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fangsforiris · 2 months

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Kanato Sakamaki HC’S

Word Count: 10,004 Included Topics: General, Looks, Hair, Body, Skincare, Makeup, Voice, Mentality, Family, Brides/Yui, Academics, Fashion, Magic & Bag.

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⇘ : : [General]

🕯️ He has an uncanny interest in death and dead bodies. (Canon fact.)

🕯️ He likes watching Reiji bake. The way he so skillfully moves his fingers, and how he never questions his movements is fascinating.

🕯️ He listens to Melanie Martinez and Malice Mizer.

🕯️ He worked as Karlheinz’s secretary for a few years, starting when he was 13. He stopped when he was 16.

🕯️ People in the Royal Court really liked him, and Karlheinz liked having a, in his words, ‘pretty thing’ next to him in every meeting.

🕯️ Cordelia also worked as Karlheinz’s secretary when she first met him, before having an arranged marriage. She was a minor, while he was well into his 20’s. (Canon fact that he groomed her.)

🕯️ Karlheinz definitely forcibly feminizes Kanato.

🕯️ As in, he definitely enjoys when he cross-dresses. Much to Kanato’s displeasure.

🕯️→ It’s already established how horrible Karlheinz is, so I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.

🕯️ Kanato sometimes uses his looks to his advantage, such as getting things for free since people assume he’s a girl. Some of the things people bought him for free: drinks, clothing, makeup, jewelry, food, whatever it may be.

🕯️ Him acting like a deer in the headlights also helps get him out of trouble.

🕯️ Call it pretty privilege.

🕯️ Once he and Ayato were trespassing and when an officer came up to them, he used his charms to get them both out of trouble.

🕯️→ “Oi! You two, hands where I can see them.” The officer blared his flashlight at the two siblings, their eyes squinting from the sudden blindness. Ayato groaned, putting up his hands, “Ugh, what is it?”

🕯️→ Kanato slowly put his hands down, looking at the officer with big doe eyes, batting his eyelids slowly, “Oh! I’m so sorry officer… you see me and my brother got lost! I happened to drop my ring while we were here… and… I couldn’t find it.”

🕯️→ The officer stared at Kanato, his severe demeanour softening as he was temporarily struck by the innocent charm that radiated from him. “Lost, huh?” he mumbled, his voice no longer harsh. “Well, you two ought to have taken greater caution. Trespassing is a serious offense.”

🕯️→ Kanato nodded earnestly, his act of innocence unwavering. “Yes, officer, we understand,” he replied softly, his voice laced with feigned sincerity. “We'll be more careful next time, I promise.”

🕯️→ Ayato rolled his eyes, but remained silent as the officer sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, just make sure you don’t come back here again,” he warned, before turning to leave. “And find that ring quickly. We don’t want anyone else getting into trouble over it.”

🕯️→ As the officer left, Kanato let out a sigh of relief. “That was close.” Ayato turned to face Kanato, a smirk playing on his lips. “Too close, also–”

🕯️→ “Not another word,” Kanato interrupted sharply, shooting Ayato a warning glance. Ayato chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright then,” he knew better than to push his luck with Kanato when he was in one of his moods.

🕯️ Kanato often wonders about the possibility of going missing. It’s a fantasization of his to see if anyone truly cared about him. He’d also want to know if he’d make it out alive. It’s one of those dark thoughts that come up every once in a while, more so when he’s doing the dishes.

🕯️ He definitely has one of those girl blogger accounts.

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⇘ : : [Looks]

🕯️ Kanato is obsessive about his appearance.

🕯️ From afar you wouldn’t guess it, but Kanato cares a lot about his image, he wants every single thing about his appearance to be perfect.

🕯️ He has a set image that he was to adhere to 24/7 and if just one thing is off he’ll spiral. (Think of Reiji with absolutely anything, but multiply it by 100x. It’s that bad.)

🕯️ Kanato has very soft feminine features.

🕯️ His obsession started because of his mother, who valued her looks along with his. Also partially influenced by those around him in the Royal Court, who at first glance, would identify the similarities between the two.

🕯️ In fact, Karlheinz would be skeptical for a bit of Kanato’s true gender, finding it uncanny with the parallels surrounding his first wife and 4th son. He’d treat Kanato as a girl despite knowing later on that he isn’t.

🕯️ This would partially add to Kanato’s slight (not really slight) insecurity of not being seen as ‘man enough’ or atleast a boy.

🕯️ Since he looks the most like Cordelia, she would keep him on a strict regime so as to not ‘ruin her name.’

🕯️ Kanato’s desired image depicts a doll. He wants so badly to look and feel like a doll. In the sense that it’s hauntingly ethereal, and those who cast their gaze upon him are forced to stop and stare.

🕯️ Almost like his mother, but part of him knows he doesn’t want anyone to see him in that sort of light. Just in the way that they can’t take their eyes off him, and are filled with envy of how surreal he is.

🕯️ He wants his very entity to invoke a sense of surrealism. As if he came out of a 1900’s portrait, and just looking at him gives off an ‘out of body’ experience.

🕯️ He prides himself dearly on his looks, but that also has its limitations. (Semi-canon fact.)

🕯️ Sometimes, he wonders how his life would be if he were to look more like his first cousins-once removed (Shin and Carla) and brothers. Would his mother still take pride in him the same way?

🕯️ Because of him gaining Cordelia’s features, many upon first meeting assume he’s a girl. He gets upset at this, but other times he’d leave it be and proceed to accept it as a compliment.

🕯️ He’s also pretty short, especially compared to his brothers, so the shock factor from others when discovering he’s a boy also adds to the whole ‘Kanato Experience.’

🕯️ TW!! He is used to being catcalled and harassed because of his looks. These are the moments where he wonders if it’s a curse or a blessing to look so much like his mother.

🕯️ TW!! Due to this, he understands both perspectives, both men and women, and has slight empathy towards their struggles. (Slight. As this is still Kanato we’re talking about.)

🕯️ TW!! But he has only felt true fear when he was placed in a situation where he happened to be barricaded and incapable of fighting them off. He wondered how he was so powerless, as his hands shook and his body trembled. How he was so quick to become prey instead of the predator.

🕯️ TW!! He’s had some close calls of being assaulted, especially with the majority of men who are physically larger and stronger than him, but has been saved by older women and couples.

🕯️ TW!! After this happens, he is usually filled with feelings of resentment and self-loathing. Such as → ‘Why was I so weak? I am no mortal.’ and ‘If the others saw me, they’d call me pathetic– I was pathetic.’

🕯️ TW!! Kanato would rather die or skin himself alive than admit he’d been placed in such a situation far too many times for his liking. With countless close calls at that. He wouldn’t want to be seen as a victim like Laito, and definitely not be doted on with the focus of his weakness being called into question.

🕯️ Because of this, on his days out into the town/out of the house, he carries pepper spray and a small retractable pink combat knife. Just in case his vampiric strength isn’t enough.

🕯️ Slight TW!! Kanato has been catcalled by Ayato and Laito, before the former two would realize and profusely apologize for mistaking him for a girl. It was embarrassing when he happened to be at the dessert cafe he particularly enjoys in Vandead Carnival, picking up macaroons for Laito and him, when his two brothers started hitting on him out of nowhere.

🕯️ Ayato would initially not talk to him for a week, making a point to avoid him in every single room they both happened to enter, before Kanato would throw his Teddy at him.

🕯️ Laito on the other hand, would laugh it off. But inside he’d somewhat hate himself and think back to the similarities towards Kanato and their mother. It’d make him feel more uncomfortable if anything.

🕯️ Upon first meeting, the Mukami’s would assume Kanato was a girl as well. They’d find out the hard way when Kanato rejects both Yūma and Kou’s advances and Ayato pipes in to get them away from his brother.

🕯️→ “Oi! Kanato ain’t a girl, that’s my brother, you half-blooded creeps!”

🕯️→ “Didn’t you and Laito also mistake him for some chick…?” Shuu would retort, causing the former to go silent and red, while Laito waves his hands dismissively, giving small uncomfortable chuckles.

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⇘ : : [Hair]

🕯️ He prides himself on his purple hair (Canon fact.)

🕯️ His hair is kept at a medium length, sometimes reaching his collarbone.

🕯️ Kanato trims his hair every month.

🕯️ He has a step by step hair care routine.

🕯️ He washes his hair 1-2 times a week.

🕯️His hair is naturally silky smooth, however it’s more flat in comparison to having volume (smooth > volume, flat > fluffy.)

🕯️ Shockingly, out of the triplets he has the best hygiene, even going as far to rival Reiji in that department.

🕯️ He likes to smell like strawberries and vanilla. The light, cute scents that many associate with those girls from shoujo mangas. He absolutely adores it.

🕯️ He owns high grade shampoo, conditioner, hair masks, hair oils, and even purple shampoo just in case his natural colour lightens even more to his dismay.

🕯️ He makes sure to wash, shampoo and condition his hair correctly, ensuring that he doesn’t get back acne or neck acne from leaving the product to suck into the skin.

🕯️ It’s one of his pet peeves to have acne there, and also upsets him greatly when feeling an unnecessary bump on his ‘need to be’ smooth porcelain skin.

🕯️ Kanato takes an ‘everything shower’ every end of the month, which includes him staying in the shower for 2-3 hours on end, deeply perfecting everything.

🕯️ This heavily annoys the others, as he tends to take long, hot, excruciating showers which drains the hot water and ups the water bill each month. (To Shuu and Reiji’s dismay.)

🕯️ But make no mistake, Kanato benefits from the hot steam of the shower in comparison to just submerging his entire body in it. If he did, his entire body would be pruned up. Not a good look for his tastes.

🕯️ His hair used to be darker, a more accurate colour match to Cordelia’s, but overtime due to stress, it lightened.

🕯️ He prides his hair— and so does his mother. On most nights when she wasn’t dealing with Laito, she’d stay in his room, make Kanato sit in front of his vanity on his chair, and brush his hair.

🕯️ It was an intimate moment for the two of them where their relationship grew. Oftentimes she’d take solace in these moments and reveal information about herself that no one else would hear. And Kanato would listen.

🕯️ It was like their own little secret. Their thing that nobody else could take away from them.

🕯️ This is where Kanato would find his likability to being seen as and called ‘a doll.’

🕯️ Cordelia would oftentimes refer to him as her doll or just the nickname ‘doll.’

🕯️→ “My little doll, you’re like Mommy when you’re quiet like this.”

🕯️→ “Am I, Mother?”

🕯️→ Cordelia would smile fondly, “Most definitely. You’re lucky to look like me, you know? Who else would dare to pay attention to you or your talents otherwise.”

🕯️→ Kanato would turn his head when he noticed his mother stop, the brush still clutched in her hands. He met her eyes, “I am?”

🕯️→ She’d put the brush down on the vanity, motioning towards the mirror where the two saw their reflection. Emerald green and pure lilac glew, its prominent glow reflecting off the mirror in the dark room, causing the latter to blink for good measure. Kanato would focus diligently, watching for what his mother had to say next. “Yes. Would you like to know a secret, doll?”

🕯️→ He’d nod, “You’ve always been my favourite. Your brothers just don’t have what I and everyone else sees in you.” His eyes would sparkle at that comment, leaving Cordelia to play with his hair.

🕯️→ “I’m… Mommy’s favourite?” The woman smiled, moving her hand to caress her son��s face, the looking glass delaying, “You will always be Mommy’s favourite.”

🕯️ He would never tell anyone of those nights, especially her admittance to him being her favourite. It was one of the secrets he’d take to the grave.

🕯️→ (This reminded me of the audio on TikTok: My father is the worst person in the world; and I’m his favourite daughter.)

🕯️ After Cordelia died, he’d sometimes hold his hair and play with it the same way she did to remember the fond memories and secrets they’ve shared.

🕯️ After his makeup routine, he would style his hair accordingly.

🕯️ He normally lets his hair air dry, mainly to prevent heat damage.

🕯️ But in the slight occurrence he absolutely has to use a hairdryer, he will.

🕯️ He always brushes his hair every time before bed, and in the morning. Exactly 12 strokes each time. Don’t ask. He simply thought the number was perfect for his hair and always does the trick every time.

🕯️ His hair doesn’t usually tangle.

🕯️ Kanato uses mousse on his hair when he wants the definition of volume. After this, he’d style his side bangs accordingly.

🕯️ Sometimes he’d clip his side bangs to the side with his cute clips. The girls at school love this. They eat it up every time. Some even ask for hair tips as his hair is always shiny and well kept.

🕯️ He always has a comb in his bag, just in case if his hair gets messy. He also keeps portable, travel sized, hair care products.

🕯️ You know those hair gel glue sticks mainly used for fly aways? He 100% uses them and brings them in his small bag everywhere he goes. He can’t stand the fact that if one thing is wrong, it’ll tear him apart.

🕯️ Kanato absolutely hates frizzy hair. He does everything to prevent it. Another reason why he isn’t as fond of the rain, it messes up his hair.

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⇘ : : [Body]

🕯️ Kanato has a slim body.

🕯️ Almost like the ballerina type, but more towards the feminine side of things.

🕯️ He has long legs, with his torso being a bit more shorter than he’d like. All of this adds to the doll vibe he wants, though.

🕯️ His neck isn’t that long, and his head is an appropriate size (in his opinion.)

🕯️ He’s more bony if anything, due to his unhealthy tendencies.

🕯️ His ribcage can almost be seen, but that doesn’t stop the fact that his waist is still defined.

🕯️ Put simply, he has a bony version of an hourglass figure. There’s fat, but it’s heavily set on the ‘almost anorexic’ side of the scale, especially defined by doctors and the countless physicians that have attended him.

🕯️ When comparing his mother and him, she really shines when comparing their bodies. It’s like that’s the one thing the genes had to dominate. If he were a woman, their bodies would be exactly the same. Only major difference is Kanato lacks the fat on his body.

🕯️ It freaks him out sometimes with how skin tight his body happens to appear. But that also gratifies him. Knowing that whatever it is he’s doing is working, makes for a great remedy in a psychotic episode.

🕯️ Kanato really is almost like skin and bones. It does add to the living doll thing, though.

🕯️ His collarbone is quite defined, along with his broad-set shoulders.

🕯️ His complexion is quite fair.

🕯️ He doesn’t have any known birthmarks to him, his skin is like a blank canvas.

🕯️ His favourite part of his body are his hands and lips. There’s just something about the fragility of the two that intrigue him.

🕯️ He loves the natural curve of his lips, the way that it can easily be rosier by biting it or putting more product on it.

🕯️ It’s obsessive the way he tends to his lips. Always subjecting it to lip scrubs, and moistures. He really likes the way they perfect his face.

🕯️ Kanato’s hands. Where to begin? He likes the way they’re thin and long. Not too long, that would freak him out. But just enough to allow him to examine them in a deeper context.

🕯️ He does his best to not bruise them as bad, and if he were to, he’d want to have a contrast of red and pink splotches on his knuckles. He absolutely loves the contrast of the fair skin to the bruised bits. That goes for anyone.

🕯️ His nails are always maintained. Always done. Either professionally or himself, he can’t catch himself falling short of his list of long expectations for himself.

🕯️ They’re always filed nicely, and he always keeps his cuticles pushed back.

🕯️ It’s always a medium length, perfect if he needed to open anything, pick a lock, or defend himself. He especially likes when he sees the damage his nails can cause his victims.

🕯️ What he doesn’t like is cleaning the dried up blood from his nails. He hates the dirt and grime, but alas such pleasures do have consequences.

🕯️ Speaking of, he normally paints his nails. Like you’ll never see him without painted nails. If they aren’t painted, someone call the ambulance immediately.

🕯️ Kanato usually paints them sheer colours. Queue the jelly nail polish. He loves the pink ones, and how it delivers contrasts to his sickly pale hands.

🕯️ He’ll do other colours, and even full ones but you’ll definitely see this boy with his signature pink.

🕯️ He’ll even go as far as adding glitter. He loves the sparkly look, it reminds him of what he majorly missed out as a child.

🕯️ Kanato has 2 ear piercings. One on both ears for his central lobe, the other on both ears as a helix.

🕯️ This was because he was pressured by Ayato and Laito to get another piercing and ‘live a little.’ They used it as a bonding exercise.

🕯️ Kanato likes to act like he hates it, but secretly he enjoys the variety of earring combinations he can experiment with.

🕯️ He mainly goes for diamond glittery earrings that don’t dangle as much. Mainly studs. However if it was a special event, then he’d have more of a statement earring in.

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⇘ : : [Skincare]

🕯️ He has a set skincare routine.

🕯️ He does his skin care every night. He never misses a day.

🕯️ Kanato has dry skin, but not as sensitive.

