“You’re over complicating this,” yuuji shakes his head and thumbing through channels. “Literally just apologize.”

“At this point I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!”

“Well they’re on their way over, thinking you’re going to apologize, so you’d better figure it out.”

“You’ve been an immense help, thank you, asshole.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and when Sukuna takes a deep breath and answers it, you nearly spin on your heel to leave.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he snips, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the house and trying not to focus on how you’re not even fighting against him, and that’s how indifferent you are to him. “We’re talking. Like it.”

“Hey dawg!” Yuuji cheers, clicking off the tv and waving. You wave back, your streak of not talking in front of Sukuna continuing. The younger chuckles, “I’ll let the adults duke it out. See ya!”

The room fills with silence as yuuji leaves, making Sukuna immensely uncomfortable. The way you’re looking at him has him uncomfortable, you’re making him so uncomfortable, and he just wishes you’d toss your pride to the side and talk to him and cuss him out or something.

“You look… good.”

Nothing.

“I’ve missed you.”

Nada.

“I made out with someone else because I got sick of you ignoring me.”

You scowl at him.

“Okay, I was lying. I was hoping you’d cuss me out.”

No dice.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” He takes a deep breath in to try and ground himself, and you merely watch him with a hurt expression.

Okay. That didn’t help his situation.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbles, making a move to guide you backwards. He’s got you backed into a wall, hands on your shoulders while your arms stay nonchalantly crossed.

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me; what did I even do?” He snaps, leaning close to your face threateningly.

You blink unamused.

Oh.

You’re gonna speak alright. He’s gonna make sure of it.

“Speak.”

You merely look him up and down and turn your head.

“Talk! Now!”

You let a tired exhale through your nose pass.

“I said i was sorry, and i know you know that was hard for me, why am i still being punished by you?” It’s bait to make you mad and talk, he knows he hasn’t apologized to the most sincere of his ability, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Maybe I’ll tickle ya, how about that?”

That, does, have your eyes widening but you still don’t spare him a breath. He smirks, “I’d bet you’d hate that, huh? Holding in all that laughter and begs for me to stop, knowing I’m not going to until you talk to me… and I’ll do it too. You know that.”

You merely cross your arms over your chest tighter.

He shrugs, “you asked for it.”

And he’s gotta say, he’s impressed with how little you’re fighting back from him scooping you in his arms and tossing you on the couch, straddling you, even taking your two wrists in his massive paw and holding them above your head. Your lips wobble in anticipation, and he’s got you booked now. “Any last words? A quick ‘I hate you,’ maybe?”

You blink, bored, almost calling his bluff, and he comes up to smack his face in frustration. He wasn’t actually bluffing, he did have full intentions of making you scream, but he was so sure you’d crack under his gaze, even a quick kick to him as he was adjusting your body.

No dice.

With a shrug, hands come down quickly to tickle the meat of your ribs, settling in the dips and scratching at the bones maddeningly. He sees your lip become wobblier, and he smirks down at you. “Nothing? Not even a giggle? You must be pissed at me.”

You screw your eyes shut to ignore him and he clicks his tongue, “now you can’t even look at me? That sucks.”

He leans down to nibble at your neck and ear, whispering little words against your skin to make you squeak. But it isn’t until he cheats and uses his mouth to blow a raspberry on your sensitive neck, an area he’s so used to pressing loving kisses to, that you finally crack.

“YOURE SO CHEAP!” You scream, followed by a flurry of laughter and struggling from his tight hold. Your laugh is whiny and desperate, feet digging into the couch while his fingers merely slither up and under your arms.

He smirks against your skin, “gotcha.”

“Fuck off!” You squeal, tugging as hard as you can in his grasp. “Stohop it!”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asks. You shake your head back and forth, but he cocks a brow. “Is that a no? Are we going to talk about your issues with me, or am I going to have to tickle you for the next few hours?”

“HOURS?!” You howl.

He shrugs, “you ignored me for three days, least I deserve is to tickle you until you sob.”

“I wasn’t-“ you’re cut off by a flurry of your own giggles. “This isn’t-“ a few more yowls of your laughter when he digs in more. “FUCK OFF!”

“Nah,” he snickers. “This is more fun.” He does, however, stop his torment and pulls back, but he does look down at you impatiently. “Speak,” he echos from earlier.

You let out a few more titters slip past your lips, but you do sober up slightly, “you don’t even care that I was mad at you.”

“Uh, I was about to tickle you until you died, I think I cared too much-“

“No, Sukuna. You just didn’t want me to be mad. You never apologized and you never even bothered to try and make it better…”

This, oddly, has Sukuna’s heart twisting, squeezed with emotions and realization that he did mess up, pride couldn’t save him now and if he wanted to fix this, he’d have to prove it.

He sighs in truce, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“….”

“What?”

“That’s it?”

He rolls his eyes, “what else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to care that I was hurt!” You whine, raising on your elbows. “I want you to understand I was hurt, that you messed up! Not be so prideful and not admit it!”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he groans. He locks eyes with you, and he knows you’re not going to like it, but he leans down to kiss you, using his two hands to cup your jaw, letting his thumbs stroke your bone lovingly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve sucked having to deal with my shitty ass apologies before. I never should’ve pulled that shit, and I hated not having you by my side.”

This, has you softening.

He presses another kiss to you, “I missed your laughter. I missed you scolding me. I missed you being sarcastic… don’t pull that silent treatment shit again, will ya?”

You hum happily, “don’t piss me off and I won’t have to.”

He blinks unamused, and as the thought of tickling you again crosses his mind, you lean up to kiss his lips giggling softly in the warmth. “I’m kidding. You and I both know you’re not going to stop pissing me off.”

“Love when you answer your own demands,” he chuckles.

The tightness in his soul loosens as you submit to his affections, and he does make a mental note to never piss you off so bad again where you go back to happy to never talk to him again. He hates it more than even he knows, drags him down and he feels like he’s missing a crucial part of himself.

But it is good to know he can get you back out of that funk.

[really-burnt-toast]

Redesigning my COTL cast pt.1

HAHA I'm finally done! I only made busts tho bc Im lazy and Im not putting myself through drawing a size chart... YET.

It WILL come, just so I can show pretty outfits and show how ridiculous Leshy's hight is LOL

If you see any spelling mistakes, please ignore them <3

(more info and rambling under cut)

Here I'll write some more things relating to each character;

Lamb

Born in Darkwood to a single mother, their mom had named them Mellia after the flowers that grow there, since they had aided in striving off an illness she had during the pregnancy.

The Lamb grew up pretty happily despite being on the run. Their mother was eventually caught whilst they made an escape. During their years of hiding, they broke their leg during one particularly risky escape and were caught not long after.

Their number is 1.600.666 because I keep making a connection between Darkwood and Germany's Schwartzwald - there are 1.6 million sheep in Germany - so I decided to have that be the approximate number. 666 was just added for fun.

Their ear was tagged to keep track of how many sheep were caught in which realm. They just so happened to be the last to be executed. By mere coincidence.

They were born without horns and kinda made the crown shape into a set. It has the benefit that they can rip em off and use them as impromptu weapons.

Due to centuries of being treated as a tool for a prophecy and merely a vessel, their self esteem is downright horrid. Whilst they don't condone followers speaking ill of them, they pretty much let Narinder trample on their feelings up until they had snapped one day. In the end it did help them both, but it wasn't great it had to be taken to that point.

Extra: I added the vitiligo because when I imagine a human version, I couldn't help but see them as having Vitiligo. Their leg limp was made after I thought it would make them look more imposing seeing someone "weak" suddenly pull out a giant hammer.

Narinder

Found within a burning village under rubble, clutching a crown as war raged around them. He was found by Shamura and taken in.

He was the first to create resurrection and back then it was an EXTREMELY taxing ritual. It would require his own godly flesh to beckon people back to life - thus it would literally cause his skin and flesh to melt off his bones. Now that's not needed anymore but his body is still weak to it, meaning during certain stress factors, he can still become skeletal. He doesn't have scarring from it, but gained some cool markings.

He was bound by his arms, torso and neck - all of which are scarred. In the afterlife he was perpetually sitting, causing him to be paralyzed from the waist down. Once he was usurped he had to regain his ability to walk and was taken care of by the Lamb.

He was in a catatonic state for many years and it only got better gradually with many setbacks. For years he never left the bed and by the time his Siblings had been rescued, he had barely started going outside. He was also suffering from chronic pains which wasn't really helpful.

He's also very... Temperamental. It took him just as long to say anything nice to the Lamb and it took him extra long to see them as more than his vessel.

Extra: I changed his markings to be more like I had imagined them. The catatonic trait and chronic pain was added after the update and I remember how horrible it was having tendonitis and I wanted to channel my distaste into Narinder.

Shamura

Found and raised by the last gods, they weren't the greatest sibling. They may have taken in the others but it took them a long time to be anything other than cold. With Kallamar, Shamura was distant and strict - then with Narinder they attempted to be less harsh after the kid started crying himself to sleep. With Heket and Leshy they got less and less cold. They tried their best, they'd argue.

They got carried away by their feelings as they had feared at the start and that's when the first prophecy came to them. They had kept it hidden for way too long until the balance of the crown's powers were ripping at the seams due to Narinder's pursuit in power - and they made a decision. They had told Kallamar first. Then Heket and Leshy were brought in.

Stuff happened. Now they are barely coherent and at most have an hour or two at a time where they seem to make sense. Leshy stays with them the most. Kallamar takes care of them. Heket takes care of the rest. Their skull is caved in, they lost an eye and limbs - some of the damages can't be hidden by bandages.

There's also this thing that their crown keeps getting out of control whilst trying to keep their mind stable - sometimes they'll get startled - attempt to form a weapon and instead end up with their arm speared through. They have scarring all over their body from it.

Upon recruitment they are pretty overwhelmed. Their crown can't stop them from breaking anymore and they have gotten so used to godhood that mortality now feels like they are literally rotting alive. They can feel their body wasting away.

Only after getting their relic back do they start becoming more independent and stable. They nowadays go through some sort of rehab to try and regain their sense of self.

Extra: Not much was added. I wanted to give them Glasses but I can't for the life of me draw them with a pair... So Ill just say they have them but not show them LOL

Kallamar

His past is basically forgotten. It sorta slipped away since he hadn't deemed it fit to be remembered. At first he had MANY fights with Shamura, then it ceased after a confrontation turned violent which left him with a bad scar.

He had to take care of his younger siblings whilst coming to terms with godhood - filling in whenever Shamura wasn't physically or mostly emotionally unavailable. For a long time he was the only one that could comfort his ailing siblings. Dealing with that sort of made him pretty easily agitated.

When Shamura proposed the plan, he had been hesitant - but ultimately didn't say anything.

Now he takes care of his siblings medically. He hates himself more than he hates anyone else and as much as he is quick to condemn and betray Shamura - he is also quick to condemn himself. Though maybe not as enthusiastically or openly.

He likes to compensate. Giving gifts to request forgiveness - grand displays of favoritism or mainly decking himself and his multiple spouses out with Jewels. He still keeps his wedding rings around his neck and his earring references his siblings.

Funnily enough, he caused the least troubles to the Lamb. They could argue he even seemed relieved after a short while of staying in the cult.

Extra: Added Jewelry and two tentacles because he looked naked without them.

Heket

Loudmouth frog that when found with her crown, she started trying to fight Shamura - insulting whatever parent they had. She kept threatening to poison them too.

In the lineup of her siblings, she was often the one who took the sidelines. If she was happy, she was left alone. If she was displeased, she'd let herself known. The most uncomplicated of the siblings.

You'd almost miss how every other bishop would seek her out when help was needed. While Shamura helped with godhood and Kallamar with emotional needs - Heket was a good person to pester with anything else. She'd handle it - just let big sis do it. Even if she was the second youngest - it's funny how even Kallamar and Narinder would occasionally use the nickname.

Then when everyone else was dealing with their wounds, she picked up the pace and kept their respective cults from falling apart. She handled Silk cradle until Shamura could - helped with Darkwood and took over Anchordeep when Kallamar was tending to the others. No problem.

She was still loud when entering the cult. Not as much as her brother - but she loved to cause scenes. Her muteness didn't seem to hinder her at all with that. She's not allowed near knives but somehow can handle axes?

Her temper problems don't get better. She just stops being an asshole about it.

She prefers having scarfs covering her neck bandages whilst they're all bloody and disgusting.

Extra: Nothing because Heket is already perfect.

Leshy

Literally a weird insect that kept clinging to the crown until it grew big enough to hold in one hand. It bit anything that got close and by the time Shamura found it - he had started eating small critters.

And god, he kept growing and growing until he wasn't a small worm in Shamura's hand but literally too big to fit through most doors. They suspected he'd grow until the end of time. Or well, now since his crown is gone.

He never listens. He screams for fun and overshares the worst details to the point he manages to break his siblings into just accepting anything he talks about. They can't even scold him or punish him since Leshy always finds a way to make things worse for anyone else but himself.

He also copies everyone. First it was Heket's tone. Then it was Narinder's behavior - now he started growing flowers and vine braids to make fun of Kallamar and his antlers were at first a crude mimic of Shamura's pedipalps and now they grow vines to be similar to the jewels hanging from them. He refuses to acknowledge doing so.

He's very clingy. After locking away Narinder, he stayed with Shamura every day until they were out of bed rest. He follows his siblings around and when he does give them a second to breathe - hes probably laying around in Darkwood instead of doing anything productive. He does tends to plants occasionally, but he prefers "to let chaos do its thing" - as if that means anything.

He makes for a great gardener after he stopped trying to break everything upon recruitment. And once he got over growling at every living thing - he actually became one of the most well liked people living there.

Leshy knows exactly what someone needs and somehow finds a way to achieve that with the littlest of efforts. It's the thought that counts.

Extra: Braid and vines because I thought Leshy would look cute with it.

