#the duality of spider demon

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Angel: I’m too tired to slap you. Bash your face against my palm, would ya?

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi would it be alright if I request a yandere Platonic Noodlefam Headcanons please with a cherry on top 🙏

MK sets an impossible precedent for you to match. He’s stronger and far more skilled than you, serving as the mentee to the illustrious Monkey King, inheritor of compliant golden-hooped rod known as the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

When Pigsy and Tang see that one of their kids is constantly under attack from demons and monsters, it’s only natural for them to be worried about the other. MK becoming a local hero who regularly endangers himself also means that it’s entirely plausible for his friends and family to fall into the crosshairs of his enemies.

So your fathers; legal and surrogate alike, start to place new restrictions on you. No going out before or after designated times, no going out alone, they get to vet all new friends, so on.

You already weren’t allowed to date, but after their run-in with the Spider Queen teaches them that enemies will even try to seduce them to their demise, the two double down on that deal.

Sure, there were always rules to follow, but never on this level. You never minded rules like “text when you get there”, “be back before ten,” and “don’t leave Megapolis”. Those made sense, and you made sure to abide by them. And your diligence and responsibility have not only not been acknowledged, but instead tested with more rules than ever before.

This quickly breeds resentment from you to MK, because you very accurately surmise that it’s only because of your brother’s antics and adventures that your personal life has grown suddenly stifled and restrictive.

MK, obviously, is devastated. He just wants to keep you, his family, and everyone else safe, and seeing you blame him for how you’re getting treated kind of breaks his heart. Still, he doesn’t dare argue with Pigsy or Tang, in part because he actually does agree with them.

He’s your big brother, after all. Is it really that bad that he and your fathers want to keep you safe? Sure, it can get a bit lonely and frustrating for you, he won’t try and deny that. It must suck to be kept inside most of the time, especially when he runs all over and gets into incredible adventures. MK gets to cause trouble and stop evildoers on a weekly basis, and the most exciting thing you do is deliver the noodles that he was supposed to be dropping off. (The noodle cart is tagged, and so is your phone. They can’t ever be too careful, after all.)

MK is the “fun, happy kid” and you’re the “good, quiet kid”. You dutifully tend to your surrogate father’s noodle shop, biting back resentment as it swells in your chest. MK sneaks out with Mei to visit arcades and bust skulls.

A hard worker, a good listener, a skilled chef… these are all the great things that you become over time. But also, you’re bitterly jealous, overworked, and slowly grinding down to nothing with all the effort you put in.

Eventually, the exhausting duality of being put on a pedestal and held to it with shackles takes it’s due toll. All of it leads up to a massive burnout or breakdown, which shifts the dynamic severely.

If you end up burning out and end up fatigued and unmotivated, you get grilled a little too hard by your fathers, both terrified that something might be wrong or that someone might be hurting you.

It’s them. They’re the ones hurting you, but you can’t really say that. Since you can’t answer their questions honestly or explain what’s wrong, they have no idea about what they should do. Pigsy settles for treating you like you’re sick, forcing you to take several days off to stay in bed. It’s a bandaid solution, but it does accomplish something by giving you time to recuperate from the prior mentioned burnout.

Breakdowns are treated with more care and more severity. One little straw breaks your back, and then MK is getting a vicious/distraught earful about lending his duties to you without your permission, and Pigsy for allowing him to do so. Tang gets off easier on account of not being personally involved in the noodle shop’s affairs, but you call him out for calling himself your father and still allowing these things to happen.

The responses are… split, to say the least.

MK will genuinely apologize for the strain he’s been putting on you and admit that he hasn’t exactly been the greatest brother. He’ll give you a big hug and drag you to his room to hang out, ignoring your complaints and protests. You’re upset that he’s been going out too much? Then the solution is to spend more time with you! (It’s not, but at least he’s trying.)

Pigsy won’t stand for it. One of his kids, yelling at him? Absolutely not. Go to your room and calm down. (He’ll whip you up a bowl of noodles while you’re off stewing/sobbing.) Once you’ve eaten and cooled off, he’s open to an actual conversation- the end result is most likely him appointing Tang to take you out once a week or so, giving you an actual break from the monotony. Once again, not the best solution, but it’s definitely an improvement that lifts your spirits.

Tang validates your concerns by listening to them and comforting you, but doesn’t try to solve the problem at all. He offers to be your shoulder to cry on, but also acknowledges that what MK runs off to do is usually important, and can’t be avoided. But! He’s always here for you, dear. Now, come sit with him and have a bowl of noodles. Maybe he can read to you?

It’s not always so bad for you, thankfully. You’re still allowed to leave, under admittedly strict rules, for one. Pigsy also provides you a steady job, whether working with him in the kitchen or running deliveries. You interact with customers regularly, so not only are you never too lonely, they also allow you to keep in contact with customers they trust.

It could be worse. It could be better.

But it’s good enough to feel like home, to feel safe and loved, and that’s what makes it so hard to leave.

[msweebyness]

Weeby, Sparky, and Artzy’s Code Names Guide!!!

Hey, y’all! This is a helpful little tool for you guys! Whenever we’re talking about characters in the context of our AU’s, we use code names to distinguish! Here’s a guide to those! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Updates will be added as new content is released!

KEY:

Class of Heroes

Class of Villainy

Monstrous Youths

Ghoul Squad

Creepsters

DC/Arkham

Marvel

MiracOlympus

Animal AU

Akuma AU

BATRACULOUS

LaNd BeFoRe TiMe Au

Barbie AU

(Extras: Were!(Name)= WereMiraculous, Phantom!(Name)= Phantoms of Paris, Shady!(Name)= Shadyverse)

CHARACTERS:

Marinette: Marilan, Mari De Vil, Maridoll, Marideath, Mari Von Bugg, Iron Gal, Jestress, Heranette, Maribug, Miss Fortune, LADYBUG BAT, Princess Mariliese, DuCkYnEtTe

Adrien: Adripunzel, Jafardrien, Average Adrien, Haydrien, Adrien Jekyll/Chat Hyde, AdriQuin, Thunder, Zeusdrien, AdriCat, Chat Blanc, CAT BAT, JulAdrien

Alya: TiAlya, YzAlya, SpectrAlya, Alynis, Diblya, Whirlwind, Enigma, ThemAlya, Alyfox, Lady WiFi, REPORTER BAT, Alyarinne

Nino: Fairy GodBro, Honest Nino, FrankenNino, Nino Jekyll, Mr. Marvel, Mudslide, DioNyno, Shellno, Bubbler, SONIC BAT

Chloe: Chloéstasia, Lady Chloe, Chloepatra, Chlophaba, Diamond Demon, Dagger, Chlolios, ChloBee, Queen Wasp, Chloetta, CHARISMA BAT

Sabrina: Sabrinocchio, Madame Sabrina, Zombrina, Invisibrina, Duality, Miss-Appear, Hestibrina, SabriHound, Vanisher, SUPPORT BAT

Max: Maxiro, Maxdrome, Max Steam, Maxtian, Nuit Panther, Max Luthor, AtheMax, Ponyax, Gamer, TECH BAT

Kim: Kimules, Kimton, WereKim, Kimzilla, Croc King, Spider-Bro, PoseiKim, MonKim, Dark Cupid, Prince Kimiel, POWER BAT

Alix: Aladdix, Alix Khan, Alix Gorgon, Winlix, Caracal, Widow, Hermlix, Bunlix, Timebreaker, PenelAlix, SPEED BAT, CeRaLiX

Mylene: Snow Mylene, Mylensula, MyLeaf, Mylentasma, WitchyLene, Nightmare Weaver, Bullseye, DeMylenter, Mousylene, Horrificator, Rolene, EMPATHY BAT

Ivan: QuasiIvan, Ivan Oogie, Ivan Bumble, Ivan Kong, GrizzVan, Venom Bringer, Capitaine France, HephIvan, Oxvan, Stoneheart, Prince AntonIvan, STRENGTH BAT

Rose: Roselle, QRC (Queen Rose Candy), SkeleRose, Rose Frankenteen, GhostRose, Thorn, Miss Marvelous, AphroRose, Rose Piggy, Princess Fragrance, Rosiana, PeTrOsE, LOVE BAT

Juleka: JuleBeast, Juleficent, Draculeka, Jubella, JV (Juleka Voorhees), Feline Shadow, Doctor Odd, Julemis, JuleClaw, Reflekta, Julexa, STEALTH BAT, ChOmPlEkA

Nathaniel: Sleeping Nath, Nath of Hearts, Nath Goyle, Nathra, Nathfield, Colossus, Rage, Nathdes, Goathaniel, Evillustrator, Nathpunzel, ARTIST BAT, NaThFoOt

Marc: MarcElsa, King Marc, MothMarc, Marcoyle, Count Marcula, Myzan’r, Discord, Marcsephone, Marckerel, Reverser, Prince StefMarc, SpArC, WRITER BAT

Zoe: CinderZoe, Zoe of the Southern Isles, NeferZoe, Rouge, Inevitable, Zolene, ZoWasp, Sole Crusher, Princess Zonika, PUNK BAT

Luka: Maestro Luka, DiabLuka, Luka Cullen, DracuLuka, The Maestro, Shadow, Chi Punch, ApolLuka, Snakeka, Silencer, MUSIC BAT

Kagami: Kagamerida, Kagami Yu, DracoGami, Kagami Hollow, Herushingu, Naginata, Kamakiri Kānjo, KagamAres, Komodogami, Riposte, PRECISION BAT

Ondine: AriOndine, LeOnDine, Ondine Blue, HuntressDine, LagoOndine, Sea Enchantress, Shield Maiden, Onditrite, HerOndine, Syren, Ondette, SWIMMER BAT

Aurore: BlueRore, MimRore, Astrarore, WitchyRore, Whirlpool, Geode, Zephrore, Swanrore, WEATHER BAT

Mireille: Miremba, Mireides, SliMireille, Witchyreille, Echo, Multiply, Boreille, Mireillnguin, MOON BAT

Jean: Jeanzco, Jeanatoa, OperJean, Phantom of DuPont, Spellbound, Mariner, ThalJean, Jeacaw, SONG BAT

Lacey: Lacey Bell, Lacey Gothel, Flamecey, Wildmorph, Lightning Run, Nikecey, Cheecey, PARKOUR BAT

Denise: Demolition Denise, Doctor Cabello, Denisquatch, Buster Nise, Wonderer, Battlemonger, Gaianise, Bisonise, BUFF BAT

Simon: Simon Pan, Minister O’Connor, SiClops, Buster Si, Speedster, Crimson Warlock, SimOuranos, Simval,TECHNO BAT

Cosette: Robette, Cosettewether, CosetTaur, Buster Co, Voltage, Deathcall, Irisette, Aidette, Hedgette, INCOGNITO BAT

Ismael: IsmaGenie, IsmaScar, IsmaCat, Buster Is, Krypto-Kid, Bizarre, IsmaPan, Ismacoon, MAGIC BAT

Reshma: Reshmabela, Reshma Hook, Spider Resh, Sapphire Beetle, Lady Oc, Nyxma, Reshmaphant, GEM BAT

Austin A: Austin LeBouff, Austin Whistler, Austin Gorgon, Star Quartz, They, Ausglaia, GLAM BAT

Austin B: Austin Deavor, Austin Trollson, Roulette, Mystic, Mnemostin, BAT BITE

Austin Q: Austin of Motanui, Austin Screams, Cosmic Lord, Mako, Tethstin, SHARK BAT

Austin T: JasAustin, Sheriff Austin, Austin Grim, Austine, Jade Lantern, Lunar Soldier, Ausmonia, BAKE BAT

DJ: Collector, DJ Cipher, GJ, DJche, Malleable, Trash Panda, PRANK BAT

Spinelli: Spinelli Bunchoy, Spinelli De Spell, Spinellisk, E Voila, Uomo di Sabia, Terpsinelli, GRACE BAT

Victoria: Lightning LaSalle, Vicnifico, Mertoria, Inferno, Electra, Anantoria, HOOP BAT

Gerard: GerEVE, Dr. Grundlershmirtz, Marsh Gerard, Voltaic, Professor Chill, Coerard, GENIUS BAT

Mindy: Mindy P. Sullivan, Mindy Sanderson, MindOgre, Buteos, They-Hunk, PolyhyMindy, HARMONY BAT

Gia: Sergeant Griswold, Gigo, Jersey Gia, Peridot Shot, Blizzard, GiAlke, G.I. BAT

Mason: Agent M, Emperor Mason, Mason Bogie, Emperor, Ms. Extraordinary, Daskalson, INFO BAT

Rochelle: Clopchelle, Rocifer, Gnomechelle, Artemis, Chief, Rocheme, BLACKMAIL BAT

Lotta: Launchpad Jameson, Peg Leg Lotta, Faunta, Power Up, Harbinger, Lotbe, STUNT BAT

Kendra: Kendralice, Kaadra, Yowdra, Groove, Green Imp, Kendrotus, UPSIDE DOWN BAT

Ayesha: Ladyesha, AyeshAngel, Heavenly, Rainbow Surfer, Euprosesha, SPIRIT BAT

Dot: Dot Thatch, InvisiDot, Badass, Speck, Cliot, SECRETARY BAT

Petra: Petra Porter, Petracorn, Karma, Rascal, IaPetra, Petrobie, SKETCH BAT

Roxie: Roxgara, Rocksie, Stellar, Infinite, Nemoxie, REBEL BAT

Anthony: SalAnthony, DaemAnthony, Umbra, Bloodsucker, Anthonatos, SHADOW BAT

Candace: Miss Candace, Conjuring Candace, Equilibrium, Saber, Candomia, CHEER BAT

Eri: Eri Skellington, KitsEri, Hex, Amethyst Witch, HecatEri, MACABRE BAT

Staci: Rayci, Snakeci, See-You, The Master, StacErebus, COMBAT BAT

Margo: Fix-it Margo, CalaMargo, Vanquisher, Fury, MargEos, CRAFT BAT

Brecken: Brecken Hood, Brecken Horseman, Oak, Multiple, Cybelecken, CRITTER BAT

Soo-Yeon: Soo-Lin Lee, Dokk-Yeon, Blood Bro, Magnetite, Soo-Eurus, SNIPER BAT

Parker: Parker Hopps, Pondker, K.O., Ares, ParKratos, SOLDIER BAT

Aggie: GoGo Findlay, Faegie, Platinum Tide, Specter, Atëgie, SKATER BAT

Mona: Tow Mona, Gryphona, Hurricane, Mind Warp, Monapheus, DIRECTOR BAT

Evie: Evie Poppins, SirEvie, Lady Mars, Screech, EratEvie, MELODY BAT

Eloise: Eloislin, Roboise, Liz, Illuminate, Metoise, MATH BAT

Anais: Anais Lemon, Batnais, Gear, Critter, UrAnais, SCIENCE BAT

Jesse: Prince Jesse, JessEel, MAPT Jesse, The Weeping Boy, Jessemene, Midnight, MalevoLyricist, MANAGER BAT

Missy: Flounssy, MisShark, MAPT Missy, Rancor, Quick Fire, Misclepius, Lissy the Unicorn, DIVER BAT

Lila: Lila De La Cruz, Lila Porter, Harpy Lila, Hell-La, Demonla, Cerebral Queen, Mind Bend, LiEris, Foxla

Felix: Casslix, Felix Darling, Jack O’Ripper

Jess: Jessahontas, Deputy Jess, Jessdigo, Akicita Igmu, Grey Bat, Jesslanta, GREEN LANTERN

Fei: Fei Shang, Feisper, Lady Wu, Sonar, Feipolyta, BEAST GIRL

Socqueline: Socquelinace, Miss Soklinebryglk, Buzz, Socquelinacles, SPIDER-GIRL

Aeon: Wall-Aeon, Deputy Aeon, A.E.O.N.(Adaptive EmotioIntelligent Organization Network), Swarm, Holo, Princess Aeon of Sparta, VISION

Lucien: Prince Lucien, HercLucien, Lucien Van Helsing, Gal-Yant, Vengeance, ZeLucien

Emani: Yosemite Pulateur, Emani White, Spyware, Violet Influence, Dolmani

Sasha: Sasha Oogie, Sasha Bumble, Frostbite, Eilethasha, Crystallight

Kiran: KirAnna, Prince Kiran, MothKiran, Aura, HypKiran, Sandboy

Bustier: Calinora, Fairyline, Empoustier, Witch Caline, Buster Bustier, Miss Mystery, Gorgana, Lachestier, Zombizou

Mendeliev: Yendeliev Sid, Fairy Godteacher, Headless Mendeliev, Busterliev, Witch Olga, Ant-Woman, The Professor, Atrodeliev, Kwami Buster

Winters: Aswanters, Professor Polymorph, Threaded Thespian, Clothers

Grotke: GroTiger, Soulshock, Nocturne

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[grudgetta]

for the bingo; vaggie x angel dust?

i love watching them beat each other up and also kiss tenderly the beautiful duality of spider moth demon angel love

[trendingtattoo]

Spooky Tattoo Designs: Unveiling the Meanings Behind the Ink

As Halloween approaches, the allure of spooky tattoos intensifies, drawing individuals seeking to express their unique personalities and embrace the darker side of creativity. While some may view these designs as mere aesthetic choices, they often hold deeper meanings and symbolism, reflecting personal experiences, beliefs, and cultural influences.