🕯️ He usually uses moisturizers to hydrate his skin, followed by a hydrating serum which is notably his favourite part of his routine. He likes the way he can squeeze the tube connected to the cap of the bottle, how squishy and malleable it is.

🕯️ Also the way the serum falls on his face, he has no idea why that particularly catches his attention, but he’s fine with it nonetheless.

🕯️ Kanato despises his eye bags, loathes it even, so you know he’s dead-set on doing everything possible to get rid of them, or atleast make them not as noticeable. They really hinder with the whole ‘doll-look’ he’s trying to viciously obtain. Queue the eye cream and patches.

🕯️ Shockingly, they do wonders. And anything that isn’t as covered is covered by his makeup routine (mainly his colour correcting concealer and skin-tint light coverage foundation.)

🕯️ He has very clear skin, and rarely gets acne/pimples. He is only second to having the best skin out of his brothers, the first being Shuu.

🕯️ The skin care he uses is bought in small quantities, the only thing he regularly buys in bulk are his eye cream and patches.

🕯️ He always starts his skincare routine by drenching his face in an ice-cold ice bath for 10 minutes, to reduce any puffiness he might have.

🕯️ Kanato wears contacts most days, only resorting to his glasses if he absolutely has to. His glasses are black cat eye framed. He used to have a rose gold frame but he didn’t like how washed out it made his skin.

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⇘ : : [Makeup]

🕯️ He uses makeup 100% (How else will he keep up his doll-like image?)

🕯️ He never needs to use any high coverage foundation considering that his skin is quite clear. He uses a light coverage skin-tint.

🕯️ Considering that his complexion is more on the gray-side, he makes it a point to go outside in the sun more often without his umbrella.

🕯️ Because of this, he uses products with shade ranges that keep his very fair skin satiated.

🕯️ Kanato’s concealer usage mainly goes to colour correcting and removing his eye bags. Everything else is fine in his eyes, it’s just his over dramatic, very dragged out and accentuated eye bags that make his face feel dragged out.

🕯️ His contouring is quite limited, as he only applies his contour stick to accentuate his jaw, nose, and forehead. He’s satisfied with a softer approach as he prefers softer features in comparison to sharper.

🕯️ This goes for both himself, and any sacrificial bride/potential love interest he’d set his eyes on.

🕯️ He uses press powder. Kanato loves dipping his cushion into the powder, pushing and dabbing it onto his face and watching as some of the dust would collect around him in the air.

🕯️ It’s like those old movies he’d watch with his brothers when they were younger, where the woman would enjoy having their makeup montage. It’s that satisfaction that allows him to revel in his routine.

🕯️ Once he’s finished with that, his blush takes the center stage. He uses a moderately tinted blush, but uses only a small limited amount so as to not overpower his facial symmetry. It also tends to bring colour to his face and make him feel ‘alive’ so it’s extra important he gets it right.

🕯️ Kanato also uses the powder blush found in the palettes.

🕯️ He once tried liquid blush but instantly hated it as he could never get the timing right for how much he needed. Palette is much easier, safer, and plus, he enjoys seeing the product collect on the makeup brush, and tapping it ever so slightly for pan fallout.

🕯️ His eyes. His absolute favourite part of doing his makeup every single time is the eye makeup. From eyeshadow, to mascara, to the eyeliner. It’s perfection.

🕯️ He starts with his eyeshadow. He usually uses K-Beauty, considering that the K-Pop idols there have great taste for the glittery glam he’s looking for. It ranges from what he’s feeling, but most of the time you’ll see him with small copious amounts of glitter adorning his eyelids.

🕯️ And it’s always perfection, seriously, he never misses. It’s often a fan favourite with the girls at school.

🕯️ Kanato would start with a base colour, blending it with another before adding the small glitter adornments. He usually drifts towards soft pinks, but will use the pastels for blue and purple.

🕯️ He never uses any of the brighter/riskier colours/shades. He prefers the softer, more pastel colours that add to his appeal. The browns/neutrals are okay too.

🕯️ Next, his eyeliner. He tends to go for the middle ground. He has great precision, and always hits the mark on the first try. A signature cat-eyeliner is something he’d never dare to leave the house without.

🕯️ For his lids, he uses liquid liner. For his water line, both top and bottom, a crayon/kajol based mixture. He does this to lessen the load of his already big eyes.

🕯️ On the top, he strictly uses black. On the bottom? A combination of black and white to obtain his doll look. Near his inner corner close to his nose, he adds more white, then it blends as he reaches a half-way point before he transitions to black.

🕯️ Admittedly, it was a lot of trial and error but once he got the hang of it, he looked more like a doll than he did bare-faced.

🕯️ Finally, his mascara. He tends to use a waterproof mascara because of his tantrums. In the past he tried other colours than black, but found that he didn’t like them as much as the effect black had on him.

🕯️ Also good to note that his eyelashes are long. Like you’d assume he got them done, but then be shocked that it’s all natural. Definitely one of the points many girls are jealous of.

🕯️ Since his lips aren’t as rosy as he’d like them, he uses lip tints and red-pink lip glosses. Sometimes he’d go the matte look with his lips, others he enjoys the pop of lip gloss.

🕯️ It’s a pet peeve to have chapped lips. He hates it. Doesn’t matter who has them, it’s hatred all around. Because of this, he keeps extra chapstick (strawberry flavoured, obviously) for his brothers when he sees them.

🕯️→ “Eh? What’s this, Kanato?” Laito would ponder, seeing the chapstick being thrust into his hands and a bratty Kanato turning his head away to face the walls of the limo. His arms crossed across his chest as if to prove his point further.

🕯️→ “Your lips. Fix it.” Laito would raise an eyebrow, moving his gaze to examine the chapstick. A smirk would grow as he read the label. ‘Strawberry-flavoured.’

🕯️→ “Whatever is the matter with my–” Kanato would turn his body, glaring at him before moving closer to Laito. “This is the problem. Please, fix it immediately,” Kanato would retort, pressing a gloved finger to Laito’s chipping lips, hoping to accentuate his dire point.

🕯️→ “Oh? My, I had no idea you were so bold, Kanato!” Laito would chuckle, as he watched his younger brother bat his eyes in confusion before a slight blush creeped up on his face. His frustration building too, no doubt.

🕯️→ “Laito. Now.” He was now back to his seating, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Laito would give in.

🕯️→ He’d take off the cap, take in the potent strawberry scent and apply the chapstick to his lips, instantly hydrating and moistening them. Kanato would look back, huffing contently before a sly remark would slip by Laito’s lips, “Mmm, strawberry! How delightful.” A pause, “Is this your subtle way of admitting you’ve been dreaming about kissing me, dear brother?”

🕯️→ Kanato’s eyes would widen, “Huh? Don’t be absurd.”

🕯️→ “Hm, your loss~” Laito flicked his tongue, tasting some of the strawberry flavour.

🕯️ Kanato would then apply his highlighter. Always blended in, mainly on the tip of his nose, cheeks, and inner corners of his eyes. It’s a white iridescent highlighter, but sometimes he’d use a light pink tinted one if he runs out.

🕯️ His setting spray is light, making it easy for him to not feel as overstimulated.

🕯️ He always carries the travel sized perfume bottles in his bag so he’ll be well prepared, especially after gym class. He isn’t fond of smelling bad.

🕯️ Strawberry or vanilla is his go to. But many would report him smelling a fond strawberry, making that his signature scent.

🕯️ He always cleans his makeup brushes every 2-3 weeks. He hates the idea of any bacteria or dirt ruining his face.

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⇘ : : [Voice]

🕯️ He has a lighter/higher voice compared to the others, which he definitely hates (but sometimes is at peace with.)

🕯️ It’s the type that can be light and airy, almost like a girl, but have that small bit of depth when frustrated.

🕯️ Make no mistake, it’s higher than most, which causes him to be mistaken for a girl a lot. (That is, without the looks.)

🕯️ Due to his childhood, his vocal chords are most definitely strained.

🕯️ As in, he’s a few steps away from becoming mute. But this doesn’t stop him from letting one of his soul-crushing screams out. (Which undoubtedly, adds pressure to his throat, which makes it unbearable hot and sometimes itchy.)

🕯️ In fact, he was forced to sing until his vocal chords started to bleed, filling his mouth and throat with his own blood which definitely tore tissues apart. (Canon fact.)

🕯️ Sometimes his voice gives out, making him choose silence and only stepping in when he thinks he absolutely has to.

🕯️ Despite what most think, Ayato and Laito do listen to him in hopes of keeping the peace.

🕯️ They even take his opinion into account because if Kanato is the voice of reason, then there’s definitely something off and they need to reevaluate themselves.

🕯️ Kanato drinks a lot of herbal teas, it’s normal for Laito or Reiji (mostly Laito) to make him some because of his strained vocal chords.

🕯️ Kanato prefers lavender and honey teas, always with 2 and a half sugar cubes. Must be hot but never piping hot to the point where he’ll burn his tongue.

🕯️ He hates burning his tongue while drinking teas. It makes him have somewhat of a lisp and Ayato teases him about not being careful enough.

🕯️ He will notice if the tea is not exactly to his liking. If not immediately.

🕯️ Ayato once tried to make him his tea, and before tasting it, he could smell that something was off. He didn’t add the specific ‘half’ of the sugar cube. Kanato was upset and refused to talk to Ayato for a week, while Ayato profusely apologized since he knew it was a very sore subject.

🕯️→ (Empathetic as always, Ayato.)

🕯️ Kanato and Reiji regularly drink tea together in the living room, or in Reiji’s office. It’s the one time where Reiji notably enjoy’s Kanato’s company as he isn't as psychotic as he normally comes across. He’s tame, relaxed, and soothed.

🕯️ Reiji unconsciously finds himself comforted and reveals some of his internal turmoil whilst in Kanato’s presence. There’s just something about the gentle, relaxing presence of Kanato that seems to soothe everyone in the room. As if he can control the entire energy and mood of a room whilst he’s in this state.

🕯️ Since they’re always together, Laito will become his voice (talk for Kanato) when he cannot, especially when he’s nervous to talk to someone new/foreign to him.

🕯️ Kanato’s vocal range is very versatile.

🕯️ He can sing in very high tones, accomplishing high notes with a smooth, steady, and clear confidence.

🕯️ Ever since the accident with his strained vocal chords, he doesn’t sing as much as he used to.

🕯️ However, if you saw him in his prime, you’d be filled with envy and shock in an instant.

🕯️ His singing voice was powerful, it could be light, shrill, and gentle, but also accomplish heightened feats.

🕯️ He and Shuu did a joint performance at a ball, Shuu played the piano, and Kanato sang whilst sitting atop of the piano. Shuu secretly still has a recording of this performance, unbeknownst to Kanato, and listens to it when he wants to be calmed.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Mentality]

IMMENSE TW HERE!!

🕯️ He has severe attachment issues.

🕯️ Kanato keeps a large assortment of stuffed toys, each with their own distinct name and personality. He’s afraid that if a person were to leave him, he wouldn’t be able to cope, thus turning to inanimate objects to fill the void.

🕯️ → After all, living people can let you down, but how can inanimate objects do the same?

🕯️ Hence the wax dolls of all the brides he’s ever claimed. He’d like to make them look beautiful, even in their restless display of a tomb.

🕯️→ It’s the least he could do after claiming their soul, isn’t it?

🕯️ He also has abandonment issues which stemmed from his childhood.

🕯️ He stopped placing faith in his brothers when he slowly watched them drift farther away from him, and closer to each other.

🕯️ Seemingly, almost everyone in his life who he treasured left him high and dry, so he stays away and chooses not to form any deeper connections due to his fear of being left again.

🕯️ Sometimes he mourns the person he could’ve been if he hadn’t been a vampire. If he could be considered a ‘morally good’ person, that is.

🕯️ Kanato also mourns the family he could’ve had, if he were dealt better cards.

🕯️ Admittedly, the facade that he keeps up is wearing on him. He finds it emotionally draining to always be on edge and be in competition with his brothers.

🕯️ The hostility that floods the air is always suffocating, but he knows that no one wants to change, so he plays the part of ‘the hysteric’ to the best degree before he entirely burns himself out.

🕯️ His entire ‘hysteric’ facade is just that. An act. He only does it so he’d have a defining feature for him like his other brothers, and because it made people weary and afraid of him.

🕯️ It took away all the unwanted attention off him, especially from those with gazes that lingered a bit too long on his body for his comfort.

🕯️ He’s very insecure of his eyebags, voice, wrists, and shockingly his weight.

🕯️ TW!! He has self-harmed before for attention, just to be seen by his mother and not be cast aside like Reiji. (Canon fact.)

🕯️ When his mother found out, she was furious. She complained ruthlessly, making Kanato feel even worse about himself than he did when he started.

🕯️ He hates his self-harm scars, despite being a vampire with self-healing, they never seemed to go away.

🕯️ TW!! There are light cuts on his wrists, nearing the veins.

🕯️ He never had the courage to cut anywhere else. It scared him, but he’d never admit that.

🕯️ TW!! Once he cut too deeply, which made the vein burst. He stopped cutting after that, and after his mother scolded him for ‘ruining his body.’

🕯️ Ayato and Laito have no idea of his past self-harming tendencies. His half-brothers also don’t.

🕯️ Laito has theorized that his early comments in their childhood got to Kanato, so he has a lingering feeling that Kanato did call his bluff. (That is, to encourage Kanato to self-harm for said attention.) [Canon fact.]

🕯️ Nonetheless, he always wears long sleeves and translucent gloves which are sheer and skin tight. They cover his scars slightly, however they aren’t the best method of choice.

🕯️ Kanato wouldn’t admit he’s suicidal, however when compairing himself to the others, he doesn’t find a reason as to why he could be deemed as important.

🕯️ He feels constantly pushed away, so if he were to die, he’d be okay and at ease with it.

🕯️ But he doesn’t go chasing death constantly. He wants to die, but will let it happen when it happens.

🕯️ Kind of like Shuu in this case.

🕯️ His voice may fit the doll-like criteria he places upon himself, however it doesn’t stop the fact that he wishes he could’ve been born a bit more masculine like his brothers so he wouldn’t have to resort to this aesthetic he’s plastered upon himself.

🕯️ That, and paired with the fact that his voice doesn’t make it easier when people would harass him, assuming he’s a girl.

🕯️ TW!! Kanato has an eating-disorder.

🕯️ TW!! This was entirely orchestrated by none other than Cordelia herself. Due to her strict standards, and the constant pressure he put on himself to obtain the ‘perfect doll look,’ he started purging.

🕯️ All of the desserts he eats would be thrown up, allowing him to ensure his body won’t be ‘ruined’ as his mother used to say.

🕯️ This habit has gotten so bad and risky that Yui has started to notice a pattern, especially when he’d leave their shared Psychology class at a set time every day. Or how he’d barely eat anything at their monthly dinners and during lunch. He even took lengthy pauses for his blood drinking for good measures.

🕯️ TW!! Kanato would push his fingers down his throat viciously, uncaring of how the medium length nails scratched at his throat, or how blood started to strain his fingertips and fill his windpipe. After all, he’d throw it all up anyways.

🕯️ → Yūma happened to be in the bathroom one night, washing his hands as he heard the sounds of strained coughs and retching over the toilet bowl. He couldn’t make out the shoes, and whom they belonged to, but he could tell it was bad.

🕯️→ When the stall door opened, he laid eyes on Kanato, with small tears staining his baked face, he stiffened. He kept washing his hands as Kanato used the faucet next to him, pressing his hand on the soap dispenser.

🕯️→ “Um.. are you.. ok?” Yūma would dare, watching as the smaller boy paid him little mind.

🕯️→ “Yes. I simply ate something bad, that’s all.” Kanato was quick, almost too quick with his reply. Yūma narrowed his eyes, before flicking his hands, opting to air dry instead.

🕯️→ He took in Kanato’s figure, and how shaky he happened to be. What’s more, his hazel gaze traced over Kanato’s wrists, and the small, strategic cuts. If it were anything to go by, that wasn’t normal. Living with Azusa taught you that much.

🕯️→ “Are you sure? Come to think of it, yer’ pretty pale–” “I am fine.” Kanato would swiftly cut the taller man off, not wanting to hear anymore of it, as he took out his makeup pouch and proceeded to fix up his appearance.

🕯️→ Yūma was stunned, not only at the quick defensive position the boy took, but also at a closer glance for how out of shape he was. He was skinny, too skinny. Even by vampiric standards. His wrists were sticks, and his uniform looked a size or two oversized.

🕯️→ “Look, I know it ain’t none of my business–” Kanato stopped what he was doing and turned to meet Yūma. Yūma and his pathetic worried gaze. He planned his next words out carefully, “It isn’t, you’re correct about that much. I am fine. I ate too many parfaits, alright? I don’t appreciate the interrogation.”