Special: The 4 bishops all wear old faith themed robes, but Shamura got the elder clothes for comfort and Leshy kept tearing his clothes apart so he is not permanently excluded from having any special outfits as punishment. Narinder wears fancy robes (who happen to be loose and warm while being special - otherwise he'd complain)

The Lamb wears one of the leaked fleeces since I loved the red riding hood aesthetic.

In the end this turned more into biographies than actual explanations but its 3:30am, Im sleep deprived and I wanted to get my thoughts out because I start having memory problems again YIPPEE

[niuniente]

I just caught up on DHD after the last few updates and just wanted to say the new chapters were amazing!! Alrick is such a lovable protagonist. I deeply appreciate and respect that you’ve written him as an idealist. I love that DHD’s themes are about being kind and doing the best you can for the people around you. I appreciate that it’s not a story forcing Alrick to be a realist or a pessimist or a nihilist—sometimes his idealism is a risk, but he perseveres and doesn’t let one bad experience change him.

The world is a better place with stories like DHD. Thank you for persevering too and continuing the story.

Thank you SO MUCH for letting me know and warmly welcome to read DHD! There's a DHD FAQ at @dhdfaq with more information and character sheets if that interests you.

It would be so easy to turn Death-Head's Deal into a nihilistic comic. All the settings are there. A mafia like organization where asking a payment for your job from your client has no limit - as we've seen with Plague and Cure - is such a fertile ground for an absolute, disgustingly realistic story with no hope, full nihilism everywhere and dark reality.

I didn't want to take that way. While I can consume and do like to consume even really filthy shit in a form of stories, comics, games etc. and I have no triggers or squicks really, I just don't feel like being such a creator. Maybe I have been blessed with an ability to see too much hope and beauty even in the darkest places.

Having said that, DHD is 95% improvised. I never know what the story is going to be about when I start it. The characters run the show and I'm only a step ahead of my readers in the stories so that I can draw them. When I'm drawing a panel number 3, I know what a panel number 4 will be but not what panel 5 is. I don't know what the characters are actually saying until I start typing their speech bubbles.

In that sense, I feel that I can take very little credit of DHD. I merely "channel" it from somewhere and I think many creative people can get behind this sentiment. If my characters want to have a Dark Hope type of a world, then they're going to have it because I can't stop them :D Even if I tried!

Alrick is like "Do good recklessly".

P.S. My blog has a tag #DHD_art for additional art pieces and comic for DHD.

[shadowqueenjude]

Tamlin angst part 9

@achaotichuman TWs: suicide, angst, abuse. etc. etc. etc. This was pointless. Tamlin had been foolish to hope that finding the girl would mean anything. She was dead-set against them, and apparently, Tamlin had no idea how to fucking woo a female. He'd wooed Rhysand with his sad and romantic fiddle songs, and he had not wooed Lucien at all, but rather Lucien had wooed him without even trying and Tamlin had convinced him to stay by constantly saving his life. Did that work on humans? Hmm... "When she comes back," Lucien hissed as Feyre was changing upstairs, "compliment her. Be polite, like a proper gentleman. Don't forget the compliments, doofus. I know you've forgotten how to flirt since Amarantha cursed our asses, but do try, won't you?" Tamlin sighed. "I haven't forgotten how to flirt, Lucien." Lucien snorted. "Prove it then, Oh Lord of Heartbreak." Ugh. Tam was absolutely no good at these games. Lucien was far better at them. He'd pulled that comment about Feyre's hair and eyes out of his ass, and Tamlin had been stunned for a moment. He had the distinct feeling that he'd not seen the extent of Lucien's flirting abilities. He also knew he wanted Lucien to turn the full force of his charm on him. "What do I even say?" "Comment on her clothing, her face. Come on, Tam! Is it really that hard?" Apparently it was, since Tamlin wound up saying her hair is clean and that she looked better than before. After Feyre had left, Lucien snorted at him. "That went well." Tamlin groaned. "I'm no good at this! Why can't you be the one instead?" "Oh come on," Lucien groaned. "Come on, let me give you flirting lessons." Lucien grabbed his wrist and dragged him away. Tamlin let Lucien pull him through room after room, not questioning where they were going until they reached Lucien's room. Tamlin gasped when Lucien shoved him onto the bed. He'd imagined such a thing under different circumstances, but he couldn't say that he minded. Lucien stood over him, placing his hands on his hips. Lucien had the sluttiest little waist. Useless information. Stop thinking about his hips, stop thinking about it- "Come on, Tam!" Lucien demanded. "Impoverished human woman who hates faeries and has just been kidnapped! How would you make her like you?" "Isn't that what you're here to teach me?" Lucien rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle his iris didn't get lost in the back of his head. "You're actually so pathetic, Tam. I don't know if I should be amused or horrified that you're this bad at flirting." Tamlin scowled. "When you're a High Lord, everyone flocks to you! You don't need to be a good flirt." Lucien scoffed. "Arrogant bastard. Well, let me show you how we do things back in Autumn." Tamlin had heard of it; in that court, sex wasn't a mere instinct or fun, it was an art. And they'd completely mastered it. Lucien leaned over him, trailing an index finger across Tamlin's cheek. Tamlin gulped. "I know this must be so new and difficult for you, and I'm sorry it had to be this way," Lucien whispered, hovering over his ear, his breath drawing goosebumps across Tamlin's skin. "How can I make it up to you, oh, mighty mortal huntress? Would you care for a stroll around the grounds?" Tamlin whispered, "Yes." Lucien laughed and pulled away. "Was that really so hard?" Tamlin snapped out of it. Lucien was showing him how to speak with Feyre; he wasn't flirting with him. "Go on, try." Tamlin took a deep breath, trying to channel Lucien's confidence. "I'm sorry about all this. Would you like...a tour?" Lucien sighed. "Close enough. Go get 'em, tiger." Lucien pulled him up with surprising strength and gave him a light shove. "Go go go." "But-" "Tamlin, you idiot, do you realize our lives are depending on your flirting skills?" "You're not helping!" Tamlin shouted as Lucien shoved his bedroom door closed.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

hiii 🤍 could i get a general love reading? i'm currently in a long term relationship (this year is 2 years together), just the general vibe of how this year will treat us will do! thank youuuuu <3

Hi! I can see what I pick up :)

Channeled message

Two years is a long time to know someone and yet we don’t know much after two years do we? Are there ways you’ve stopped discovering the depths of your partner? Have you started hiding parts of you. It’s a good time to really check in with yourself, your partner and your relationship, things always come in pairs because the pair makes a third, there’s always two points and a bridge, you are you, they are they, and the relationship is itself an entity, you may want to look into composite charts in astrology to learn more about what the relationship is asking of you, what it wants to achieve through you, what it’s dreams are. Have you and your partner ever spoken with your relationship, asked it what it needs or wants? Where you as individuals can support it more? I know this sounds odd to do but this is a way to approach your connected life with less emotional involvement and hang-ups. It takes you and them out of it, this can allow you to achieve more objectivity. And this can help you make clearer, less emotionally charged observations and assessments

(Idk who’s energy this is, it feels like some sort of coach, or mentor, feminine, maybe it’s a guide assigned to one of you or a guide assigned to the relationship. Guides can be assigned to all sorts of things. You and this partner we’re brought together for a purpose and you and they together work to discover this, with your guides help.)

Maybe you two can try a joint meditation and see if this guide will give you some clarity about the purpose and how you can better achieve it, but what I feel they would say, is you are already doing it, so much of relationship purpose is to help you better achieve your personal path, how can you give gratitude to your partner for shaping your path and helping you grow, how can you appreciate them for merely being here in your life?

Card Pull

Work Your Light Oracle

Warrior Woman— have you answered your deepest calling?

Yes so it seems this relationship is helping you on your soul mission and path, but the question here is where are you deferring to the relationship as a way to not chase your deeper dreams, how can you use your relationship to propel you forward instead of pull back? You are meant to be a powerful wielder of creative energy in this life and this relationship can aid with that. Will you let it?

Star Mother— how can you mother yourself?

I feel Ike these energies are like deeply connected and it’s like the duality of being strong and soft, mother and warrior, but also mothering yourself leads you to becoming a warrior, owning the power of your ability to mother and nurture feeds your strength. Different sides of the same coin. I wonder if you or your partner have mother wounding you can help each other heal, through nurturing or being nurtured. How can you as a team work to tackle some of your childhood wounding? How can you bring more play to your relationship? And how can you mother and reparent yourself to take that stress off your partner or how can you help take that stress off of you, if you are the one doing the parenting?

It seems this year, your relationship is about getting deeper into yourselves and the reason you were brought together. It seems to me that you were brought together to help each other heal from wounding to become the powerful leaders you are meant to be in your life. Knowing that, how can you and your partner build a ripe breeding ground in your relationship to accomplish these goals!? It seems like you two are instrumental to each others ability to metamorph from wounded child to powerful adult and this year wants to show you that.

Hope this helps! Would love to know how or if it resonates 💕

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn currently occupies one of the strangest spaces in the greater celebrity matrix. He’s not yet the sort of movie star your parents would recognize at the airport and text you about, nor does he have the box-office draw of a Chalamet or Pattinson, at least not yet. The 31-year-old has been working steadily in film and television since his straight-out-of-British-drama-school debut as the lead in Ang Lee’s 2016 high-def experiment Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk. He racked up a series of well-received supporting roles in big period Oscar dramas and small critically appreciated indies, usually playing a Ken-doll-faced dick (Harriet, Operation Finale, Boy Erased, The Last Letter From Your Lover) or a blushing Brit from a bygone era (The Sense of an Ending, The Favourite, The Souvenir Part II, Mary Queen of Scots). Now, his first lead role since Billy, in Hulu’s second Sally Rooney adaptation, Conversations With Friends, threatens to make him fully Recognizable to Moms.

For a specific and rather substantial subset of the global population, however, Alwyn is not only a household name but a dinner-table centerpiece. To Google him is to stare straight into the stan-culture abyss. Lengthy YouTube videos are dedicated to his rare and rather unremarkable public interactions with his overwhelmingly famous longtime girlfriend — “Taylor Swift turns around to look at her boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and sticks her tongue out at him” — or to the opaque references the two have made to the mere fact of each other’s existence. Breathless lists of “everything Taylor and Joe have said about their private relationship” abound in the Us Weekly universe. Alwyn is left to choose his words and body language wisely or risk their becoming permanent parts of the elaborate Swiftian canon. The man is not simply well-versed in the art of concealment; he is the Criss Angel of conversational dynamics. In interviews, he often demonstrates an ability to politely answer a question while revealing absolutely nothing about himself, sometimes even backtracking mid-answer to negate a benign detail. (From a recent piece in Mr. Porter: “Well, do you like football?” asks the reporter. “Football?” replies Alwyn. “Yeah. Am I allowed to say those kinds of things?”)

Yet he believes he has gotten better at the whole press thing over the years. “I don’t think I don’t enjoy interviews,” he says carefully. “I think I have seemed guarded.” He definitely “would like to not seem so guarded in them.” I can see those contradicting desires roiling inside Alwyn now, sitting across from him on the patio at Fairfax, in the West Village, for lunch. His energy is vaguely uncomfortable but determined, like that of someone preparing to swim laps in the English Channel in January to prove something to themselves. Perhaps sensing he has already revealed too much, he falls back on one of his tried-and-true lines: “If you were to ask a stranger on the street questions about their private life, let alone with the intent to then post it everywhere, why would that person not be like, ‘Sorry, what, why?’ So why would I not be like that?” He points at a woman sitting across the way from us who is, to my knowledge, not on a press tour. “I’m not going to go over there and ask that woman about her personal life.” “Actually, maybe you should,” I suggest. “I mean, I might do later,” he says, now looking cheered. “I’ll just holler across the street.”

Alwyn orders a Guinness (which is not available, so he opts for an IPA) after confirming I will also be drinking. “I’m just clinging on to that Irishness,” he says, referring to the five months he spent filming Conversations With Friends in Belfast. I start with some simple questions — When did he realize he wanted to act? What was he like as a child? “See, these are the questions I find hard,” he says. Was he introverted? Outgoing? Sporty? “I was on the introverted side but not a crippling introvert. Like an extroverted introvert,” he answers. “Is that allowed?”

In small spurts, I learn Alwyn was “not hammy” as a youth — instead, he was the family baby, “displaced” at age 12 by a new sibling, and an athlete who realized what he really wanted was to act. He kept his burning theatrical desires quiet, à la Zac Efron in High School Musical. He admits to an early obsession with Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet and talks joyfully about how he was brought up watching “random French movies” with his documentary-filmmaker father and psychotherapist mother. Occasionally, he broke free from the chains of jockdom and played Banquo in a version of Macbeth performed entirely on Rollerblades, and Snowy the dog in a production of Tintin despite looking exactly like Tintin: “Snowy was more of a stretch.”

Alwyn says he “secretly would look up drama schools online” as a teenager. Once in university, he applied to four and was rejected by all but one. He was yanked out in his last year by Lee, who had fought with the studio to cast an unknown as the naïve, PTSD-ridden Billy Lynn. “It was terrifying and surreal and happened so quickly,” Alwyn remembers. Critics were almost unilaterally derisive of the film, but Alwyn was praised for his naturalism, his believable innocence, and, per one review, a “cuteness roughly akin to that of Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.” Like most things that have happened to Alwyn, that image has proved to be both a boon and a curse. Directors feel they must either play off it directly (place him somewhere in the past when evidently it was more normal to look like that; make him the evil, rich trophy husband to 1960s amnesia victim Shailene Woodley; cast him as Margot Robbie’s devoted, winsome courtier) or subvert it (he looks this way because he is an actual Nazi). Before filming Billy Lynn, Lee had been concerned that Alwyn was “too handsome” to play a run-of-the-mill contemporary dude; ultimately, he decided Alwyn’s face is “so compelling it doesn’t matter.”