Skulls and Skeletons:

Skulls and skeletons are among the most iconic spooky tattoo designs, often representing mortality, impermanence, and the transience of life. They can also symbolize overcoming challenges, embracing change, and finding strength in the face of adversity.

Bats and Spiders:

Bats and spiders, often associated with darkness and the unknown, carry a range of symbolic meanings in spooky tattoos. Bats can represent mystery, transformation, and the ability to navigate the unseen realms. Spiders, on the other hand, can symbolize creativity, resilience, and the intricate web of life.

Black Cats and Ravens:

Black cats and ravens have long been associated with witchcraft, superstition, and the supernatural. In spooky tattoos, they often represent intuition, psychic abilities, and connection to the spiritual world. They can also symbolize independence, adaptability, and the power of the unseen forces.

Ghosts and Ghouls:

Ghosts and ghouls, creatures of the night and the realm of the deceased, evoke a sense of mystery, fear, and the unknown. In spooky tattoos, they can represent confronting personal demons, embracing the darkness within, and exploring the depths of the human psyche.

Witches and Vampires:

Witches and vampires, figures of enchantment and supernatural allure, carry a range of symbolic meanings in spooky tattoos. Witches can represent wisdom, transformation, and the power of nature. Vampires, on the other hand, can symbolize immortality, sensuality, and the duality of human nature.

These are just a few examples of the many spooky tattoo designs that exist, each with its own unique meaning and symbolism. The choice of design is often deeply personal, reflecting the individual's beliefs, experiences, and cultural heritage. Spooky tattoos can serve as a reminder of our mortality, a celebration of the macabre, or a symbol of strength and resilience in the face of darkness.

[spidermannotes]

Based on the Superior Spider-Man 32 & Amazing Spider-Man 9 Skottie Young's interlocking variant set.

Marvel Peter Parker Animated-Style Statue

Product Description

A Gentle Giant LTD release! As a teen, Peter Parker had the worst of both worlds. Disrespected as a teenager and demonized as a superhero, he still found a way to make both halves of his lives work. Now, Gentle Giant LTD has captured that duality in this all-new animated-style sculpture of Peter Parker! Based on the Marvel cover artwork of Skottie Young, this approximately 4-inch statue features art-accurate sculpting and painting, and is limited to only 3000 pieces. It comes packaged with a numbered certificate of authenticity in a full-color box. Sculpted by Casen Barnard!

Available at Amazon. Direct link here.

[cljordan-imperium]

OC Desert Game

I was tagged by @ceph-the-writing-spook

I'm going to tag @writingpotato07, @careful-pyromancer, and @saltysupercomputer (no pressure). If you've already done it, can you tag me in the comments, offline life got be tied up so I'm still shuffling through my feed y'all. Anyone else who wants to play along is more than welcome.

How to Play: Using this picrew, make a dessert relevant to your OC in some way or another. One they’d like, one that represents them, one they’d make for someone else...The possibilities are countless.

For mine, I did my 4 Horseman. From top left going clockwise: Deacon (Conquest), Olly (Famine), Cruz (War) and Abriella (Death).

Deacon's favorite color is red. It is the color of passion and blood, when someone is angry, they are said to "see red". He is the Horseman of Conquest and often leads legions in battles against the former Princes of Hell.

Famine is closely tied to death. Crops wither and die, leading to livestock death, and eventual death of the top being on the food chain. Eventually all that are left are the spiders and the bats and beasts who feed upon the carcasses of the deceased beings. Olly can bring both Famine and bountiful harvest, as with all the Horseman the duality of his being is why his cupcake is green.

Cruz is the Horseman of War. He is the most stoic of the Horsemen. He is quiet and subdued in all things. His armor is flat black with no adornments, his fighting leathers are the same, as is his training gear. So his cupcake is similar. It is simple and basic, vanilla, with just enough chocolate to make it decadent. On a marble plate with a crown to denote his dual position as the King of Imperium and Caligo.

Finally Abriella's cupcake. She is a dichotomy in and of herself. She is girly in some things, yet she is the Horseman of War and a strong warrior in her own right. Her two puppies, Dalton and Derp, are the key to her heart and get away with almost literal murder. Even when in heels and an evening gown, she is just as lethal as the other three Horsemen. Her mother a full angel, her father a demonic nephilim, her powers and those of her brothers are dual but hers are special because of a long ago prophecy. The Queen of Imperium and Caligo, she is also the Princess Royal of Heaven, and unlike her brother she has accepted her title there.

[adiabolikpastel]

In your universe are there other mythological/supernatural creatures besides the demons, vampires and ghouls that already exist in the canon? I mean, in your AU are there angels or witches? I remember in one panel of the Young Blood manga there are silhouettes of two dragons so it would be cool to add dragons to your story! I can imagine Karl, Burai, Ajax and the king of the wolf clan riding their own dragons.

Oh, and I'd love to see Yui in your universe, especially if she's with Carla or even Shin!

But of course! There are so many different walks of life all through the many universe. One definitely has more than the other - but that's mostly because the story allows it to be so. I’ll explain those under the cut.

I love the idea of the big Kings having dragons~ riding them into war. Though it does then bring up the level of… power? Or rather - is the Dragon in that form because it wants to be, or because that’s all I can be. Cause as we know Karl and the boys have forms they can assume.

Oooooo makes me want to create some Dragon OCs! They can be super like regal and look down on everyone! I might just do that for the big war!! I def want to expand on the Wolves too.

Tormented Reverie

In this universe there is only the addition of angles - or a guess more specifically gods that oppose the demons. Yuki is the child of a Goddess - not that he knows this - but I plan to have that be a huge part of his story. Yuuki's story though is more by the canon book - so nothing out of canon happens for her.

Tormented Reverie: Another Daydream

I am not sure if I will add in anything here. I know that Kanaye has interacted with other OCs that weren't just vampires - so that, to me, opens the door to that. Since this is a sequel to Tormented Reverie, there are for sure gods.

Excruciating Duplicity

This. This is where things have become unhinged. All of the OCs I have in this AU are outside of the norm. So if there were ever going to be things outside of demons - it would be here. Callista and Rose are both demons - so they don't really meet what you are asking. But for clarity; Callista is an Adler (Eagle) Demon and Rose is a Lupin (Rabbit) Demon.

Skye is a siren, which is the first true creature that is not some kind of demon. The new Sibling OCs I have are ... kind of in the air atm. I had originally placed them as Spider Demons. This is because the whole idea of being trapped in a web and having two of them.

Quick quick quick Mun Note: every story in both universes are meant to mirror their title. For example; Excruciating Duplicity's story lines will have themes of duality as well as something extremely painful. Where as Tormented Reverie stories have angsty fairy tale type themes.

So, yes I had originally wanted them to be spider demons - but now I'm toying with the idea of like them being not simply demons, maybe not even spiders. I kinda like the idea of snakes too - they can also wrap and entrap their 'prey'.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #654

Top Ten Magic Users in Superhero Fiction

I’m a bit busy this week so I’m going to try to do this quite quickly. Seriously, I had to deal with an unexploded bomb on Friday. I’m not even joking, although the truth may not be as exciting as the headline.

Anyway, after what feels like quite a while of me not being too bothered about TV programmes, there are a ton on the go at the moment. And by “on the go”, I mean, “stuff I want to watch that I’ve not started yet”. Kaos, Rings of Power, Only Murders in the Building, and – as of next week – Agatha All Along (I kinda feel bad about The Acolyte; I really did want to watch it, and who knows? Maybe one more viewer was all it needed to save it from cancellation). Anyway, Agatha: as may have been apparent to anyone who’s read a few of these blogs, I’m quite into the MCU. And as WandaVision is not only one of the best – if not the best – of their TV programmes, but is easily one of the best things they’ve ever done, I’m pretty excited for this semi-sequel/follow-up.

And so, to celebrate, I’m going all supernatural by looking at magic-users such as Agatha title character Agatha Harkness. Witches and wizards, yeah? Although, as it’s me, we’re inevitably going to get into questions of how “magic” is “used”. Oh, but here’s the wrinkle: I’m not just after yer common or garden sorcerers here. You won’t find any of the Istari, let alone Simon. No, today I’m specifically talking about the use of magic within a superhero setting.

Having magic users in superhero stories has always interested me. Because the main characters – Superman, Iron Man, whoever – are so fantastical anways, what added wrinkle does Actual Magic create? I don’t just mean the fact that the seemingly-invulnerable Superman is actually incredibly vulnerable to magic; I mean, if you’re (say) Batman, how do you deal with wizards in the world? Is it a threat, is it a tool? And then there’s just how “regular” heroes work alongside magic-users; I love the whole “magic with a kick!” sequence between Spider-Man and Doctor Strange in Infinity War (and then the way Peter works out the geometry of the Mirror Dimension in No Way Home). And that’s before you get to characters like Wonder Woman or Thor, who aren’t really magic, but kind of have magic infused into their power set (also, how do “gods” square up against magic in this setting?).

So lots to think about. Mostly, I guess, I like the way a superhero team book can have a street-level hero like Daredevil rubbing shoulders with aliens, wizards, and people with supreme power sets. It’s this mix of styles, genres, and tones that I love about shared superhero universes. So I think it’s all interesting!

And with no further ado, my favourite super-wizards. Sort of.

Raven: I could wax lyrical about how her spooky, demonic brand of magic sits alongside the powerset of her teammates (super-strong alien princess, shape-changing green dude, incredibly sexy acrobat); I could talk for ages about the duality of her personality, how her innate goodness struggles with the fact she’s literally a monster; but let’s be honest, the real reason I love her so much is because of her dry, sardonic, miserablist personality. Also has one of the best lines in a team-up comic: “I’m not a goth; my father is a demon. I like all kinds of music.”

Loki: whether it’s the historically more villainous character from decades of comic books; or the more nuanced, troubled, self-doubting younger version he became in Journey Into Mystery; or the phenomenal saga-spanning arc steered by Tom Hiddleston’s performance in the MCU – Loki is cool. A bastard with a genuine grievance, a wounded soul lashing out, a selfish, vainglorious little bugger who – I guess? – has a heart of gold. Plus his brand of tricksy magic is awesome.

Zatanna: straight out of the gate, I wanna say, I love her costume. Yes, I know, you can argue that it’s cheesy or even sexist; but I think it rocks. Anyway, she’s really cool, a terrifically strong and capable magic user, able to mix it up with the big guns in the Justice League, but arguably finding a bit more nuance with the weirder, messier characters on the darker fringes of the DCU. And her magical gimmick of talking backwards produces some great, and often hilarious, speech balloons.

The Scarlet Witch: Wanda’s arc in the comics is really interesting, and has sort of been reflected in the MCU. Starting out as a villain – a daughter of Magneto – she eventually joined the side of the angels, had a romance with Vision, and then went, well, doolally, with the iconic, infamous House of M and “no more mutants”. Her brand of reality-distorting chaos magic is both strange and incredibly powerful, making her distinct among other witches and wizards. Over in the MCU, her arc across Civil War and Infinity War was terrific and tragic, given further nuance and depth in WandaVision, before becoming a really creepy baddie in Multiverse of Madness.

Doctor Strange: I’ve not read loads of his comics, but I’ve always enjoyed both his superior, somewhat arrogant demeanour – he always seems to be so much smarter than everyone, with his knowledge of the arcane and mystic far above the trivial concerns of lesser heroes – as well as his seventies-style love god aesthetic. In the films, he’s been one of the most visually interesting heroes, with a sardonic sense of humour.

Doctor Doom: would be higher, but a bit like Strange, I’ve not actually read loads of comics that focus on Doom (just ones where he’s part of an ensemble). But it’s the combination of Doom’s abilities that’s intriguing; he’s a technical genius with an Iron Man-esque suit of robotic armour (and capable of creating lifelike duplicates); he’s the king of a sovereign nation, granting him diplomatic immunity; and he’s also, like, a wizard, who’s literally ventured into hell. Can even RDJ do justice to such a multifaceted character?!

Doctor Fate: so many doctors, so little time! What is it with the mystic arts and a PhD? Anyway, what I like about Fate is that, unlike Strange, he really does harken back to a mysterious and mystical past; he’s the custodian of an ancient art of magic that feels archetypal. Plus he has a tremendous sense of style; the Helmet of Fate is iconic and, frankly, fabulous. Pierce Brosnan did a fine job playing him in Black Adam, a film which was quite interesting when it didn’t feature its title character.

John Constantine: again, lower than maybe he would be because I’ve not read a lot of his solo stuff, just his team-up appearances. But, man, what a character: an absolute swaggering douche who also somehow manages to be a great hero. He looks like an alcoholic detective (and also, famously, like Sting); he smokes like a chimney; he’s earnestly self-destructive. But he knows a spell or too and, well, he’s just so damn cool. For what it’s worth – and I’ve not seen it in ages, truth be told – I really liked the Keanu Reeves film.

Black Adam: see, this is where I might be getting a bit tenuous; Black Adam (along with his fractionally-less-interesting stablemates such as Shazam/Captain Marvel, etc) definitely has magic, his whole powerset informed by it; but does he use it, or is it just the source of his powers? I mean, he literally says a magic word to transform into Black Adam, so I guess he counts? Anyway, I love his characterisation, someone who straddles the line between villain and anti-hero so well. His arc in Countdown, and his subsequent massacre of an entire nation, is tragic and powerful.

The Spectre: again, a character where I’ve sort of ummed-and-ahhhed over their use of magic. The Spectre’s whole deal is inflicting ironic punishments on evildoers; he’s basically God’s judgement. This is a great hook; it’s pushed further by he fact that he has to bond with a human soul, so there’s this whole angst thing where the bloke who’s also the Spectre doesn’t really like what he’s having to do. It’s a really great concept (and could have made for a cool indie movie adaptation about 25 years ago). And, I mean, he definitely uses magic, right? He once turned someone into a candle and lit them. Batman can’t do that.

[the-mortuary-witch]

LILITH

WHO IS SHE?

In Demonic and Jewish culture, Lilith is the first Eve or wife of Adam, she refused Adams’ advances and attempts to subvert her power, independence, and inherent equality. She is the Queen of Demons and and the wife of Samael, from whom came the succubi. She is the Infernal Moon and Queen of the Infernal Sabbat. She does have an angelic aspect as well, that of being a protectress of mothers and children (duality). Her nature is that of feminine fertility, seduction, and the cycles of the Moon, and perhaps one of the reasons she is considered “evil” being her ability to seduce, to take what she wishes, and disregard those who displease her. She is feminine strength and individualized focus. As Samael (the Serpent) is considered, according to gender, to be the Daemon of Wizards and Warlocks, Lilith is the Patroness and Queen of Witches.

Lilith is the great mother and is also associated with fertility. Food offerings to Lilith should be ritually consumed without delay. Any offerings that are not consumed should be disposed of in a way that shows respect for the spirit of Lilith. For example, the offered food could be left outside for the animals to feed on, or it could be buried in the earth.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Lilith's appearance can vary depending on the artistic depiction or interpretation. Generally, she is portrayed as a beautiful and seductive figure, with long dark hair, large expressive eyes, and a seductive and sensual presence. She is often depicted as being bare-chested or wearing revealing clothing, and is often shown as a powerful seducer or seductress. Lilith's appearance is often designed to portray her as an alluring and alluring female figure, who is confident and unapologetic in her sexuality and independence.