🕯️→ Yūma just stared at him blankly, “Yeah. I can’t force you to say anything, can I?” Kanato would nod, before finishing his makeup and making a bee-line for the door. “But, you can talk to me if somethins’ botherin’ you… you know that.. right?”

🕯️→ Yūma kept his eyes trained on the door, more importantly, the figure that stopped. A few tense moments of stillness would then pass before Kanato would murmur, “Yeah, of course.”

🕯️→ Yūma would watch the door open and close, leaving him alone to reflect about what to do with this newfound knowledge. And if Kanato’s response to his aid was honestly sincere.

🕯️ Kanato’s eye bags have to be one of the biggest things he hates. He wishes it could instantly go away. He gets enough sleep as is (he thinks?) So why won’t they leave?

🕯️ Kanato definitely has insomnia. Hence the immense annoyance of said eyebags.

🕯️ He’s had it ever since he was a kid and all he wishes is for it to leave so he could at least look half as decent as the rest of his family.

🕯️ When Yūma teases him by calling him ‘Eye-Bags’ he feels another bit of his self-esteem shatter. He hates it so much, and is one of the leading causes for his self-loathing.

🕯️ He smokes. He loves the feeling of nicotine and how he makes him feel more alive.

🕯️ He has BPD.

🕯️ He secretly takes meds for them, but once Yui came to the house, Ayato had accidentally thrown them out thinking they were expired muscle relaxer pills which led Kanato to stay unstable and manic.

🕯️ He knows he needs therapy. However he doesn’t know how he could ever bring that up to Reiji.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Family]

🕯️ Kanato knows that Laito and Ayato avoid him due to the consistent parallels between him and their mother.

🕯️ The two think they’ve done a good job at hiding their resentment and slight fear but Kanato can see right through them.

🕯️ Kanato oftentimes mourns the relationship he could’ve had with Ayato and Laito, especially if he wasn’t a carbon copy of their mother.

🕯️ He’d look at old photographs of the three when they were happier and at better terms, then is awakened by the harsh reality that they don’t like him.

🕯️ Oh yeah. They aren’t as fond as Kanato as they’d like to portray. This is mainly because of the similarities between their mother and him.

🕯️ So everytime Laito pours Kanato a cup of his lavender-honey tea, the latter thinks about how Laito may truly feel to be next to someone who reminds him so much of his trauma.

🕯️ Laito is often uncomfortable with Kanato’s existence. Just because they look alike. If Kanato had the green eyes? Well Laito and Ayato would go into shock.

🕯️ Ayato only tolerates Kanato because he feels that he has to. Not because he immensely cares as much. (Although, he stays empathetic towards their outcome.)

🕯️ Kanato wishes that he didn’t look like Cordelia on some nights. Especially on the nights where the triplets get into arguments and Ayato ends up saying what they’re all thinking.

🕯️→ “Yeah? Well it ain’t us who looks exactly like our mother! You even act like her too, Kanato.”

🕯️→ The three would all go quiet, with Kanato shaking as he’s registering what Ayato said. He wasn’t his mother. He wasn’t.

🕯️→ “Kanato… I didn’t—” Ayato choked, “No. You’ve made your point.” Kanato would leave the room. Leaving a shocked Ayato and silent Laito.

🕯️→ Kanato wouldn’t hear anyone out, and would actively ignore the two before Ayato and Laito trap him on the roof of the school one night during lunch.

🕯️→ “What do you two want?” Kanato would start, looking at his brothers in annoyance. “We.. we wanted to talk.” Ayato would chip in, “It’s been a week, Kanato. You cannot seriously expect to win by ignoring us like this, hm?” And Laito would finish.

🕯️→ “What is there left to say?” Kanato snapped, turning aside to look out at the schoolyard. Ayato let out a softened sigh. “We know we messed up, alright,” he said, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. “But we’re brothers, Kanato.”

🕯️→ Laito’s normally sardonic grin softened as he nodded. With a soft tone, he continued, “We apologize. We went too far.” Emotions seething inside Kanato, his shoulders stiffened. Silence enveloped them, heavy with unspoken tension.

🕯️→ Kanato gave in with a deep breath. He mumbled, “Fine,” his voice barely audible.

🕯️ Subaru once mindlessly let it slip that Kanato deeply resembled his mother while practicing magic. That sent Kanato into a spiral and he stayed up for a week staring at himself through his vanity mirror.

🕯️ Kanato smokes. Especially with Cordelia. The two would normally go outside in the rose gardens on especially hard days and smoke together.

🕯️ He started smoking when he was 13, when Cordelia offered him a pack. This is what also strengthened their relationship.

🕯️ When she died, he started to smoke more. Not because of the guilt or anything, but because he found it to be a remedy for stress.

🕯️ None of his brothers know that he smokes.

🕯️ He highly values Reiji’s opinion, especially because he’s been there more for him than his own blood brothers have.

🕯️ He’s slightly jealous of the closer relationship Ayato and Laito have.

🕯️ Cordelia mainly manipulated him a lot. When looking back he wonders how naive he was to believe everything she said.

🕯️ Karlheinz sometimes mistakes Kanato for Cordelia. Even he isn’t immune to their similarities.

🕯️ Like when Kanato worked as his secretary, he found himself calling Cordelia’s name instead of Kanato’s, and instantly shutting up after he realizes what he said. This leaves Kanato feeling dumbfounded with the one question resting on his mind, ‘Am I really that similar to her?’

🕯️ Kanato would later find out that his mother also worked as his secretary, making the two even more similar than they already appear, much to his dismay.

🕯️→ “Cordelia, my dear, could you fetch those reports for me?” Karlheinz's request was gentle, laced with familiarity.

🕯️→ With a stilled hand, Kanato’s breath caught in his throat. Despite a sense of unease, he forced a tight-lipped smile. His voice strained, “Right away, Father.”

🕯️→ Kanato felt the atmosphere change as he made his way to get the reports. He glanced back and saw Karlheinz’s expression go blank as an understanding dawned in his eyes. His brief expression of perplexity as he tried to comprehend his error spoke volumes.

🕯️ Karlheinz wonders if he wants Kanato as an option for the Adam and Eve plan because of Cordelia and Kanato parallels. There’s a small selfish feeling that lingers, making him want to keep Kanato all for himself.

🕯️ Kanato definitely had to deal with Karlheinz’s weird/creepy advances. 🕯️→ It’s canon that he’s a bit creepy, and definitely messed up, so take that as you’d like.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Brides/Yui]

🕯️His relationship with any sacrificial bride as of late has been at face value. He knows that the way he treats others, especially as a lesser being, is partially motivated by how others have viewed him his entire life.

🕯️ Kanato simply doesn’t know how to begin changing for the better, so the cycle continues. He’s in an environment that promotes the very bad behaviours that he’s identified. That is, in everyone (the brothers), and in himself.

🕯️ There was one sacrificial bride before Yui, perhaps ten years before she arrived, who made him hyper aware of what he and his brothers were doing.

🕯️ The monsters that they were.

🕯️ That was the first time he ever thought to reevaluate himself as an individual, especially with the bride who would do everything to make him understand that everyone has at least a little bit of humanity in them.

🕯️ He’d recall the way his father treated the wives, and the way his mother would treat him. It would send him into a spiral, before opting to lessen the way he reacts.

🕯️ This unknown bride amongst the thousands that have entered the Sakamaki Mansion would die, however at the hands of Laito.

🕯️ Now that was a turning point for Kanato. It was shocking how that so easily proved the bride’s point, yet he felt so empty about the whole ordeal.

🕯️ Kanato vowed to remember that bride, name and all. She is also the centerpiece of his wax doll collection, the one who’s perfect in every way. He owes her that much.

🕯️ He viewed her as a friend if anything. That is, if mortals and immortals could be friends.

🕯️ He also vowed to figure out how to turn his life around for the better once given the chance. He often thinks about her, and now with Yui here, he thinks that now is the chance to break the cycle.

🕯️ He often thinks about her a lot. Like she rests constantly on his mind, almost like a lingering repressed feeling.

🕯️ Kanato doesn’t think he could ever be loved. Like for everything, flaws and all.

🕯️ So when Yui comes around, talking him about everything he does well and how he has a good side, he has no idea if she’s being genuine or if she wants something from him, and only wants to use him just like everyone else has.

🕯️ He wants Yui to be happy, in his own way of course. But part of him knows that it’ll never be with him. His obsessive tendencies, especially when it comes to love, is the main driving point which pushes people away.

🕯️ It’ll take him a bit to understand that fully, but once he comes to that settlement, he’ll be okay with giving Yui to one of his brothers. After all, most of the sacrificial brides choose them anyways, so how would this be any different?

🕯️ When he finds out Yui has Cordelia’s heart, he almost is hurt. Considering how that’s the woman he shared most of his vulnerability with, and who exploited it.

🕯️ He wonders if Cordelia can talk to Yui in her mind, or subconscious. Considering that they’re two souls in one body.

🕯️ The more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsettled by the fact that she, the entire time, has taken a backseat and listened to every confidential conversation like some unauthorized third-party.

🕯️ When he meets Yui, and hears of her temporary permanence within the house, he instantly thinks back to his redemption that the old bride talked about.

🕯️ After all, there won’t be any more after Yui, right? This can be his chance to make the change he wants. All he has to do… is not get attached.

🕯️ This is easier said than done, considering how Yui’s blood is almost irresistible.

🕯️ During the awakening, when Yui would feel pains, Kanato would as well. Since he has her magic and all.

🕯️ He’d have migraines that would go on for days on end, and the pain in his chest? Unbearable.

🕯️ Yui and Kanato would have that one thing in common at least, being remnants of Cordelia.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Academics]

🕯️ Kanato is much smarter than he appears. He usually plays dumb to ensure that he isn’t found in any trouble.

🕯️ He’s really good at physics and math. Like a prodigy. The only reason why he hides it is because his mother often said if his true IQ was revealed, it’d put him at risk of being seen as competition and potential execution.

🕯️ He is quite good at the sciences, which is often a conversation point whenever he participates in class.

🕯️ He always makes it a point to participate at least once for every class he attends. Doesn’t matter how, just knowing that he did one thing is all the motivation he needs to continue.

🕯️ His schedule is as follows:

🕯️→ Semester 1: Advanced Functions (Math), Psychology, Physics, Chemistry.

🕯️→ Semester 2: Advanced English, Japanese, Accounting (Business), Calculus and Vectors (Math).

🕯️ Kanato has Psychology with Yui and often sits in the middle row, considering how he uses glasses.

🕯️ Yui finds him much more bearable and engaged when in Psychology.

🕯️ She even willing wanted to be his partner for a project. He accepted and they got the highest grade in the class.

🕯️ For all of his classes he tries to sit in the middle row.

🕯️ Karlheinz forces all the boys to take at least one business course so they’ll be prepared if any of them need to take over the family business. Kanato chose accounting since it’s closest to math and he enjoys it.

🕯️ Since he took Functions (year 2 math course) during summer school, he is in the 3rd year Advanced Functions course. Reiji, Ruki, Carla and Shuu are in his class.

🕯️ He once corrected Reiji on an answer while he was writing it on the board, to Reiji’s surprise Kanato was right and the teacher applauded Kanato for spotting his mistake.

🕯️ Reiji, Ruki, and Carla were shocked to know that Kanato’s test scores were pretty high. He even beat Reiji and Ruki, getting 100%.

🕯️ Shuu couldn’t care less since he barely shows up. He only shows up for tests, which he aces every time. This always pisses Reiji off.

🕯️ Reiji and Carla are in his Calculus and Vectors class.

🕯️ Laito is in his Advanced English class, often times he’ll tease him for working but becomes shocked when looking over at his essay for peer editing. (He barely has any mistakes.)

🕯️ Ayato and Kou are in his Japanese class. It’s especially tiring when he has to deal with the two bickering over Yui.

🕯️ During lunch, you’ll see him and Subaru eating desserts together. Kanato likes the quiet comfort Subaru offers, and Subaru likes the companionship.

🕯️ If those two aren’t together then it’s Laito and Kanato, however Laito usually ditches him at school.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Fashion]

🕯️ He’s really good at sewing. So good that he’s made his own clothes, and even could start a small business. (Canon fact.)

🕯️ He has a small business for clothing. He takes commissions and creates magic. This is mainly done online and his website is the cutest. Kanato really cares about the small, little, intricate details.

🕯️ He’s made clothing items for himself, Reiji, and sometimes anyone else who asks.

🕯️ Just by looking at someone, he can instantly tell what their measurements are.

🕯️ He loves the Victorian Gothic aesthetic/clothing.

🕯️ This boy loves VKEI. The clothing for him is total eye candy.

🕯️ Kanato also enjoys the ‘dark coquette’ style.

🕯️ He likes ruffles and embroidered cuffs of sleeves, along with pretty brooches that fit his outfits perfectly.

🕯️ His shoes have a ½ inch booster insole added in. He adores the clack and click in shoes when he walks, it makes him feel important.

🕯️ His shoes also have a hidden blade inside, making it accessible to him if he needs to protect himself or fight back.

🕯️ Kanato is obsessed with shiny jewelry. You’d assume he was a crow.

🕯️ After his mother died, she left most of her jewelry to Kanato. Most days you’ll see him wear her iconic jade brooch. The one that’s shaped like a flower, with 14k gold detailing. It’s one of his most prized possessions.

🕯️ He especially likes ancient jewels, the ones that carry magical properties.

🕯️ Sometimes Kanato will cross dress. He does like the fabrics and can tell what instantly suits him. However everytime he does, for whatever reason (if it’s to get something for someone else, or he’s forced,) he feels that small insecurity taunting him that he’s not and never will be ‘man enough.’

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Magic]

🕯️ After Cordelia died, all her remaining magic/mana/powers transferred to Kanato, making him like the ‘last living remnant’ of Cordelia (not including the obvious— Yui.)

🕯️ He is really good at using magic, he’s the best out of all his brothers.

🕯️ People usually go to him if they need help with it.

🕯️ He’s memorized countless spell books, even the ones his late mother left him.

🕯️ He has pyrokinesis (Canon fact.) [Fire magic/can control fire.]

🕯️ He can perform soul transfer. (Canon fact.)

🕯️ Kanato loves contacting the other realm (realm of the dead,) he finds it interesting to hear the stories they tell.

🕯️ He has an ‘all seeing eye.’ Basically allows him to see ghosts and the dead.

🕯️ He found this out when he was 5, playing with his dolls and he saw an unknown woman sitting on his bed. She was covered in blood and she had an ax in her skull.

🕯️ This terrified him, but he mustered up the courage to acknowledge her existence.

🕯️ She didn’t say anything, just nodded to his questions. Once he brought this up to his mother but she forced him to never speak of this ability again.

🕯️→ Perhaps she was afraid? Who knows. Definitely not Kanato.

🕯️ So whenever you see him leaving an extra seat available, another cup of tea, or bowing as a greeting to a seemingly empty space— he’s acknowledging the ghosts that linger in the home.

🕯️ To his surprise, many of the brides linger. He does his best to pay his respects. He at least has some decency to not upset the dead. (Especially since they can pay it back in full.)

🕯️ The main hot spots in the home are near Reiji’s study, the hallway that leads to the grand ballroom, and the torture chamber located far beneath the house.

🕯️ Once, Reiji realized most of his supplies were misplaced in his laboratory. Turns out it was one of the brides he’d killed years ago who’d done it. Kanato never told him that, and Ayato was blamed and punished.

🕯️ In his early years, many doctors assumed he had schizophrenia.

🕯️ He was heavily medicated for a while which messed with his cognitive functions.

🕯️ Kanato regularly uses magic, even for the small, simple things. Like turning on lights, closing doors, that stuff.

🕯️ He feels that his magic is apart of him, so he really values it.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

⇘ : : [Bag]

Ever wondered what’s in Kanato’s bag? School Bag? Here you have it.

🕯️ Kanato has two bags. His school bag, and his small purse. (Yes he has a purse. But never call it that, it’s a man-purse. He will get insecure and embarrassed immediately.)

🕯️ In his school bag all of his binders are colour coded, along with his notes.

🕯️ Everything is perfectly organized, from his notes for each class, to his homework and old tests.

🕯️ He colour codes his notes for each subject, along with the homework assigned.

🕯️ He takes pride in his note taking skills, since they’re very aesthetic.

🕯️ Kanato keeps a reusable water bottle with him. Most are shocked that he even drinks water to begin with, but what they don’t know is how it does wonders for his skin.

🕯️ He also brings his laptop with him every day to school. Sometimes he’ll forget his charger, but normally his classmates let him borrow theirs.

🕯️ His hand-writing is sometimes messy but their legible. He’s secretly doing practice to improve his cursive.