The conversation about his looks gets meta in Conversations. In the series, he plays Nick, an emotionally walled-off, married, 30-something actor who begins an affair with a college student and slowly lets his guard down. His character is a classically attractive, heavily restrained man with hidden depths who struggles to be taken seriously while everyone around him says stuff about his face. In one scene, he and his paramour, Frances, are bidding each other farewell after a drawn-out romp when she blurts out, “You’re so handsome.” Nick turns pink. “I thought you were attracted to my personality,” he jokes half-heartedly. “Do you even have one?” replies Frances, who then looks equally humiliated. Alwyn begins mock-pulling at his cheeks and widening his eyes at any talk of said face. “Two eyes, one nose, one mouth,” he says. “I don’t know what to say.” But did he relate to that moment with Nick and Frances? “It’s not something I wrestled with,” he says, studying me as he spoons up some steak tartare. He tenses a bit. “What are you trying to get me to say about my face?” I explain that I have no specific face-related agenda, and he visibly relaxes. “No, sorry, I’m sure,” he says. “I would much rather work with an interesting director in a smaller, weirder, darker part, than something big and obvious and getting typecast just for the sake of it.”

COVID had messed up his plans to star in an “Emily Brontë origin story,” so he put himself on tape for Conversations director Lenny Abrahamson one weekend at an unnamed friend’s “beautiful, immaculate” house. Thinking he needed to look older than his three decades to play the mid-30s Nick, he went upstairs to find a jacket from his friend’s “older husband,” where he found a paperback copy of Conversations With Friends lying on​ the bedroom floor​. He got the part a week later. “I’m not superstitious,” he adds, b​efore spending the next five minutes discussing the things he actually is superstitious about — namely, and randomly, magpies. (“If I see one, I’m like, ‘Oh, shit,’” he says, whipping out his phone to show me a photo of a magpie, appearing genuinely thrilled to be talking about this.)

Alwyn’s performance in Conversations is his best yet. He’s convincing as a sensitive, depressive guy who desperately wants to open up to someone but doesn’t quite know if it’s safe to do so. The role is bold. There are more sex scenes per capita in this series than anything he has ever done, scenes of the caliber and intimacy that turned Paul Mescal, the previously unknown star of Hulu’s first Rooney adaptation, Normal People, into an icon of early-pandemic-era sensuality. “When they sent the audition, they said, just as a heads up, that it would be to sign up for the possibility of full frontal,” Alwyn says, though he ended up going tush-only. Is he prepared to be the subject of a new type of public frenzy? “To be honest, I forget that other people will see it.”

In the summer of 2020, Swift surprise-released the Grammy-winning album Folklore. Fans speculated endlessly about the identity of William Bowery, a mysterious co-writer on two songs. That November, Swift revealed that Bowery was in fact Alwyn and that the pair had taken up songwriting together in quarantine. I assume Alwyn will give me one of his speak-arounds on the subject. Instead, he leans forward, putting his English Channel–swimming face back on. “What would you like to know?”

Although he grew up playing a bit of piano and was the guitarist in a “crappy school band called Anger Management,” Alwyn doesn’t consider himself a musician or songwriter and insists that he is, in fact, an awful singer. He was merely “messing around” on the piano when Swift heard and walked over, intrigued. He had been singing the fully formed first verse to the song that became “Exile.” (Bon Iver handles the male vocals on the final version.) “It was completely off the cuff, an accident,” he says, shrugging. “She said, ‘Can we try and sit down and get to the end together?’ And so we did. It was as basic as some people made sourdough.”

I press him on this point — he wrote an entire verse to a Taylor Swift song without trying? “Who doesn’t walk around the house singing?” he asks. I explain that it’s unusual for hit songs to spring forth like that from nonmusicians’ heads. He says he wasn’t trying to write to Swift’s personal sound but had been listening to a lot of the National (Aaron Dessner ended up producing the album). Alwyn wrote the chorus for “Betty” just as casually, albeit less soberly: “I’d probably had a drink and was just stumbling around the house. We couldn’t decide on a film to watch that night, and she was like, ‘Do you want to try and finish writing that song you were singing earlier?’ And so we got a guitar and did that.”

Initially, Alwyn didn’t want his name credited, anticipating that what he describes as the “clickbait conversation” would distract people from actually listening to the music. So he went by William Bowery as a nod to his music-composer great-grandfather and the Manhattan street. But then he recognized the “clickbait conversation” was happening anyway — “I don’t say that vainly,” he adds quickly — so why not let the world know it was him? He stresses his blissful ignorance of, say, those videos dissecting his relationship with Swift: “I’m aware of those when people tell me in these situations.” It seems like a healthy, practiced denial; he has worked at tuning this shit out because otherwise he might never utter a single syllable again. And despite having a face that launched a thousand Swift songs, at certain angles in his normal-boy outfit, he does have a certain ability to blend. None of the other 30-somethings lunching at Fairfax seem to have any clue who he is. “I suppose it’s not as if you’re Jennifer Lopez,” I joke. “I beg to differ,” he shoots back with a laugh. “I am Jennifer Lopez.” I start to warm to Alwyn. He knows that what he wants (privacy) and what he has to do (publicity) are fundamentally at odds and has embraced that contradiction with dry, charming wit.

We’ve finished our food, which means the moment we’ve both been dreading can no longer be avoided. “You have things you have to ask,” says Alwyn, folding his hands together. “And I’ll either choose to answer or not.” I look him gamely in the face and ask if he is, indeed, betrothed to marry one Taylor Alison Swift. He exhales. “The truth is,” he begins, “if I had a pound coin for every time someone told me I’ve been engaged or I’m getting engaged, I would have a lot of pound coins. If the answer was yes, I wouldn’t say. If the answer is no, I wouldn’t say.” I’m struck briefly speechless. It is perhaps the best non-answer I have ever received. I ask him how often he’s practiced it, and he explains that recently, back home in the U.K., a journalist had tried to sneakily phrase the engagement as a statement rather than a question. “You’re not the first person to ask,” he says. His tone conveys that he understands I will also not be the last.

Before I release Alwyn back into the wild, I ask why, in one of his rare forays into celebrity endorsement — a perfectly confusing Tom Ford perfume commercial — he appears physically appalled by the sight of his own neck in the mirror as he sprays himself with the scent. “How dare you!” he says, laughing, looking both offended and delighted. “If that’s not how everyone puts perfume on themselves, then I’ve been lied to.” He suddenly remembers his professional obligations: “Tom Ford’s amazing as a person.” He stands up and bids me a polite farewell. Walking solo toward Tribeca, he is instantly snapped by the paparazzi.

[wrenhyperfixates]

All I Need is You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You do so much for everyone else and so little for yourself that when you almost collapse, Loki finally gets you to agree to let him take care of you. Warnings: the reader skips some meals; a lot of fluff A/N: Its really just Loki taking care of you. But please remember to take care of yourselves too everyone!! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​ @frostedficrecs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was watching you even more carefully than normal these days. Yes, you’d caught his eye even on your first day in the Tower back when you were just a new recruit, a SHIELD agent with some kind of sixth sense that let you anticipate things, recently transferred to the Avengers Tower. Even now no one was entirely sure if it was a power or just an uncanny knack you had that made you extremely good at your job. Regardless, the trickster god could see how the ability had shaped you.

You’d only been in the Tower a week when you’d started running errands all over the city, offering things to people before they could even think they needed it themselves, then going to pick it up for them. Loki had declined the offer after hearing all the places you were already going. He’d hoped it was a fluke, that you wouldn’t make it a habit of taking care of everyone. Not that it was inherently bad, he just knew how tiring it could be to please everyone, worried that you would burn out. Of course, you had kept doing it, and his worries turned out to be justified.

“Darling, are you going out again?” Loki asked as you passed his seat in the common room on your way to the elevator. He set his book down, frowning. “Did you not just go yesterday? Unless, of course, this time it is for you. Then by all means, please be on your way.”

“No... It’s just Steve and Bucky were talking about some cereals they used to like and we don’t have any in the Tower so...” you trailed off, shuffling your feet.

“And can they not wait for it until the next scheduled trip to the supermarket?”

“Well, yeah, they said they could. But I don’t mind.”

Loki stood and sighed, walking over to you. Gently, so you didn’t have to comply if you didn’t want to, Loki lifted your chin to look at him. You looked tired. Admirable as it was that you wanted to do things for others, you needed a rest day.

“And tell me, darling, when was the last time you did something for yourself?” He waited a moment for an answer, but was met with silence. “What about that drawing you started two months ago? Have you worked on that more?”

“It wasn’t any good, anyway,” you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“It was wonderful,” he reassured you. “What about eating, though? Have you eaten today?”

“I... I had a mint.”

“That does not count.” Now he was outright worried. You did this every once in a while, saying you just got so caught up in other things, you forgot to eat. Whatever the reason, it troubled Loki. “You have had some water at least? You know what, do not answer. I am sure I know already. Just wait here a moment.”

You waited by the lift as Loki padded to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle. The problem went beyond just these shopping trips. Sometimes when Tony or Bruce got stuck on one of their projects, you’d pore over books and blueprints for hours, searching for the answer, losing sleep. Then other times, you took it upon yourself to plan events for the team. It was more than a simple, casual invitation. No, it usually involved at least three days of extensive planning. Everyone enjoyed them and was appreciative, needing a break from their day-to-day lives, but it just took up more of your time and brainpower. Pile that onto your own training and missions, it was enough to wear anyone out.

But what he both loved and hated the most was how you’d always be there to talk. Not just for him, but for everyone. And not merely a laid-back chat, either. No, they were practically therapy sessions. Again, just like all the other things you did, that would be all fine and good, except for the fact you never talked about your own issues. You just did so much for everyone else and practically nothing for yourself, even something so basic as remembering to eat, that it broke Loki’s heart a little more every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the plastic bottle. “But I am coming with you.”

Smiling brightly, you led the way out into the city streets. You chatted as you went about your task, and Loki was yet to take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t until you started the journey back, however, that he began to grow worried. You hadn’t taken even the smallest sip of the water he’d fetched for you, and on this hot day, it was clearly taking its toll. You stumbled a little, suddenly looking more out of it than Loki could stand. He gently gripped your arm to steady you and led you to a bench. Grabbing the water out of your backpack, Loki uncapped it and held the bottle to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered, but with kindness in his tone.

One of your hands that was gripping the bench a bit too tightly in an attempt to ground your dizzy mind came up to take the bottle from him. Complying, you downed nearly half the bottle in one gulp. It seemed that was a mistake as your empty stomach gargled, rebelling against the sudden intake. Loki rubbed large circles on your back while you scrunched your eyes closed, breathing deeply as you tried to force yourself to feel better.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki asked when you felt well enough to take another few small sips. You nodded your head, eyes still closed. “Now do you see why it is important to take care of yourself? Will you please get some rest this afternoon?”

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, I-”

“That is madness!” Both Loki and you flinched at his sudden increase in volume. He removed his hand from your back, feeling unworthy to make contact with you after snapping like that. You were his friend, and he was yelling at you for something like this? It made him disappointed in himself. He sighed. “Listen, I am sorry. All I mean is I care about you. I do not like to see you like this. It is not healthy, and I believe you know that.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. “You-you care about me?”

Loki felt heat flood to his cheeks as he realized that he had, in fact, said that. “I do. So will you please let me take care of you?”

You bit your lip for a minute. “I will,” you sighed, giving in.

Satisfied, Loki coaxed you into accepting a piggyback ride the rest of the way home. You placed your forehead in the crook of his neck, enjoying his cool skin against yours, which was noticeably overheating. He quickly tossed the grocery bags of cereal onto the counter and brought you to your room, your own little pocket of the world that you trusted Loki enough to share with him if even for a moment. Laying you down on your bed, he told you to rest for a minute, lips placing a ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

The god moved to your bathroom, looking for what he needed. After preparing a bubble bath with nice, cool water, Loki left you to sink into it with only the order to relax. While you did, he hurried to prepare you a light meal, something that wouldn’t upset your stomach. When you padded out of the bathroom in the soft pajamas Loki had left for you and saw the meal on a tray on your bedside table, a smile tugged at your lips.

Loki peeled back the silken sheets he’d put on your bed so you could get under them. With a little bit of difficulty—Loki never had gotten a firm grasp on understanding Midgardian technology—he flipped through the channels on your TV until you found something you wanted to watch while you ate.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked once you were done eating, before leaving you to your own devices.

You bit your lip as you thought before ultimately shaking your head no. “I’m good thanks.”

“Please, darling, be honest with me,” he pleaded. “Anything you want. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Will you stay with me?” you blurted out. “No, I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Darling,” he tsked. “The only thing on my schedule today is taking care of you.”

You smiled as he slid under the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap. You twisted your body so you could look at him and tuck a few locks of his raven hair behind his ear. You were living in your own place in time, the two of you finding a safe haven in each other’s arms.

“You know what would make me really happy, Loki?” you began. “If I got to give you a little, thank you. Would that be alright?”

The god hesitated for a moment. “I suppose. Depending on what it is.”

“Can I... Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Well, that depends, again.”

“On?”

“On whether or not we can make it a regular occurrence,” Loki replied with a playful grin.

“You know, you are always saying I should do things that make me happy. So yes, yes we absolutely can.”

“In that case,” he said, already leaning in, “what are you waiting for?”

Giggling, you bridged the gap between you. As Loki smiled against your lips, he realized something. No matter how stubborn either of you were when it came to accepting help for yourselves, you’d always have the other to take care of you. And even more importantly, Loki thought, you’d have each other to love.

[bienmoreau]

To the very best of my ability I wouldn't let call-outs/witch-hunts/bullying happen in the server! And there would be consequences if someone were to try.

I'm a firm believer in staying tf out of other people's business in fandom. And that includes what they might enjoy/ship/read in other fandoms. But if people can't be civil when discussing mutual interests/the fandom we have in common then I wouldn't want them in the server. I would hope for the server to be space where we can talk about the show and the characters and explore the good and the bad of them all. If we can't be respectful of each other and of others opinions then it's not going to be a good conversation. (I'm thinking for example the person that started commenting on the post abt if seonho had a funeral. It was unnecessarily negative and combative and absolutely nothing to do with the conversation that was being had.) Shitting on a character others are enjoying discussing would get a warning and if it continued to happen the person would be kicked. Outright aggression or hating wouldn't even get a warning. Especially if it's aimed at the other members!