Personality: Lilith is typically portrayed as a powerful and dominant figure, who is unapologetic in her sexuality and self-expression. She defies the conventional conventions of society and proudly flaunts her individualism. She is often interpreted as a symbol of the dark feminine, and is therefore linked to concepts such as passion, sexuality, independence, and freedom. She is also associated with independence and strength, and she is not afraid to take risks or speak her mind. Lilith embraces her power and sexuality, and revels in the freedoms that come with it.

Symbols: sword, pentagram, scythe, moon, dragon, snake, crossroad, dark moon, and pentacle

Goddess of: love, demons, beauty, wisdom, life, rebirth, fertility, motherhood, inner-strength, illumination, mysteries, spiritual initiation, the night, and The Evening Star

Culture: Demonic and Jewish

Plants and trees: apple, poisonous plants (like belladonna, hemlock, and mugwort), sandalwood, rose, dandelion, red hibiscus, witch hazel, lilac, and patchouli

Crystals: amethyst, black onyx, rose quartz, garnet, obsidian, clear quartz, red jasper, jet, black moonstone, labradorite, red carnelian, tigers eye, amber, bloodstone, black tourmaline, arsenopyrite, and melanite garnet

Animals: black cats, snakes, owls, dogs, spiders, bats, and goats

Incense: frankincense, dragons blood, jasmine, sandalwood, rose, and black amber

Colours: red, black, purple, blue, green, silver, and gold

Numbers: 3 and 666

Zodiacs: Aries and Scorpio

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: Mars, Pluto, and Venus

Days: Monday, Friday, Beltane, Samhain, Walpurgis, Halloween, and Yule

Parents: N/A

Siblings: N/A

Partner: Samael, Asmodeus, Lucifer, and Adam (formally)

Children: unnamed succubus’ and incubus’

MISC:

• Venus: is associated with love, beauty, sexuality, fertility, and femininity, all of which are key aspects of Lilith's spheres of influence.

• Scorpio: the zodiac sign Scorpio is associated with intense energy, power, and transformation, which are all key aspects of Lilith's spheres of influence and her connection to the underworld and the occult.

• Shadows: Lilith is also associated with shadows and the darkness. In many traditions, the Underworld and the realm of the dead are associated with shadows and darkness. This is a reflection of Lilith's role as a Goddess of the Underworld and death, as well as her connection to the occult and the metaphysical realm.

• Feminism: Lilith is the patron Goddess of feminists and feminists organizations, because she is a symbol of strength, independence, and sexual empowerment.

• Stars and crescent: symbolizes her connection to female power and divinity.

• Her rebellious personality, fierce, and independent nature.

• Connections to the dark and mysterious forces of the night.

• Emotional disposition: Lilith's temperamental disposition and personality could also stem from her emotional temperament and internal feelings.

• Snake: she is sometimes depicted as half-woman, half-snake. This symbolizes her connection to the animal kingdom and her fierce and mysterious nature.

• Moon: often associated with Lilith's connection to femininity and the cyclical nature of the female body (menstruation, pregnancy, childbirth, menopause, etc).

• Purple: also a colour that often symbolizes Lilith's connection to her status as the great Goddess of femininity and female sexuality.

• Crown: Lilith is often depicted as a powerful and majestic Queen, clad in a crown and regalia. This symbolizes her status as a Goddess of power and leadership.

• Bow and Arrow: Lilith is sometimes depicted with a bow and arrow, symbolic of her power and strength and her ability to hunt and kill her enemies.

• Apple: a traditional symbol of knowledge and wisdom, which aligns with Lilith's connection to knowledge and learning.

• Goat: Lilith is also often associated with the goat, which represents her connection to the animal kingdom and her passion and fury.

• Rose: the rose motif is often used to represent Lilith's connection to beauty and her association with love.

FACTS ABOUT LILITH:

• Role: Lilith is the "mother" of demons in Jewish folklore and is said to be the first woman, created from the same dust as Adam but before Eve.

• Origin: she is said to have been banished from the Garden of Eden for not following Adam's commands, and was cast out for being unruly and unwilling to submit.

• Name: Lilith is named after a Hebrew word for "night" or "dark" and is often associated with the night and the Underworld.

• Symbolism: the demon Lilin (also written Lilith, Lilitu, or Lillit) was originally used as the personification of night and darkness.

• Association with night: Lilith is often associated with the night and the darkness, and is believed to be the source of nightmares and evil dreams.

• Connection to demons: she is also believed to be the mother of many demons, including the succubus and the incubus.

• Relationship with Lucifer: Lilith is often associated with the fallen angel, Lucifer and in some versions of the story, they are depicted as being lovers.

• Connections: she is connected to the night demon Pazuzu as his female counterpart, and also to the night demon Lam(a).

• Beliefs: in Jewish mythology, Lilith was originally seen as a demonic figure responsible for infant mortality and miscarriages. The story of Lilith was used to reinforce the patriarchy's view of women as inferior and powerless.

• Evolution: Lilith has gone through many different interpretations and versions, but her status as a symbol of women's empowerment and liberation has been a consistent theme in modern times.

HOW TO WORK WITH LILITH:

To work with  Lilith, you should approach her with respect and humility. She is a powerful goddess and has been known to punish those who do not treat her with proper respect. Offer prayers, libations, and offerings to her, and speak to her with respect, awe, and humility. She is a goddess of darkness and femininity, so you can use the darkness or moonlight in your rituals to create a more intimate and sacred environment. You can also use black candles and other symbols of femininity to further connect with her.

PRAYER FOR LILITH:

"Mother Lilith, Lady of the Night, I humbly come before you in search of wisdom and knowledge. I seek enlightenment and freedom, and I am ready to release my fear and self-limiting beliefs. Please guide me on my path, and open my heart to the love and power that you bring. Let me find strength, passion, and purpose in my life, as I strive to live more intentionally and truly.”

"And now I bid you farewell, Mother Lilith. I acknowledge the blessings you have given me, and I thank you for your guidance and teachings. Hail to you, and may we cross paths again in the future. So be it, Hail Lilith.”

SIGNS THAT LILITH IS CALLING YOU:

• Strong connection or attraction to Lilith.

• A desire to explore or study Lilith's teachings.

• Wanting to explore your own sexuality and find power and empowerment in your femininity.

• A desire to challenge the patriarchy and embrace your own unique identity.

• Desire to explore your own dark side or find strength in your shadows.

• A feeling of being guided by a force outside yourself.

• Feeling of being called to a higher purpose or feeling like there is more to your life than just everyday existence.

OFFERINGS:

• Black candles, black stones, or black crystals.

• Honey.

• Champagne.

• Seductive perfume.

• Fancy jewelry.

• Tea.

• Exercise. 

• Having passionate sex.

• Swords and daggers.

• Pomegranates.

• Dark chocolate.

• Dragon’s blood.

• Flowers and herbs: lilies, red roses, sage, basil, mugwort, and rose.

• Dancing.

• Red wine.

• Clay.

• Depictions of owls, snakes, cats, dogs, bats, dragons, and spiders.

• Mirrors.

• Apples.

• Red or black silk.

• Poetry

DEVOTIONAL ACTS FOR LILITH:

• Respect the rights and autonomy of women and females.

• Honour your feminine side and your sexuality.

• Nurture your creativity.

• Embrace your dark side and your primal nature.

• Embrace your sexuality and your desires.

• Learn to balance your masculine and feminine energies.

• Be independent and strong.

• Do research on Lilith’s origins.

• Be unapologetic and free.

IS IT SAFE TO EAT OR DRINK AN OFFERING I GIVE TO HER?

It is risky to consume offerings given to Lilith. She is often considered a powerful and protective entity associated with the nighttime energy and feminine aspects. Her energies may not be conducive to human consumption. She is also a symbol of rebelliousness and independence, and consuming offerings that have been given to her may cause an imbalance in energy and a disruption in the connection. It is always better to err on the side of caution and avoid eating or drinking offerings that were given to Lilith.

[musicofdoom]

Mark Linkous: A Life of Dramatic Resilience and Beautiful Music

In the world of music, some artists possess a unique ability to turn their personal struggles and hardships into the most beautiful and poignant melodies. Mark Linkous, the creative genius behind the band Sparklehorse, was one such artist. His life was marked by dramatic ups and downs, but through it all, he crafted some of the most hauntingly beautiful music of his generation.

Mark Linkous was born on September 9, 1962, in Arlington, Virginia, and grew up in rural Appalachia, an environment that would later influence his musical style profoundly. He began his musical journey at a young age, playing guitar and experimenting with various instruments. Linkous' early years were filled with the sounds of folk, country, and rock music, which he would later blend into his own unique sonic tapestry.

In the early 1990s, Mark Linkous embarked on his musical career, adopting the moniker "Sparklehorse" for his solo project. His debut album, "Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot," released in 1995, received critical acclaim and marked the beginning of his ascent into the indie music scene. Linkous' music was characterized by its ethereal beauty and melancholic undertones, making it a perfect soundtrack for moments of introspection and contemplation.

Despite struggling with personal demons and mental health issues, Linkous continued to create music that resonated deeply with listeners. His 1998 album, "Good Morning Spider," delved into themes of addiction and isolation, but the haunting melodies and poetic lyrics offered a sense of catharsis and connection to those who listened.

Throughout his career, Mark Linkous collaborated with a diverse range of artists, from Tom Waits to PJ Harvey, showcasing his versatility as a musician and his ability to create music that transcended genre boundaries. These collaborations enriched his body of work and brought new dimensions to his sound.

One of Linkous' most notable collaborations was with Danger Mouse (Brian Burton) on the album "Dark Night of the Soul" (2010). This project featured contributions from several prominent artists, including David Lynch and Julian Casablancas. The album's dreamy, otherworldly atmosphere and Linkous' haunting vocals made it a masterpiece that left a lasting impact on the music industry.

Behind the beauty of Mark Linkous' music lay a dark and tumultuous personal life. Struggles with substance abuse and depression haunted him throughout his career, and he often used his music as a medium to confront and cope with these demons. The song "Sad and Beautiful World" from his album "It's a Wonderful Life" (2001) encapsulates this duality, offering both melancholic introspection and a glimmer of hope.

In 1996, tragedy struck when Linkous overdosed on a combination of drugs while touring in the United Kingdom. He suffered a heart attack and fell into a coma for two weeks. His near-death experience left him with lasting health issues, including limited mobility, and influenced his music profoundly. Despite the physical challenges, Linkous continued to create and tour, showcasing his unwavering dedication to his craft.

Mark Linkous' life was a rollercoaster of dramatic highs and lows, but his ability to channel his pain and struggles into beautiful music was nothing short of remarkable. He left behind a legacy of haunting melodies, introspective lyrics, and a profound impact on the indie music scene. Mark Linkous' music, under the guise of Sparklehorse, continues to inspire and connect with listeners around the world, serving as a testament to the enduring power of art to heal and uplift even in the face of adversity. His life may have been marked by dramatic challenges, but his music will forever be remembered for its extraordinary beauty and emotional depth.

[notapaladin]

the dark of the alley, the breaking of day

Acatl is tired and horny. Teomitl, with all his teasing offers of tending to his needs, is a distraction he can’t tolerate. Surely, if he calls his bluff, the boy will leave him alone, right? It’s not like Teomitl could have possibly meant it like that.

Teomitl does, in fact, mean it like that.

Also on AO3

-

Last night, there had been a star demon loose in the palace, and a councilman is dead. His Emperor is dead. The safety of their world hangs by the thinnest thread, spider silk not strong enough to hold back calamity, and Acatl’s been up all night trying to patch the rift in the boundaries. Every muscle in his body aches. His limbs feel like solid lead. His ears still sting a little where he’s given blood. No matter how bright it is no matter how much sunlight filters through the window and the thin black entrance curtain, he should by all rights be unconscious right now.

He stares up at the ceiling instead, head pillowed on his arms—and his own hair, which is starting to stick disagreeably to the back of his neck—and knows he won’t be that lucky. His mind is as blank as the plaster blurring slightly in front of his eyes, but not nearly so peaceful. Usually when he can’t sleep, it’s because he can’t stop thinking. He would prefer that to this...he’s not sure what to call it. Torpor, maybe, like a great lizard. Something base and animal, far too aware of his own flesh. His blood hums in his veins.

Teomitl’s walked him home. Teomitl, all gleaming gold and gleaming muscles, has walked him home and shaken out his sleeping mat for him and won’t tell him anything about his relationship with Mihmatini even when he asks. Teomitl had smiled at him earlier, teasingly irreverent as always, and said Isn’t that proper respect? Tending to your master’s needs?

As though Acatl needs looking after. He’s exhausted, not weak. He could have managed the walk home by himself.

(If something were to happen, Teomitl had said. He’d been worried. As though he hasn’t been to war himself, as though Acatl hasn’t spent four months of the last year with his heart in his throat because dying in battle may be glorious, may be a path to the Sun’s heaven, may be the good death Teomitl deserves, but the thought of his student never coming home tears at his insides like an ahuitzotl’s claws.)

He takes a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand with it and smelling mostly dust and dried herbs in the kitchen and, ever so faintly, the incense that had lain on Teomitl’s skin. Teomitl, who’s waiting outside. Who had turned away when he’d let his cloak fall, who had actually offered—

Not like that.

It’s definitely not like that. No, Teomitl had been teasing him as always, trying to get a reaction out of him after he’d so snappishly reminded them both of their stations, and he certainly hadn’t been sincere, even though the words had come out with a tone that still sounds to Acatl’s mind—his exhausted mind, he has to remind himself, he’s too tired and not thinking clearly, he can’t be if he’s even entertaining this conclusion—as if Teomitl hadn’t completely been joking. As if he’s thought before about respect, about the things Acatl is owed as his teacher and is definitely not getting, about what he might give instead.

(Your master’s needs.)

Another deep breath, and this time there’s slow heat coiling up like smoke through his veins. He can’t stop seeing the shape of Teomitl’s mouth. Closing his eyes makes it worse, paints all that dark skin and glittering gold and a carelessly crumpled fortune in embroidered cotton across the inside of his lids. It looks like a comfortable adobe wall, Teomitl had said, because he’s never wanted for anything in his life. Because he wouldn’t say it out loud, but he must surely think Acatl’s quarters are shabby and dingy and empty as a nobleman’s promises. Because even standing in the dusty courtyard he’d looked imperial, as utterly out of reach as the Sun. Thank the Duality he hadn’t stayed in the room, but just knowing he’s waiting outside makes Acatl’s skin buzz. Teomitl will hear him, if he cries out. If he calls for him.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t, but the grunt from his throat and the crackle of reeds as he turns over on his mat sounds so loud he’s surprised Teomitl doesn’t burst in anyway. Or maybe that’s just his ears; with vision lost to him, his hearing is sharpened tenfold. There’s a faint rustle from outside; Teomitl shifting in place, maybe? A thud and a series of splashes; that’s probably him drawing water from the well, rinsing paint from his face and most likely soaking his tunic in the process.

A muffled, muttered curse, like Teomitl thinks he won’t hear it; ah, his tunic-related suspicions are confirmed. It doesn’t make him feel better, because now he’s picturing Teomitl peeling it off, the thin fabric sticking just enough to outline firm muscles. The body of a warrior, not heavy and solid with muscle but lean and sculpted as a mountain lion.

With a groan, he shoves his face into the mat. He’s still sore with his own exhaustion, barely able to move his limbs, but that doesn’t seem to matter at all to his mind. But then, why should it? Logic—that Teomitl is his student, a dozen years younger than him, a youth of Imperial blood, sure to become the next Master of the House of Darts, and oh, yes, courting his sister, he is the worst elder brother ever—never has. He’s always been too weak for the boy.

As a general rule, he’s not the sort of man who curses out loud. It’s a bad habit to form; a priest for the Dead must have decorum, and his nieces and nephews, not to mention the youngest calmecac students, are far too happy to repeat anything he says. Right now, he wishes he was.