🕯️ His pencil case is filled with those over the top cute supplies. As in, he’ll have a teddy bear eraser, and cute highlights and pencil crayons.

🕯️ In his school bag he also carries his purse.

🕯️ His purse consists of his wallet (it’s this cute polar bear), his makeup pouch, his medication (pills), and travel sized combs.

🕯️ Kanato’s makeup pouch has all of his normal makeup products but condensed to travel size. He loves his perfumes, so it’s always going to be there since he runs out of them quite easily.

🕯️ As always, the strawberry chapstick is there for himself, his brothers, and anyone else he sees that desperately needs it. Like no joke, he’s a chapstick warrior. He’s like Santa, but for chapstick. No one knows how he has the space for it, but it’s like a never-ending supply.

🕯️ Kanato also keeps his nail polish in his bag, in a small side component.

🕯️ Once he started to paint his nails in psychology, and the teacher directed the topic onto the psychological effects of red nail polish. It was interesting and he found himself amused that he could cause such a commotion based on one small thing.

I hope you stars like some of my personal HC's for Kanato. This took me two days, since I really had to think deeper about how I perceive his character.

Credits to the artist of the Kanato fanart!!

Lmk if you guys would be interested in any other HC's!!

#diabolik lovers #kanato sakamaki #diabolik lovers headcanons #dl hcs #cross-posted on ao3

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 10 months

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Time travel, it's a funny thing really, even funnier when you take in account all the different interpretations of its inner workings. So, what if we take out boy Spider, and put him in yet another ridiculous situation like we usually do? By that I mean sending him back before even the events of the first film and letting the chaos ensue.

Spider being, well, himself wants to fix whatever he can because he's just built like that. Problem with that is time doesn't like being messed with and will throw hands to keep things as they are. What now? you may ask. Well, Spider is not one to give up easily, he'll roll up his non existing sleeves, put on his game face and.... fail miserably, dyeing a horrible death in the process.

And what now? you may ask again. You're right to be confused, but you're forgetting that there's still a baby to be born to one of the worst of the demons and a pilot, one who is yet to even be called Spider. That's right, this is a time loop.

This one will live trough life, doing the same things as the first one, getting sent back, until he too fails the same way. Then the next one, and the one after that, will do the same, on and on until, eventually, one decides to leave behind a clue for his (future/present/past?) self, just in case. And the dominoes start falling from there.

I won't go into detail of what he does because it would be way to long, but it's basically millions upon millions of tries until he get's to the "golden" run, where he's basically herding people around into "safe spots" without them knowing. Yes, he did throw a fire extinguisher at Quaritch so he would miss Grace's vitals, she still had to transfer but it worked this time (thus Kiri being born, but with her bio mom being alive and well. I leave the rest to your imagination.)

That leaves us with pretty much everyone alive (Yes, Sylwanin is alive. That's how far back he went) and casualties on the human side being kept to a minimum.

All anyone clearly saw of future Spider was the human stranger with dreaded hair, standing over Quaritch's dead body right outside the shack Jake was in ( kinda dark, I know), leading to him becoming kind of his own legend amongst the na'vi (they do figure out he's been helping them all along, their not dumb) This is also why Jake decided to dread his hair, in honor of the stranger who was saving their asses from the background.

Sadly, Spider does die one final time, sufferings from an injury he got while saving Tsu'tey from doing that funny fall. That does fix the paradox of there being two Spiders sooo, win I guess?

After that, everything goes on as normal as it can be, what with everyone being alive and all. They do eventually find the clues left behind by the MANY Spiders and piece together what happened, they don't believe it at first, but all of that, combined with Spider growing up and becoming a spiting image of the stranger leaves them with little else (Imagine learning that your sister, father and a bunch of other important people to you are still alive only because the boy you hate for being the "Spawn of that demon" was sent back in time countless times, died countless deaths, all so everyone else could have a happier life, couldn't be me)

I'm also imagining that Eywa (She's more like a literal goddess here, not full on cosmic being, but enough to see trough time) saw all of it and at the half way point was like "PLEASE STOP! Even one was enough, just please!" all the while the embodiment of Spider's will was cackling like a gremlin " I ain't even half way done!"

Best of all, Miguel O'Hara can't do shit about it (The time loop is a cannon event)

So yeah, that's my thingy to you, a bit long (sorry!) but it is there.

Ooh, well I haven't seen a Spider time travel fic yet, only ones with the other Sully's or with the people from the first movie coming forward in time.

I do loooove a time loop, it's like a little mystery to figure out exactly how the perfect series of events can pan out. I love that Quaritch still dies though, that makes me happy. Spider of COURSE had to throw a fire extinguisher.

I am fascinated by how lonely his time in the past must have been. Especially if he was still a teenage boy. And if he went back as far as saving Sylwanin, dude was like so fucking old by the time they made it to the end there. He was older than Neytiri then so his ass was like nearing the end of middle aged. His bones are creaking their way around the forest. Where did he fucking live, how did he have the supplies to breathe and care for his human needs, how did no one notice him for like forty years?? So many questions.

Also hilarious to imply Eywa had nothing at all to do with this and was just watching.

#eywa like well i didn't do that #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #spider sully #miles quaritch #grace augustine #kiri sully #sylwanin #jake sully #neytiri sully #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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androdetective · 4 months

Text

Don't harass anyone just block

This isn't something I wouldn't make without reason. I'm sure a lot of people must of noticed these out of place posts in the 31 minutos tag

Spinergy-69 posted in the main 31 minutos tag, except this was a post directed against a post of the person in the screenshot.

"Things that make me laugh? Having debated a thousand years ago a public post tagged "Tulio Triviño" in which I thought I was going to be able to debate at ease with another fan, fighting arguments for the mere fun of doing it, and after 437268573 days he still quotes someone who commented a list of things for which he didn't think the same. I really am unforgettable. 🚬 Don't worry, I'm all about talking things face to face, instead of sending childish indirects like this specimen, but the times l've tried to talk it out in the posts he devotes to me, he cries even louder the baby, so that's all that's left and my last reference to it, Peace"

Below it is an image of that person's post (who will be called "A") he was responding to, it reads:

"Every time I see a white humanization of Tulio (even more if he is blonde/has streaked hair like the puppet) it takes years off my life. HE LOOKS HORRIBLE LIKE THAT THEY TOOK AWAY HIS MELANIN!!!

(don't take this post so seriously I don't want whiners to come and try to "debate" like when I said that Tulio was canonically fat)"

he also wrote tags that said "#bonus points if they make Bodoque more brown than him #it seems classist to me #the rich guy has to be white and the other more brown because he doesn't have as much money"

User Spinergy drew a box around the last sentence that says, "No one, absolutely no one draws him more brown because of that"

In the second image, Spinergy again posts in the 31 minutos tag a post directed against A. A has told Spinergy many times not to interact with him, and Spinergy has continued to ignore that. It says:

"I want to cancel (person's @) for giving me the spectacular HC that Juan Carlos Bodoque would be brown for being exposed to the most extreme weather conditions, being an off-road reporter. Between the Chilean desert and the Chilean arctic he would have a tan color worth appreciating. Assuming that fans have related skin tone to monetary acquisition, is in fact, the most classist thought I have read in a long time, cancel (he calls A a snake)"

I will add that in the comments of this post, he speaks with his friend and it says this:

"I accept the cancelation, I am enemy #1 of a JC with PERFECTLY WHITE skin, how would he not have sun spots, a constant tan or noticeable burns considering he even let himself be buried under sand?

-And what a great episode it was, holy shit... Totally cinematic.

-Besides, we already have someone with milky skin and another with pure, porcelain-white skin. Let the adventurer express his savagery in his skin, let the tan be a mark of life rather than a social stigma"

I don't have to explain why that's colorist language. Attributing savagery and the wild with tan/brown skin is very bad. It's ironic he's called A discriminatory when he's fine with this.

After those two posts, A responds with this:

"I seriously have to clarify that in my previous post that when I said that it seems classist to me that Tulio is always made white and Juan Carlos brown, I don't mean that EVERY such humanization is classist in itself, but because classism mixed with racism/colorism in LATAM is something very present???

Yes, each person may have a reason for why Bodoque is brown (whether it's because of work, being born that way or just because one likes it) but I simply mentioned that because people sometimes mess up with it unintentionally. It just can't be that I said in the post not to take it so seriously, and a few hours later, I found out that they took it seriously. He then accuses me of being a classist for making a connection??? what a laugh.

I was referring to the fact that rich people always have to be made white, almost as if tulio for being a spoiled rich guy has to be white even though the same series shows that he is not, he looks like Pedro Peirano (his voice actor) who's not white. I didn't accuse the headcanon of brown bodoque as something bad nor did I say that I think it is bad in itself wtf is up with people."

A then writes in the tags "#well what do I expect from the guy that I asked to NOT INTERACT with me and he keeps on doing it to defame me"

This seems reasonable enough. Spinergy then decides to comment.

"Lalala~ we saw you. Im happy I took that screenshot,

-"Discriminatory" is when I complain about stereotypes that can seep into what you do whether in a good way or not. And what if you get yourself a job instead of being obsessed with me, fan????

-I hadn't responded to any of the indirects you left publically for me, but I'm fed up with you, all day long looking for attention, leave me alone. Pretending someone pays attention to you won't make you turn history on its head. The one with the childish and not at all brave indirects, is you, it's not my style. Just stop crying, you're too big for that.

-"all day looking for attention" man I only mentioned you in ONE post. Besides I had blocked you, SUPPOSEDLY you shouldn't be able to see my posts. Anyways, you never responding was a lie, you literally dedicated two whole posts trashing me because why not.

-If you didn't bump into me you wouldn't make posts using the show's hashtag to get my friends attention or mine. You're too old to be fighting with people my age. It'd be better if you go pay taxes or do something really productive. I've thought about blocking you and never seeing you in my life, that's why I mentioned you in a post.

-You have severe mythomania. You invent bullshit to bash anyone who disagrees with you. This wasn't my words but I was told you were a lot like "Hitler" and I agree. Wrapping it up, it's easier to catch a liar than a thief, so it will be for you, everyone has to pay for their mistakes eventually. Peace out and really block this time, I don't block. That's for pussys."

Completely immature and so unnecessarily mean for an adult to speak like this to a minor. A minor who has said many times he doesn't want him to interact with him. This is just bully behavior.

The thing that started Spinergy to harass A was this post

"Tulio should be drawn chubby more often... It bothers me a bit that whenever he's humanized, it isn't taken into account that he's canonically chubby. I'd like to see that reflected in fanart more 😔"

Things then go downhill in the comments

"He's not fat, it's just that as a television personality he's held to strict and unattainable standards, so even though he's known to be on a diet, it's hard for him to meet those standards.

-They still call him fat, dude. If he calls himself fat, then he is fat.

-Of course they're going to tell him that, tulio lives in a way that is very much dependent on his appearance, if you want to screw a tv figure, telling him like that is the most effective way to ruin his day. The camera will make you gain between 5 and 8 kilos. If your weight is normal, you still have to lose another 5 more to look thin on tv. Maybe he's fat for tv, but he's still average.

-Dude what do I care. I'm just saying it because it pisses me off that they always make him a stick 😭 Is it so hard for a little guy to say that he wants to see tulio fat or

-Hmmn, frustration over a conversation as to what we've seen canon and what we haven't? hahaha, what

-You are unbearable, "Ay Tulio can't be fat because *insert dumb reason*" Dude, what does it affect you that I see tulio fat? does it bother you that much?

-Hahaha, I didn't even get upset. It was you who started screaming about your own personal frustrations. at least my "dumb reasons" have much more logic than your zero frustration tolerance. You are fighting like I insulted your own belly, control yourself like an adult.

-"Control yourself as an adult" I'm a minor, dude, it looks like you didn't see my post that mentions it lol. Tulio is not in his 20s, it makes all the sense in the world that he is fat or has SOME belly, in the fourth season MINIMUM he starts his 40s, besides it was YOU who came with the " he's not fat because TV stars aren't" story.

-Besides, it makes me laugh at how you talk so much about the canon and make Juan Carlos a redhead or Tulio with striped hair when they are respectively blonde and black-haired. It's like... bruh

"Believe me, my love, it shows that you're a minor, haha. In any case, that's not what I said, and you know that very well. And yes, I know Tulio is in his 40s in the last season, which is not synonymous with being fat.

-I don't understand why you write in such a fucking disgusting know-it-all way but hey. A man in his 40's would be letting himself loose (getting old), and besides Tulio is not into working out, it would make sense for him to have a belly. Tulio getting screwed by being fat would look good with his character and would speak to how much, despite pretending to love himself, hates his looks and does everything to his physical appearance and does everything to change it +

-(Continued) There are episodes that mainly revolve around or focus on Tulio being seen as fat. It WOULD make sense that he would be. Now I ask: what is your reason for COMING to my post complaining "ay he's not fat" and then screaming when you started the whole thing.

-I came to say my opinion because that's what you leave public posts for, so that the rest of the fandom can give our personal opinion, and that's what I did. And when I commented normally you jumped in with "dude what do I care" a way that, according to me, contain zero respect. So check the comments back, I'm just telling you that I don't think alike, and that's why I said you have zero frustration tolerance, since you won't admit to being told "no".

-If you wanted so much respect you could have simply said "I like the way you see the subject but I think that this (insert your reasoning) is better" not come to say "ummm he is not fat because I say so" and then call me a crybaby and then treat me as less and act superior. I came with all the desire in the world to share what I believe and you had to come and say that it isn't true because it does not make sense.

-Who gets to say I think it's a good idea when it's not? It doesn't seem so to me, and that's why I came to debate in a healthy way, in any case, that you need me to say something like that denotes your insecurity in front of the subject. And no, just because you use diminutives like "ganitas", it won't change the fact that you jumped to defend yourself when no one parroted nothing."

-The way you said it it sounded more like "he's not fat because I said so" rather than "I don't believe he's fat".

-By giving arguments like the world of television, cameras, diets, the immeasurable unreal pressure on media figures, I am not saying "because I say so", on the contrary, rather it is something similar to: Look, I have these cards that could be possible clues. Try not to be so delicate when someone comes to comment on another of your posts casually.

-You know what? If you weren't so nasty I would have listened to you, treating me as lesser simply for getting mad at you, some of your arguments might be interesting, but suuure it was very difficult to tell me something to my face instead of calling me "delicate" or "frustrated", no of course not /sarc

-To your face? Haha, I'm telling you to your face that you got frustrated for no reason, that you got into a fight when I only came to debate a topic I'm passionate about, and that you have tolerance of a little girl, to your face.

-Not the misgendering 💀💀💀 You've whined at me enough, if you like the block button so much then eat it whole

-It was "No tolerance", my phone betrays me with its auto-correct. And do what you want, you reaffirm my theory that you have no tolerance"

Spinergy is acting rude and like a child. Over something as petty as a sock monkey being fat. It's one thing if he's just a rude person but it's another to act like a bully to a minor. A minor who he knows he makes uncomfortable. It's his responsibility to be the mature one and not go after a kid. It'd be so much easier to ignore A and continue living. He just wants to antagonize someone younger than him for no reason.

Here Spinergy ignores A's boundaries and argues

"Why is that? Because I told you some time ago that I thought differently? different?

-For being annoying and ignorant, and for trying to play the "intellectual," you make me seriously uncomfortable, and I don't want you here. End of.

-Bah, I only commented with my point of view because by making a public post, you are indirectly inviting others to participate, but then you started crying for nothing. If you don't want people to come and comment on a topic you put on the table, I insist, tag it, block and problem solved.

-I blocked you in fact, but for whatever reason, you can still comment. Don't act like you "came to give your opinion" far from it, you told me that Tulio being fat didn't make sense because of "TV standards" which don't apply to male newshosts, and then when I told you "what do I care" you started to bawl like I killed your family.

-Sure what do I know, I have friends who have told me how muuuch you like to bother people on other social medias, all agree that you are extremely unpleasant to deal with, clearly the one who is wrong is me not you, because you're an angel, right? /Sarc

-No, no, I love debating, it's my favorite national sport. The one who cried here is the one who, curiously, blocked me and got offended. I could talk or debate all my life. It's obvious who is itching to fight.

-In fact I wouldn't have had a problem with it being your opinion (which you just used to make yourself look better at the last minute), what was disgusting to me was the way you started to act superior out of nowhere, first telling me "to act like an adult", and when I told you I wasn't you mocked me saying "I knew you were a minor". Oh but I'm the crybaby for saying "what do I care" XD????

-But how did they recognize me? And on what other social media? Bullshit. Although the very idea of being considered as such makes me laugh hahahaha. Anyway, I don't get offended by anything, nothing at all, so if I seemed offended, it was a misunderstanding, so you can lower your weapons.