I know that not all of my moots are moots with each other (Sea I was actually thinking about you with this when I was making the first post) but we all share a common interest. If there's anyone that would be uncomfortable joining because of another user present then ofc you look after yourselves in making the decision to do so or not. But I would only involve myself in these areas if it was immediately relevant to and present in the server. If another member is making the server hostile in any way. On either side of a disagreement between individuals. The one that is bringing it into the server, that is trying to make it other people's business or issue to resolve or take sides on, that person will be asked to leave the server.

I don't understand why in fandom these days so many people seem to struggle with the idea that we will be sharing interests/fandom spaces with people we don't agree with on every aspect of life or even merely like very much. My intention for the server is for it to be about mctna. Nothing else.

I would hope for it to be a positive, encouraging and interactive space for us to discuss things we find interesting about the show. But it's also not going to be a big public group. In my head it never would be. I would hope that the majority of the people I have met and talked about mctna on here with would be able to hold their own boundaries about what is the right choice for them and respect the intentions of the server.

For example. I personally don't like bang won. I have very little interest in discussing him in his own right/for his own sake. But I would still make a channel for him in the character discussions so others can. I would then simply mute this channel. I don't need to engage with it. For me it's as simple as that. If someone joins who hates a character or a ship or whatever that is being discussed it is their responsibility to keep away from that discussion. And to do so without making it other people's problem. Especially those who do enjoy discussing said character or ship.

I wasn't planning to add specific 'negative' channels for topics since I tend to go with "got nothing nice to say, say nothing" (ofc I don't actually mean 'nice' here necessarilly. I just have no time for hate for hates sake) in fandom it just makes for a better time in my experience. But if it ends up seeming like the best way to go that would be an option for sure.

As I said I don't imagine this being a very big group so I kinda think we can kinda figure out the best way forward together. Just as long as everyone takes responsibility for themselves and interacts in a mature and respectful way!

Kinda considering making a mctna moots discord cause I miss talking abt the show but I also increasingly struggle with following/engaging on here in the way I want to most and feel like I miss a lot of conversations when they're actually happening...idk? And I'd definitely limit numbers cause I just stop looking at the huge servers I'm in but I was looking at one I'm in for a project and thinking how much I like it there...

I'm kinda just thinking out-loud here but also if I treat this as an interest check just maybe let me know if this would be something you'd like to join?

[bfpnola]

Just had to share one of our more recent Instagram posts here about Kyle Rittenhouse.

Activist Discord Server | Free Resources | Staff Application

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Black Socialists in America on Kyle Rittenhouse by Better Future Program

Trigger Warnings: None

A series of screenshots of tweets by "Black Socialists in America" @blacksocialists:

We can't let our rallying cries for change and our lists of demands sit as mere appeals to the very institutions that are oppressing us.

We must rally *each other* and make demands of *each other* for the building of *new* institutions that can actually challenge the status quo.

Even if Rittenhouse had been found guilty, what would that have done? Proven the system "works"?

For those saying they'd rather just see him "pay" via the "justice" system, isn't that just reinforcing what emboldened him to begin with?

Maybe it's time to think outside the box...

Those saying "vote" or discussing political parties in response to this are thinking "cart before the horse."

The political is shaped by capital as power.

Until we organize via our labor and build new, directly democratic power, it's rinse and repeat.

"...candidates for the Amsterdam City Council back in the '60s based their so-called party structure on neighborhood associations, food [co-ops], communes. Their 'party,' as it were, was built on neighborhood structures. It was not built from the top down..." - Murray Bookchin

"Abolition" has become a buzzword in these last few years, but abolition isn't happening without an alternative. We now have to speak to the imagination if we wish to transcend these oppressive systems, and we have to organize + BUILD on that imagination.

"The problem for us is that we [can sometimes] be so 'anti' what the problem is. I want us to be more 'pro' [what] the solution is." - Afeni Shakur

Black / New Afrikan Anarchist Black Panther Party veterans have been speaking to this for decades.

We must realize our own potentialities and match utopian visions with reason and logic in service to a world without carceral systems and/or nation-states.

"The dependence [...] on leaders [...] has led us into a political dead end.... What is even more harmful is that many [...] have adopted a slavish psychology of 'obeying and serving [...]' without considering what they themselves are capable of doing." - Lorenzo Kom'boa Ervin

We must be imaginative and bold enough to attempt to live as though we are already free, reflecting the values of the world that we want to live in in the practice of serving each other, and creating the space for + institutions of a superseding society.

"...we can begin now to build the infrastructure for [a] communal society so that people can see what they are fighting for, not just the ideas in someone's head. That is the real way to freedom." - Lorenzo Kom'boa Ervin

We must build #DualPower with the understanding that the levees are going to break, and the understanding that we are going to need aqueducts in place before they do as a means to channel the waters towards freedom.

"Two features of a new mass movement must be the intention of creating dual power institutions to challenge the state, [and] the ability to have a grassroots autonomist movement that can take advantage of a pre-revolutionary situation to go all the way." - Lorenzo Kom'boa Ervin

For us, freedom is the "equality of unequals" and the maximization of individual liberty/autonomy under governance systems directly and democratically determined by the collective.

We can't find this under the logic of capital and the ruling class government.

"The nation-state and the representative government, including all forms of indirect democracy or republicanism, stand in the way of direct democracy, social ecology, and the realization of human social freedom." - Modibo Kadalie

We have to stop looking up - at celebrities, religious figures, politicians, governments, nation-states, the ruling class, etc. - and begin looking to our sides at those who are around us...

And we have to begin building with those around us in new ways...

"It's incredible that people ... aren't encouraged to collectively take matters [into] their own hands, to build the collective institutions and superstructure of a superseding society. We must begin where we are, with each other and the time we don't waste." - Kuwasi Balagoon

This is deep digging.

It won't be easy or straightforward.

It will take struggle. Even compromise at different junctures.

But it will be a whole lot better than us sitting and taking fash boots on our necks as systems continue to crumble around us.

"'Left' is the land & means of production in the hands of the masses & 'Right' is land & the means of production in the hands of a few pigs.... it sounds rigid, but dealing with land & the means of production in a different manner calls for a different system." - Kuwasi Balagoon

For over 1,000 free social justice, mental health, and academic resources, visit betterfutureprogram.org

Examples of phones showing Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde, The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander, and Women, Race, & Class by Angela Davis

Building a better and brighter global future for marginalized youth through education, awareness, and unity. -- Reagan Peters-Roussell, Founder

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again. 

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power. 

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted. 

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle. 

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise. 

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

 He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality. 

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask. 

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch. 

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid. 

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her. 

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye. 

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view. 

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say. 

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her. 

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well. 

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great. 

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?" 

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair. 

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face. 

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell. 

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly. 

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point. 

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different. 

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles. 

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life. 

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade. 

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability. 

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own. 

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain. 

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad. 

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal. 

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job. 

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt. 

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time. 

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune. 

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing. 

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant. 

 He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

hi <3 /p have you seen new jack manifold vlog?

if so, that bit where wilbur is pushing george down to do the bench press, only george flinches and giggles while being pushed, and so wilbur tickles georbe while he’s laying in the bench?

if you want :))

Wilbur and George were with jack and his brother filming a vlog for Jack’s channel, they were filming at a a gym basically just doing random things and goofing around. Jack decided to try his hand at bench pressing which led to George trying his hand at it but George didn’t get very far….

George was hesitant about it complaining the whole time before Wilbur began pushing on his chest lightly in a way to try and push him onto the bench pressing station but he didn’t expect for George to flinch and giggle “WILBUR nohoho!” Wilbur’s eyebrow raised before he smiled with mischief shining in his eyes “oh George? You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish would you?” George’s eyes widened as he blushed a light pink “N-no why would you even ask something as silly as that” George’s embarrassment rose as he remembered this was being filmed, it seemed as if Wilbur remembered as well seeing as he paused slightly as if looking for any true signs of discomfort and for need for him to stop, Jack sat to the side deciding to stay neutral and not get involved unless asked to,

However Wilbur seeing none he continued on “Well seeing as you flinched and let out such a sweet giggle when I pushed on your chest, he softly but firmly pushed George down onto the bench pressing station smiling softly “I can only assume you giggled because it tickled” George shook his head trying to act calm and neutral “oh please the only reason I giggled was because I thought about how dumb you’re going to look when you’re unable to lift this weight and jack manifold out lifts you” Wilbur scoffed softly “oho so that’s how it’s gonna be then…alright then you asked for it!”

Wilbur swiftly grabbed each of George’s wrists in one hand as he placed himself as softly as possible on George’s thighs one hand holding George’s arms above his head as his other hand began rapidly sending pokes up and down George’s sides sporadically making George squeak and begin biting his lip in an effort to hold back giggles “EEK! W-Wilbur eek! No!” Wilbur smiled happily “awe what’s the matter George I thought you weren’t ticklish? Seems to me like you are, now it’s just a matter of finding the spot that’ll release those cute giggles! Or even better that sweet sweet laughter!”

George shook his head and was about to retort but instead a squeal came out as Wilbur’s pokes managed to find their way to his armpits! George’s arms fought to come down but it was no use Wilbur’s grip was too tight! Wilbur grinned deviously “oh did I already find a spot to release that sweet laughter George? Or better yet did I already find your worst spot?” George shook his head quickly trying to deny it to the best of his ability “n-no it’s n-not my worst spot, in f-fact it’s not e-even that sensitive!” Wilbur raised an eyebrow and then nodded slowly “right so if I…”

His hands dive into George’s armpits scribbling around! George yelped as he fell into loud boisterous laughter as his arms came slamming down “ACK! NAHAHAHAHA WILBUR GEHEHTT OOUHUHUTTTT HAHAHAHAHHA!” Wilbur smiled softly “oh? I thought you weren’t sensitive here hmm? Seems to me like you’re very sensitive here why else would you want me to get out” George’s face was impossibly red as he again shook his head “OHOHO JUHUHUSSTT SHUHUHUTT UHUHUPPP!” Wilbur gasped softly “George! How dare you be so mean! Perhaps I should just stay here for a while longer”

George shook his head “NOHOHO PLHEHEHAHAHSSEHEHE IHIHI CCAHHAHNNTT!” Wilbur decided to have slight pity on George for at least a few moments as he slipped his hands out from George’s armpits and began thinking of a different spot to move to next “Hmm got any spots in mind George? Perhaps wanna tell me your favorite spot or your most ticklish one?” George laid there taking in breathes as he giggled residually… Well either one would be very embarrassing to have to admit and if he didn’t then Wilbur would probably just keep going until he found either one or both spots… George wasn’t used to so much tickling, despite liking it he wasn’t tickled often so he settled on telling Wilbur his worst spot

He acted fakely annoyed and like he was only saying this because Wilbur was forcing him to “ugh fine my worst spot is my back of my thighs and like right here…” George shyly pointed to where his lowest ribs and sides met, Wilbur smiled fondly nodding “right then flip over onto your tummy so I can get the back of you thighs easier okay?” George nodded hesitantly as he slowly flipped over and attempted to brace hisself “okay George here we go! 3…2..1!”

Wilbur scribbled on the back of George’s thighs and George lost it! Squealing and kicking as loud laughter poured out “EEEP NAHHEHAHHEHEHHAHAHHAHAHHAA WIHIHILLBBUHUHURRR IHIHITTSS SOHOHO BAHAHADDD!” Wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle softly “If you think the scratching is bad just wait until I start this” he began pinching and kneading into George’s thighs and George let out a small squeak before laughing even harder “EEK HOHOLLLYYY CCRRRHAHHAHAPPP AHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!”

Wilbur nodded “See told ya so, now right let’s move on to this last spot before you’re too tired out” he gave George a small break to collect himself and regulate his breathing before placing his hands where his lowest ribs and sides met, George flinched and stiffened in suspense simply from Wilbur’s hands resting there and a small snort escaped as Wilbur gave a small squeeze “*snort*” Wilbur couldn’t contain the small giggles that poured out as he coos softly “aweee George how cute! I just barely squeezed here and yet you snorted! That’s just downright adorable!”

George blushed so darkly even his ears showed the blush “oh shut up it’s not adorable or anything of the sort!” Wilbur grinned smugly “I’d beg to differ! Especially seeing as it’s made you ears go all red!” He curiously scratches at one of George’s ears surprised by the exclamation followed by loud giggles that escape him “GAH WILBUR NOT THERE HAHAhahahhahahaa!” Wilbur smiles absolutely full of mischief “oohh ticklish ears gogs? I’ll have to remember this for next time” George’s stomach did somersaults upon hearing Wilbur’s teasing words but he attempted to save some of his dignity as he sasses back “there will be no next time except for when the roles are switched and you’re the one being subjected to this childish activity by me”

Wilbur scoffs softly rolling his eyes fondly “alright then sounds like you don’t wanna be kept waiting any longer so who am I to deny you what you want” and so with that Wilbur begins! One hand is scratching up and down the area as the other squeezes the area both sensations driving George mad! He lets out a small scream before falling into his loudest laughter yet as his body twists and turns every way possible instinctively trying to escape “AAAHH AHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA NHAHHAHAHAHAHHA WIHIHILLBBUBUHUHURRRR!”

Wilbur’s eyes widened as he switched to kneading both sides “wow you weren’t kidding about this being your worst spot!” After a few moments he paused “hey George?” George took a few extra moments to catch his breathe “yes wilbur?” Wilbur had the most mischievous look possible on his face as he asks “do you know what a raspberry is? Are you okay with those? And perhaps some nibbles?” George’s eyes widened he definitely knew what both of those were but the last time he remembers either of those being used on him he was a mere child!