He sighs, breath stirring a loose strand of hair and making it flutter back against his lips, where it tickles. His skin tingles a little, lips and chest and left hipbone suddenly aware that they’re exposed to the air, and his cock gives another helpful twitch to remind him of its presence. It’s not the first time he’s wound up irritatingly aroused and too tired to take care of it, but it’s probably one of the worst, because he can’t do anything about it. Even if Teomitl wasn’t just outside, fully able to hear any noise he might make, there’s a line between knowing your student is jaw- and loincloth-droppingly attractive and jerking off to the thought of him, and it’s a line he refuses to cross.

(He can barely remember the last time he’s had even the comfort of his own hand. Looking back, maybe Teomitl’s right about his ill temper.)

He might not cross it, but just knowing the line is there—that it needs to be there, because he looks at Teomitl and Teomitl is beautiful and his body wants him even if his mind and heart scream all the reasons why he shouldn’t—makes him growl to himself.

Footsteps approach slowly, with a jerkiness that lets him know his student isn’t used to moving with such care. The bells on the entrance-curtain jingle.

Against all his better judgement, he opens his eyes to stare at Teomitl’s sandals. There’s gold on them too, still bright even though they’re a little dusty from the walk. Equally against his judgement, he trails his gaze up well-muscled calves and gold legbands to thighs that quite frankly should be a crime, framed by an embroidered loincloth and—oh. He was right about the tunic. Teomitl’s taken it off, carrying it awkwardly under one arm, and his bare chest gleams damply.

He wrenches his gaze up to Teomitl’s face. Matters don’t improve. Free of painted stripes, the boy looks younger and more serious, less the future Master of the House of Darts and far more his Teomitl, the young man who walks him home and fusses over whether he’s getting enough to eat and offers to—tend to his needs, his mind keeps getting stuck on that phrase—as though when he sees Acatl he sees more than a poor, skinny priest who’s somehow stumbled into a position of power. As though he sees someone he wants to serve.

The idea makes him dizzy, heat prickling across his skin and pooling low in his gut. This is madness. He is a fool.

Those dark eyes are soft and gentle where they rest on him, so much more innocent than when he’d smirked in the sunlight and teased him so shockingly. “What’s the matter, Acatl-tzin? Can’t sleep?”

A question deserves an answer. And Teomitl’s looking at him in the dim light and can see him looking back, so there’s no way he can feign sleep now. Taking another breath—when had each one started feeling almost like an ordeal?—he mutters, “No.”

Storm Lord strike him down. Storm Lord strike him dead, because Teomitl’s biting his lip and leaning in the doorway with his hip cocked and he sounds so fucking sincere as he asks, “Am I distracting you?” that Acatl would probably be completely taken in if it wasn’t for the light in his eyes which says that he knows he’s pushing his luck. That he knows, and isn’t sorry about it. Am I distracting you, as though walking him home and smiling like that and looking like that, looking like that in his house, where Acatl sleeps, could be anything other than a distraction.

Acatl feels like a man who’s been sat down in front of a feast and only now realized he’s starving. He can’t bite back the noise that escapes him, something between a groan and a snarl, and shuts his eyes again. Yes. Gods, yes.

Because Teomitl’s never been anything but a distraction. Even when they first met, when his thoughts had been distinctly uncharitable, when he’d looked at Teomitl and mostly seen an annoyance, a burden he didn’t ask for, a responsibility he couldn’t take on—even then, his blood had stirred in response. He’d told himself it was just natural interest, that it had been a long time since he’d had anyone who looked at him with admiration, that of course he wasn’t blind and could recognize a beautiful young man when he saw one. He knows it should just be natural interest. But right now he’s too tired to care about any of that; his brain is a slow, heavy thing in his skull, his only coherent thought that he desperately should be sleeping, but Teomitl is all gold and jewels and skin in front of him and no matter how sluggish his limbs are he can’t stop feeling the memory of that skin on his own. His pulse seems to have settled in his belly, thick and hot like warm honey.

That’s about the moment he realizes he’s trapped, because the shadows hide it now but if he rolls over onto his back Teomitl can’t miss that he’s half-hard. Hard and getting harder, just from the memory of Teomitl’s teasing smile.

Good, he thinks a moment later as irritation and lust curdle together in his chest. Let him see. Maybe now he’ll think better of saying things like that.

(Proper respect. Hah. Teomitl’s never been respectful a day in his life.)

He tips himself to one side to land heavily on the mat, giving his head an automatic little shake as he does so in a futile attempt to not lean directly on his own hair. If he was awake enough he’d probably be horrified at his own shamelessness and what he’s about to do, but there’s not even the whisper of a dissenting twinge in his mind as he stretches extravagantly, his wrists crossing loosely above his head and his back arching like a jaguar’s. It feels good, the strain of his muscles, and the noise that hisses through his teeth isn’t just for effect. The little roll of his hips—well, he’s not sure. He certainly doesn’t plan it. But it, too, feels good.

Finally, he cracks his eyes open and studies Teomitl through his lashes, unable to keep the tension from his voice.

“...If I say yes, will you leave?” Will you go back to the palace where you’re supposed to be? Back to courting Mihmatini, like you’re supposed to be? Back to entangling yourself in this entire business of star demons and sorcerers, like you’re not supposed to be but I know I might as well hold back a volcano as try to stop you?

Teomitl’s already crimson, his gaze seemingly glued both to the bulge in Acatl’s loincloth and the knot just above it, which has loosened a little from how Acatl’s been turning over. He sucks in a ragged breath and whispers, “...I should go.”

Too late for that. This time when he drags his gaze up Teomitl’s body, it’s slow. Deliberate. He lets his eyes linger on the curve of a hipbone bordered by bright cotton, on forearms marked here and there with pale scars he’s bandaged himself and wants desperately to trace. "Already? I thought you said you'd tend to my needs, hm?" He can’t help the raised eyebrow, even though it’s mean and unworthy of him. It’s not his fault Teomitl had actually said the words first.

And it gets Teomitl to make a sound like he’s been stabbed, eyes darkening as he chokes out a shaky, “By the Duality, Acatl-tzin.”

He flicks a pointed look down his own body, and then back to Teomitl’s face. This time it’s direct, a clear challenge. “Well?”

For just a moment, everything falls still. Neither of them move.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. For Teomitl to turn and leave, probably. To walk away, say it was all a misunderstanding, probably angrily demand to know what sort of fool Acatl thought he was if he thought he’d meant anything sordid by it—he’d probably just meant to rub his shoulders and tidy up around the house, to take some of the strain of daily tasks off his master’s back, and absolutely not any of the sort of things Acatl knows full well can be got up to between two reasonably fit men even if one of them currently has as much energy as a slug, because Teomitl has more than enough for the both of them and it’s certainly not Teomitl’s fault if Acatl can think of plenty of ways his lovely student might burn it off. Not even if it had sounded to his ears, fool that he is, that Teomitl is offering; why would he? What can he possibly have to gain, when all laws of decency say Acatl can’t accept?

Yes, Acatl knows in the next instant that Teomitl will storm off, outraged and offended, and he’ll feel like the scum of the earth for having been so cruel to him even if the boy is an awful brat who deserves it.

So when Teomitl instead lets the curtain fall with a jangle of bells, takes three steps into the room, and rolls easily from kneeling on the mat besides him to straddling Acatl’s thighs in a single smooth motion, he’s shocked into speechlessness. The hot solid weight of the man on top of him and the expression on his face—hunger, eagerness, hope, joy all mixed together—robs him of thought.

He makes a sound. It’s not a word, but Teomitl must take it as assent anyway because he breathes, “Gods, yes,” and kisses him.

Oh, fuck.

Something resembling energy lances through his sleep-stiffened limbs; not enough, not nearly enough, but it lets him bring his hands down and rest one across the small of Teomitl’s back while the other grabs for the base of his neck, feeling Teomitl make a desperate noise into his mouth as his fingers dig in. He’s been kissed before—once, when he was still in calmecac—but that sad wet fumbling when he was fifteen has as much in common with this as a turtle does with the moon. Teomitl’s braced on his elbows, fingers tangling in the already-tangled fall of Acatl’s hair, and his mouth is moving against Acatl’s with such surety that it’s the easiest thing in the world to follow his lead, to let his lips part like this and shift under him like that, pressing their bodies together with a moan at the heat and the welcome friction on his wanting skin. Teomitl makes another noise, and this time the grind is purposeful, and Acatl has to break away to gasp.

Teomitl doesn’t let him get far. He just moves his attention downwards, mouthing along his chin and jaw, heedless of the stubble Acatl hasn’t yet had time to shave, and pants, “So beautiful, gods, fuck, I’ve dreamed about this...”

He groans, letting his head fall back. The fact that it gives Teomitl more room to work on his throat, the hot wet suction of his mouth and occasional delicious spark of sharp teeth setting his nerves on fire, is irrelevant; he just can’t process his student’s words any other way. Teomitl thinks he’s beautiful. Teomitl’s dreamed of this. He’d call it a lie if the proof wasn’t impossible to ignore, pressing hot and insistent against his thigh. “Yes,” he gasps out, and when his grip tightens on the back of Teomitl’s neck Teomitl bucks against him in a way that makes his skin sing. “More.”

There’s no mistaking that noise for anything but a growl as Teomitl grinds down again, this time dragging his teeth over Acatl’s pulse. “Acatl-tzin,” he says, and he sounds wrecked already. Wrecked and starving.

Acatl can’t get his hands between them to start working on their clothes—there isn’t space, and anyway he’s so disjointed with lust and sleep deprivation that he’s not sure how well his fingers will obey him—but he manages to grab for Teomitl’s hips and say, “You promised,” which sounds stupid and demanding and far more entitled than he really feels because this is a gift he does not deserve, but which clearly does something for Teomitl because the man snarls as he shoves himself up to lock eyes with Acatl, hands in his hair ensuring he can’t get away.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, and maybe he means it to sound like an order but it comes out more like a plea. “My mouth? My ass? My cock? Gods, I’ll give you anything.”

Acatl hears himself make a noise that sounds like he’s dying. Teomitl wants him to think? He’s offering him all these choices, and he expects him to makes a decision when quite possibly half his total volume of blood is in his cock? “You’re the one doing all the work,” he huffs. “You pick.”

Teomitl’s smile is wicked and radiant and a little shy. “Are you sure? I know you’re tired, I don’t want to push you—”

“Then don’t,” he snaps, and digs his fingers hard into the meat of Teomitl’s thighs to prove he might be exhausted but he’s perfectly capable of bearing up under whatever Teomitl might be about to put him through.

(Probably perfectly capable. Having Teomitl on top of him like this, all lean strong muscles and flashing eyes, feels a bit like being cornered by a jaguar with something to prove. Every inch of his skin is acutely aware of just how much stronger Teomitl is than him, how easily he could be manhandled. How easily he could be broken, if Teomitl felt like it.)

It should be frightening, but instead it’s thrilling—especially when Teomitl flushes and grins and says, “I won’t, I promise, but if there’s oil in this house I really want to fuck you.”

It takes a second for that to sink in. Then it does, and lust hits him so hard he goes, “Gnkh.” He’s used his own fingers before, and it’s always incredible—in the state he’s in now, an orgasm like that would probably knock him out cold—but it’s tiring and he can never get the angle quite right before his wrist starts to hate him. He’s wondered what it might be like with someone else, someone he trusts, someone powerful and athletic and passionate who cares enough to make it good, but the details have always been ghostly shapes in his mind. This is real. This is real, and he wants it, and just in this moment he can’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t have it.

Before Teomitl can think to take it back, he snaps, “Wicker chest in the corner, jar shaped like an avocado. Get it. Now.”

Teomitl practically scrambles away from him, eager enough to be clumsy and clumsy enough to sink warm and endearing into Acatl’s heart. “Right, yes, got it—” He’s rifling through the chest with one hand and tearing at his loincloth with the other; at any other time the sight of Teomitl getting naked in a situation where he’s allowed to look would stop Acatl’s brain in its tracks, but right now it only reminds him that he himself is still dressed and that absolutely won’t do.

He’s not sure how he manages the knot in his loincloth. Sheer habit, maybe, because he’s absolutely not thinking about what he’s doing. Teomitl is barely an arm’s length away, wearing only his jewels—he resorts to his teeth to wrench one stubborn ring off so it won’t get in the way, which is possibly one of the hottest things Acatl’s ever seen—and so insofar as Acatl’s aware of his own body it’s in flashes. An achingly hard cock, limbs loose and sluggish, one elbow aching a bit where he’s automatically pushed himself up for a better view.

Loincloths don’t hide much, as a general rule. He’s gotten very used to not letting himself look at or think about what lays beneath. Now that he is, he can’t look away. Teomitl’s cock is maybe a little larger than his—it’s hard to tell in the dim light—with a slight upward curve, and a shuddery little tremor curls through his gut at the realization that it’s going to be inside him. At any other time, he might wonder whether it’s going to fit.

He’s not particularly concerned about that now. Teomitl is...impatient at the best of times, but he takes direction remarkably well, especially when it’s something he wants to do. And this was his student’s idea in the first place. Surely it’s respectful to follow orders.

As Teomitl rolls back towards him, he lets his legs fall open. It’s easy to do; he feels boneless now, his limbs so heavy that it’s all he can do to bend his knees for better access. If Teomitl wants more, he’ll have to arrange him to his liking himself.

He doesn’t. Instead he kneels between Acatl’s legs, open jar in hand, and spends a long moment just looking at him. Acatl knows what he must be seeing—black hair, brown skin, cock flushed dark where it lays against his flat stomach, legs scarred from bloodletting and battles and falls, hole twitching a little in anticipation of what’s about to happen—but he can’t tell what Teomitl thinks about it.

(He’s called him beautiful.)

“Look at you,” Teomitl whispers, and oh. There’s his answer. Teomitl sounds awestruck, as though instead of a scarred and battered priest who’s missed a few too many meals he’s worshipping between the thighs of Xochipilli Himself. His expression may be unreadable, but that voice removes all doubt. He slides a hand up Acatl’s calf, warm fingers digging lightly into the muscle. Too lightly, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt him.

It makes Acatl flush and shiver, which in turn makes him feel snappish. “Having second thoughts?” he asks waspishly, and curses himself for a fool in the next moment because there’s always the chance Teomitl will say yes.

Teomitl does not say yes. Teomitl, in fact, sucks in a breath like he’s been burned and blurts out, “No.” He’s red all the way up to his ears; Acatl has a split second to wonder why (he’s asked for this, he’s jumped at the chance, surely he isn’t shy?) before his reckless, prideful, sun-bright student presses his face into Acatl’s knee and mutters, “It’s just—I know the mechanics, but I’ve never...done this before.”

Acatl is entirely too sluggish for the shock of pure, possessive hunger that rips through his veins. He’s never done this before charges through his mind, trips over its own feet, and collides messily with Mine. It doesn’t matter that he’s just as inexperienced; he’s older, he’s certainly more knowledgeable when it comes to anatomy, and he’s very, very good at being patient. Everyone starts somewhere, after all.

When he inhales, it feels like resurfacing from Tlalocan. “Don’t worry,” he hears himself say, “I’ll teach you.” Some perversity makes him smirk as he adds, “It can’t be worse than your rowing.”

Teomitl jerks back, stung. “I could leave,” he huffs.

“You won’t,” he says, and realizes a moment afterwards that he’s absolutely sure of it. Teomitl’s promised. He’s not the sort of person to renege on that, no matter how many jibes Acatl throws his way.

Besides, he can’t be too annoyed since he’s running his hands up Acatl’s thighs in a distinctly appreciative manner. “Mm. You’re right.” Teomitl’s smile is far too tender for someone who’s naked and kneeling between his legs like that. “I’ll take such good care of you, Acatl-tzin.”

The words probably shouldn’t make him melt, but he feels tension leak out of his spine that he hadn’t even realized was in there. Teomitl’s staying. Teomitl will take care of him. Teomitl will, very probably, do anything he wants if he can find the words to ask, and that realization is a little intoxicating; he lets himself flop back on the mat, one hand pillowing his head and the other half-heartedly reaching for the nearest bit of Teomitl he can reach, because they aren’t touching enough. “When you’re ready,” he murmurs, as his fingers fall against Teomitl’s knee.