-On Facebook, I've literally been told that you used to roleplay as Bodoque and bully because one person did a Juanin voice with your little friends, besides many people saw the conversation and it made them cringe with your way of imposing yourself as if you were Jesus Christ.

P.S if you weren't offended you wouldn't have started with your bullshit comments that I'm "frustrated" ;)

-No, no, as I said, I don't get offended by anything, I insult my friends worse hahaha, it's the truth. Maybe both, you and I, interpreted that the other was frustrated wrongly. And yes I have a Juan Carlos account, it's the most popular on Facebook, but it's roleplay. I never go out of character. It is clearly a compliment to its existence. I never comment as a user there, so the mockery of which you speak was in character, laughing as Bodoque and Tulio.

-I'm still fed up with you, so please don't interact with my account anymore. I don't want you here.

-Anyway, you didn't consider possible excessive exaltation, or possible misinterpretation on your part, as if you couldn't be wrong in a debate. Many points can lead a person to argue, in your case. In mine, I only came to comment about Guaripolo, for another, blockk.

-I already told you that I had blocked you. Just that for some reason I don't know, you can still interact with my posts. That's why I told you to stop doing it."

At this point, he could've simply apologized and respected his wishes. Why be so disrespectful towards someone who hasn't done anything harmful. Not only that but he also confirmed that account A mentioned. If Spinergy is comfortable enough acting like this then I don't have high hopes for what he's done on facebook.

A wants Spinergy to not interact with him not only because of that, but also because Spinergy's account is technically 18+. He has posted nsfw art before. As an owner of an adult blog, he needs to state that it is one. Even if the blog has a little nsfw.

While he did appropriately tag that post as nsfw, he also maintagged it as 31 minutos. The 31 minutos tumblr community has a lot of minor fans, with the chance of them possibly seeing it. It wasn't put under the mature label either.

I don't have much closing words except to stop being mean, stop interacting with minors with an account you've posted nsfw to (alongside suggestive themes), and to act like an adult.

Block him and don't harass anyone here. Don't mention names of anyone involved, the main focus is Spinergy.

I'll finish off with words from A

"Spinergy should block me too if he's tired of me. Because I'm sick of feeling insecure about posting things and him seeing it"

#31 minutos

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chiaracognigniart · 3 months

Text

TDIOBCB ship challenge:

As the ones who follow me on Twitter know, after two months drawing canon stuffs, for this March I decided to use these prompts to make some fanarts of my fic.

This means that next month my art will be again internally about TDIOBCB and nothing else.

However, before starting posting about this new challenge, I think, considering the fact that not everybody who follows me had read my fic and the characters that will be drawn, to provide some specifics to avoid misunderstandings.

As you've understood, this new March 'challenge,' unlike the previous one, has nothing to do with Canon (either from the book or the TV series) and instead is completely centred on the pairs present in my AU fic 'TDIOBCB.'

This Fanfiction is in turn inspired by another fanfic, also AU Divergence: if you're curious about what these two stories are about, you can search for them on AO3. This means that many (if not all) of the couples that will be illustrated will have no logic to exist in the canonical world, in any possible way, yet in this completely nonsensical universe, they do.

Many of the characters and their partners may have undergone significant modifications from their canonical counterparts: for example, in this universe, Viserys and Larra are a real ship, which would be aberrant if they were the same characters from the books, but in this context, it's acceptable, given that the methods and premises of their union are 99% different from Canon.

The same goes for the ship Baela and Aemond, which makes no sense to exist neither here nor there, but here it has been done, albeit nonsensically, to give it a completed sense. There will also be many ships made entirely of my OCs, and others made from pre-existing characters and OCs.

Additionally, all these illustrations will be explicitly inspired by paintings, famous and not, with a strong use of tracing. I won't copy Line by Line these paintings, but I'll use them as models for compositions and poses, and all paintings used as references will be posted below.

I wanted to specify this because recently there has been 'a debate' within the artistic community of this fandom about tracing, so I wanted to clarify my intentions from the outset. I know that many disagree with this practice, especially if those who use it then pretend not to use it, but I have never hidden my use of reference images and, indeed, I have always published with great transparency every time-lapse of the works, never cutting any steps. I don't believe that tracing is evil or a cardinal sin, especially if it's used to assimilate and improve one's skills, but one shouldn't abuse it, and pretending not to know about it is tremendously dishonest. All my art teachers since high school have encouraged us to copy from classical paintings because they believed it would help us remember and memorize proportions, composition, and anatomy more effectively, but the underlying idea of this technique is that once everything is assimilated, one should stop and start drawing without it and not continue indefinitely. Furthermore, this becomes fraudulent if the illustrations you copy part by part are then sold. I haven't yet received commissions of this kind, and all the other illustrations where I've used tracing for poses or objects were all illustrations I did without receiving a penny and that I did for pure pleasure, but I assure you that if anyone ever offered to pay me to do an illustration, I would never dare to use tracing.

That said, the 'challenge' in question is something I want to do for myself, so I don't see anything horrible in getting help with some images that help me set up the composition, and in any case, I would post the entire process. Again, sorry for this immensely long and monstrously boring screed, but on Twitter, it's better to protect oneself in advance

#illustration #artists on tumblr #chiara cognigni's art #chiara's art #digital illustration #fanart #art #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction art #challenge #tdiobcb #the doom in our blood comes back #ship challenge #march #au divergence #ocs

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hopesallwegotleft · 11 months

Note

Yo, what do you use to make your Gifs? Seems like everyone else has gifs that look amazing. Even on my highest "quality" setting. They still post looking like a bunch pixels that wants to know if it looks like it knows what a Jpeg is.

Hey! I'm not sure about the exact result just from the description lol but gifs can turn blurry or lower quality because of various reasons. On Tumblr, it might be caused by the dimensions of the gif. For one gif on a row, the max size used to be 500 pixels, now it's 540. (This post has a quick overview.) If it exceeds that width, the gif will appear more blurry. Tumblr also compresses gifs if the file sizes are between 5-10 MB, though I have no idea how/if that effects the quality tbh.

The size of the video/screenshots you work with is also important. Since I have a copy of HoA, I record my own gameplay of it with 2304 x 1440 dimensions. An 8 min video with those dimensions has a file size of like 1 GB, and 1 screenshot has a file size of 1-2 MB, but it helps being able to gif only a small part of a scene and with image quality in general. Tbh I'd love to freely share either video or screenshots with other folks for editing purposes, in a way where people can just nab them if they wanna, but the file sizes make it difficult.

Probably unnecessary to add, but anyway: within the game, you can also set various image quality options to a higher or lower quality, so if your computer can handle it I recommend putting those settings as HQ as they can go.

Another important factor is not to oversharpen or undersharpen the images. If I crop out a lot of the canvas I usually sharpen it once, and if I keep almost the full image in the gif I sometimes sharpen it twice (in steps, eg first reduce the image size from 1400 x 1400 to 950 x 950, sharpen, then reduce the image to 540 x 540 and sharpen again). But that really depends on how the final result looks. More advanced folks use more detailed ways of sharpening (such as Smart Sharpen... or Unsharp Mask... in Photoshop) but personally, I stick to regular sharpening since it looks nice enough too and it's 1 click, as opposed to sliding the bars around to find the exact result I want.

I don't think doing 1 of these points wrong will lead to a horrible quality, but combining all of the bad points may lead to very blurry or pixelated gifs.

For recording I use what Windows has (by hitting Windows + Alt + R), for screenshots I use VLC media player, and for editing PS.

And for anyone looking to get into editing or giffing without PS: Photopea is an online website that emulates a lot of PS functions. The gif and text functions are sadly still a bit limited compared to PS, but it's free, doesn't even require an account, and it does incredible work imo <3

Lemme know if anything's unclear or if you have any other questions. (Same goes for other folks, I love seeing people's HoA edits, and if I can help anyone looking to start with that process I'm happy to)

#ask

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dr-fish-phd · 1 year

Text

Well, it's fairly late, I've accidently used a can of carbonated vodka instead of carbonated water, and as such I feel the need to rant about a few things I consistently see in environmental debates with regards to forests, or really just any "pretty" environment that people tend to get up in arms about 'preserving'.

I cannot manage to find the particular images I'm searching for at the moment (probably due to the aforementioned vodka) but despite that, and I know damn well I've seen other posts on this concept as well, there is this strange idea in some circles that we ought to strive to preserve nature exactly as it is, and it seems... Not foolish, exactly, but not well thought out. A key part of this idea seems to be the notion that without human interaction, these areas would simply continue as they were, some sort of 'untouched wilderness', which, to be frank, is incredibly inaccurate and both euro- and human-centric, but more on That later, and regardless, even ignoring those issues is just false. I know, having taught several (very low-detail) courses on principles of ecology and even a few targeting wildlife management and the bottomless pit of hell that is phylogeny, that the information taught in basic classes on these subjects is often just... Wrong, or at the very least outdated. Simple classes, which certainly have their place, are often presented as more than they are, which is a tool to build basic conceptual knowledge. The moment you move beyond the surface level in, say, habitat ecology, however, you're confronted with something. The simple ideas covered in the previous courses, while generally 'a little bit correct', falls apart in a non-theoretical environment, because, to be as blunt as possible: Nature could not give less of a flying fuck about how we classify it. Certainly there are some broad categories that can be useful, something often seen in fields such as taxonomy, where sure, the concept of "a fish" is certainly helpful, but... Well, let's try and define a fish in a modern style of taxonomy.

One of the key concepts in the modern understanding of taxonomy is the common ancestor, which is generally used for the grouping of related species. Now, as some of my more biology-inclined friends may be aware, this poses Problems when it comes to fish. See, usually, you'd pick some set of traits, then trace evolutionary history back to where that combination of traits emerged. The issue, however, is found in the outliers, and in the case of fish, if you select criteria that would allow you to define everything commonly considered a fish, you run into a significant problem: That common ancestor is far enough back that to include everything considered "fish" in that taxon, you also include, well, just about every other multicellular animal on the planet. Obviously, this is a problem... Or is it? See, the Real issue is that the common understanding of what fish are has no relation to taxonomy. At all. 'Fish' isn't a taxonomic classification, because it's not a helpful category for the field. And yes, I am quite aware of the length of this tangent, but I'm getting there, alright? You want something short and sweet, go read an abstract. So, with the example of the fish, consider another field in which we attempt to impose order onto an inherently disordered system:

Ecology. Think back to grade school. While I certainly can't guarantee anything about a scientific education, I can make a solid guess that a decent portion of this sites userbase, at the very least, has probably taken a basic biology course. I know damn well that my experience is very much not universal, because I was a dumbass overachiever who hyperfixated on systems ecology and wildlife management, so I'm very much open to anyone dropping information about what they remember in the replies or tags, as a sort of experiment if nothing else. Regardless, to summarize a horribly long-winded and overly roundabout point, which is at best tangentially related to the entire discussion above, nature isn't an ordered system. It's not fixed, or easy to categorize, by any means. Really, it's a nigh-incomprehensible web of interconnections, with links between things you'd never even think to check, and all of these uncountably many connections are changing Constantly. Nature is, by definition, chaotic. Considering I have absolutely no idea if any of you are even following what the hell I'm writing by this point, my point is that all these simple, ordered systems of categories and classifications are tools, not facts. They aren't there to give perfectly accurate understanding, they're there to provide the most basic level of understanding by imposing order in a chaotic environment.

Moving on, before my writing becomes Utterly incomprehensible, we can address the second and third issues raised, those of euro- and human-centrism. Firstly, the idea of places like old-growth forests or rolling plains being 'untouched wilderness'? Blatantly incorrect. Those are managed ecosystems, whether the management is by a variety of animals, or by humans caring for the land. And, to build off that last statement: Humans are animals. It's just a simple fact, really, there is nothing aside from (known) sapience that distinguishes us from any other living thing on the planet. And, to be blunt, and head off Certain Arguments before they begin (yes, I am looking at you, anprims and "anti-overpopulation" eugenicists), you are part of nature. It is not some abstract concept that People interact with, it's the world around you, and whether you comprehend the meaning of it or not You Are Part Of It. No ifs, ands, or buts, You Are Natural. This is part and parcel for both the aforementioned groups and a particularly irksome brand of 'revolutionary' thought, which can be succinctly summarized as "a bunch of nihilistic assholes who are so addicted to their own bullshit that they consider themselves Outside of nature". Humanity isn't a virus. Fuck whoever came up with That whole deal, by the way, they set back debates on the topic by A Lot.

Ranting aside, if you manage to retain anything from this gargantuan wall of text by your local ecology/engineering major, make it the fact that 'preserving' nature is a flawed concept and that anyone talking about overpopulation or claiming that humans are a virus is both an asshole and wrong.

#science #infodump

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bellafragolina · 2 years

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{Chatting}

Arceus help me, I tried to put the brain worms back in the jar and the jar exploded.

So I like to let my mind run willy-nilly while cleaning, and I found myself trying to think of how maybe to stretch that thread of hope from before, when the twins make an effort. Like, what would I do in that situation, you know? And I thought, even if I had no desire to accept an apology, I'd still kind of want one?? And that led me to thinking of an scenario.

So maybe a couple weeks later, after the time the boys defend you, they see you again from a short distance. You notice them notice you, and while you understandably don't go running up to them, you also don't go running away, either. You just kind of sigh and slowly wander off - and for a moment they see you. Because of the journal and photos they finally know you're not the monster they first thought, but now that they're looking they can see the exhaustion, the weariness, the sadness, the heavy guard you always keep up. You're not not a monster, no, and maybe you're not the fairytale soulmate they envisioned, but you're still a person, one who was almost broken and somehow came out the other side still alive. Cracked, maybe, and dented, but alive. (And they know there's got to be some kind of fire in you somewhere - they saw it when you went off on them.) What you went through was horrible, what you were made to do was deplorable, but the fact you're still here and still trying to get to steady ground is amazing.

(Low key also saying that for anyone who may resonate with any of this and needs to hear it. ❤)

They write you another letter. (Well. Ingo writes it; Emmet adds in what he wants to say, too, but Ingo is better at words than he is.)

"We owe you an apology. You are under no obligation to accept it, or even respond, but you're owed an apology nonetheless. It's the absolute least we can do after everything."

And for a while there's radio silence. Nothing. Weeks go by, though, and finally they get?? A reply??? It's just like, an index card in an envelope, but it's more than they expected.

"You realize your public image will suffer if you're seen with me, right?"

But then there's a phone number?? And a time and date you'll be free for them to call it?? (It's a number to a public phone, maybe, or a burner, probably not your real one, but still.)

So they call. And against all odds, you answer. You let them talk, probably not saying anything yourself; they apologize, tell you that they read your journal, saw the photos, realize what you've gone through, lament that they jumped to such harsh conclusions. They don't expect anything from you, not even forgiveness, but you deserve to hear that they were wrong.

After they finish, you just kind of sit there silently for a minute.

"...Okayyyy? So you're sorry. Now what? What do you want from me right now?"

They don't have an answer, or at least not one they can find words for that you'll believe. They don't want anything from you, just for you. They'd love to get to know you as a person, not even necessarily as a soulmate, just as a person, though they understand if that ship has sailed. They want you to be able to find happiness like you wrote in your journal, and they accept that, were it ever to be with them, (if that's even possible at all) it will take a very, very long time to get to that point.

(Also kind of an unintentional lesson about the nature of relationships and how they go both ways, not just one. They'd always imagined a happy life with their soulmate; what had their soulmate imagined about them? And I mean, I highly doubt the boys would ever be intentionally selfish as partners, but picturing a relationship and being in one are two different things.)

But I digress.

They're right, of course, you don't really believe them, and you certainly don't forgive them - but it's good that they tried. You tell them you don't know how to feel about this, that you don't know if you can ever trust them, and while it hurts, they accept this. If them leaving you alone is what's best for you, then, if they truly want you to be happy, that's what they'll do.

Time passes. You try and make a life for yourself, you think about what it is that you want for yourself, and maybe, a few years down the line, maybe you'll be willing and ready to allow them to try again. You may never end up in a relationship, and you don't need one to be whole, but it would be nice, maybe, to just... start over. New beginnings and all that.

So when you notice them noticing you the next time you're taking the subway to work, and they send you a tiny, respectful wave - maybe, if you're feeling it, you wave back.

~💥

Yessssss!! I love your brain worms so much!!

Ahh, I have nothing to add!! Really, this is all perfect!! And it leaves it on such a hopeful note! It’s very sweet, and I enjoy it immensely!

Thank you, lovely! Please never stop being amazing!!