He was very curious though as to how they would feel now and how long he could last so he nodded “I know what they are a-and I’m okay with both… just make sure the second I ask you to stop you stop okay?” It’s not that George doesn’t trust Wilbur he does I mean if he didn’t he would’ve said this way earlier or not even have let things go on so long but still part of him was very nervous and just wanted to be sure… Wilbur nodded smiling softly as he rubbed George’s shoulder comfortingly “of course I will, now do you want to be on your back or your stomach?”

George thought for a moment “I’ll just stay on my stomach” he assumed the nibbles and raspberries that would inevitably carry over to his back wouldn’t be that bad but oh he was wrong…. Wilbur nodded softly “okay I’ll be extra gentle” Wilbur gently pushed up George’s shirt only enough to expose the target area and slightly above it, he leaned down and softly blew air on the area making George squeak and giggle in anticipation “EEK! Hehhehehehehehhehehe”

Wilbur smiled fondly continuing for only a moment or two before getting to the real work! He began blowing all sizes of raspberries on both sides and soon after threw in nibbles! George’s eyes widened as he laughed loudly and happily “AHAHHAHAHAHHAHA WWIHHIHIHILLL IHIHITTSS SOHOHO BAHAHAHDDD!” Wilbur smiled softly “but bad in a good way right?” George sheepishly nodded before a scream escaped him and he fell into soft laughter, Wilbur’s raspberries and nibbling had accidentally migrated to his back! And wow holy cow it tickled a lot more than George thought it would! His back was definitely way more ticklish than he remembered!

Wilbur’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he smiled brightly hardly able to continue because he was smiling so much! He only kept it up a few seconds before stopping and attempting to rub George’s back to stop the ghost tickles but unfortunately that only made George giggle more so he simply had to lay and wait for the tickles to surpass… It wasn’t long only a few moments and they passed and George was able to flip onto his back, Wilbur grabbed his shoulder reassuraingly “You alright George? I didn’t go to far did I?” George shook his head softly gently rubbing his thumb over Wilbur’s hand “no you’re fine I’m just not used to being t-t…you know that much and apparently my back is much more sensitive than I thought”

Wilbur laughed softly “it definitely is! I mean you fell into fully silent laughter! That’s what made me stop and worry I went to far honestly…” George smiled fondly “It’s fine one day soon I’ll make you silent laugh and we’ll be all even” Wilbur blushed softly “W-well now I don’t know about that but I do however know Mr jack manifold over there is extremely ticklish! Especially on his knees, hips and armpits! So I suppose we could team up and get him easily!” George smirked softly “oh is that so? Well I’ll have to keep that in mind I’m much too tired today to do anything except go home and sleep” jack sighed in relief as he says “right then I reckon we have enough footage and George we don’t have to include any of that unless you want to, we can just really quickly film you giving one try at the lifting and cut the other bit out and try and refilm it a bit”

George nods softly “that sounds good to me” and so they quickly refilmed that bit and then they all went their separate ways each wide smiles on their faces their minds filled with memories they’ll cherish and also already thinking of future memories yet to come

The end

[cancerjupiter]

astro notes: neptune edition (pt. 1)

neptune represents issues which are frequently unconscious, so all of this may operate without your awareness. if projected, the negative aspects of neptune become more emphasised. the more you reject it in your own life, the more likely it is that you’ll meet it in exaggerated ways outside yourself.

neptune in the 1st house

tends to be the kind of person who waits and sees, but your outward behavior doesn’t begin to describe what goes on inside. you feel connected to your environment because you’re aware of subtle energies, you pick up impressions from others they’re usually unaware to be giving. you find yourself in the uncomfortable position of knowing (beyond a verbal level) what others’ unconscious motivations are, what’s hidden behind their civility. you tend to be very idealistic, preferring to live in harmony: peaceful non-demanding relationships and quiet and aesthetically pleasing surroundings. you choose to think kindly of others, whether they reciprocate or not; your sensitivity gives you a natural compassion. you can be most charming, often whimsical, sometimes romantic, and usually empathic. you seem approachable and often receptive to a degree others find startling and deeply gratifying (if not a little scary lol). you want life to be perfect for yourself and others, and your desire for a better world can be channeled into artistic creative pursuits, social work, or mere daydreaming.

you often struggle with personal identity. you may be so open to others that you pick up their moods without realising it. you tend to mimic, unconsciously, the strong characteristics of the last person you were with. don’t become an emotional sponge; define your emotional boundaries and accept it is necessary for your growth to establish a firm identity. another thing i noticed about you is that you guys don’t mind suffering; no, i’m not saying you don’t hate it (everyone does!) but you seem to accept it when you don’t have to. you put others first and feel that it’s best to sacrifice your own well-being than to be responsible for someone else’s suffering.

there’s almost always a strong awareness of and interest in spiritual energies with this placement. you may actually be psychic, whether or not you’re comfortable with the ability. you may deeply religious, although not conventionally since institutions don’t satisfy you; you feel at home with a belief system you know, from personal experience, exists. your lack of interest in the real world can lead you into seriously bad habits like drug abuse or eating disorders and due to your dislike of physical activity, this can quickly damage your (often sensitive) health. alternatively, this placement can also lead to arrogance, depending on the sun and midheaven placements/aspects.

neptune in the 2nd house

you tend to be idealistic with the use of money and personal resources, not terribly attached to them. you look at them as temporary and although sad to part with something you own, you can let it go where others simply cannot. there’s an indifferent attitude towards finances, income and etc. some of you are v generous and will give things away to people who can truly admire it, believing nothing truly belongs to anyone. this outlook satisfies you greatly, making you easygoing but also easily being taken advantage of. this sort of gives you a fairy-tale attitude towards your money - it’s either always there when needed, or simply one of the world’s idiotic, materialistic preoccupations. you may be unpractical or simply forgetful with resources; not willing to sit down and figure what’s the best buy and choosing to go with intuition. purchases usually go by what you want rather than what you can afford (my friend has no idea how much is on her bank acc and doesn’t care to figure it out. she just doesn’t care lol). you should actually read the small print in contracts and not trust just anyone with your money.

alternatively, there may be a strong tendency to overvalue material things (neptune = beliefs in the house of money and possessions), specially if there’s an earth emphasis in the chart, making you inclined to putting great care and time into upkeep. you usually want your things to look aesthetic™️. 

there’s also a strong creative tendency; it may be expressed in various forms but it will certainly be inherent. you need at least periodic access to music and inspiration, including the outdoors where you can soak up peace and serenity. since the 2nd house also relates to sensual pleasures, you probably expect these to provide a kind of ultimate ecstasy. in short, this placement forces you to face up to your tendencies to create illusions about money, possessions, sex, or creative pursuits. don’t expect more from them than they can provide.

neptune in the 3rd house

on one level, this placement can confuse and scatter the brain, giving it vagueness and disorganized thinking. sometimes, however, the mind exhibits uncanny insights into the subtleties of the environment. you sense the hidden nuances and meanings behind what’s being said. what you miss in terms of precise analytical ability, you can by being able to view the big-picture more clearly. there’s a danger to this however; your desire to view what’s beautiful and ideal around you can give a kind of selective perception in which only the good is seen and what doesn’t fit into that is ignored.

you don’t usually feel comfortable expressing yourself through normal channels of communication. what you have to say can be better demonstrated through dance, poetry, song, or picture (painted or taken). there’s often a shyness in the early school situation, which manifested in mental illness (my friend has dyslexia and this was a hard time for her) or simply confusion.

since this house also rules siblings, there may be some sacrifices to be made in relation to them; they may be a problem or have difficulties. since neptune fuses the boundary between the self and others, you may feel you’re responsible for their problems or everything which happens in the immediate environment (also ruled by the 3rd). if you don’t have siblings, you probably longed for the companionship of it, an idealized vision of what a sibling is. i also noticed this neptune placement showing exceptional ability as teachers - specially working w children who have learning difficulties. they can understand ways to communicate with and understand the child better than anyone else.

neptune in the 4th house

i have this one and it’s a loaded position: an unconscious planet in an unconscious house. to feel safe in a secure nest is fundamental, though that’s often quite unconscious. your idea of haven includes a lovely home, w lots of food and someone who will take care of your needs. there’s an assumption that the mother, early home life and emotional security all need to be perfect. that is, all needs will be met with ease, and there’s no upset or disappointment in these areas. the mom or other primary caregiver, is supposed to be there when needed, regardless of other commitments. the illusions connected to the 4th house (remember, neptune refers to illusions which must be exposed and released) are deeply intimate; and any threat to them is profoundly threatening to you.

neptune in the 4th generally has to overcome the strong need for the nurturing parent to not only be perfect but to continue being so into your adulthood. you have great difficulty separating from them; you may never fully do it. it doesn’t matter if they actually lived to your expectations, for their importance is in your head - the parent you idealized or pretended they were. sometimes, however, this desire focuses on the home rather than the parent. in this case, the childhood home was either perfect, or mysterious and elusive. you can react by trying to re-create the exact same nest.

with this placement, nurturing yourself becomes the ultimate value, a way to find supreme satisfaction. you can also make the most amazing caretakers and companions. your need to nurture others is a complicated expression of your own hunger to be taken care of; you give too much and eventually become resentful when no one appreciates your (not asked for) sacrifices. you might also project neptunian traits onto your parent; they may be v spiritual and loving, vague and confusing, or even absent, so you were left w only a fantasy of what they could - and should - have been. they might have also been a victim (similar to pisces moon) and you might’ve felt obligated to save them. 

you feel like caring involves being swallowed up completely, and it’s something you either constantly yearn or are terrified of. you also feel if your (unrealistic) emotional security needs aren’t met, you won’t survive the disappointment (you did, and you will again). neptune in the 4th can make the most patient and loving parents, w a strong sense of their emotional bonding and spiritual responsibilities. you will do more to create an ideal parent/child relationship than anyone else and constantly remind others of how important it is to strive to be the best parent one can be.

neptune in the 5th house

this combo leads to a definite charisma, an aura of charm and power and importance (timothee, angelina, mlk, drake, etc). it’s a strong indication of some kind of acting ability, though it may be used as a teacher or a salesman rather than on stage. you’re likely to work in some area where applause and respect can be immediate and experienced personally. you need this; neptune undermines the self-confidence so you depend on others’ feedback to measure your worth. this can be a deadly dependency because even the highest praise and respect can truly fulfill the yearning to be loved unconditionally, only provide a temporary high, making you forever vulnerable.

some of the illusions related to this placement include the need to have perfect relationships and children, and the perfect artistic creation. whenever one expects perfection, they’re doomed to disappoitment, although the process of disillusionment may be needed to rethink your outlook on life. you may expect your love life to provide a complete sense of fulfillment. you can make a v romantic partner, the type to love cheesy romantic things and music, who can surround your lover with utmost affection. however, you might also expect them to sense your wishes and always meet them; or expect yourself to always be sensitive and caring at al times, regadless of your moods and/or needs.

you need to re-evaluate your tendency to romanticize lovers instead of seeing them for who they are. you may also harbor illusions towards children, your own or all, which hamper your ability to deal w them realistically and effectively. there’s a difficulty in developing a strong sense of self-worth, or maybe fancying yourself to be far more important than you really are. this placement is associated w a great deal of inspired creativity, however, and if other chart factors support it, it indicates exceptional artistic talent. with humility and self-awareness, you can use your magnetism to uplift those who have lost all confidence.

neptune in the 6th house

w this placement, neptune is in its polar opposite, since 6th house relates to virgo and neptune relates to pisces. this house is about the world as it is and how to manage it in a day-to-day basis. neptunian energy is the opposite: it yearns for and seeks to unite w the cosmos, which transcends this world. how can these two work this out?

when they’re well integrated in the chart, you can dream of neptune while using the practical 6th house skills to plan and organise the dream you wish to make true some day. it can direct the neptunian energy to envision something better, prettier, more creative and inspiring. without this, the 6th house is merely a housekeeping unit - a drive to organise and plan, but for what purpose? neptune supplies it with purpose and the house repays it with practical skills, usually related to some artistic work.

however, if the energies are at odds, there is the need to dream vs. the need to be practical and realistic. you feel a strong need to busy yourself w details and make everything as efficient as possible, tidying up and even criticising others (negative virgo energy). you may expect far too much from others and yourself, never able to say “no” when more work is piled on you. another expression is not being able to keep your shit together; you forget, are disorganized, feel tired and drained of energy, get sick often, or feel generally unfulfilled. my friend, for example, often seeks jobs for its glamorous aspects, only to get swamped by details and routine. 

[mxvladdy]

Barbatos- True Form

It’s here! Thx for your patience's I hope it’s worth it :<

Last but not least for this series is: Belphegor  

Of all the demons you’ve met, he unnerves you the most. Not because of his demeanor or temperament. No, no you genuinely like him and his company. There is just something about him that unnerves you sometimes. He is just so hard to place.

You see- how can I explain this. The brothers are easy to understand’ easy to neatly categorize and compartmentalize in your mind as friend or foe. For as ancient as they are you do share some common traits. Family lineage for one. Traceable origins. It’s familiar, it’s comforting.

Hells, even Diavolo has an origins, a genealogy one could trace. A family made of stone flesh and blue blood. (He’d be happy to tell you about it too- if you have a few eons to waste).

But Barbatos? Barbatos had just always been- here...there? From the context clues you’ve picked up from Lucifer and Diavolo he was older than even the great kings of the past. He even helped raise the crown price. He grew in experience and expanded his talents, but never aged. Did he have kin? A bloodline? Hell did he even bleed? His very existence raises the hackles of your self preservation skills. 

If he is older than the old kings is he old then the concept of time itself? Does the idea of time really exist to him at all? 

The odd fight or flight feelings he gives you lessen and disappear over time though. He knows he can be quite uncomfortable to the human psychic and evolutionary survival traits instilled in you after hundreds of thousands of years fighting to the top of the food chain. 