It’s not that he’s expecting Teomitl to dive right into it. It just wouldn’t surprise him. He’s half expecting slick fingers pushing messily at his entrance, but what he actually gets instead is one strong hand grabbing his hip while the other—ignores everything between his legs completely in favor of trailing hot and callused over his chest, making him arch into it automatically. “I like you like this,” Teomitl murmurs. “I get to explore.”

He huffs out a breath, a retort ready on his tongue—there’s not much to explore, not unless Teomitl is actually aroused by the skin-and-bones look—but then a thumb circles one nipple and what comes out is, “Nngh.”

“Do you like that?” Teomitl’s voice is honey-sweet, his eyes alight with triumph.

“Don’t tease,” he grumbles. He can feel his face burning. It’s worse when Teomitl does it again, this time adding the faint scrape of a nail that makes him gasp and close his eyes.

Teomitl’s fingers find the ends of his hair and give it a sharp little tug. His voice is a low, firm hum on the air, somehow both tender and commanding at once. “Look at me when we’re doing this, Acatl-tzin.”

He can’t do anything else when Teomitl asks like that; the way the man’s tongue curls around Acatl-tzin sends such a spike of lust through him his cock jumps untouched against his belly, and when he opens his eyes the answering hunger in Teomitl’s face has his mouth watering. By the Duality, if he hadn’t been up all night—if he just had the energy—! But he absolutely does not, so instead of following through on his wild thought of yanking Teomitl over on top of him he just rolls his hips, almost but not quite rubbing up against Teomitl’s cock, and huffs, “Get on with it, then.”

“Aren’t you always telling me to be patient?” Teomitl’s tone might be innocent, but the catlike tilt of his head and the gleam in his eye is anything but. He mercifully stops playing with Acatl’s nipple, but the way he proceeds to slide the flat of his palm down Acatl’s stomach—slowly, inexorably, as though his skin is precious jade instead of a meager barrier between his guts and the outside world—is just as pleasurable in a different way, because it presses Acatl down into the mat and reminds him he really can’t get away from this even if he wants to.

He has told him that. He’s at least ninety percent sure Teomitl’s never listened. Then again, he’s not feeling very patient himself; Teomitl’s promised to fuck him, and he isn’t, and he’s definitely not going to be satisfied with just the man’s hand. “Hah,” he pants shakily.

Teomitl’s nails scratch lightly at what passes for his abs, and as he squirms at the sensation his student actually chuckles. “Let me show you how well you’ve taught me, Acatl-tzin,” he breathes, and finally—finally—wraps a hand around Acatl’s cock.

Fuck, that shouldn’t turn him on. Teomitl’s his student. The man looks up to him, expects him to guide him through life’s trials, thinks he’s a good man worthy of respect. He should be disgusted with himself. But his student is stroking his cock, fondling his balls, pumping first lightly and then a little harder to test what kind of reactions it gets, and only the fact that it’s the middle of the day is stopping Acatl from moaning out loud. His breath hisses out in increasingly heavy pants as he works his hips, and he barely has the presence of mind to manage, “You can do that harder, I’m not made of cotton fluff—oh.” That oh is because Teomitl’s wasted no time, and the next firm downward stroke has him biting his lip to stop the sound that wants to escape.

Teomitl makes a rough little noise in his own throat, rutting forward against the crease of Acatl’s thigh. “Gods—like that? You like that?”

“Obviously,” he huffs, shifting his weight; moving under his own power is almost a shock to his system, muscles protesting anything that isn’t just laying there and taking whatever Teomitl gives him, but each pump of his cock—firmer, less cautious now that Teomitl’s getting a sense of what he likes—leaves him with little choice. He wants, very badly, to touch him. To be pressed down by him, feel the heat and weight of that warrior’s body atop him. He wants Teomitl’s cock, which is so frustratingly close it makes him growl.

He must look impatient, because Teomitl grins. “I do aim to please,” he purrs, and the way his grip tightens just a bit more near the head of his cock makes Acatl’s brain go fuzzy around the edges.

He can’t think. Teomitl’s not stopping, and each stroke is slick enough with his own oozing precum to stoke the fire in his veins. He pushes himself up, makes an abortive movement towards Teomitl’s wrist. “You’ve never aimed—nnh—to please me in your life.”

Teomitl’s fingers ripple. His other hand slides lower down, rolling his balls in his palm and feeling the weight of them before pressing against the sensitive spot behind them, and that makes Acatl’s body jolt so hard he falls back to the mat again. “Teomitl,” he gasps.

Teomitl hums, pressing a kiss to the side of his knee. Then a little higher, on his thigh, where Acatl hadn’t thought he’d be sensitive but is rapidly learning otherwise. “Am I not pleasing you now, Acatl-tzin? Do you want me to stop?”

Gods, why does this little brat keep asking him questions? He’s never wanted anything less in his life, but he knows that if Teomitl keeps going he’ll come, and then he most certainly won’t have the energy for anything other than sleep. Maybe he should say yes, let this be as far as they go—no, he knows he should. He’s taken vows. A helping hand is one thing, but letting Teomitl bend him in half and sink into him the way he so clearly wants to will shatter all promises of chastity like a carelessly thrown plate down a staircase. His virginity isn’t something he can take back.

(Let me tend to your needs, Teomitl has said, and I really want to fuck you, and I’ll take care of you.)

He closes his eyes, toes curling, as Teomitl mouths at his inner thigh again and does something with his thumb on the head of his cock that pulls a sharp breath out of him. Teomitl might have offered, but he’s the one who called his bluff. Who took him up on it. Those vows are shattered shards already.

So no, he doesn’t want to stop. But he still has his pride, tattered as it is, so he thrusts into Teomitl’s grip and huffs, “Didn’t I say to get on with it?”

Teomitl makes another one of those smug little sounds, but instead of stopping right away he angles his wrist and pumps Acatl’s cock hard once, twice, three times until Acatl knows he’s so achingly close it would only take a little more to send him over the edge. There’s no biting back the half-strangled gritted moans that escape him. His mind has narrowed down to one thing and one thing only.

More.

And then Teomitl lets him go, the heat of his touch vanishing so quickly that Acatl’s got his eyes open and his torso shoved up on one elbow in the next instant, a frustrated snarl at the tip of his tongue that comes out in a sharp, “Teomitl.”

The raw heat in Teomitl’s eyes strikes Acatl to the core, but his voice is a near-innocent purr as he murmurs, “Sorry. I got carried away.” The way he’s running his hands up the insides of Acatl’s thighs says he’s not sorry at all.

As weak as Acatl’s limbs are, it’s making no difference to the rest of him; his heart is hammering fit to escape its prison of ribs, and his cock is throbbing in a way that’s almost too sensitive. His tongue is clumsy in his mouth, and the first and second and third things that come to mind are varying degrees of profane—but, he realizes a moment later, Teomitl’s right to apologize. There’s so much more he wants to do before he lets himself pass out. It would positively be a waste to find release now.

So instead of cursing or begging, what comes out is, “Thought you said you were going to fuck me.”

Teomitl gets the strangest look on his face, almost hurt. “And I will. Don’t you trust me?”

What an odd question. Acatl is aware, of course, that there are men for whom the act of sexual intercourse is as meaningless and prosaic as scratching an itch, who look at their partners and see not another person but a means to their own selfish ends, but he’s never been one of them. Being naked with someone, showing them all the most private and tender parts of himself—he can hardly imagine an act that requires more trust. Teomitl has walked into Tlalocan with him, fought beasts of shadows with him, put himself and his pride into Acatl’s hands and said I still need you. Acatl’s never once doubted his honor or his bravery or his willingness to do what he thinks is right, has never felt anything other than safe with him.

(Well, unless Jade Skirt is speaking through him. A man has some limits, and being creeped out by an ageless, malicious goddess using his lovely student as a mouthpiece is only a matter of self-preservation. Or unless they’re on the water, because Teomitl still can’t steer in a straight line to save his life.)

So he licks his lips, watches Teomitl’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue, and says, “You’ve never given me cause to doubt you before.”

Teomitl blushes. Acatl’s heart stutters, but before he can say anything else—you always do so well for me, maybe, or you work so hard—the man grabs his thigh with one hand and the nearly-neglected jar with the other, and every nerve in his body jumps to attention at once. He’d thought he was relaxed before—he’s too tired not to be, surely—but after that near-climax and how aroused he still is, it takes actual conscious effort for him not to tense up. To remember to breathe, because they’re actually going to do this.

After a moment of watching Teomitl wrestle with the lid, though, he points out, “You need both hands.”

Teomitl looks actually offended by that. “Why? Who designed this?!”

“Someone who didn’t want it to spill; have you ever tried to clean oil off anything?” he huffs back.

The sound of the lid coming off is remarkably loud, but he barely notices it because Teomitl’s eyes are gleaming in a way that says he’s found a way to prove himself. “Oh, I know. It sinks into everything. I’ll buy you a new sleeping mat later, if you want.”

Hindsight helpfully informs him that they probably should have put a sheet down. Since there’s no chance of either of them actually doing that—he’s so aroused he can barely remember how his legs work, and Teomitl is slicking his fingers up and looking at him like a starving man at a feast—he mentally consigns the mat he’s just broken in to the midden heap. It’s a worthy sacrifice.

Especially because now Teomitl is parting his thighs with his gaze locked on Acatl’s face, lip lightly bitten in concentration as he runs one finger around the rim of Acatl’s hole without penetrating. “Breathe,” he murmurs.

Acatl breathes. Teomitl presses in. It’s not—painful, it doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel like much of anything else, either. Strange, mostly because he’s used to his own touch and this is another man’s hands on him, in him, for the first time. Teomitl’s hands are larger than his, the fingers broader, and he’s being so cautious. Quetzal feathers, Acatl thinks again, and raises his hips up a little. “Deeper, come on.”

“Like this?” Teomitl asks, and when Acatl nods that exploring finger sinks in to the knuckle and curls and Teomitl wasn’t exaggerating about knowing the mechanics, because that does feel good. Good enough to make Acatl shudder and clench down, breath leaving him in a sharp gasp.

Teomitl’s own breath hitches. “Gods—was that too much? Oh, you’re so tight—” And he seems to find that irresistible, because though he’s not deliberately striking that spot again he starts probing deeper.

Gods, without the distractions of his own touch Acatl can feel everything. He makes an animal sound, working his hips in a rough circle before scraps of words—of instructions—come back to him. “More,” he breathes, and then, raw and honest, “I want all of you, Teomitl—nngh.” That’s almost a moan, and he barely clamps his jaw shut in time to keep it down, because hearing I want all of you seems to galvanize this best student he’s ever had; Teomitl starts working him with purpose, pulling halfway out only to pour more oil onto his skin and Acatl’s thighs, and Acatl is panting and rocking into it before he knows it.

But it’s still not enough. “I said more,” he snaps, and Teomitl growls low in his throat and adds a second finger alongside the first. Now it’s a stretch, but he’s so open and hungry for it that it doesn’t burn.

(He kind of wants it to. Pain might help him last longer, and he doesn’t want this to end yet.)

And Teomitl has always been a fast learner. He pumps his fingers in and out, so slick Acatl can actually hear the wet squelch of his own flesh as Teomitl opens him up, and now that he’s found the right angle he’s making sure that each clever movement at least glides past that one spot that makes Acatl see stars. It’s like the boy is determined to drive him mad. If he is, he’s succeeding; Acatl’s having an increasingly hard time keeping his voice at an acceptable level, until finally he has to clap a hand over his own mouth—

Faster than a striking snake, Teomitl lunges forward and grabs his wrist. “No,” he grits out, and since his other hand hasn’t stopped—since, in fact, the way he’s moved has forced Acatl to move with him, and now those fingers can get even deeper—Acatl’s attempted retort comes out as a filthy moan instead.

Filthy and loud, and his skin burns. “It’s the middle of the day,” he does not whine.

Teomitl shakes his head, a firm dismissal. “I don’t care. I want to hear you, Acatl-tzin. I want to know how good you feel.”

“You,” he starts, but he can’t finish whatever he’s going to say because Teomitl’s judged him loose enough to fit a third finger and it’s so much that his hips buck, thighs flexing and free hand scrabbling for Teomitl’s waist. The weight and heat of him is perfect, and all Acatl can do is arch his back when those fingers spread wide. This time, he doesn’t bother trying to swallow his groan of pleasure.

It’s not enough for Teomitl, who twines their fingers together and nips sharply at Acatl’s throat. “Louder,” he whispers.

The sharp sting of teeth reminds him he’s not as in control of this as he probably should be, and the mingled frustration and lust that courses through him at that realization (of course Teomitl would take control, of course he would let him) makes his voice shake as he snaps, “Teomitl!” Someone might hear, he wants to say, but the words don’t come out. He tries, but then Teomitl bites at his collarbone and he just gasps instead.

And then Teomitl lifts his head and meets his eyes and grins so sweetly, so wickedly, and says, “You said you’d teach me. How am I supposed to learn without feedback?”

Acatl could strangle him. “Get your fucking cock in me and we’ll see about feedback, you little bastard.”

Teomitl jerks back, fingers slipping half out of him as he makes a sound of delighted surprise. He’s probably never even considered Acatl knows words like that, but it’s clear he approves. “...Oh, what a filthy mouth,” he breathes, eyes sparkling. “You must really want it.”

Acatl just glares at him. His limbs may be loose and uncoordinated as warm rubber, but his hole is stretched and twitching around Teomitl’s fingers, sparks flickering through his core every time Teomitl shifts the angle even slightly. His hips keep shuddering restlessly in a futile attempt to establish a rhythm, and his cock—still leaking where it rests against his belly—is so hard it almost hurts. Right now, he’s pretty sure he could come on Teomitl’s fingers alone, but he doesn’t want to.

Not when Teomitl’s promised to fuck him, and his cock is right there and untouched and so thick and hard, gods, he’s suddenly remembering the way Teomitl flushed when he said he hadn’t done this before and clenches hard around Teomitl’s fingers, breath leaving him in a sound like a jaguar in search of prey.

“Alright,” Teomitl says, and takes a deep breath as though he needs to gather his courage. “Alright, just—give me a moment.”

Slowly, Teomitl pulls his fingers out. Acatl’s exhale is almost a sob as he’s left empty, and for the first time he thinks, Please.

He knows Teomitl is slicking himself up without looking—the little bitten-off hitch of breath is sweet music to his ears—but the feeling of a blunt cockhead pressed against his entrance still makes him tense a little without realizing it before he makes himself relax.

“Acatl-tzin,” Teomitl breathes.

He opens his eyes—when had he closed them?—and meets Teomitl’s gaze. There’s hunger there, yes, and desperate need, but also something soft he can’t dwell on, not now. So instead he nods, and Teomitl starts sinking in.

The very small part of his mind that’s capable of any conscious thought right now muses that maybe Teomitl’s more patient than he’s previously realized. The rest—the rest is blank. Frozen. Entirely silent. Because he’s known Teomitl’s a decent size, but it’s one thing to look at that cock while feeling those strong, clever fingers and another thing entirely to have it pushing its way inside, Teomitl’s hands on his hips tight enough to bruise as they hold him in place. A low and guttural moan pours out of his throat that he can’t even think about muffling, because little things like the time of day or the likelihood of being caught don’t matter next to the blessed relief of being filled. Teomitl’s done such a good job opening him up that it doesn’t hurt, but he can’t help clenching up around the intrusion anyway.

Teomitl bottoms out, hips flush against his ass, and makes a breathless sound of his own. “Gods. You’re so—you feel—” And then he drops to his elbows, cutting himself off because he’s apparently decided kissing Acatl is more important than talking.

Acatl’s inclined to agree. Teomitl’s good with his hands and his cock is already incredible even if he hasn’t yet proved he knows how to use it, but he’s really missed that mouth. This time it’s fiercer, rougher, but his lips are still soft. The way he licks into Acatl’s mouth has him moaning and grabbing for the back of Teomitl’s neck again, but now he digs his nails in, drags them over the nape of Teomitl’s neck, and Teomitl growls into his mouth and thrusts roughly into him.

“Anh!” It’s half gasp, half whine, and entirely filthy. He doesn’t care anymore. His back arches, trying to draw Teomitl in deeper, and Teomitl’s whole body trembles.