~Renee

#💥 anon

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iamyelling · 1 year

Text

on the kids/parenthood question

i still very much feel on the fence. i finally found a community for people questioning parenthood , on reddit it's called fencesitters. currently lurking, maybe will post someday.

i am .. afraid of what the people in there will say if i write a post. it feels so complicated and i don't know if i'm able to articulate the complexities and nuance.

i. i feel .. i refuse to give up on the world. and i refuse to believe that just because the world sucks and things are very bad, that one should not have a child. i do not see how it is inherently a selfish thing, it seems to be a natural thing. i realize i used to see it as a selfish thing but i don't anymore. i dont really know what changed. i guess learning about reproductive justice, that people should have a right to have children if they want, and to be supported in doing so. i feel.. barred from it. i feel .. left out, for lack of a better word. i feel my choice is taken away and i am not allowed this human experience.

i also fear that i am not Capable of it. the vast majority of my concern is regarding executive function and all the chores and tasks. the next biggest concern is support network, friends, socializing, all the social obligations (this is connected to executive function). the third biggest concern is my own mental health and emotional stability. i am concerned that i am.. going to be This Way forever. or that there is nothing i can do. that i do not deserve to be a parent, or deserve friends or human connection. that i will be evil and toxic and horrible to everyone around me and thus will never have these experiences. that i will just be excluded and barred for life. i am afraid that i am doomed to be trapped and repeat these things..

i am of course afraid of childbirth and to a lesser degree, pregnancy. the tearing and health complications and injury.

i do believe that i would step up and be able to do it. (all the executive function and Task-ing that needs to be done as a parent). i feel i especially would if i had a bit of support. but.. then i become worried about annah's capacity for help and organization and i think about how she does not want kids and how it would require her to be fully excited and committed. i do not think there is anyone else i would want to raise a child with. she is my person.

i have more and more been finding that ... mainstream normie white het cis centrist liberal hegemonic whatever you wanna call it, culture around parenthood, is so not something i relate to or am interested in. and that is a big part of the reason i for a long time felt i did not want kids. the whole .. culture around it, the way the parents identify the way they engage with one another, the way they see themselves and their role in society, the aesthetics and just. so many things. but in pursuing leftist perspectives, and lesbian, and queer, and trans, and Black, and brown and indigenous and interracial, and poor, and immigrant perspectives, i see that it actually quite normal to have no taste for that shit and that disliking it does not mean one shouldn't be a parent or doesn't want kids. so seeing these other perspectives gives me images of what is possible. that i don't have to transform into some other person, i could still be myself.

and i do not believe that someone needs to fully have their life together to have a kid. i don't think you have to be rich and wealthy and all this fancy stuff. because like what, are poor families BAD for having kids?? that's ridiculous. of course not. people of color are not bad or selfish for having kids. and so on. it is normal to want and have kids, it is okay. humans are allowed to want and have kids. it is not some terrible sin to "bring another human into this world". I can understand that other people may feel that way about themselves but I think it becomes problematic when they apply that judgement to others. It can only be a judgement about their own life, it can't be applied to everyone else.

i am of course afraid that i would have a bad time of being a parent. that i would regret it or be depressed or burnt out or something else. dont worry, i read all the stories that i can.

it doesnt feel like a good idea to talk to either of our parents about this. and i have sort of talked to my friends about it but haven't been very supported in these feelings. well one of my friends we had a good talk a few months ago but otherwise yeah. idk.

and annah has asked that i do not discuss it with her for some time. and also that i ought not to be thinking about this when i am so unstable and our relationship is so rocky and we are financially in such a rough spot. so i can't work through these things with her either. and i can't articulate to her my position nor hear hers. since talking about it is off limits for at least a couple more months.

i just. i have to believe that i deserve to have a kid. and hearing annah say that she does believe we would be good parents was incredible. i hang on to it like a locket on my chest. i clutch it. sometimes i feel so strongly i believe so deeply that we would be good parents. and other times i am so afraid that we would be horrible and just continue the cycle. but i guess we all are everyone is and it never stopped our ancestors yknow. the world has never been awesome and great, life has never been easy, it's always been dangerous and scary and tough. why should i see it as different now. just because i know it shouldn't be so terrible? because i know what needs to be done to fix it? because these things shouldn't be happening?

i do desire to be a parent. to raise a person. teach them things, love them, care for them, show them things - places, art, music, life, adventure. i want to do that with annah. i want to make our family. i want to continue our families.

i do not want procreation to be a privilege of the rich and the cis and the straight and the white and the conservative. i do not want it to be reserved just for them. we deserve to have kids too. i want to have a kid.

and also i guess i am worried i just want a kid to prove (to myself? the world?) that i Am Capable of being a parent, of doing it. (not the procreation part, the taking care of them and having my shit together part) which certainly is a bad reason. so now i must dwell on this. do i want it just to be able to say "look i can do it" . as an achievement? i fear my question has so heavily morphed into "am i up to the task of being a parent?" that i have forgotten the focus should be on whether i want to be a parent whether i will enjoy it. i suppose i just worry so much about the tasks and chores involved that i fear i will become bad at it, struggle at it, not be up to the task, find it exhausting and hopeless and overwhelming and depressing and make me burned out. that the question of whether i will be any good at it simply takes precedence over desire.

#personal #parenting #thoughts

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medusian3y3 · 1 month

Text

Notes: The Aries - Cancer Conflict

First repost from my Reddit.

A user asked: Why do Cancer and Aries hate each other? (See post and my answer below.)

Preface: We have many signs, house rulers, degrees, and aspects that call for us to embody different Zodiac themes in specific areas of our life so each of us may very well have a placement linked to a Sun sign we clash with. This is all for divine purpose. We embody all 12 houses in life even when the zodiac energy isn't apparent in our natal charts. (For example: I am an Aries SN with Cancer 8H and a Venus at 28° of Cancer. I have had horrible experiences with Cancer SNs/placements. That is b/c of how they chose to use their chart energy. Our choices determine the type of energy we embody from each sign. What we attract is a different story but still divine purpose. We attract themes of our placements as well but again they choose how they appear to us. )

Clashing can come from conflicting missions in this lifetime. We have multiple placements. Aries represents the wise Fool, brave action, impulse or instinctual nature, the beginning, the leader, the "I Am" (unfiltered & unrestrained existence). The Sun is exalted in Aries so your action, image, and appearance in the world are meant to be self driven. Think 1H ruling physical body, your appearance in the world, identity, etc which is naturally ruled by Aries. Wherever Aries is in your chart (planet, house, degree, aspects) you are meant to define yourself apart from the masses, take the lead/initiative, be direct, defend yourself or face opposition, direct your actions, etc and encourage this in others. This can express itself as desire to engage in activism and to encourage others to be unfiltered & unapologetically themselves. This is why Aries placements can like honest or exist without filters (the natural way). However, there are many meaningful and complex layers to the Aries/Fool position which is why I call them the wise Fool. The higher explanation is a bit too long for this post. Learn more with The Psychology of The Fool by Eternalised (YouTube). It has timestamps (I recommend the full video).

Cancer is the "I Feel" so tapping into all sensation (emotional and physical) to experience the world. However, this doesn't mean simply acting on emotions but rather assessing and addressing emotional & physical sensations of self and others. I say emotional and physical sensations b/c the body is water and holds our emotional energy like a cup of water -- emotion and the physical body are interlinked (i.e. somatic body mapping & The Body Keeps Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk). You physically feel and/or react to all your emotional/mental experiences. The Cancer represents the Chariot tarot but within that card the chariot is driven by two opposing horses - conscious & unconscious. Your job is to master & bring forth both whenever Cancer is placed in your chart. It is described as being heart vs. mind but realistically everything comes from the mind so getting a hold of your mind & channeling your mental capacity in healthy ways (not letting your mind run off into the unknown & dark places without control). The problem is that as a Water element, Cancerians tend to merge self with others in their mind as one. The assumption is that "I and the collective want & need the same things." Sometimes this is to the point of exerting conscious or unconscious control or mental/emotional influence of your will onto others (to get your way out of them). This of course opposes the Aries placement need/mission for individuality but it can actually hinder anyone from living their individual purpose. It is also not right to force your will onto others. Your will as an individual will never be right for another. We each have our own individual journey. Cancer also rules the 4H of early childhood, ancestry, private/hidden self, emotional safety, the mother. Wherever Cancer is in your chart (planet, house, degree, aspects) you are meant to bring harmony to your conscious & subconscious, learn how to nurture self & others through empathy (holding space for someone's nature) not control, ground yourself in emotional safety, learn & share elements of your ancestry & private self, and hold space for others to do these same things in their OWN way. That is where conflict comes in, opposing natures but ultimately the same healing purpose (encouraging others to feel safe in who they are).

Love - Dinah/Lior Luna

#astrology #spirituality #aries #cancer

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finsterhund · 10 months

Text

What Nightmares May Come

Holy shit!!! did Finsterhund actually write something!!! (Don’t get your hopes up. It fucking sucks)

I haven't been able to write anything for years but seeing a POS who traces things to make inappropriate images of kid characters write a shitty animal/child abuse apologetic hatefic compelled me to write a hatefic of his hatefic? Christ. But I jumped on the opportunity to write again (I really fucking wanted to be able to write again) so have... this... thing... Hopefully with it out of my system I will be able to make other things. I'm not even going to credit anyone. The guy is apparently homophobic too. Fuck you. This story contains a megalomaniac deranged bratty nepo baby human boy using magic to make everyone else's lives a living hell. Cayden is also there. *shitty canned laughter* Ends with comeuppance in the form of permanent under the bed monster solution. You should never be forced to be "grateful" for the circumstances in which you were born. You shouldn't "accept where you truly belong." Nobody owes anyone jack fucking shit. Die. Needless to say I am EXTREMELY rusty. So be warned.

What Nightmares May Come, which I realize now is technically Sunspot!Cayden’s first literary debut. Christ...

(I swear I will make a better image to accompany this someday)

On a quiet night in a small suburb somewhere in a little American town, Ken stood towering over a small grey puppy, look of superiority over his face. After an evening of psychologically tormenting the young dog for the oh so horrible crime of dreaming of a different life and wanting to set physical boundaries the pup's energy was spent. How was it possible that a ten year old boy could be so vindictive, manipulative, or cruel? It just didn't make much sense. Earlier today he had messed up like any puppy would, and after being tied up outside vented his frustrations in a way oh so common to kids his age. And suddenly this nightmare brat with a stupid magic book had not only overheard him but shown up and verbally harassed and berated him while assaulting him with traumatic visions of his supposed future life. He had been emotionally beaten into submission. And that nasty child all the while just stood above him and grinned. The puppy thought maybe this boy was in that one cult some humans had that claimed to love everyone but actually treated everybody different than them like shit. That might make sense. Before Ken could do anything more to the terrified puppy a brilliant flash of light seared his eyes. Confused, not used to having his power trips in other worlds interrupted, he spun around to see that on the other side of the street was another boy. Blond, scrawny, and wearing some sort of shorts and t-shirt combo without shoes. That didn't seem to bother him though. The other boy walked briskly up, his hands swinging loosely at his sides, wild mop of golden yellow hair bouncing slightly in the breeze. He studied Ken briefly with a pair of strangely captivating bright blue eyes. "Whatcha doin?" He asked. There was a lisp to his voice as he spoke and he sounded slightly younger than he looked, which was already several years younger than Ken. His head was cocked to one side, dog-like, mouth half open. "Er... I was just..." "You gotta help me!" The puppy whimpered. "This weird human showed up who can understand me, and he's torturing me because I said I didn't want to be a house pet. Showing me scary dreams he says are real but not real. I didn't even really mean it... But he's crazy!" The puppy's eyes were pleading, but there was an edge of defeat to them, like he knew to expect that another human wouldn't be able to understand him, like normal. Fortunately for him however, this scruffy odd boy did in fact understand him, and those stark blue eyes immediately snapped up towards Ken with an almost primal revulsion. "That's not true!" Ken spat back. "You were being ungrateful for your family! So I am teaching you a lesson. You called your kid master a nobody, so I made you see what it would be like if he died!" That sounded messed up on its own out of context, but when the truth came out things grew worse. "I've already told you. That's not what I said and you know it! You're twisting my words." The puppy whimpered. I said that I wanted to know what it was like for nobody to pick me up and squeeze and crush me when I didn't want them to. He always hurts me and his parents don't do anything" "Sounds pretty clear" the other boy growled softly, his eyes locked on Ken in an almost hungry way. It was written all over his face how stupid he thought the other boy was for not understanding something so simple. "Dogs already have to go through a lot with humans not respecting their bodily autonomy" those last two words did not sound natural coming from such a vocally immature shaking drawl but the conviction in his eyes showed he still to some extent knew what they meant. "If they're not going to treat him with respect they don't deserve him." "He said that without me the boy would die of depression..." That made the stranger freeze and give Ken the most hate filled glower he had ever been on the receiving end of. "How dare you lie to him and tell him that his kid would suffer more if a dog that wasn't fit for that environment had left rather than stayed there and languished. How... FUCKING... DARE. YOU." This was clearly a very personal point of contention, enough for a very unnatural utterance of the f word to slip out. "You lying manipulative sack of..." the boy caught himself. He tried very hard to contain his rage. "And I suppose you told this pup to keep his mouth shut until he accepted where he truly belonged or some other garbage too?" "Pretty much exactly that..." The puppy whined. "B-but..." Ken tried to cut him off. "But nothing!!" The other boy's hair lifted in what appeared as if the light breeze had morphed momentarily into a gale, his eyes just on the precipice of glittering in an otherworldly way. He almost seemed to float momentarily off of the pavement, loose-fitting shirt billowing in a strong wind with no source, a wind that did not touch a hair on the puppy's head or flutter Ken's own clothes. "Leave us or else." And just like that the disposition and vulnerability of someone no older than seven or eight returned and this boy seemed again weak and small. Ken had been given a warning, but having not faced real consequences did not heed it. "No, YOU need to leave." He pulled up the strange old book he had slung under one arm. Every time someone had tried to give Ken what for after the brat had invaded their world and caused suffering he had used that enchanted book to overpower them. It was abundantly clear he was intending to do the same now. A nasty grin already creeping up his face at the thought of "teaching a lesson" to this strange new boy as well. "That's his evil spell book" the puppy whimpered. "It's where all his powers come from." The puppy was absolutely terrified by the book and cowered with his whole entire body, nubby tail no doubt would have been tucked between his legs if not for its length. The poor thing quaked and shook, a heart wrenching look of abject terror on his face. "It's not evil!" Ken spat at the small dog. "Well you certainly are then..." the other boy growled without hesitation. Ken, now full of a petulant and entirely unrighteous indignation made perhaps his biggest mistake in all of this. He moved forward and in one swift motion shoved the other boy backwards. It was a physically unfair act. The other boy being a good several years younger than him, as well as being starkly delicate and frail went down immediately. He sprawled on his back with a loud cry, high voice breaking shrilly as his head bounced against the pavement and he landed on his side, trembling reflexively. He whimpered something about "being forced to come to New England for this" while on the ground. The puppy looked on horrified at what had been done. His only savior after this time of torment at the hands of an insufferably vindictive brat had born the brunt of that same force, but with a much more visceral result. Ken towered over the other boy with a triumphant smirk and was about to turn back to face the puppy, no doubt to hurl yet more magically powered psychological abuse his way when the grounded boy let out a guttural snarl. This time it wasn't the way humans growled. It was distinctly canine. The puppy recognized it as such. But it had a power to it unfamiliar to any dog he had ever known. The boy's eyes now blazed with that cold vicious blue in a shining florescent fire. His lips pulled back to reveal fangs larger than they normally should be on a homosapien. He was a human boy, but he was also something else. A power older than his body, a power stronger than he had ever let on. Something feral, something primal, something that was at this point quite pissed off as well. "You're not going to live to regret that..." Suddenly like a rush of wind the boy flung himself at Ken and violently tore the accursed spellbook from his hands. In the same motion he pulled back his arms and with an almighty thrust struck him down over the face with it. This time it was his turn to hit the ground. He fell in visually a far less painful way but it was obvious knowing what transpired and what the other boy was, or wasn't... that it hurt him more than what he had done. Groaning from the wind knocked out of him Ken faintly realized through a ringing in his ears that the puppy and the other boy were now introducing themselves. "Cayden" the boy's name appeared to be. He comforted the puppy with such a gentle softness that was so foreign to the raw power he directed at Ken. The puppy, still terrified, allowed himself just the slightest moment of reprieve and let his guard down enough for Cayden to give him a gentle reassuring scratch behind the ears. Between soft cooing, words of promise to ensure that it would never be allowed to happen again were heard. "Give that back..." Ken struggled once he had regained some level of composure. "No. I'm keeping your stupid book" Cayden growled as he slipped it behind his back, only for Ken to look on in confused horror as it seemingly disappeared completely rather than only partially becoming obscured from view. "Now I'll have to put this little guy back in his right space and time. When I was already busy trying to get things done and doing something today..." This wasn't true. Cayden hadn't been doing anything. But he wanted to verbally rip into Ken as much as he could. "You are so stupid. I hate you." There Cayden went again. A retort so infantile and childish. Whatever dwelled behind those blue fiery eyes was still ultimately just another kid. Ken knew better now though that there was something seriously dangerous about this other boy. Perhaps his book could have offered some help identifying it, but now the thing, Ken's lifeline, was gone. Ken noticed then that the puppy was suddenly gone now as well. In the end, the puppy would realize that he did belong with a human family, and ultimately it was Cayden's influence, not Ken's that ensured that the puppy's family actually treated him right and responsibly now. Ken had done fuck all except given the puppy lifelong trauma and a panic disorder. Worse still is that the puppy's problems would have quickly resolved themselves if none of this had happened in the first place. Proving that this entire thing was just a pointless exercise in misery and suffering. Like my life. "Do you realize now that you're wrong? Are you going to ask for forgiveness?" Cayden flashed one of his little fangs with a toothy grin. He knew he would get no such thing but wanted to put the offer on the table anyways. "No! I'm right! He was wrong!" Ken defensively cried out before logic took over and he realized that even if his views hadn't changed it would have been in his best interests to humor Cayden. Too late now. Cayden smirked. "Too bad I guess..." He grabbed Ken by his shirt and dragged him forwards, in an instant the two were somewhere else. A darkened room of sorts. It appeared to be Ken's room. Relief flooded Ken as he thought that he was merely being brought back to his own space and time. Without the book, but otherwise unharmed. He was not so lucky. "I know you've been jumping around different dimensions with that stupid thing..." Cayden growled. "And I'm sick of it. You're annoying and stupid and you think you're so much better than everyone else because you can throw some lazy powers around and nobody can do anything to stop you." Cayden spat viciously. Ken just hung there shocked. He had never had any real resistance to the magical shit he had gotten up to. It was as if the universe had been built around him, solely designed to give him some power trip. "You... You're jealous?" Ken asked. Another big mistake. "I don't need a stupid book to do any of this." Cayden shuddered. Anger probably. "You thought you were the only one? You thought you could be some interdimensional bully? Forcing everyone to submit to you? You're not even a cool dark lord. You didn't even EARN IT. Them, I understand. Them, it's exciting and neat and fun. I like that. But you? You get to play pretend like you're some hero even though you're the opposite. You're a monster who denies he's that. You'd never have learned. You NEVER deserved that power." Cayden knew more than he let on of course. From physically assaulting penguin chicks and lion cubs to using the magic book to invade sacred places that he was never meant to be, Kenneth had certainly made quite the reputation for himself as an unlikable piece of shit only respected due to fear. Not that Cayden was too much better. Although Cayden had standards. Animal abuse, and weird suspicious DeviantArt shit, were strictly off limits. And his invading the personal space of interdimensional entities was exclusively done to those who deserved it, mainly because it was funny. Animal abuse was irredeemable of course and Cayden took that very seriously. Seriously enough that he was going to get rid of the problem. Permanently. "I know you like to beat little baby animals" Cayden spoke with such vitriolic hatred towards Ken that his speech impediment momentarily ceased to exist and his voice dropped a good few octaves. "That wasn't beating... That was-" "SHUT UP. YES IT WAS" Ken suddenly felt a stab of electrifying pain behind his eyes. "You're just some avatar of a deviant freak's sick mind. You're nothing. If I could, I'd hurt HIM too." Cayden proved he could see beyond a veil that even Kenneth's book could not touch. Maybe Cayden could have seen that Ken was just written this way, bound to the same wretched existence that Cayden had pointed out. Maybe Cayden didn't care. Most likely was that Cayden really fucking hated these people and wanted to derive some sort of escapism and venting from the experience. He was correct. He couldn't hurt Ken's creator. Even though that's who was responsible for all of this. Cayden would probably go back to his own true dimension when this was all over and cry. DeviantArt was a mistake. Cayden threw him down onto the ground and rose, floated, several feet into the air grinning down with disconcerting glee stretched across his face. "I don't usually do this..." He giggled. "But I can't just let someone like you go to keep doing this again. And I have a friend that needs a favor..." A growl, one not of a world that Ken had ever known before came from deep, far deeper than spatially possible, beneath his bed. Ken saw glowing eyes in the dark and felt hot wet breath hit his face. The monster beneath his bed slowly slithered out. Eyes only on him, it was as if Cayden was invisible. He probably was. The monster drooled and a long tendril-like tongue slipped from between its pointed jaws and ran along the length of its lips and teeth before coyly curling up around Ken's ankle. "N-no... p-please..." Ken begged, struggling and squirming trying to scramble backward away from the monster's clutches. But it was in vain. With both its prehensile tongue and clawed forearms the monster gripped the boy tight and slowly eased him into its mouth. A mouth that while lined with sharp teeth did not bite or chew. The monster's throat was like a silky smooth blanket as it swallowed the boy down not even momentarily hindered by his thrashing or struggling. Cayden watched the whole thing transpire trying his hardest to hold back giggles. He had wanted to see his new underbed monster feed for quite some time and now he got his wish. Ken would not survive of course, but there were worse ways one could go. An underbed monster's belly was like being smothered in blankets and bedsheets. Much more humane than some other creatures he could have fed Ken to. He watched the monster bask lazily full from its meal for a while before making himself known. "Hey um... about the shirt..." "Oh come on..." the monster growled in a raspy voice. "It's colorblock and blue and red and green... so I want it" The monster rolled its eyes before relenting and spitting the article of clothing out. "Mine now" Cayden giggled. It was a nice shirt. Easy enough for somebody to draw him in.