It took you a bit, but one day you finally warm up enough to ask him about- well him. How he works, and what is relation with the idea of time even is. It was shot in the dark question. He is a notoriously private demon. But for you he will open up a little. Besides it’s not like you could do anything with the information anyway. Just promise to never tell Solomon. 

The best he can explain time to a mortal is in an analogy. If time was an object it would best be described as a stream or creek to him. And all the little minnows and guppies trapped in it’s currents were the beings of the three realms. While they are bound by the waters he would be the one standing on the riverbank. 

Most of the time he is happy enough to walk alongside the flow. Other times he enjoys simply dipping his feet in and watch it all pass him by seeing what it all does without his intervention. 

Others he’ll slip in himself and gauge out new deviations and channels of his own. He loves to see what flourishes in his hand crafted areas without intervention.

He does confide in you however. Despite his age and maturity he can still slip up from time to time. He is not infallible after all. Barbatos’s corporeal existence depends heavily on his emotional state and mental fortitude. If he is not careful he has a tendency to just-get swept up. 

One moment he is having a delightful time with you over a fresh pot of tea and the next… You had a lovely funeral. Wait- hmmm no. Honestly, humans can be so gaudy sometimes. He was actually offended on your behalf. The flowers weren’t even freshly cut. 

Ah well. Once he is stable he’ll simply dam this stream and kill the flow before this travesty would happen. Now where was he? Ah yes, do you think this blend goes better with Madame Screams or a human bakery? 

Truthfully Barbatos doesn’t use his abilities all that often. It gets boring real quick. But sometimes he is tempted. Anything to do with you is a struggle to be exact. Most streams involving you he is happy to let slip by. All the ones of you falling for the brothers, or his highness, even the angel. There are even a few of you falling for Solomon. Those he doesn’t wise to see. 

But the streams where you fall for him? The itch to look is overwhelming. Just a peek, a small taste of your favor. What had he done to make you his? Did he have a chance in this timeline? He always loved a good mystery. So he’ll bide his time and wait. 

Now naturally there are some other rules to his existence. Being constantly hyper vigilant of himself can get exhausting and he needs to rest. He doesn’t sleep though, not by human standards anyway. You’ve walked in on him “resting” once or twice. He calls it a stasis period. To you he looks like he’s frozen. Stock still and just standing there in his room. His lanky form flickering in and out of focus. After images appear around him, hundreds of different hims there but not. 

It’s an absorption stage, or so he explains. All the input from the trillion parts of hims scattered about all sharing like a hive mind their encounters and experiences. This is the one time every version of him is in sync and very vulnerable. 

While he can convene with all his scattered parts of him in stasis he still cannot be in the same visible area as them. One of the two would have to yield to the other. The weaker one reabsorbed quite violently. It is a most unpleasant feeling. 

After exerting large amounts of energy and not resting it can take him a bit to recover, and it is very noticeable. He lags hard after such instances, literally. The first time you saw him snapping and rubberbanding around the castle gave you a few more grey hairs then was normal for your age. He’s normally smooth movements were now choppy and stiff. It would have been funny if you weren’t so worried for his well being. The only thing to stop him is Diavolo himself having to throw his weight and power around to get him to rest. He hates being reprimanded. 

Don’t get me wrong though. He loves serving the royal family. The years spent in the Devildom have been an utterly delightful vacation. The menial labor and tasks keeps his mind anchored in the present and mutes all the other voices of him to a manageable static. 

Now when it comes to his form quite frankly even he has forgotten what he originally looks like. He has been in this form for so long he might as well call it his original form. You ask to see it once, beyond curious. If you could see it that was. Was he like Dia? A formless form? A mass of contradicting layers stack one on one on top of each other?

He is hesitant to say the least. He consults with himself on this. Have any of the others come across this yet? If not he promises to look into it for you. He practices with Simone, knowing that aside from Solomon he knows the limits of a human. Once certain he comes to you delighted to share himself with you.

He is so smol small. His form fitting neatly in the palm of your hand. He is warm and pulses like with a faint heartbeat. You can’t really make heads or tails of what his defined form really is though. His tiny form is covered in a glowing haze flicks of distorted images and sounds invade your senses whenever you hold him. But one thing you can sense in some kind of bony nodules and slender legs. Thousands of them all skittering and tickling your flesh, like an obscenely long centipede.

Now that you know of this form he likes to pop up from time to time when he misses you. His favorite spot to appear is in the breast pocket of your uniform. It’s dark and quiet and close to your heart. While he can’t talk in this form, the physical closeness is enough for the both of you. 

Mini Fic

“Be honest with me. Which one of me is your favorite?” You flip over onto your pleasantly full stomach. His tea sandwiches and cakes make you feel sleepy. You stretch out with a grunt of happiness enjoying all the little touches that were distinctly Barbatos. The blanket protecting you from the early morning dew smelt of elderflower and juniper. The fleece material was a personal favorite, soft, warm, and perfect. Even the foods had all been your favorites. He had crafted this all with you in mind. Surely you were the favorite. If he would put this much effort into it.

The demon in question hums from his chair. A steaming cup of tea resting lightly on his bottom lip. A perplexing thought. Each one of you was a delight to his many senses, so similar, yet so different at the same time. Like a reflection in a broken mirror. Each one so stunning and vivacious in a way only a human could be. Yet so few even glanced his way. “Does a parent have a treasured child?” He quips back. 

Your peal of laughter warms him better than any tea. “Ha! You must be an only child then.” You snort. He matches your smile, pleased that you were pleased. 

“Perhaps-” He takes a sip cutting off that train of thought there. He didn’t need to sour a pleasant morning with such melancholy questions. Was he an only child? Surely he at least had a sire. If he had such kin would they have not met by now? He was on every plane of existence that he knew of. Had they missed each other? Slipping past each other like ships in the night.

More likely they would be more like two similar ends of a magnet being forcibly kept away by their molecular structure than merely missed chances. Incapable of existing in the same dimension at the same time.

Ignorant to his inner turmoil you flip back over to your back eyeing the snack tray he refilled. “How much longer now?” He checks his pocket watch then looks out at the carnage below them.

The Battle of Omosu was in full swing. The ancient warriors below oblivious to the strangely dressed human and otherworldly man sitting on top of a neighboring cliffside to observe the preordained outcome. “Any moment- now pay attention.” He chastises you but without any heat. Pocketing his watch he comes to sit beside you on the fleece blanket. You scoot closer, happy to have his naturally warmer body beside you. The heat of which fends off the cold sea breeze. “There, look.” He points to a growing patch of bubbles by one of the enemy ships. 

The water turns turbulent, oily green, and black bubbles foaming on top of the surface. “Wow.” It was all you could manage to whisper. 

Leviathan enters the fray now, called forth by his pact barer. The great serpent emerges like a ghost from the depths. Invisible to the other mortals you watch fascinated as his massive tail wraps around a boat crushing it as easily as if it were a stick. Another capsizes, getting pushed away by his massive shoulder. 

The sailors fall into the choppy water mouths open in silent screams. They would not survive after hitting the water. Levi’s legion waits below, ready to drag them deeper down. Their bodies will be added to the Devildom navy. Something dark and humanoid darts around the remaining boats. From what you remember from class Levi had called forth an umibozu from the nearby depth for this fight. Its bloated grey body jostles the boats knocking more sailors overboard whole. The two of them make fast work of the enemy ships. The human sailors pick off the rest.

“Quite impressive.” Barbatos remarks. “I can see why humans want to make deals all the time. But what a terrible cost, don't you think?” 

“What’s going to happen to the pact holder?” You ask. 

“Depends on whatever Levi feels like. Mostly his holders are trapped in the depths of his realms. Left to the devices of their victims. But each brother is different.” The air around you both grows thick with your sudden fear. You rub subconsciously where your pact mark rested, eyes blank. 

He places a firm hand on your thigh bringing your focus back to him. “Don’t worry. Like I said the choice is up to the demon that holds the pact. I doubt you would be advantageous to the royal navy.” You chuckle weakly, still rubbing at the growing chill climbing up your arm. “Will this be enough for your project?” He removes his hand begrudgingly away from your soft leg. “It is getting late.”

You nod glancing back down to the battle. It was already over-with the great sea beasts and demons in the water, Takeda’s forces didn’t stand a chance. You don’t wait to see Levi’s victory lap. “Yes, thank you for your help.” You accept his help in picking up your books and supplies. “I hope Kinz is happy with this.” You had been having a bit of trouble in your history class with Professor Kinz. Nothing major, you had assured him. But if it continued your ranking within the school would be at risk, and with it your scholarships. 

“Any time.” Barbatos moves an elegant hand to the center of your back escorting you away from the edge. A door slowly emerges from within the mist. He grabs the semi-translucent knob and opens it for you. “I know it will be more than satisfactory.” 

“Ye?” You adjust your pack’s shoulder strap bracing yourself for the weirdness of time travel. “Think you can give me next week's lotto numbers? I’m asking for a friend.” Your teasing pulls a deep rumble from him. It was all in good fun, but truth be told he came to find that not keeping one of his many eyes on you had the most enjoyable outcomes. You little human ramblings and witty comebacks being one of them. You at least weren’t afraid to joke around him. 

“Now, who said I did anything of the sort?” He chuckles. Keeping a firm grip on your forearm he ushers you through the threshold. You clung to him hating the sticky feeling of the space between time. It clung to your skin, thousands of webs grab and pull at your clothes knowing that you were not supposed to be outside of their control. You were envious of the fact that you couldn’t experience it the way Barabatos did. To him, this was nothing more than the feel of a cool shower. The pulls of time merely buffering off of him. Hardly a threat like it was to you. 

He sees you off at the gate to the house bowing deeply as you hop up the front stairs waving at him. You had to hurry lest you be late for dinner. Once you had disappeared through the door he melds into the timestream once more emerging in front of your classroom. A week had passed and your paper was due. He was excited to see what you had gotten and just didn’t feel like waiting this time. He could indulge from time to time. 

The bell rings and your class files out. They pay him no mind. The prince’s butler was nothing to gawk at. He counts heads. His frown deepens when you do not appear from the lecture hall. Kinz leaves the room last, her heels clacking obnoxiously on the marble. “Oh! Good afternoon Barbatos, are my services needed by the prince?” She smiles showing far too many teeth to be considered polite. Their mutual dislike of each other was a poorly kept secret. But she had a talent that Diavolo needed; for the moment. 

He matches her predatory smile. “I was here looking for our esteemed exchange student.” Her smile falters, her hackles raising for a moment before her face goes blank. 

“They didn’t show up today.” She flicks her tail dismissively. “You know how pathetic humans are.” She challenges him, locking eyes with him like the fool she was. 

“Hmm. I do not share this sentiment, but it is unusual to have them miss class.” All airs of pleasantly evaporate from him. The cold fury of his ire permeates the narrow hallway. Kinz flinches, breaking eye contact with him. Her weak attempt at dominance is gone. “A moment if you will-” His voice brittle and laced with malice. “I shall return for you later.” He bows shallowly and blinks out of existents leaving the woman quaking in the hall. 

________________________________________________________________

An insult, a complete violation of the rules set by Diavolo himself. If the celestial council caught wind of such a flagrant disregard for your mental well being- the program would be in jeopardy. Hiding your death had been hard enough. But a room full of demons acting out unsupervised? 

Barbatos struggles to control himself. He could feel his grasp on himself waver with each passing second. His very self unraveling at the seams. Your tears fuel his rage.

Kinz stands over you mocking your relentlessness in front of your peers since the brothers were not present in the class. You had been so excited to test your merit on your own, believing that after getting to know the student body you could handle it. Diavolo approved, figuring his name and the program's initiative was enough to protect you- at least on campus. In theory, it seemed like a good idea, you were well liked among the student body. But that same feeling didn’t bleed over to this particular teacher it seems. A grave error on the councils’ part. 

Barbatos watches along with the rest of the silent class as Kinz burns your paper at the front of the lecture hall, berating you for “showing off” and “abusing your statues for brownie points”. You leave halfway through the start of class. A trail of salty tears and ashes left behind in your wake. 

Such disgustingly uncouth behavior. To a guest of the prince no less. To you. 

He arrives inside Diavolo’s office in a blur, filling the empty air by his prince’s side. The younger demon used to the sudden comings and goings of his most trusted ally didn't even look up from his paperwork. “Something the matter? You are getting a little wispy around the edges.” Diavolo asks signing off on a form. 

Barbatos inhales deeply focusing on his present self. The unneeded action of breathing, the expanding and contracting of his chest cavity was soothing. Not necessary for him, but nice. Yet another odd quirk he had picked up during his time in the Devildom. “Kinz has been putting the program in jeopardy.” He grinds out once he finally locks himself back in. 

“Oh?” Diavolo dips his pen in its ink well. “That is quite unfortunate for her. Do you suggest a council meeting on the matter?” Barbatos bites his cheek. 

“I believe her offense far outweighs just a slap on the wrist. I believe her tenure should be revoked. This isn’t her first strike.” 

Diavolo chuckles resting back in his chair. He gives his full attention to his butler who was bustling around the room, tiding an already spotless room. “I haven’t seen you this bloodthirsty since those scribes in Alexandria poked at you.” 

“I gave them a fair warning. As I have with Kinz.” He bristles. Diavolo waves a hand, willing to listen. “Kinz has taken up public humiliation and verbal abuses since the brothers are not around to interject. You know how she is. This will only accelerate in time if not nipped now.” 

“Is that what you see?” 

“I don’t need to to know.” 

Diavolo sighs deeply, weighing the pros and cons of losing such an asset. He already knew his verdict, as did Barbatos. Even without his powers, they both knew either one of them would bend for you. “Fine.” He returns to his desk of papers. “I will let you do as you please. Just don’t tangle things up too much.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” 

In a way, it was a pity. Kinz is- well- was one of the Devildom’s more esteemed historians. Her place amongst the upper echelon had been a commendable feat. She certainly lasted longer than the archivist and scribes that had come before her. 