Trembles, but doesn’t move. No, instead Teomitl lifts his head and looks at him, hips rocking forward ever so slightly like it’s a real struggle to hold himself still, like he wants so badly to just take—but he’s not. He’s being careful, considerate, and something in Acatl’s chest twists hard as he asks, “Good?”

He nods. Teomitl takes a deep breath, braces himself on the mat—gods, Acatl can feel all the muscles flex in his back when he does that, and it makes him wonder briefly whether he’d survive if Teomitl decided to get rough with him—and does it again, faster this time and knocking another one of those noises out of him. Acatl tries to work his hips, keeping him to that rhythm, but on the next thrust he can’t suppress a growl of frustration. Faster, he thinks, and more.

He scratches at Teomitl’s shoulders, “Wait,” he pants. It comes out ragged, because Teomitl chooses that moment to snap his hips forward and it’s just hard enough to be jarring and he knows that’s the kind of thing he wants right now.

Teomitl’s hips jerk once more, seemingly automatically—and then he must register what Acatl’s said, because he freezes. “Acatl-tzin?”

By the Duality. He sounds worried. As if he thinks he’s hurt him—as if he thinks it matters, when pain is an offering to the gods and a little soreness is such a small price for the slick wet perfect heat of Teomitl’s cock inside him. Acatl wriggles, tries to bring his legs up more. “Angle’s wrong,” he huffs. “Up a bit—oh!”

Because Teomitl’s drawn back, grabbed for his thighs, and without any apparent effort bent him nearly in half, and this time when he fucks back in it’s so deep it steals the breath from his lungs. “Like this?” And then he has the nerve to look down at him and grin, all sharp teeth and confidence.

Acatl whines. Maybe at any other time he’d feel embarrassed about that noise, but not now. Teomitl’s just moved him like he weighs nothing, and he’s stretched so open that all he can do is spasm and squeeze around him, feeling every inch of the cock buried in him. His nails dig into Teomitl’s back for something to hold onto; even pinned to the mat by Teomitl’s weight, his cock between their stomachs, he finds himself squirming in a bid for more.

Teomitl thrusts deep, this time hitting spots that make Acatl’s nerves light up like a thunderstorm, and snarls through gritted teeth, “I asked you a question.”

He can’t think about anything like respect or status anymore. It doesn’t matter. What matters is Teomitl’s hands on him, Teomitl’s cock in him—he twists a little, pushes, and his ankles fall into place around Teomitl’s waist and pull them closer, which means he gets Teomitl’s mouth on his neck too—and he’s willing to throw away all his pride in an instant for more of this. “Please,” he gasps out.

He can feel Teomitl’s teeth graze his throat as the man speaks, low and sure. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

And then Teomitl starts fucking him.

It’s deep and hard and steady, and every time he draws his hips back it drags against that bundle of nerves that sends tremors down Acatl’s spine, and even though his breath is hot against his throat he seems determined to keep it up for as long as it takes to drive Acatl mad. Acatl’s so hungry for it he can’t keep to any sort of regular rhythm; instead he only manages to gasp and tighten around him, catching blurry glimpses of the ceiling whenever his eyes flutter open, whenever he’s not squeezing them shut at each fresh thrust. He’d thought it would feel—good, yes, he’d expected good. He hadn’t expected that his breath would stutter out in little gasping cries, that Teomitl would make little punched-out groans every time he fucked back in, that he’d be getting fucked so full and still crave more.

Teomitl’s cock has officially shoved all the thoughts out of his head. Well. Almost all the thoughts. “Gods, gods, Teomitl—” Another thrust, cutting him off in a near-sob, and he claws roughly at Teomitl’s back to urge him on. Faster, he thinks but can’t say—but Teomitl picks up on it anyway, because he’s finally picking up the pace and now Acatl’s toes are curling, his own voice nearly a stranger to him. “You’re so good, that feels perfect, don’t stop—”

Teomitl’s hips stutter inside him. Pressed this close, he can feel how fast the man’s heart is beating, how rough his breathing is—but he knows he’s still holding back. Not because he doesn’t think Acatl can take it, but because...

His voice in Acatl’s ear sounds like he’s holding onto his control by a thread. “I won’t,” he growls. “Not until you’re satisfied.”

Something goes soft in Acatl’s chest. “Good boy,” he breathes, but he doesn’t have any time to dwell on the way Teomitl’s breath catches at his words because Teomitl is a good boy, the best boy, and just as he promised he’s not stopping.

No, he’s keeping that pace and that angle, every sharp snap of his hips drawing Acatl closer and closer to the edge, and all Acatl has to do—all he can do, really, between the steadily mounting pleasure and the state of his limbs—is lay there and take it. He digs his nails hard into Teomitl’s back and shoulders, mouths at his throat when the opportunity presents itself, hears and feels Teomitl gasp his name when Acatl’s teeth meet the underside of his jaw a bit too hard. He’s beyond coherent thought, mind a steady babble of yes please more.

(And just one obsidian-sharp scrap, erased in the next instant, that if he ever finds out who’s responsible for priestly vows of chastity he’s going to murder them.)

Teomitl’s picking up speed now, pace rougher and more erratic, and his voice cracks wetly as he gasps, “Acatl-tzin—c’mon, please.”

It’s the please that does it. He has a split second to think yes—yes, he can deny this man nothing, yes, he’ll give him everything he wants—and then Teomitl’s slamming into him and he’s coming so hard his vision whites out, so hard that when he spasms wildly around Teomitl’s cock Teomitl bites his shoulder and only barely muffles his own dying-animal groan. The man holds out a little longer, but not much; a few more thrusts, and just when Acatl thinks the aftershocks are starting to fade his legs tremble all over again because by the Duality, he can actually feel Teomitl’s cock throb inside him as he’s filled up. It makes him whine, just on the edge of overstimulation, and he knows he’ll feel it later. He doesn’t care.

Caring starts to filter in a long moment later, when Teomitl pulls out with a breathy gasp and his hips roll, instinctively chasing the sensation. As he adjusts to being empty again he becomes gradually aware of what seems, to his still-foggy brain and racing heart, to be the most important problem. Namely, Oh, we’ve made a mess.

He flops back bonelessly onto the mat that will now definitely need to be washed—if not replaced entirely, because out of the corner of his eye he can see Teomitl’s fingers have put holes in it. Teomitl, who is still on top of him, still panting into his neck, who’s now smoothing his hand down his side as though he’s content to stay here forever even though it’s too sticky and hot to tolerate skin-on-skin contact for long. Acatl finds he doesn’t particularly want to push him off. An arm has landed across Teomitl’s back, and his knee is pressing into the outside of Teomitl’s thigh, and both limbs are perfectly content to stay there. And besides, he’s still catching his breath. If he was exhausted before, he’s shattered now.

Teomitl breaks the silence. “...I’ll clean us up.”

He grumbles something indistinct as Teomitl pulls away, too tired and too sated to be much more than dead weight as his limbs are rearranged. There’s cum all over their chests and stomachs, sticky and white against Teomitl’s glistening brown skin. He’s vaguely aware he can feel it dripping out of him, but next to everything else—the dull ache in his core, the thin pull of a strand of hair that’s wound up trapped in the crook of his elbow, the throbbing of his lethargic, overworked limbs—it barely registers. His hamstrings are already starting to voice complaints. He wonders if he’ll be able to walk later, or if Teomitl will insist he rest more.

He probably will. He always worries too much. But then, none of this would be happening if he didn’t.

Acatl drifts a little. He’s distantly aware of Teomitl leaving the room, a faint splash, a return accompanied by a cool wet cloth and warm, strong hands on his body. Teomitl murmurs something—an explanation, a request for him to move—and he lets it happen. Lets Teomitl wipe them both clean, lets himself be molded into new positions and rolled halfway off the mat so that can be wiped down too. When Teomitl deposits him back in the same (now drier) spot he’s been in, he lets out a long sigh.

I love you.

The thought drops into his mind like a rock on the surface of the lake.

It is followed a moment later by a different, worse thought, less a coherent word than a shot of adrenaline. Fuck.

Because there are star demons loose in the palace, a hole in the Fifth World, and a dead Emperor he needs to see safely to Mictlan. Because this isn’t something that can be undone or taken back. Because Teomitl is stretched out on the mat next to him, fingers carding gently through his hair, and he never wants him to stop.

Teomitl’s voice is soft. “...Think you can sleep now?”

It’s a rhetorical question. He’s barely conscious as it is, and when the words register he only hums and nestles into the mat. “Mmm...”

There’s a fond huff of laughter as Teomitl draws his hair off his neck, bundling it out behind him so he won’t lay on it. “I’ll be here when you wake up, Acatl-tzin.”

I know, he thinks, and drifts away.

&

When he wakes, he knows he’s alone before he even opens his eyes. There’s none of the warmth of Teomitl’s body or the steady rhythm of his breathing, and just for a moment he can’t remember why he thinks there should be—but then he shifts, just a little, and the telltale soreness in hips and thighs and buttocks reminds him, with exquisite clarity, just what he’s done. What they’ve done, together.

His eyes are already closed. He wishes he could close them more, like that would somehow block it all out. He feels like something that’s been dead a week.

(Physically. Emotionally, he’s vaguely aware he should feel worse. But he thinks about Teomitl’s hands on his skin, in his hair, and the knife-edge of emotion that slices through him isn’t as bad as it should be.)

Grimacing, he makes himself stretch, gritting his teeth as his muscles protest. It’s odd—he certainly feels rested, mentally if nothing else, but it’s been a long time since he’s exerted himself like that in a situation where nobody’s trying to kill him, and now he doesn’t have blood loss or impending doom or grief for those he’s lost to distract him from how generally out of shape he is. A thought flits across his mind that maybe he should have asked Teomitl for a massage. Duality knows he would have obliged him.

The thought stutters to a halt, and his face burns at the extremely fresh recollection of how obliging Teomitl’s already been. He prods at his collarbone and feels what’s probably a bruise. Ah. It can be hidden, if he ties his cloak right. If he’s careful. He’ll have to be very, very careful from now on.

He dresses slowly, carefully. His hands tremble a little as he ties his loincloth, the incidental brush of his own fingers reminding him too much of Teomitl’s warm hands. Teomitl, who’d promised to be there when he woke up and is therefore definitely still hovering outside. Teomitl, who he’ll have to look in the eye and tell—what? We shouldn’t have done that? True. That was foolish of me? I’m sorry? Both true, and his guts twist hard. No matter how eager Teomitl had been—how eager they’d both been—there’s no way Teomitl can look at him the same now.

Part of him, the shamefully weak part, wants to avoid it. If they don’t talk about it, they can pretend it never happened. Their relationship won’t change. Teomitl will still be his student, still tailing him like an overeager hound, still fussing over him and disrespecting him at every turn and shining bright, so bright, burning like the sun but it won’t matter because Acatl can’t ever touch him again—

No.

He takes a breath. Ties his hair back tightly.

And walks out into the courtyard, because he’s not going to run away from this. Maybe he’s gone too far, maybe Teomitl will hate him now, maybe the memory of those gentle hands and that all-encompassing pleasure will curdle into something dark and terrible and shameful, but he won’t know if they don’t talk. Teomitl had asked if Acatl trusted him. The man who’s ripped his way into his heart deserves to know the answer.

He doesn’t know what Teomitl’s been doing while he was asleep. Though he’s bathed again, collarbones still slightly damp, from the way he’s glaring at the tree in Acatl’s courtyard it hasn’t relaxed him. The tunic and all the rings are back on, but the effect isn’t so much dazzling as armored. Some of those rings are quite heavy, and Teomitl’s a strong man. Acatl has bruises that map out just how strong.

(The part of his vision not wholly focused on his student notices that the rest of the courtyard is spotless.)

As he steps out of the entranceway, their eyes meet. Teomitl, already still, goes even stiller.

Acatl swallows past a lump in his throat and makes himself break the silence. “About earlier, Teomitl—”

Teomitl goes instantly red. He’s still not moving, but now it’s less jaguar-before-the-hunt and more rabbit-before-the-caiman. Acatl’s teeth have left a little mark just under his jaw. “Acatl-tzin,” he croaks out.

You offered to tend to my needs. You asked me to tell you what I wanted. And then you gave it to me, and you were so patient and sweet and I love you, gods, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. He has to close his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. He knows he’s not an eloquent man, but there has to be a way to phrase this that won’t wreck what lays between them forever.

It’s a moment too long, because Teomitl’s found his voice and stammers out, “Look, it doesn’t have to—to mean anything, what we did. I mean, it can, I’d like it to, but if you don’t want—I know how seriously you take your vows, I know what you think about me—”

Acatl’s fists clench. What I think? Suddenly and sharply, he remembers the way he’d all but sneered at Teomitl’s earlier teasing, so acidic even the memory burns through him. He could stab something. Himself, maybe. But first, he has some corrections to make, because there’s absolutely no way he can let this continue. Maybe we can’t be master and student anymore, but you still have a lot to learn. “Do you think I’m so free with my affections?” he snarls, and it comes out harsher than he means to but maybe that’ll help, maybe that’ll make Teomitl see that this was neither casual nor some sort of whim.

“Your affections?” Teomitl stutters, flushed, but then he snaps back, “I don’t know what to think! I didn’t even think you liked me, never mind...never mind wanting me!”

Not like you? Not want you? The words take some time to arrange themselves properly in his head, because they’re absurd. Yes, Teomitl can be the most annoying person in the Fifth World sometimes, but if Acatl didn’t like him he certainly wouldn’t have agreed to teach him. Teomitl’s impossible not to like, even when he wants to strangle him. “Teomitl,” he says, and takes a deep breath, deliberately setting his heart aside for the moment. He’s pretty sure that if he says that, Teomitl won’t believe him. Not yet. As for the second point... “Who in the Fifth World couldn’t want you? Do you think I’m made of stone?!”

Teomitl bites his lip, staring at the ground. “Not after earlier, no,” he mutters. “But...you said it yourself. I’m the student, and you the teacher. I wasn’t expecting you to ever look at me as a man. And I know you’re not the sort of person who’d go to bed with anyone you thought was so far beneath you.”

Gods, Teomitl’s voice is as brittle and cold as one of Acatl’s knives, and it’s his fault. His guts feel like ice. He’d thought having Teomitl as a student would be the only way to have him in his life, and he’s an idiot. “You have no idea,” he manages, and he’s not sure where the words come from because his brain definitely isn’t involved in the proceedings, “how hard it’s been for me to try not to see you as a man, Teomitl. But...”

Cautiously, Teomitl lifts his eyes again. He still looks like he wants to bolt, but there’s something like hope starting to bloom in his expression. “But?”

He clears his throat, battling down the swarm of moths taking flight in his stomach. “I never expected—I didn’t think you’d look twice at me. Ever. You’re—you weren’t for me to think of in that way.”

Teomitl blinks at him as though he’s said something bizarre. “Why?”

“You’re younger than me, and my apprentice—though I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to teach you anything.” True. “You’re surely going to be Master of the House of Darts, and in a few decades from now I won’t be surprised if I’m kneeling to you as my Revered Speaker.” Also true. “My sister—” He cuts himself off, realization dawning. “...She’s going to kill us both.”

(He’s not even remotely exaggerating.)

By the Duality. He’s barely even thought about Mihmatini, too caught up in exhaustion and pleasure and the realization of his own feelings to spare any for his sister. Who goes soft and bright when she thinks about Teomitl, who’s going to be absolutely heartbroken and then absolutely furious when she learns about this. And who will learn about this, because it would be even more of a betrayal to keep it from her. Then again, if Teomitl suggests that they do...well, there won’t be anything to keep from her, because no matter his feelings there are limits. He won’t be with a man who would do that.

(Not that he really thinks Teomitl would, the man’s always been honest and forthright to a fault, but he’s used to thinking of the worst-case scenarios. Someone has to.)

Teomitl winces, seemingly coming to the same realization. “Ah. About that. I swear, I am still going to marry her, if you don’t mind, that is, but she...that is...well...” He’s steadily going redder, which Acatl hadn’t previously realized was possible.

Acatl feels like he doesn’t want to know the answer to this, but he has to ask. “What?”

The doorframe behind Acatl’s head must be fascinating with how hard Teomitl’s staring at it. “Well.” He swallows visibly. “She is. Very observant.”