The fucking end I guess. Moral of the story? Go fuck yourself.

#text post #writing #my writing #cayden #my ocs #sunspot!Cayden #long post #HoDcore

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rose-tinted-nostalgia · 2 years

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i’ve been staring at this text box for ten minutes because I don’t even know how to explain this story right now but I have to write it down so maybe I can get it out of my head. my sister texted me while I was at work, and she basically said she was stressed out because a friend of hers sent her photos of her carving into her own skin, and for the record, I mean carving. not cutting, not I don’t even know, her skin is wide open, and I know this because my sister was so stressed out she sent the photos to me, so that I could fully understand her stress, and this girl has done this before. it’s her old roommate, and my sister has baker acted her before. she has bipolar disorder, and she’s struggled with suicide and self-harm for years, and she’s on medication but she also drinks, and it makes her episodes worse, and she texted my sister like hey look i’ve been trying to kill myself, here are the photos, and I knew that this girl struggled like this. my sister updates me on her all the time. they’re not super close or anything, but two month ago they got their babies together and my sister sent me cute photos and said she was doing really well, and then today she sends me the most gruesome photos i’ve ever seen in real life like and I just don’t know how to process it. her arm looks like it was mauled by some sort of animal. the largest gash in the middle is more than an inch wide, more than four inches long, and is so deep, that you can see the yellow bubbles of fat underneath and it’s surrounded by several other thinner gashes. like two on each side, and two more thicker ones above and beneath. and the gash on her leg is just as wide, but it’s bleeding so profusely you can’t tell quite how deep, but it’s more than six inches long, and the bottom of her pant leg is soaked in blood, and the next photos are photos of her covering them up, giant gauze bandages soaked in blood and a white tourniquet that’s completely turned red, and I don’ know why she sent these to me. on one level, i’m horrified. my heart breaks for this girl. i’m so fucking scared for her. i’d call the hospital myself if i knew where she lived, i’m legitimately concerned she’s going to bleed out or get an infection just form those wounds alone, even if she decided she didn’t actually want to kill herself, even if her family is there because my sister said her brother went there, but they aren’t taking her to a hospital and I”m just like, this girl needs your help, i’m legitimately so stressed out for her and on another level, i feel so absolutely uncomfortable & guilty for even seeing these photos like. she wasn’t exactly hiding it. she sent the photos to my sister, and my sister said she’s probably not the only one she sent them to, but she did not send them to me. feels like i’m invading on some private trauma she never consented to me being a part of, and I wish I never saw it at all because how horrible is it to have your suicide attempt shared with someone else against your will. i hate it. and also. i’m fucking embarrassed. i feel like i want to throw up. because i’m a horrible, awful person who has this sick fascination with blood. with bruises. with knives and sliced skin and gory, awful things, and this is not the same. this should not be the same because this isn’t some horror movie. this isn’t some doctored tumblr image I can reblog for the aesthetic. this is a real human being. a real, traumatized, hurting, struggling girl who’s live I genuinely fear for. this is someone’s pain. and i can’t stop staring at it. I couldn't look away. this image i probably should have never even seen is seared so fucking deep into my brain that I’ll probably dream about it tonight, and it feels so wrong. it feels so horrifying to be fascinated by or drawn to the very real image of someone’s skin being ripped open by a pain that may actually kill them one day. i wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I wouldn’t. I’d never do that to myself, I’d never do it to anyone else, I don’t want to see people struggling, it hurts me so fucking bad to even think about it, like I’m shaking. I feel everything so deeply and the idea that this girl was so crushed that she did this to herself, I can’t stand the way that feels and still. still i have the urge to look at the images again. I’m shaking and afraid for her, and I feel so fucking bad, and still i couldn’t look away. I hate the way that feels.

#tw: self harm #tw: suicide #what the fuck is wrong with me

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awigglycultist · 2 years

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Okay now that several ppl have helped and rbed my post, here's a longer list of some content/trigger warnings in NMT2 (I tried to keep this as spoiler free as possible but there are some small spoilers. If you want to know anything more about any of these feel free to dm me. Also feel free to add on more if anyone has anything else that comes to mind)

Honey Queen

- Lots of Death all around, but especially durning the honey queen pageant, tho there's other points too (34:00 - 35:00 tho we don't see the actual death) (1:13:10 - 1:13:39) (1:14:50 - 1:50:40) (1:16:03 - 1:16:50) (1:25:00 - 1:25:28)

- Durning the song at the very beginning, Honey Queen, there's lots of clips of honeycomb (3:20 - 5:001 but honeycomb doesn't show up immediately)

- There's also lots of clips of bees in the same song (same as above)

- Zoey's grandma is homophobic (she never says anything particularly horrible, also she's a very minor character, but still) (23:50 - 25:09)

- Another character outs someone (23:50 - 25:09)

- A huge fight scene (1:10:30 - 1:16:50)

- There’s a not too graphic depiction of hanging, it happens when Linda and Zoey are fighting backstage on the catwalk (1:14:50 - 1:15:40)

- I'm really unsure how to explain this one but a very gross and graphic description of pig corpses magically coming together to form something else (1:24:16 - 1:24:43)

- At the end, there's a really close up shot of a mouth (think like the one in the them but like. Idk it was just grosser/scarier) (1:24:40 - 1:25:18)

- There's flashing durning the Nibbly Ditty (1:26:36 - 1:26:48)

Perky's Buds

- Gun violence (4:19 - 4:57) (51:34 - 52:54)

- Animal violence (birds spefically), both at beginning and the end (4:19 - 4:57) (52:54 - 53:19)

- Animal death (birds spefically) at the end (52:54 - 53:19)

- 4 people die, it's all in one scene when the nighthawks start attacking (24:35 - 25:37)

- Graphic vomiting scene when Ezekiel make Ziggs and Emma be feed like birds (they don't show vomit but the nosies and descriptions are very gross and graphic) (33:33 - 34:44)

Abstinence Camp

- There's lots of blood splatters on the screen durning Axe Man , they're pretty fake looking, it's just a red overlay in splatter patterns but it may still be something that bothers you (song is 58:55 - 1:02:33)

- You can see an axe a lot throughout Axe Man (same as above)

- Durning Axeman there's a bit with an axe holding a pair of underwear with a ton of blood covering it (59:55 - 59:59)

- Flashing images durning Axe Man (1:01:10 - 1:01:15) (1:01:42 - 1:01:48)

- You can hear someone vomiting for a little bit at the beginning of Abstinence Camp, starts as soon as The Axe Man song ends (1:02:34 - 1:02:39)

- Lots of death of all around 1:28:43 - 1:29:35) (1:42:48 - 1:43:19) (2:00:09 - 2:00:36) (2:01:00 - 2:01:18)

- Gross description of someone after they've died (1:29:55 - 1:30:10)

- several mentions of sex and masturbation. But the thing I can really pin point is once someone does masturbate and it's described (1:26:30 - 1:27:32)

Daddy

- A dog dies, of natural causes. When Frank goes home from the mall and then goes to the vet. (9:49 - 10:42)

- There's 4 deaths from when Shelia goes to the honey festival and forward for the rest of the ep. (51:51 - 52:28 this one is off screen but this is the moment we find out they're dead) (53:43 - 54:07)(57:33 - 58:04) (1:04:25 - 1:04:55)

Gun Violence (53:43 - 54:07)

Killer Track

- The song Killer Track is played when Kale and Miss Holloway are in the van (don't worry about when Rose is the van) it also has lost of flashing a loud nosies (1:26:36 - 1:28:19)

- There's a fake out death, it's a huge spoiler so dm for more info (1:37:30 - 1:38:23 this is when it happens but it's also talked about for a while after lmk if you want that too)

- Someone dies after the song Runaway With Me (2:01:45 - 2:02:12)

Yellow Jacket

- At the beginning when Hannah is in shop class, blood spatter across the screen throughout her vision (8:59 - 9:10) (9:39 - 9:49) (10:23-10:25 there's a sound for this one too, idk how exactly to describe it except well it kinda sounds like a finger getting cut off)

- Description of Hannah's accident (10:25 - 10:30)

- When Webby first appears there's a clip of a small spider (17:32 - 17:37)

- There's a bit where blue goo is puked into someone's mouth, can't get around this without a bit of more spoilering too so dm if you want to know when it happens (1:3544 - 1:35:58)

-Death, it's not an actual human that dies if that matters to you (1:41:13 - 1:41:27)

#starkid #hatchetfield #nightmare time #for later

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superbattrash · 2 years

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Superbat: Through the haze

Okay, so. Remember this post from, like, two days ago, about the Black Mercy affecting Superbat? Yea, well, I made it a fic. This is the first chapter (it’s on AO3 as well), and I’ll get back to you on that happy ending thing. (sorry)

Please send all angst-blame over to @clarkjk because I did not plan on it being this angsty. It just sort of... happened. Beware of: angsty feels and a very small sex-ish scene (nothing explicit) and uh. Author taking a lot of liberties with canon

Black Mercy. Clark can barely think the name without wanting to punch something. He would rather take on Darkseid that fall victim to another one of their visions. He still feels raw and wounded whenever he thinks back to his family– to the family they made him imagine.

At least this time they know what they are; they’ve been up against Mongul before, they know his tricks, knows how he’s twisted the alien plants into something dark and horrible. Clark can’t help but feel slightly relieved that it’s the original Black Mercy Mongul has brought with him this time. If they had to fight against them, he would rather it be the ones they know how to handle. Last time they had sprouted some sort of pollen and it had taken weeks for things to get back to normal even with Batman’s vast knowledge and quick work of an antidote.

The Black Mercy are still a challenge, no matter how many times they come up against them even if it’s the “regular” kind. It’s as if they get stronger each time. Logically Clark knows it’s because the images get stronger, the hold tighter, the longer the plant-like creatures are on a person. It’s ironic that the plant physically loosens its grip only when you’ve surrendered yourself to its visions.

It doesn’t help that there’s a longing for the images, the visions to be true. A longing that cannot be put properly into words because it is tinted in shame. They know they shouldn’t long for the slow death of a Black Mercy’s embrace, but there’s something about the hallucinations that tempt even the strongest willed man – or woman, Clark thinks as he glances at Diana. They’ve seen them before. They’ve felt them before. They’ve felt the happiness, fake as it may be. They should be prepared and for the most part they are. The Justice League knows how to defend itself – it is the people of Earth that are at risk, and it is those people they must defend.

Clark is on Mongul before anyone else gets the chance. He doesn’t want to risk anyone getting in between them so he keeps the fight to the air as much as he can. He knows the others are grateful, not only for the opportunity to work without dodging Mongul’s attacks, but also because they all know what happened last time one of the Black Mercy latched itself onto Clark’s chest. It had taken him longer than he would ever want to admit to see through the dream and because of that his team had been injured.

Sometimes Clark wishes they could say no or take a day off. Not for himself, he knows Superman doesn’t get to take breaks when there’s need for him, but for the rest of the team. Whenever he sees them get hurt, he feels their injury in his soul, wishes he could take it upon himself instead. There is nothing worse than watching the people you care about get hurt, but even more so when you know you can withstand most physical damage in a way none of them can. Clark would willingly put himself in harm’s way if it meant someone else didn’t have to.