 Barbatos stares in disgust at his once stark white gloves. But better soil a pair of gloves or two then touch her wretched corpse with his bare hands. Ugh. Was that some viscera on his wingtips? The cruor of it turns purple as it oxidizes in the open air. Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard. Though to him, it was merited. She had been a pain in his ass for years. Plus the past thirty or so versions of her had put up a bit of a fight. Once even he had walked in on a reflection of him taking her down for some other transgressions. He rolls his shoulders as a phantom twitch shoots up his spin. Merging consciousness was unbearable. Yet, as he went about his duties “cleaning” he realized he would handle as many as needed to see you safe. Fascinating. 

At first, he had debated with himself on at least keeping a few versions of Kinz around. While he universally hated her, there were a few less volatile Kinz floating around. If only to steal her work for the prince and his goals. But even without her, her discoveries and advancements would be found by others. He had even found a diamond in the rough, a potential successor. Given time to grow and which paths they take they could benefit Diavolo greatly. Even more than her. A gamble he was happy to take. With that discovery, Kinz’s faith was sealed. She was set to be only a figment of a memory left in his mind. The rest of the universe will never remember her.

 ______________________________________________________________

You stare bewildered at the aged bronze plaque on the door. Something about it didn’t sit well with you. But damned if you could place it. It had something to do with the name. Des Moines...Moines? Who in the hells was that? You glance at your schedule like it was your first day of school instead of your 150th. 

Room 325- Demonic history: Professor Des Moines Riel.

This can’t be right. Where was Kinz? You grab at your head crying out at the sudden violent throbbing that erupted between your eyes. The queasiness it caused was beyond description. It was enough to send you to your knees. Indecipherable images layer themselves in your mind, folding and stacking on top of each other. The mounting pressure scares you and then-

Nothing.

Bliss and clarity. Like sucking in a breath of fresh air after a near death experience. What were you thinking about again? How did you end up on the floor? Shaking yourself from your stupor you stumble back to your feet. The school hallway was too stuffy for some reason. You needed to walk away, especially from this door. Just looking at it made your stomach clench. Yes, you needed some fresh air. That’s all. 

“Is something wrong?” Patent leather shoes appear beside you matching your hurried gate effortlessly. You shake your head, not trusting yourself to open your mouth lest you start feeling ill again. Barbatos stops you with a gentle hand on your waist. He scrutinizes you, teal eyes roving over every inch of you. Shucking a glove he places a warm palm on your forehead. “You are clammy.” 

“I’m fine.” You lie through your locked jaw. “Just got dizzy for a second.” He looks alarmed. “Don’t worry about it- probably just one of those mysteries of the school.” 

“I’m not worried about it, but you on the other hand.” He looks up from your flushed face to the hallway you had vacated in such a hurry. The history wing. Could you? Impossible. “Is there an issue inside the department?” Had he missed something? 

“What? Oh, no really! Everything is great! I think.” You lean into his hand now resting idly on your cheek. It felt so good compared to your cold skin. “I just- I could have sworn. Is Riel new?” You rub at the bridge of your nose. A knot was growing between your eyes now. “Where is Kin-Kinel? You draw a blank. A name was on the tip of your tongue. You glance up at Barbatos. His hand on your cheek becoming stiff. “What?”

“Nothing my dear.” He recovers smoothly. The hand on your cheek slides down to your shoulder. “Perhaps you should sit out of this class for today? You sound like you're overworking yourself. I’ll make a note of it to Diavolo and Lucifer so it won’t be counted against you.” 

“I- don’t think that’s wise,” You argue meekly. “I have a paper to work on for this class-”

Barbatos ignores your weak plea. Drawing you close to his side he steers you down to the lower floor. “Nonsense. Why don’t we spend some time together? I can help you with that paper later as a trade.”

Hmm. That wasn’t a bad idea. If any demon could get you out of class and help you make it up it would be him. Maybe a little break would be good for you. Though you can’t remember why you needed it in the first place. 

[hb-writes]

Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

Summary: After a few rainy days stuck inside during spring break, the whole Cullen clan is feeling restless and resort to pranking to pass the time.

Featuring: Emmett Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, and Mia Cullen

-- It had rained for fifteen days straight in Forks, a parade of stubborn drizzles followed by steady downpours and carrying over into the week-long spring break. Mia didn't usually mind the rain, quite used to it giving her something to watch out the window when she didn't care for a teacher's lesson or the drops of it falling against her window and lulling her to sleep at night.

She usually enjoyed the impromptu breaks her family took from school, too, more than happy to roam the woods or sit out in the sun with a book while Forks High School held the impression that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had pulled the kids out of school for some outdoor activity. But being stuck inside while the school was closed for an endlessly rainy break had Mia feeling a little restless.

It had taken her only a day to finish her pending assignments, and just one more to completely rearrange her bedroom. She had actually grown tired of staring at things, her eyes fatigued by and bored with her laptop screen, books, and the view out her window. And she had grown tired of her siblings too, bored of their usual indoor pursuits and routines.

By day three, Mia had strayed to playing innocent pranks to pass the time—moving her siblings' things when they left the room and making failed attempts to sneak up on all of them, but most specifically Emmett, who'd first made a game of scaring her, wrapping the whole family up in it so that Mia could hardly go an hour without being snuck up on.

Because of that, her pride and joy in regards to the pranks had been the alterations she made to Emmett's jeep, a prank she entered into knowing it would likely be an act of delayed gratification, not like the hiding of frequently needed items or the botched pop up scares. Emmett had no need to take a vehicle out any time soon. If he was going anywhere, he was more likely to run, and once school was back in session, they would be more likely to take Edward's car. Mia knew she could be waiting weeks for any sort of acknowledgement.

She was willing to wait though, the mere recollection of all she had done sufficient enough to get her through Emmett continuing to scare her over and over. She’d done a few things to his jeep, easy stuff like rearranging the mirrors and seats, and adjusting the radio volume to its maximum, and changing the station to the local one that favored heavy metal. But all of that was mostly a distraction because Mia was far more proud of the collection of nuts and bolts in tin cans duct-taped under his seats and inside the spare tire set on the back to the jeep. The whole vehicle would be rattling if he hit a bump or tapped the break, two things she assumed Emmett would encounter before even making it out of the driveway. 

Mia wasn’t usually one for such targeted and premeditated pranks, but Emmett had made a sport of scaring Mia over their week of near-confinement, and she felt he deserved something beyond the standard prank. So when the opportunity arose, with her siblings out for a hunt, her father at the hospital, and her mother occupied with some project in her studio, Mia took her opportunity. 

She knew Emmett would discover the rattle was no more than a prank after he asked Rose to take a look at it, but she still giggled to herself imagining what would happen when he finally brought himself to ask for Rose’s help and then she laughed once again imagining the look on Rose’s face as she held up one of the offending cans. Emmett was clueless when it came to cars. Completely clueless.

But she had only had to wait a few days because Rose had decided she wanted to go on a date, and Emmett insisted on driving, insisted on getting dressed up, and settling himself down on the couch beside Mia while he waited for Rose to finish getting ready.

Had Mia realized they would be taking Emmett's vehicle, she wouldn't have stayed in such a vulnerable position, lounging there on the couch. She would have put some more distance between herself and her siblings, and a locked door, perhaps. She would have prepared herself a bit better to feign ignorance.

But as she had been caught off guard, she hadn't been prepared to fight when Rose stomped back through the front door with Emmett following in her wake. Rose had barely spared her a glance, the can rattling in her hand as she continued straight up the stairs.

And though it all clicked very suddenly that she was about to be told on, Mia couldn't scramble fast enough because it seemed to happen too quickly that Emmett had plucked her off the couch and was placing her down in Carlisle's office, less than two steps away from a seething Rose.

To Rose's dismay, there hadn't been any true repercussions for the prank aside from Carlisle's request that Mia issue a genuine apology and an acknowledgment that cars were not something to be messed with. Mia had laid low for a few days anyhow, avoiding Emmett and Rose, and even her father, to the best of her ability, which was why Mia had settled in for a day of self-care, feeling she’d earned an afternoon of soothing teas and good music and moisturizing skincare and nail painting after all of the effort put into pranking and the hassle of being found out. 

With the rain and the music and her own voice filling her ears, Mia didn’t hear Emmett push her door open or tread across her bedroom floor. Had he been a human of his proportions, he’d not be able to sneak up on her, but as it was, Emmett was stealthy whenever he wished to be, able to take unassuming and delicate steps despite his size. 

“Boo.”

The word was barely above a whisper and Mia stumbled and let out a scream, startled just as much by the hushed remark as she was by the quick rush of breath near her ear and the hands that grasped her before she fell. 

“EMMETT!” she shouted, pushing at his hold and groaning once he settled her back on her feet. 

He reached over to turn down the music, laughing. “You’re too easy, kid.”

“And you’re a stupid jerk,” Mia ground out, shoving against his solid chest with all her might only for him to stand there unaffected, chest puffed out and smiling down at her. “You scared me!”

“Same here,” he said, gesturing towards the green clay mask on her face. “Got a bit of a Wicked Witch of the West thing going on there.” 

Mia’s rolled her eyes. “Actually, I was channeling my idiot older brother.”

“Ah, so Yoda, then?” Emmett smirked. “What an honor.” 

“Hulk,” she offered. “You know, the incomprehensible behemoth with no self-control?”

Mia stepped away from him, heading towards the bathroom to rinse her face and Emmett appeared before her once again, another scream coming from her lips. 

“Stop doing that!” 

“I’m sure you’ve done something to earn it,” he answered, “just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“I’ve been up here all day, Em.” 

“Yeah, and unfortunately your voice carries. Sounds like you’re drowning cats up here.” Emmett turned to glance in the open bathroom door and Mia smacked him on the arm. 

“I’m going to tell Dad if—” 

“Speaking of Carlisle, he wants to see you.” 

“Why?”

Emmett shrugged. “I’m just the messenger, but you might want to clean that off and drop the Oscar the Grouch act before you go down there.” 

Mia clenched her fist. If it would have done anything, she might’ve hit him, wiping that smug little grin off his face entirely, but she knew it wouldn’t, so she took a deep breath instead, releasing her fist and smiling instead.

“You mind giving me a minute, then?” 

“Wait for wicked sister grouch, the Yoda Hulk brother will,” Emmett answered.

Mia took another deep breath, waiting a moment to see if he was serious, rolling her eyes as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

“I don’t need you to wait. I can remember how to get myself downstairs,” she said, but Emmett didn’t budge so she moved to the sink. 

She took her time with rinsing and moisturizing and didn’t utter a word to Emmett as she tried to step past him, but his hand caught her chin, though his palm and fingers spanned the whole bottom half of her face really, and the whole maneuver stopped her from moving entirely with little effort on Emmett’s part. 

“So soft now, your skin is.”

“Emmeh, lemme go!” Mia shouted, her words muffled as her cheeks remained squished between his fingers. “Yur nod fummy.” 

Emmett laughed, dropping his hold and holding a guiding hand out in front of them. “Fine, grouch. Go ahead, then.” 

“I will.” Mia massaged her jaw as she took the stairs nearly two at a time. “And I’m going to tell Dad you’re being an assh—” 

Mia’s mouth closed as she took a step off the stairs, rounding the corner, nearly knocking into her father.

Carlisle caught her arm as she stumbled and Mia briefly checked his face for any sign he intended to reprimand her for the word choice, but her eyes were instead pulled to the mess of tin cans on the table.

"What's…"

"All of this?" Carlisle asked as Mia wormed her way out of his hold. "I was hoping you might be able to tell us."

Her eyes flicked back and forth between the cans, her father, and her brother, who had taken a seat at the counter.

"I've been up in my room all day. I don't even know what 'this' is."

Emmett put his feet up on the stool beside him. "You're busted, kid. Might as well give up the act."

"I'm not busted because I didn't do anything.”

"Well, the fourteen tin cans found in the cars would say otherwise," Carlisle answered. "I thought we were in agreement that there would be no more pranks played, especially where the cars are involved?"

Mia’s mouth fell open a bit before she gulped. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up the can that certainly had been Mia's doing, a neat 'With love, Mia,' painted out on the side of the can with nail polish.

"You did this?"

Mia couldn't find the words, but she finally nodded. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up another tin can, a nearly identical message written out on the side with the very same shade of pink and Mia stepped forward, pulling the can from his grasp to study it closer.

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered, "Emmett must've…he must be—"

"I must be what?"

Mia jumped at her brother's closeness and she smacked his shoulder as a reflex. "Stop doing that!” she said before turning back to Carlisle. “Dad, tell him to stop scaring me."

Carlisle sighed. "Amelia, I thought we were on the same page after our discussion. You agreed to stop with the pranks, but since our discussion doesn’t seem to have been enough—"

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered. "I—"

"What about this?"

Mia let out a rushed exhale, a nervous laugh coming at the end of it. She had forgotten about the photo she'd replaced days ago, switching out one of her father and her as a baby to that of her father holding a potato wrapped in cream-colored blankets.

"I did that ages ago. It was before we talked."

"Aw, come on, Mia. You don't think we're that stupid, do you?" Emmett asked.

Mia turned from her father to her brother. "I think you are."

She shrieked as Emmett twirled her around, wrapping one arm across her chest as he held her against his front, using his free hand to clamp down over her mouth.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough of her lip, Carlisle. It's time for sentencing. Fearless leader, do your worst."

Mia knew her father would never do his worst. She wasn’t even aware of what Carlisle Cullen’s worst entailed, having never seen him more than slightly aggrieved, but she thrashed against her brother’s hold anyhow, prying at his hands until he caught her arms, and then she kicked at his shins, but Emmett easily sidestepped her attempts.

Mia yelled her brother’s name, the sound muffled into his palm before she bit down. It didn’t hurt him, more of a shock that she’d even done it, than anything. She'd gone through a short-lived biting phase around three or four, but they’d been incident free since then.