It takes an embarrassingly long moment for that to sink in. When it does, Acatl feels his own face catch fire, and he gapes at Teomitl like a stunned fish before finding words and arranging them into something like a sentence. Hard on the heels of shock comes embarrassment, because he might not be good with people but—really. Really. “Are you saying I’m the last person to find out that you—that is—”

That bright blush hasn’t faded, but Teomitl’s starting to look exasperated instead of like he’s about to die of mortification, so Acatl will take what progress he can get. “I thought you knew. That you knew, and you were just...ignoring it.”

Acatl opens his mouth, very nearly says something stupid—are you insane, how could I have known, do you really think I’d be so cruel—and closes it. Because he doesn’t think he’d have ignored it, if he knew, but he’s not sure what he would have done instead. It’s not like he’s ever considered the possibility. “You give me too much credit.”

“I’m beginning to realize this,” Teomitl says drily. But he’s starting to smile, so that’s a victory.

“You little brat,” he mutters with a fondness that doesn’t even surprise him anymore. Out loud, he says only, “Can you blame me? A handsome youth like you, Imperial blood flowing through your veins, a warrior destined for glory—I know when I’m outmatched. You can do better.”

Teomitl blinks at him for a moment. “Outmatched?!” he echoes, seemingly stunned, but before Acatl can confirm that he’s heard right he’s shaking his head and saying firmly, “You’re the best and bravest man in Tenochtitlan!”

Now it’s his turn to blush. “Teomitl!”

“It’s true,” Teomitl says simply. As if he’s saying The sun rises in the east or Quenami is the bastard son of a dog and a tannery midden. (Not that Acatl’s ever actually heard him say that last one, but he has a very expressive face.)

He goes to rake his hand through his hair, remembers how tightly he’s tied it, and settles for yanking on an escaped lock behind his ear instead. He’s not sure he can look at Teomitl right now; his chest feels distinctly warm and floaty with...embarrassment, yes, but also something he can tentatively identify as pleasure. “You really flatter me far too much.”

Teomitl takes a step forward. And then another and another, until they’re close enough to touch and Acatl can’t avoid looking at him. His eyes are dark, and when he speaks his voice is low and steady and serious. “What do I have to do to get you to believe me, then?”

He’s just called him the best man in Tenochtitlan. He’s called him beautiful, touched him like he’s made of jade and precious quetzal feathers, and then stood guard outside his chambers for hours. He, who is sweet and bold and shy and bright as the dawn on the first day of the Fifth World, looks at Acatl and seems to honestly believe there’s something there worth sincerely desiring.

“Uh,” Acatl says intelligently, and his gaze falls to Teomitl’s mouth.

Teomitl kisses him. It’s not the same as before; those were heady, passionate, sweeping Acatl away in the tide. This? This is to make a point, and Acatl accepts. His hands wind up at Teomitl’s waist, hauling their bodies together, and when Teomitl buries his hands in his hair he moans and deepens the kiss. Teomitl’s little growl thrills him, spurs him on; he pulls back only to catch Teomitl’s lip between his teeth, and Teomitl makes a breathless noise and presses against him so hard he stumbles backwards and smacks his shoulder into the doorframe.

When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard. Teomitl’s mouth is red. “Well?” he breathes, and grins in a way that says he knows he’s won. “Did that convince you?”

“Ngh,” he manages, mostly because he can’t quite get his tongue in order to say I love you. He gives Teomitl’s waist a squeeze instead, just to feel the firm muscles under his hands, and finds himself enjoying the way Teomitl shivers appreciatively. It makes him wonder what other reactions he might get, now that he’s well-rested, and his blood heats a little at the thought. “...Well,” he finally says, mouth dry. “If you were worried I might not see you as a man, I think you may decidedly put that worry to rest.”

Tension bleeds out of Teomitl’s shoulders at that, and Acatl can’t help but tease him. It won’t do for the man to get too prideful, after all. “Even if you do still have a lot to learn. What was that earlier about respect?”

Teomitl’s eyes go dark with interest. “Was I not respectful enough earlier? Would you like me on my knees this time, Acatl-tzin?”

Acatl sucks in a sharp breath. It’s so easy to picture—Teomitl dropping to his knees, wrapping his mouth around his cock, being very thoroughly shut up for once—but he can’t. If he dwells on that possibility for too long, they’re going to end up right back on the mat, and they don’t have time. And so Acatl makes himself pull away, folding his arms across his chest. “...Later.” Before Teomitl’s face can fall too far, he adds pointedly, “If I touch you again, I’m not going to want to stop, and we have work to do.”

Teomitl shakes himself like an ahuitzotl, and it’s probably a sign of how much Acatl cares for him that the sight isn’t even all that creepy anymore. Then he rolls his shoulders back and meets Acatl’s gaze, looking every inch the warrior he is. “Back to the palace?”

“Mm.” They have people to question and a funeral vigil to begin. The stars are faint pinpricks in the blue afternoon sky. Acatl knows his next words are risky, but he says them anyway. Because—because he wants to. Because Teomitl feels like sunlight, and he wants all that sunlight on his skin. Because he’d like to see Teomitl stripped of everything but his jewels again, and this time be able to properly appreciate the view. Because Teomitl, with his back straight and his face set, already looks imperial, and that makes his heart beat a little faster as he pictures the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown, pictures what a man who takes such good care of him and melts so passionately at his praise might one day do with an Empire to command. “And then you’re coming home with me.”

Teomitl’s grin is sudden and radiant. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come on, Acatl-tzin. Let’s go.”

[its-kall-the-clown]

Please 12 or 27 for SilkTea it’s such a comfort ship to me plsss. ;-;

Yo. Anon. You and me would totes get along because it's my comfort ship too (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) I went with 27 because it had more potential some romance fdshgljdfs

Consider this a continuation of THIS

Huntsman is the definition of a tsundere jkdfgjsdfg

prompt list

All The Things You Don't Deserve

Rating: PG

Sandy was just cleaning and re-dressing Huntsman's wounds. Something he had done a few times now while he had Huntsman under his care. They always did it on his bed, it was more comfortable for them both anyways. Sandy also always reserved this task for the end of the day so Huntsman could then go to bed and rest comfortably with fresh clean bandages.

But today it was different. They were more stiff than normal, even when he applied the herbal salve that always had the spider melting under his touch he remained as stiff as a rod.

"You alright?" Sandy asked the spider demon under his care who jump at his words, which is odd because he has been tending to his wounds on his back for the past ten minutes and hasn’t gone anywhere. Were they so lost in their head they forgot he was here?

It wouldn't be the first time. Huntsman had a habit of just zoning off, at first he thought they were sulking, but after studying after the first few times it happened he realized that Huntsman’s fist was always tight and his jaw would be clenched tight and his eyes would sometimes dart back and forth like he was looking for something.

It's then that Sandy realized that Huntsman suffered from panic attacks.

He could never quite figure out what was triggering them, sometimes it was loud noises, sometimes it would be if Sandy stood behind him too close. And sometimes none of it triggered it.

“I’m fine.” they bite out bringing Sandy back from his musing.

“You sure?” he presses the palm of his hand against the spine of the spider's bareback. They shiver under the touch and he can feel their heart beating quickly. The rapid beat snapping back and forth inside the demon's chest.

“Because your heart is pounding right now…” he reaches around and presses his hand against the exposed chest over the huntsman’s heart. It leaps under the contact picking up its pace. Their breath hitches but they shut their eyes tightly and the spider demon turns their head away, refusing to even look at him.

Sometimes Sandy wonders if he’s the only one feeling this attraction. He thought he was picking up signals? Seeing signs that they were interested too but then it would disappear beneath the surface and Sandy would begin to doubt what he saw.

He sighs and retracts his hand when Huntsman keeps his lips sealed tight.

Sandy wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight if he continued to press. Maybe he would never get anywhere and he was only harassing the spider demon in ways that were not welcome. He finishes his task, using fresh gauze to wrap up Huntsman’s wounds and then he helps them back into the oversized shirt that he would sleep in.

He pulls away after that, creating space for his patient. He never wanted to crowd them or make them feel like he was forced to do anything.

Plants always did better when they had space to grow, and Sandy thinks that advice works just as well on people as it does on plants.

“I’ll let you rest.”

He’s rising from the side of the bed ready to turn in for the night. Before he can even get a foot away from the bed there is a hand on his wrist holding him in place.

“Where….where do you sleep? When you leave me here…” Huntsman asked, frowning at the sheets like they offended him. There is a slight plum blush that dusts his face. Once against making Sandy think there was a signal for him.

“I sleep on the sofa,” he explains. Ready to pull away again for the night but the grip around his wrist tightens again keeping his feet anchored in place.

“That doesn't sound very comfortable…” they squirm in place, looking adorable in one of Sandy’s shirts that act as a sleep gown on the Spider demon. He waits for them to continue, they clearly have more to say but he isn’t sure what yet.

Huntsman huffs and scoots over a little bit.

Sandy blinks and he watches them scoot over again, creating even more space on the bed. Not once has he let go of his wrist.

Huntsman looks at him with his multiple eyes, then looks to the empty space he’s created.

And then it clicks.

An invitation.

Well call Sandy selfish but he wanted the invitation to be hand-delivered and read out loud for him so there could be no room for misinterpreting. He smirks a lazy smile and leans over the bed into Huntsman’s space, he prompts himself up with a hand on the mattress.

He leans into Huntsman’s space, getting as close as the spider would allow. He smiles brightly at them and waits. He could be patient. If there was one thing he was good at, it was waiting.

The spider's face scrunches up, emotions flashing across his face faster than either of them have time to process. Looks like he needed a little push to get the words out.

“Well...goodnight.” he fakes pulling away, not even needing to go through with it because both hands grab his arm now.

“You can sleep here….you know if you want.” they offer finally and Sandy smiles brightly.

"Only if you're comfortable with it." Giving huntsman a way out if he wanted.

"It's fine…." Huntsman scoots over again giving half the bed to him.

"Pardon the intrusion then~" the be dips with his added weight and he finds himself under the covers of his bed. He will admit that the sofa wasn't as comfortable as his bed and he lets out a content sigh to be under his covers.

He pushes his luck and throws a protective arm over Huntsman's body as soon as they are comfortable under the covers. He tries not to laugh when he hears them let out a little squeak under his touch.

"Goodnight~"

--------------------

What. The. Fuck???!

Huntsman could only feel his heart beating erratically in his chest.

He already was struggling with keeping his heart rate down around Sandy. But now???

What the fuck was he thinking? Inviting Sandy into the bed with him?

Idiot. His brain must be broken, or maybe the tea Sandy has been feeding him has actually been poison and it has been affecting his thinking powers.

Yes, that must be the answer.

Today's experiments had been... inconclusive. He still couldn't figure out what about Sandy made his heartbeat like this. He couldn't tell if he was afraid of them? Felt safe around them? Hated him? Liked him??

No definitely not that last one.

So maybe inviting Sandy into the bed was another experiment. If he had more time with them maybe he could figure out why this unmanned feeling kept rising in his chest every time they were around it kept bubbling up and every time he touched him his body stopped working.

He had to figure out what Sandy was doing to him so he could stop it.

So here he was, stiffly laying in bed, in one of Sandy's oversized shirts that fell to his knees and the object of his problem.

He could hear Sandy breathing behind him and he curls his knees to his chest making himself as small as possible. He catches himself on the weak action and uncurls himself.

He would not be made weak. He would not submit under whatever Sandy was to him.

He was strong! A hunter! And he would conc-

An arm is thrown across his body interrupting his thoughts like a collapsing bridge. The large blue arm brings Huntsman closer, pressing his back to Sandy's chest as they mutter a goodnight.

He lets out a little surprised squeak and he feels rather than heard the low chuckle from Sandy's chest. That damn hand finding it's way to his hip again where it rubbed gently through the fabric.

He realizes once again he's being played with. Just a teddy bear to be used for the larger demon.

"Your not playing fair…" he growls out flexing his claws in his fist and there is another low rumble of a chuckle against his back.

"All's fair in love and war.." they explain the words vibrating down his back and into his soul.

Something clicks. And it's so loud in his mind it makes him stop breathing. Dangerous thoughts fill the spider's head and he's terrified of every single one of them.

He's faced countless dangers, killed enemies twice his size, and endured injuries that would drive a normal person mad.

None of that scared him.

But the thought of being loved was petrifying.

"Which…"

"Hmm?"

Huntsman licks his lips and shuts his eyes tightly his body is shaking, all the dangerous ideas filling him up and shaking him around like an eight ball.

"Which .. one are you playing…" he asked, this time his knees did curl into himself. He didn't have much time to hide because he's being turned around with large gentle hands and the bed dips from the shifted weight.

Sandy is above him. Arms on either side of his head, boxing him in as they hover over him like an empty threat.

His breath hitches when Sandy's eyes meet his. They are like two gems, sparkling in the low light and as precious as sapphire.

"What do you want me to play at?" They asked, their voice taking on the husky tone that makes the hairs on the back of Huntsman's neck stand up.

Once again his heart is out of control. Beating frantically against his will in his chest like a trapped hummingbird. With Sandy over him...something akin to anticipation grows. He realizes that Sandy is waiting for him to answer.

It was all on him. Everything was in his court.

He licks his lips again, opening his mouth with a few false starts before his jaw clicks shut again.

"I don't ….I don't know." He admits and Sandy gives him this sympathetic smile.

They lean forward and Huntsman's breath hitches again, he shuts his eyes waiting for what would come. He feels the most gentle and delicate kiss pressed to his eyelids. Each one of his four eyes is gently kissing. Not a single one was left out.

He lets out a little whimper under each one. The duality of his brain confuses him.

It's too much. It's not enough. He wants more. He doesn't deserve it.

He thinks Sandy will kiss him for real, he can feel the breath against his lips, hovering slightly over him. He opens his mouth with a little desperate gasp.

The kiss never comes and he opens his eyes to see Sandy pulling away.

"Let me know when you do. I can wait."

The cold he feels when Sandy pulls away and lays back down goes bone-deep.

Huntsman just lets his body sink into the mattress. His heart is pounding and his eyes feel heavy. Not because they were tired, the touch of Sandy just lingered...if he closed his eyes again he could feel the weight of his lips on them.

He wants that.

He realizes how desperately he wants this. He wants to be treated gently, he wants to be held gently and treasured like he's valuable and kissed softly and melt under the heat that was Sandy.

He turns his back to Sandy’s, curling himself protectively.

He wants it. He wants it so bad his body physically aches for touch. He must have some sort of disease to want to be touched so badly.

He wants it and yet….he knows he can’t have it. His wounds were almost healed and he would be returning to his queen soon. He would leave this wonderful little world.

A world of tea, warmth, and cats. A cozy world of tender touch and kind eyes.

It was a wonderland, and he was Alice, eventually, he would have to leave too. He hides his disappointment to the realization in between his ribs. He tucks it away and locks it uptight.

He didn’t deserve to let the feeling flourish.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I’m back on my bullshit and we have GOT TO TALK about 13x08 The Scorpion and the Frog; which serves as a good example of why you should not ONLY watch spn episodes with Cas (partially because of that scene I shamefully blogged about earlier - no I will not link that cursed post here).  The episode title comes from a fable in which the villain is the scorpion.  Interpretations of this fable note its uniqueness lies in the concept that “the scorpion is irrationally self destructive and fully aware of it.”

To quote the scorpion, buddies -  “it’s in my nature.”

Anyway, this episode is subtextually predicated on exploring Dean Winchester’s nature and specifically - his bisexuality, and I’m not only saying that because it opens with Dean in his Bi Colors Plaid (that also he wore on his burger date with Cas).

Let’s get started, after the cut!

Season 13 on its face gives me absolute whiplash because it starts widow arc-reunion-TOMBSTONE and then Jack yeets himself off to Chuck knows where so Cas can go out Looking For Him Because Otherwise He Will Definitely Kiss Dean there is no other option for the writers at this point.  Sigh.  Here, have another shot of Dean anxiously cleaning his gun as he always does when Cas has Gone Off For Reasons -

Anyway, this feels like a filler episode at first, but as always they bury the ENTIRE damn world in it and I am here with my dossier to Unearth It.