Emmett smirked. “Are you sure you want to challenge me to a biting war, kid?”

Carlisle cleared his throat. “I think a more appropriate punishment would be for Amelia to clean and detail the cars.” 

She groaned, her efforts to get out of Emmett’s hold renewed, if only because she wanted to voice her protest. 

“And dust every picture frame in the house,” Carlisle continued as Emmett finally uncovered her mouth.

“But that’s going to take forever and I—”

“I suspect it will keep you busy for the remainder of your break and provide you with plenty of time to think about your behavior,” Carlisle said. “And you’re grounded...three weeks.” 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Mia groaned, “Dad, I didn’t even do this! I—”

Mia felt Emmett shaking with silent laughter before she noticed the mischievous glint in her father’s eye, the slightest of smiles coming to his face. 

“You actually are joking, aren’t you?” 

Carlisle shrugged. “Emmett and I thought you could benefit from a little dose of your own medicine, Mia.”

Mia sighed. “So I don’t have to do any of what you said, then?”

Emmett lifted her over his shoulder, moving steadily towards the door.. “You’re still helping me wash the jeep, kid. Need to teach you the importance of not messing with my things.” 

“But it’s pouring out—Dad! Help!”

Carlisle stepped forward, beating them to the door.

“Thank yo—” Mia started.

He pulled his daughter’s rain jacket off the hook, handing it to Emmett. “We wouldn’t want your sister getting sick,” he said. “And let me get that for you.” 

Carlisle opened the door, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face as Emmett carried her through. 

“Have fun, sweetheart.” 

--

Twilight Masterlist

[thevindicativevordan]

Any thoughts on Grant Morrison's Action Comics run? Beyond T shirt-and-jeans Superman being great.

That whole run reinvigorated my love of the character.

There have been numerous thoughtpieces about New 52 Superman, how he worked and how he didn't but these two entries really do a great job of summing up why Morrison's take on Superman was great. Morrison laid the foundation for a new generational Superman that DC completely fucked up and ran into the ground. I'll always be bitter about that, even if I had tapped out of reading the New 52 Superman books by the end due to how bad they got. Editorial and their idiotic mandates were what screwed over the potential of this take in my eyes.

Now I get that it wasn't to everyone's taste, but I cannot fathom how anyone could ever claim that Pre-Flashpoint Superman was better. If you liked Byrne's reboot better, your guy already got rebooted after Infinite Crisis. For someone like me who really enjoyed the Johns/Busiek era, that era's potential got spoiled after Johns & Busiek left, with New Krypton imploding and the awful Grounded taking it's place. When you get to the point where the best Superman book is the one starring Lex Luthor, it's time to reassess the franchise and figure out where the hell it went wrong.

Which is exactly what Morrison did. For this new Superman, Morrison mined all the best ideas of every Superman era to really give what I consider the ideal "base" for Superman. They also took pains to address common criticisms about Superman, working to correct his pop culture image. People have been complaining that Superman is "too perfect", "too unrelatable" for a long time, so Morrison addressed that. They gave Superman his balls back, and let him reacquire that Golden Age edge he had originally.

There are a lot of complaints you can make about Morrison's Superman, but I don't see how you could accuse this guy of being "flawless" or "bland". He definitely had a personality that you could describe, love him or hate him. Compassionate, but not a pushover. Clearly holding himself back, but unafraid to occasionally let loose. Flaws that were patently obvious, Clark had a temper here that could get him into trouble. There was a real showcase of anger here, of Superman being furious at the way people were treated by the rich and powerful, then doing something about it that I ate up.

I read this run just as I was coming into my teens and it hit perfectly for where I was in life. Did not want a Superman who would smile and tell me it gets better, I wanted a Superman who looked you in the eye and told you he felt that same anger, and then encouraged you to go out and do something about how you felt. That was what this run delivered in spades, and it expanded what I believed could be done with Superman.

While it totally blew my mind to see Superman acting this way the first time I read Morrison's Action Comics run, in retrospect it really isn't that different from how Superman has acted even under Byrne. One of the few traits I've seen carry across Superman incarnations in the comics is that he has a temper underneath that affable nature. "Don't tug on Superman's cape" as the old song goes. This run simply elevated that to the forefront of the character again, for the better in my eyes given I believe "Wrath" is Superman's Deadly Sin.

In fact, one of the strongest features of this run is that Superman gets actual character development over the course of the run, analogous to what Batman underwent in Morrison's Bat-Epic. While the Bat-Epic was merely Morrison re-canonizing Batman's entire history, and applying a retroactive character development storyline that culminated in Morrison's current Batman work, their Action Comics run had them attempt to craft something similar for Superman from scratch. What that meant was Morrison attempting to draw on the most important traits of every Superman era and incorporate those into this new take. So Superman had the Golden Age temper, compassion for the oppressed, and cockiness. The Silver Age supergenuis, proud scion of Krypton who cherished his Kryptonian nature, member of the Legion of Superheroes, and participant in stories that weren't afraid to get weird. Superman's wrestling with his place in the world, the importance of Clark Kent, and making journalism a key part of the character strike me as all being hallmarks of the Bronze Age. From Post-Crisis we got that Clark views himself as human and loves his adopted parents, considering them as equal to his birth ones.

One of the big frustrations for me with the endless origin stories for Superman, is that so many of them follow a predictable and stale formula where Clark puts on the suit and is essentially ready to go. Doesn't interfere with human affairs, is modest and humble, restrained in usage of his powers, it's like Clark has meta knowledge of what he "should" be, despite that he shouldn't have any foreknowledge of what a "superhero" should look like. He operates the same way at the start as he does in the modern day, and that's really boring to me. This Superman, because of the difference in powers and attitude, operated extremely different from his "present day" incarnation. Dangling Glenmorgan over the edge of a building isn't something a fully powered and mature Superman should do, but it works great to make his early days different and exciting to read about, it makes returning to that era something you can do different storytelling with. This run is the only time where I really cared that Superman is "supposed" to be the first superhero, because figuring out what that means here is a big part of how he develops.

We all know the common complaint that Superman is "too powerful" and that "nothing can hurt him" (funny how Thor never gets hit with those accusations), so Morrison made sure to show that this take on Superman could be beaten even if he could never be defeated. Events conspired to force Clark to use his brains as well as his powers to overcome the challenges in front of him.

Examples include him using his heat vision to fry Lex's equipment and escape the military, using his rocket ship to defeat Brainiac, and rallying the population of Metropolis to banish Vyndktvx. Not to say that Clark never used his brains before to win, but this run was very upfront and in your face about how important Clark's intellect is to triumphing over his foes. Can't take seriously the complaint that Superman is too overpowered when Morrison constantly showcased how even a very powerful Superman could get his shit wrecked by his Rogues.

Another example of Morrison addressing criticisms is Kryptonite. A lot of people poke fun at how convenient it is that pieces of Superman's homeworld follow him all the way to Earth. Isn't that a bit of an asspull? So Morrison made Kryptonite the power source of Superman's rocket, giving it a perfectly natural and believable reason both for it to end up on Earth, and for Lex & the military to get a hold of it since Pa Kent gave the military the rocket. That's still my preferred explanation for how Kryptonite ended up on Earth.

It also provides a better explanation for all the different Kryptonite variants. DC can handwave away the different types as a result of Lex experimenting or the different "forces" on Earth such as magic or the Speed Force or whatever creating the different variants. That to me is much more believable than Kryptonite travelling all across the galaxy yet still ending up on Earth somehow.

There have also been a lot of complaints about Superman's villains, and Morrison diligently set about reworking them. By far one of my favorite aspects of the run, was the villain revamps. Nimrod felt like a clean revamp of Terra-Man, making him into Superman's Kraven the Hunter struck me as a patently obvious route to go, wild no one has followed up on that or used him since. Metallo felt like a good synthesis of Johns take of him as an Anti-Superman weapon, and the sympathetic aspects of Corben's origin that are always there, I liked that Morrison didn't make him a total bastard before his transformation like Johns did. Brainiac got some sympathy added to him in that the collected worlds that were already marked for damnation, thus he was "saving" them in a fashion. Clay Ramses embodied toxicity as a wife-beater even before becoming Kryptonite Man, and I thought his backstory was a great way for Clark to still deal with "real" issues via a manner he could punch. Ramses is still the best take on Kryptonite Man. Vyndktvx felt like the greatest realization of the threat Mr. Mxyzptlk could pose should he decide to get serious since Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?, plus I'm a sucker for stories where superheroes fight the Devil. Drekken and Superdoom took the only interesting aspects of Doomsday (his ability to evolve and that he can kill Superman respectively), and were much more interesting characters.

And oh my God, speaking of Superdoom, that part of Morrison's Action run has aged like fine wine. I don't know if they caught wind of DC's plans for the character, or if they were just prescient, but everything that Superdoom is playing on is still sadly all too present. What Superdoom is as a character is a condemnation of what DC keeps doing with Superman: killing him off or making him evil.

When you realize what Superdoom (demand for a more violent and "realistic" Superman) and Vyn (WB/DC) stand in for, it makes the frustration Morrison is channeling much more palpable. Those two plotlines are all DC can think of to do with the character, returning to those again and again. Endlessly attempting to recapture the high of Batman and Doomsday beating the shit out of Supes in The Dark Knight Returns and Death of Superman. Overcoming these two obstacles is Superman's greatest challenge as conceived by Morrison, because both are out to corrupt and ruin the very idea of him. It's not just a physical death he faces, but a metaphysical one as well. Sadly it's a threat Superman just can't seem to lick in the real world, with more and more takes on "Evil Superman" coming.

Lois and Jimmy are great here, because Morrison actually made the investigative journalism aspect of Superman important. Lois is an active participant in the story, trying to break in to the base where Clark is being held by her father, competing with Clark for stories (I love how Morrison writes the banter between the two of them), and generally being classic Lois. Jimmy though benefitted from being positioned as a peer rather than as a kid in comparison to the two, something I wish the comics had carried forward. It looks like My Adventures With Superman is going with that interpretation at least, so I hope others do as well. Jimmy being Clark's roommate really adds to their bond, and I wish we had gotten more stories with that status quo.

Investigative reporter Clark Kent was so actively used here that it feels jarring reading other Superman runs where they tend to downplay and ignore it. Following Clark as he travels to different areas of Metropolis and actually interacts with people, instead of hovering above them as Superman, makes him feel human. Watching Clark actively pursue stories aimed at bettering peoples livelihoods, and seeing how those stories crossed with the superheroics, was one of my favorite aspects of the run. It's one unfortunately few other writers seem all that interested in, especially the New 52 writers who followed Morrison (I know editorial probably bears a lot of blame for that though).

Besides all that, this run was a lot of fun! The Legion of Superheroes showed up, their connection to Clark restored, and they got to play a big role in Clark's adventures! Krypto the Superdog! Martian colonies! Memorizing all of medicine, Superman performs a lifesaving operation! Lex using a "bullet train" to knock Clark out! 5-D imps! Rampaging robots from beyond! A Phantom Zone Halloween story! John Henry Irons suits up as Steel and kicks ass alongside Clark! Every Superman Rogue teams up to try to kill him, but Lex Luthor saves his life because that's a privilege he reserves for himself! Showcasing their trademark love for the Supermythos, Morrison took us on a tour of Superlore that demonstrated the depth and width of what could be done with Superman. Meanwhile the backups by Sholly Fisch excelled at giving us smaller, more human stories about Superman (the one where Clark meets Pa again via time travel "after" Pa has died always gives me a lump in my throat to read).

Ultimately this didn't get to be the foundation for the next generation of Superman stories as it deserved. Johns made New 52 Superman the scapegoat in Doomsday Clock for a lot of storytelling choices he did over in Justice League, something that pisses me off to no end. You want to tell me that this guy "didn't relate" to people, didn't inspire "hope"?

Like hell he didn't. This guy was Superman in every way that mattered and he deserved better than to be framed as the scapegoat for all the stupid decisions DC made about what to do with him. Greg Pak was able to do some great work with this version after Morrison, and just like how Gene Yang got a redemption work starring Superman, I hope to one day see Pak return to the character. Would love to read a Black Label Superman story by Pak that follows his take on young Superman.

All wasn't lost however. Against all odds, and Rebirth trying it's damndest to sweep everything under the rug, it looks like parts of this era have actually survived to the current Infinite Frontier era. With Morrison being heavily involved no less, both as an ideas guy and as an actual writer.

Superman & the Authority is explicitly Superman coming full circle back to the attitude displayed by his young counterpart under Morrison. Janin has outright said that the costume Clark wears here is reminiscent of the t-shirt and jeans era of Superman, and this book so far feels saturated with an energy level from Morrison I haven't seen in their work for hire since they left Action. Reaching old age and realizing he never really delivered on the high ideals of his beginnings, it's Superman putting together a team to hopefully succeed where he couldn't alone. Scathing in how it criticizes the superhero status quo, this has been extremely entertaining to read. Wish Morrison was writing 12 issues with this team, and that ultimately it will be up to PKJ to deliver on the potential is a drawback (although I've loved PKJ's Action run so far), but I'm glad to see DC finally treating Morrison and their ideas with more respect than was shown during Rebirth.

Jon meanwhile feels like an even more explicit attempt at redoing New 52 Superman. There's the updated new suit, designed to appeal to a new generation with it's streamlined look. Positioning Jon as a Superman who wants to tackle the "real" issues, with Taylor explicitly comparing him to Golden Age Superman which as I mentioned was an era Morrison tried to reincorporate into their reboot. There's the Legion of Superheroes connection which played an important role in Morrison's reboot. The rumors about Jon's sexuality are interesting, hinting that DC is willing to go outside the box with him in a way they never would with Clark. I'm excited to see what kind of Superman Jon ends up becoming, if he can deliver on the promise of the New 52 Superman all the better.

This run deserves to be remembered and to have the lessons it tried to teach respected. Probably my favorite mainline run on Superman, I hope more people come around to liking it as time goes on.