Lets start with Bart (demon of terrible nicknames and microagressions) meeting the brothers at Smile Diner to talk about some spell or whatever. 

(I am not thinking about the Cherry Pie meta I AM NOT)

THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY to start with these lines immediately introducing the theme of duality, a thread throughout this episode.

BARTHAMUS

Everything. I've been following your careers a long time. You're a real pain in the pitchfork. And the halo. Natural disrupters. We have that in common, you and I. DEAN

Mm. Yeah, we're twinsies.

***MORE DUALITY!  But as we know, Dean does not like Bart because He Is A Freakin’ Demon

DEAN

Well, see, here's the thing. When a demon tells us to jump, we don't ask how high. We just ice their ass.

UMMM excuse me Barting Bacting Boices?  What is that sexual gaze?  

Then we find out that Bart has 1/2 of the spell.  They need the other 1/2.  Oh, a spell with two parts, you say? [ I am going to scream :) ]

***Also, Dean eats the pie Bart ordered.  I cannot begin to explain to you the state of unwellness that I am in regarding how important this is. DEAN NEVER GETS TO EAT THE PIE, remember?  But in This Filler Episode, Dean eats the pie. While Sam looks at him with a very quizzical expression.  Pie -> what Dean wants but never actually gets -> Dean actively eating this pie.  Dean is coming to terms that maybe he can have what he wants.

***I am reminding you again that this is post widower-arc, post-reunion, and especially post-Tombstone.  Anyway-

Now we get to Smash and Grab.  Not literally even though I want to Commit Such Conduct at this point.  We are introduced to two one off characters named 

Smash (human/female presenting) -  can crack any safe built by man 

and Grab (demon/male presenting)-  expert in bypassing supernatural security.

Reaching or no, you can’t disagree that when spn introduces one off characters - it is almost always a Narrative Parallel or Mirror.

So we have a human and a demon (and Dean Winchester, a human who has been a demon)

who are experts in cracking open/bypassing something that has been secured and guarded (breaking down walls, if you will).  

They also use fake names identifying them as Tools to be Used ( Dean Winchester, the Michael Sword/daddys blunt little instrument)

BONUS:

Dean himself is literally used as a tool in this episode.

So yeah.  Smash and Grab are physical representations of Dean’s duality.  Human/Demon.  Femininity/Masculinity.  Dare we say something else, too?

Anyway, Dean is paired with Smash and Grab; Sam is off to idk negotiate weird artifact purchases lawboy style with Luther Shrike, a man who cannot die so long as he never leaves his house (I cannot even begin to unpack this shit; please just sit there and think about it.  I’m not even going there here.  I CANNOT DISCUSS Luther Shrike RN).

Speaking of things I cannot discuss without halgdhsag;lsa - Smash has very Specific boots (a look overall, really).

DEAN

Hey, Winona. The '90s called. They'd like their shoes back. SMASH

Shh.

***That’s right girl - do not take his shit; he actually LOVES them and is therefore Overcompensating for it with this little jab.

***Dean’s pop culture references and particular attention to the details here Should Not Be Overlooked.  90s! Winona! Ryder!

ANYWAY, then Dean and Smash bond over a caffeinated beverage -

[While Dean is doing a spell, Smash opens a can of drink, takes a mouthful and burps loudly. ] SMASH

Ahh. DEAN

You're weird.

***This scene makes me literally insane. (even aside from Dean living on something named NERVE DAMAGE as a KID.  They could have called it anything. You’re saying this wasn’t a Choice)  

She chugs a swallow of the drink and burps.  Something stereotypically associated with masculinity.  Not feminine.  Dean’s reaction is that she is “weird” - because she is not acting in a way stereotypically, J*hn Winchester brain-rot patriarchy bullshit-tily associated with Being Female.  But also, says the stupid show, they like the same soda.  They are The Same.  She shares the soda with Dean.  HIS FACE WHEN SHE DOES -

Other similarities are addressed throughout the episode (they are working for demons because they have no choice; they don’t discuss feelings/emotions, they both sold their soul, they both This Thing - 

DEAN

You know, we could help you. SMASH

No, you can't. I gotta take care of me.

etc. etc.) Smash is absolutely dean-coded.

****Also it’s textually established that Smash thinks Dean is attractive -

GRAB

[looking at Smash] Oh. You said he was just a pretty face. SMASH 

Shh.

***But Grab flirts with him too.

DEAN

I will kill you. GRAB

I bet you say that to all the girls.

***sorry, Grab - you won’t get far with Dean, but only because as he mentioned in the beginning of this episode - 

Drowley rights.

Now Dean has to put his hand in the mouth of this stone lion thing and all of a sudden he is acting....very-not-like-Dean.

[Dean looks again and takes a deep breath.] DEAN

I… how about this? What if I cut myself, put it on, like, a little piece of paper? We'll just wad it up and throw it in the mouth, okay? Okay. 

***Dean Winchester, who has been to Literal HELL, who has been torn apart by hellhounds, who has battled the devil and angels and God’s sister - all at the expense of his own life is now - afraid of spiders.  Well, technically he has always been afraid of spiders, but why isn’t ‘he being performative about it At This Time??

***Come to think of it, this sends me right back to how Jackles was playing Dean in 12x11 Regarding Dean THE episode dissecting Dean’s performative masculinity [one day I will clean up and post that analysis sitting in my drafts like a sad hamster]. That makes sense actually, because -> -> ->

that episode and this one are both written by Meredith Glynn.  Girl get in I want to torture you affectionately with a barrage of questions.

So here we have Dean and he’s not performing for Reasons, and he’s scared he’s genuinely scared of putting his hand in this stone lion-gargoyle-pig-creature’s mouth and then -

Smash gives him a push.

She gives him a push.  I cannot stop thinking about how she gives him a push.  A push to go do this thing that he is scared of; his fear being something he was hiding under his performative masculinity. Smash - dean coded dean mirror who does not perform femininity and is ‘weird’ -  she   gives   him   a     p u s h.

***linking here for the jackting joices that follow.

Now, let’s circle back to Smash’s story; why she is working for Bart in the first place -

SMASH

You think I wanna be here? Like I have a choice? SAM

You made a deal. SMASH

Wow! You think? SAM

You sold your soul. SMASH

And if I could take it back, I would. 

there is no reason for this picture here other than I needed you to see the jackting again

***How does the story end for Smash?

DEAN

Take care of you. [Dean glances down at the box, and then at Smash. She sees that Dean has put a lighter on top of the bones.]  BARTHAMUS

Alice, chop chop! 

[Bart indicates she should get his bones]. SMASH

Yeah. [She grabs the lighter and sets Bart's bones alight. Bart screams as he bursts into flames. ] 

***She accepts help and breaks free from the narrative, literally burning it down. The female presenting but not female-performing “weird” ooc representing a side of Dean breaks FREE because she makes a choice.  The lighter Dean drops? It’s a push.  And she goes with it.

Alice reclaims her story.

(Also, Grab gets ganked.  The male presenting ooc; the performative masculinity side; the demon; the darkness; the not-humanity - gets ganked).

Guess what Dean says to Alice when they say goodbye?

DEAN

Hey, Alice. Stay weird.

[I know the peace sign is probably just a Charlie throwback but I’d still like to say duality.  Two. ]

Dean’s not just talking to Alice.  He’s talking to himself; because the walls have been breached and for once Dean isn’t as scared of being different.  Maybe, just maybe, he’s going along with the push.  That’s exactly how the episode ends - with Dean feeling a little more hopeful, a little more at peace; a little more Considering he is capable of not only loving Cas but also not hating himself for it. 

[until the knowledge that Mary is still alive and the guilt of allowing himself ANY happy thoughts instead of looking for her miserably rears its ugly head in 13x09 and round and round we go but for NOW at least -> ]

DEAN

I'll drink to that.

(oh look Dean is just wearing his henley.  It’s almost as if a layer has been peeled back).

tagging @im-shaking-like-milk​ and @deanwasalwaysbi​ for letting me ramble on to them while writing this; and @lilac-void​ because you are always so kind about my stuff :)

[screpdoodle]

Duality - Chapter Select

(Thought I'd make a more organized chapter index for the series, that way it's easier to navigate)

* Cover Page/Blurb * Prologue * Chapter One - The Diabolical Ways of the Deciduous Demon Outside my Window * Chapter Two - The Idiosyncrasies Caused by the Troll Agenda * Chapter Three - The Plan to end all Plans (at least the plan to sink the ship) * Chapter Four - The Meddling of the Undead is a Pain in my Side * Chapter Five - The Spider Caught in the Fly's Web * Chapter Six - The Tick, Tick... Boom * Chapter Seven - The Aftermath of an Almost Victory * Chapter Eight - The Irony of the Situation is Palpable * Chapter Nine - The Garden of Secretive Secrets * Chapter Ten - The Grumbletown * Chapter Eleven - The Directions are Merely an Afterthought * Chapter Twelve - The Great Escape

More chapters will be added as the book is updated You can also read it on my Wattpad and AO3 if you prefer those sites for stories

[crazyyfilmyfreak]

The Devil All the Time ( 2020 )

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS FREE REVIEW

"There's a lot of no-good sons of bitches out there"

Okay alright first of all 

This is not your generic go-to netflix crime thriller if you are watching it with that intention everything is wrong with you 

This Film is dark , not just dark but dark as hell which is filled with gore elements which also includes a multi layered story telling and the film is filled with a group of astonishing cast members and every one of them has a potential to carry the whole film on their shoulders with no hard work but just with grace and ease so these reasons altogether might have over hyped few people's expectations and i think that is the main reason why i am seeing some mixed reviews here and there online or maybe just because you started watching this film with a very wrong intent or wrong mind set like i said before and i am stressing this so much because of in my opinion this film is just perfect maybe there are flaws obviously every film will have flaws but i just couldn't see them ? Maybe because i am a big fan of tom holland i might be little biased but to me this film is top notch and this is a perfect film film 

Now speaking about the cast & film overall 

This is a very slow paced slow burning piece of art 

It takes you to the places you can never think of mentally and it makes you feel completely lost in emotions by the end of the film making you numb 

Antonio Campos is a fucking genius i love his way of story telling 

He's honest , he knows what he is doing , he loves taking risks and he never fears when ever he goes out of the conventional film making style and i very much love how he connected every character in the film like i mean every character in the film is interconnected and if you remove any one character you will feel the void , disturbance and unbalance in the film. 

Film lovers might argue with me or hate me for saying this but i feel this film is so much better than christine 👀🤝🏻 atleast to me ? And this is coming from a person who also loved it a lot 

Now the cast 

I cant speak about everyone in the film because this has such a long list of talented actors 😭 who rocked in the film i am only going to speak abt some of my favourite performances as of now i promise to speak about every other cast member and their performance in the later days coz i am very sure this is a film i am going to talk a lot from now and this is also a film that i am going to watch and enjoy in the future days 

First TOM FUCKING HOLLAND 

I have been seeing this dude's films even before the civil war where he played the spidey role and i always felt he was a very raw and potential actor since his childhood but after seeing him in civil war and spider man hoco its just impossible for me to not like him as an actor ? HE IS SO GOOD ON SCREEN and he makes you believe everything when ever he's on screen maybe its swinging from wall to wall or putting a donut or whatever into a guys mouth while kicking his ass and making it look bad ass af🔥 few might feel this are such a silly examples to say but to me this is about how tom brings a realistic approach to a scene and makes it good and i have always been a big fan of tom holland since spiderman hoco and this is nothing related to tdat but y'all might already know timothee was the second closest option of mcu to cast as spidey and tom grabbed that role ever since tom is just busy with mcu films and where as timothee had a incredible and unbelievable growth as an ACTOR for real to me that is stunning because he did it in such short of span and to me as fan of tom holland part of me was always loving him as spidey but a big heart of me felt a void and sad because tom is missing a lot of great opportunities which has a chance to showcase his real acting abilities which made me think what if timothee got the spidey role instead of tom? Maybe we would have seen a serious tom holland as an actor and this thought killed me everytime but everything happens for a reason and tom holland is undoubtedly the best spidey we have ever got and anyways when films like tdat happen many people realise and understand how great and how fucking incredible tom holland is as an actor and i love when everyone appreciate him for this !! It makes my heart very happy and this is the exact reason why this film is so personal and special to me 

Sorry for completely deviating from the film but this is tumblr and i am not a serious film critic lol so forgive me. 

And speaking about his performance in the film he is just surreal and outstanding . The character that he played is a very complicated one not many relate to that character but every one can understand his emotions, actions and intentions in the film and all the credit goes to tom for bringing a life to that character and playing it in such a beautiful way listen to me very carefully when i am saying this not many actors from this generation can bring bundle of emotions at the same time in a same scene but tom holland does that with such an ease and i stg i am not exaggerating if you watch the film you will know what i mean !! And i am very proud to say i am his big fan 

Now Robbert pattinson 

What the fuck should i talk about this asshole 😂🖕? 

My dude's been killing it since remember me and as an actor like i said in the Tenet Review he has matured a lot as an actor since good time and he played a very powerful and sick role in the film i am not gonna spoil it for others just go and watch the fucking film atleast for him he did a great job and i dont understand how the women and gays are dealing with him? Seriously even as a straight guy its hard for me to concentrate on the film or scenes where ever he's present because this asshole is so fucking hot and sexy 👉👈 The directors should either deglamorise him by making him fat or bald or just hide his face with prosthetic make up or sth just like how directors hide tom hardy's face in every film he's in 🙄. Now coming back to his performance its really hard to dominate him when ever he's on screen dude just want all the attention towards him , such a selfish actor huh 

Bill Skarsgard 

He played a very important and crucial role in the film he maynot have big screen time but we can totally feel his presence through out the film i think this one sentence explains how important his character is to the film and how well he potrayed the role and he's the only guy in the film who got an incredible character growth throughout his journey in the film

Harry Melling 

It would be very unfair if i dont speak about harry's performance in tdat 

DUDE KILLED IT . HE SCARED ME WITH HIS EMOTIONS AND EXPRESSIONS . He didn't even a play a negative role but he just added a lot of depth not only to his character but also the film with his intimidating portrayal 

Sebastian stan 

This is the most honest and a very raw performance from Sebastian stan so far ( i am saying this based on the films that i have seen of his ) i just wish he had more screen time thats the only thing that i didnt like in the film also there are so many blanks that needs to be filled about his character 

Eliza Scanlen

I dont remember her from any film or tv series that i have seen before but she's outstanding in the film , the character doesnt have much something new to offer so i can't speak a lot for her but as far as the character concerned she did her best and her performance is a impressive one and many people are gonna love her . 

Riley Keough 

Unlike the previous films & tv series she's been in 

This film gave her a very challenging role and she's the only women in the film who's been through ups and downs and has a very complicated but a impressive character growth with minimal limitations and dimensions 

She was fabulous and incredible . It just stuns me how the character has begin and how it ended at the end 

And special mention to jason clarke and the old couple who played grandparents ( kind of ) to Arvin Russel and lenora . Not all heroes wear the cape. 

Finally despite the mention of god several times in the film this is not really about god at all its about the DEVIL , The DEMON that carries and plays a very pivotal role in the film you cannot see it but you can sense it and feel it 

Its about the blind faith, its about the irreversible & inescapable fate . I really love how Antonio Campos has connected all the dots by the end of the film with a very impressive film making and with a steady gothic theme running till the end internally and i haven't completely finished the book ( The devil all the time ) but if anyone really wants to completely bring the book life they cannot do it in a single film it will take you atleast 4 or 5 tv series to do so but Antonio Campos did it with a single film and added a very deep meaning to the core of the film w/o deviating from the roots of the book & even touched the aspects like duality of a man and some of you grateful fucks are complaining about him 

OBVIOUSLY films ard subjective but you all need to be more open about this film 

In simple words please fucking watch this film guys 🤗❤ 

This one is not for everyone but everyone will have atleast a small aspect in the film that y'all are going to like / love / hate / discuss about. 

The devil all the time is violent , brutal , honest and perfect in every possible way atleast to me and i really want you all to watch it if you're into such type of stuff 

Remember No country for old men ? Now make it 10 times more violent but add some meaning to it with a realistic approach but more slow burning drama and a little bit of darkness ... now that is what The Devil all the time is .

Gif credits : Milesgmorales