This is especially true when it comes to Batman, to Bruce. The most human of all of them, the most vulnerable. Not that he sees it that way – or at least he’s not willing to admit to it. Clark understands now in a way he didn’t when he first met the Batman. Back then he’d been angry at this mere human who barked orders left and right, who took risks far greater than he was able to survive, should the worst-case scenario happen. Clark thought Bruce to be careless and selfish. He knows now that the opposite is the case. Bruce fights harder than any of them every single day; he's been Batman longer than most of them have been able to control their powers. Clark included. They may not be far apart in age, but Bruce has had control over himself in a way that exceeds any human abilities far longer than Clark has been able to shoot his laser vision straight.

The admiration Clark feels for Bruce swell in his chest as he sees him swing from his grapple, catching a young boy falling from a crumbling building. Clark has to work harder, fight quicker, to get Mongul to surrender or retreat, so that the civilians can be safe. So that Bruce can be safe.

Clark knows his feelings for Bruce are more than those of the other Leaguers. Not because he doesn’t care about them, but because he more than cares about Bruce. He loves him.

It has never been Clark’s plan to confess his feelings; there’s no point. He knows Bruce’s response before even talking to him. “Too dangerous”, “A liability”, “Threat to the mission”, take your pick. Bruce can have his pick of partners and Clark knows he wouldn’t be the first choice. He’s okay with that, because no one else is Bruce’s first choice either. Gotham is. His children are. The League even, to some extent, and that includes Clark. He can live with that.

Still, there’s always that little spark of hope. Clark knows he shouldn’t, but he feels happy every time Bruce rejects another relationship. Clark can live through the gossipy articles, the rumors, because he knows that Bruce sleeps alone. He knows that the mansion is Bruce’s alone and the only people coming in and out are those who Bruce treasure. His family, his friends. Clark.

Because they’re friends now. With the identity reveal a while back, it was hard not to look closer at the team’s civilian lives. Clark for one was very curious about Bruce Wayne. The actual man, not the playboy plastered all over the Gotham Gazettes’ front pages. He checked out Diana and Wally too. Hal wasn’t much of a mystery; the guy never shuts up about himself. J’onn, of course, is a different story all together.

Clark is jolted from his thoughts by a punch to the face. He’s long since realized it isn’t the real Mongul he’s fighting: if it was, Clark would’ve been beaten bloody by now. Must be yet another trick and Clark is getting tired of tricks. It might not be the real Mongul, but it most definitively is real Black Mercy attacking the citizens and the Justice League can only do so much if they attach themselves to someone. So far it looks like they’ve cut, punched and blown up most of them though, so Clark takes a second to access the situation (Bruce would be proud) before he turns to fake-Mongul.

It takes him less than a second to blast him with his laser vision. There’s a scream of pain and that’s the last proof Clark needs that this is a cheap copy. Mongul would never show weakness and he’s able to withstand Clark’s laser vision with no visible marks. It’s one of the things that Clark hates about him. Another one of the things he hates about him.

As soon as Clark blast not-Mongul away, most of his men scramble to get back to the ships and it isn’t long before the invasion is mostly over. There are still Black Mercy plants scattered around the area, although most of them have been incapacitated. Thank God the attack happened in Metropolis and not Gotham – at least Clark doesn’t have to focus much to locate the rest of the still moving plants. It would’ve been harder in Gotham’s ever-present fog.

Clark lands on top of one of the surviving plants, crushing it into the ground. It wiggles under his feet for a short moment. Clark looks up to find Diana smiling at him.

“They’re retreating,” she says.

Clark nods, happy that it’s finally over. Even though the enemy hadn’t been the real Mongul, he hadn’t been weak either. Clark doesn’t have broken bones or deep cuts, but he is feeling rather spent. He would like a warm meal and a hot bath. But first…

“Where’s Batman?” He asks Diana.

He can’t see Bruce anywhere in the nearest rubble. It’s not weird though, Bruce does have a habit of disappearing when he deems the mission done. He has been better at saying goodbye at least the past few months though. Clark scans over the area, listening for Bruce’s heartbeat. He’s probably busy with reassuring some civilians – or he’s well on his way back to Gotham already, the grumpy bat. Clark will have to go see him later…

Clark frowns when he locates Bruce’s heartbeat. It’s calm and steady, not something’s not quite right. It’s too calm, too slow, even for Batman.

Without waiting for Diana, Clark shoots off the ground, heading straight for Batman. He hears the echo of Diana calling his name, but he can’t wait, he doesn’t have time. Something’s off, something is wrong with Bruce.

When he lands, the ground crunching underneath his weight, Clark gasps quietly.

“No,” he says, because right there, next to a crying child and its mother, is Bruce. He’s on his knees, looking straight ahead and even without seeing more than his back, Clark already knows what’s happened.

The Black Mercy has attached itself to Bruce’s chest.

***

Bruce wakes up early, before his alarm. A sliver of light has fought its way through his heavy curtains, and he groans lightly as it hits him in the face. So much for sleeping in. He rubs at his eyes, surprised he’s not more tired. He sits up and stretches, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth as his back pops.

Somehow, he expects his body to hurt as he gets out of bed, but there’s no pain, except that weird headache he always has in the mornings. You need to drink more water, his mother would say. Bruce rolls his eyes. So, he’s not the best at getting the nutrients he needs; it’s no big deal. He’ll have an extra-large smoothie for breakfast, that’ll fix it.

Bruce lifts his arms over his head, reaching for the ceiling before bending down to touch his toes. Still no pain. Yesterday’s tennis match must’ve been easier on him than he’d anticipated but that’s just a pleasant bonus of the day. He stands up straight and head for the washroom. He splashes water on his face and eyes the shower. He’ll shower later, he decides, he did take one after the match with Harvey yesterday, after all.

Bruce gets dressed and then makes his way downstairs. The air smells faintly of warm bread and his stomach rumbles. Alfred’s probably baking this morning. Scratch that smoothie, Bruce is going to have warm bread with butter and eggs. He can’t wait to tell Alfred about the match yesterday, but when he gets to the kitchen it’s empty. There’s fresh coffee on the pot though, so Bruce pours himself a cup. He goes to add in sugar but then frowns. He doesn’t take his coffee with sugar. Does he?

Noise coming from the dining room draws his attention and he forgets to add the sugar. He sips his coffee, careful not to burn himself. He then makes his way to the dining room. He can’t quite shake the feeling that something’s off. Something isn’t quite right. He thinks it might be his clothes, he’s always had rather sensitive skin around his neck. Maybe it’s the wool of his sweater that’s irritating him, but he couldn’t find anything else in the closet. It was nearly bare.

Oh. Bruce suddenly remembers. He doesn’t actually live here anymore, that’s right. That’s why all his clothes aren’t here – they’re at his own house, his home. His home, which is… once again he’s hit with an off-putting feeling, and he pulls at the collar of his sweater as he enters the dining room. His home is–

“Good morning, honey,” Martha says, and everything falls silent in Bruce’s head.

He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Mommy nearly spills out of his mouth until he remembers that he is in fact not nine years old anymore and that he sees his mother every single day when she stops by for lunch. Still, he has to swallow and grip his cup tighter before he can speak. There’s a dull ache in his chest.

“Hi mom,” he says, voice sounding odd to his own ears.

If Martha notices, she doesn’t say anything. She opens her mouth but a ruckus down the hall have them both turn their heads towards the door.

“Yo!” sounds loudly from further down the hall. The familiar voice has the dull ache in Bruce’s chest grow. The unsteadiness, the odd feeling he’s had since waking up eases up a little. Jason. Jason is here.

Of course, Jason is here. There’s nothing weird about his son visiting the manor; Jason is the only grandson out of college who still lives in Gotham after all. Dick lives in Blüdhaven and wasn’t here for dinner last night. Neither was Tim, he’s away at college, will be home for spring vacation in a few weeks, so he wasn’t here either. Jason and Bruce were.

Jason pops his head into the dining room, a piece of bread hanging from the corner of his mouth. He very clearly eyes the dining table behind them, filled with delicious foods. There’s the butter and eggs Bruce has wanted since smelling the bread earlier, but also bacon and pancakes and whatever else Alfred has been in the mood to make this morning.

“Mornin’ grandma,” Jason says even as he chews and then turns to Bruce. “Dad.”

That single word has Bruce’s stomach clench painfully. When Jason smiles at him, Bruce feels like his chest is on fire, like someone has reached in between his ribs and is squeezing his heart, and he doesn’t understand why. He has to gasp to get air into his lungs, but it doesn’t seem like either Jason or his mom notices.

“Jay,” Martha scolds with a smile. “I told you to wait for your father to wake before getting breakfast. We’re all eating together, isn’t that right, Bruce?”

“Right,” Bruce says instinctively. Of course, they’re eating together. They’re a family.

“Well, he’s awake now, isn’t he?” Jason grins.

Bruce isn’t quite sure why but when Jason approaches and reaches out a hand to pat him on the shoulder, he nearly flinches. It’s like his body is prepared for a fight where there isn’t one. He can’t remember ever being this jumpy. Jason’s hand on his shoulder is warm and strong, and Bruce finds himself choking a little on his own breath.

“Where’s–” Daddy? “Dad?” He asks, just to say something; to distract himself from the way his heart is hammering in his chest. Is he having a heart attack?

“Oh, he had an emergency surgery this morning,” Martha says. “An accident on the highway.”

“And Damian?” Bruce hasn’t seen sign of his youngest son, but he knows he’s been here recently. He knows he’s seen him although his memory is a little fuzzy this morning.

“It’s Talia’s weekend,” Martha says slowly. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“You gotta get that husband of yours to keep you up to date on your schedules,” Jason comments. “That’s why you keep him around, ain’t it? Dami won’t be back until next Friday, you should know this.”

Husband? Oh, that’s right. Bruce thumbs at the wedding band on his finger. It’s still new, that’s why he feels a little confused at the choice of words. Jason usually calls Clark Bruce’s boyfriend, but the meaning’s the same. He really should look closer at his schedule–

Husband? Clark? Bruce’s headache is getting worse. There’s something like a tugging in his chest and he rubs a hand over his heart, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling. He would think he’s too young for a heart attack.

“Of course,” he hears himself say. “I’m a little confused this morning.”

“Do you want to go upstairs and sleep for another few hours?” Martha asks, worry clear in her voice.

“No, I’m fine, mom,” Bruce says. It’s probably just something he ate yesterday that doesn’t agree with him this morning. “I have to get home soon.”

“You’re still dropping me off at Roy’s, right?” Jason asks around a mouthful of mango.

“Don’t you have your own car?” Bruce asks instead of answering. Of course, he’ll drive Jason wherever he needs to go, even if that place it Oliver’s. It’s not like he’s got anything against his old school mate, but he does seem to have a bit of a secretive personality after coming back from that shipwreck.

“It’s in the shop,” Jason says with a shrug.”

“Again?” Martha frowns. “What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Bruce listens to them bicker and the strange feeling in his chest subsides. He feels a smile tug at his lips as he sips his coffee. He ignores the itch at the back of his skull telling him something’s wrong. He really should be more careful with what he eats from now on. He settles back in his chair and listens as his mother scolds Jason for his reckless driving. This is what Saturday mornings should look like.

***

The Black Mercy is the wrong color, Clark realizes. He hasn’t noticed before, too focused on Mongul’s replacement to look at them properly. How the hell had he overlooked this? He pushes down his anger at himself to take a knee next to Bruce. He doesn’t touch him even though he wants to. His hands hover awkwardly in the air.

“Why is it yellow?” He asks, panic growing.

It’s not supposed to be yellow. It was purple last time; it should be purple. The yellow had been… oh no. The Golden Fury had been yellow. Bruce doesn’t look like he’s filled with adrenaline infused rage though. He just looks… wrong. His mouth is slightly open, his features relaxed, too relaxed. Clark feels like they’re all staring at Bruce naked, although knowing Bruce he’d rather they see him naked than this vulnerable.

“Batman has been through this before,” Flash reminds them as they gather around Bruce. Yes, he has. When he saved Clark from the Black Mercy nearly two years prior. “He woke up right away. What’s wrong?”

“It’s altered somehow,” Diana says as she studies the yellow vines curled around Batman’s torso. She frowns and Clark feels his stomach drop. If even Diana is nervous… He balls his hand into fists and lets them hang down by his sides. It won’t do any good to let the others see just how affected he is, but he can’t keep his hands from shaking.

“Just beat some sense into him,” Hal says with a shrug and Wally smacks him in the stomach. “Sorry.”

He receives glares from the entire League, so Clark doesn’t feel the need to say anything. He knows Hal is just trying to defuse the tension like he usually does. It isn’t working.

“Bruce,” Clark says quietly as he finally lifts a hand to place on Bruce’s shoulder. There’s no one close enough to hear but he knows Bruce’s rules; no civilian names in the field. He rests a hand on Bruce’s shoulder to no avail. He isn’t responding. Clark knows it’s futile to speak to him – Bruce has to find his own way out of the dream – but he still can’t help but try. “B, come on.”

There’s no response and even though Clark knew not to expect anything, he still finds himself disappointed. Wally’s right – Bruce should’ve fought his way out by now. They can’t know what alterations Mongul has made to these Black Mercy before they get Bruce to the Watchtower, have J’onn look him over. J’onn may not be able to penetrate the hold the plants have on people, but he is the one most familiar with how they work. Besides Batman, that is.

“We have to get him out of here,” Flash says, eyeing the crowd slowly gathering around them. The civilians mean no harm, they’re mostly there to thank the Justice League or to see what’s going on, but either way, they should get Bruce to a safe location as quickly as possible.

Clark nods and reaches out again, bring an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. He’ll have to pull him into his arms and although that thought might’ve excited him only hours ago, now all he can think about is how empty Bruce’s face looks.

“Careful not to jostle him,” Diana says as Clark pulls Bruce’s kneeling body into his arms.

“I can–” Hal starts.

“No,” Clark interrupts, too harsh. He tries again, softer this time. “No, I’ll do it.”

There is absolutely no way he’ll let anybody else touch Bruce right now. He knows it’s stupid. Hal would conjure a bubble around Bruce, the way he usually does on missions; it’s completely safe. And yet Clark doesn’t want him to. He needs to be the one to take care of Bruce.

Carefully he maneuvers Bruce properly into his arms and stands up slowly. He can’t help but frown when Bruce doesn’t stir. They need to get this thing off his chest and as soon as possible. There’s no way Bruce would allow Clark to carry him in his arms like this without protest, and Clark needs to hear that protest. He needs to hear Bruce’s voice.

Despite Clark’s outburst, he’s happy when Diana supports Bruce’s head until he’s safely tucked against Clark’s chest; one of Clark’s arms underneath his knees and the other around his back. His cheek rests against Clark’s shoulder and under normal circumstances Clark would have been thrilled to have Bruce this close. Not like this though, never like this. Bruce’s eyes may be open as far as Clark can tell (he curses that damn cowl and its bright lenses), but he’s not seeing anything. He’s limp in Clark’s arms, and this is not how he wants Bruce. He wants him alive and kicking, he wants to be able to enjoy Bruce’s proximity because he’s there, body and soul.

Now though, all he can do is look to Diana as he tries to swallow past the knot in his throat. She looks just as heartbroken as Clark feels, and he knows why. Diana knows Bruce just as well as Clark does. She knows that the visions Bruce is seeing has to be the closest to happiness he’s felt since he was a young child. Since his parents were murdered.

Bruce doesn’t talk about it much, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He feels guilt for every single thing that goes wrong not only in his own life, but everyone else’s. Big and small things, it doesn’t matter. Bruce will feel a way to blame himself for it all. If a mission goes awry, Bruce blames himself. If someone is hurt near him, teammate or civilian, Bruce blames himself. If Jason doesn’t talk to him that week, Bruce blames himself. If Clark’s articles aren’t printed, Bruce would find a way to blame himself for that too.

It's as if that guilt he felt at nine years old has bled into every other aspect of his life. If only he’d done more, done less. If his parents hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have become the Batman. If he hadn’t become Batman, somehow all of the evils of Gotham and the world would’ve disappeared. Clark is sure Bruce logically knows that’s not true, but it doesn’t mean that he believes it in his heart. He still blames himself for Jason’s death, for Dick’s parents getting murdered. He blames himself for dragging Tim into the vigilante life, and he blames himself for not being a better father to Damian. As if becoming Batman had put all of those events into motion, despite the fact that they would’ve most likely still happened even if Bruce had never put on the cowl.

Clark knows there isn’t much he can do for Bruce to lessen that burden, but he still tries. He likes to think that’s why Bruce lets him get so close. Because while Clark has long since stopped trying to convince Bruce every bad thing in existence isn’t his fault, he doesn’t let Bruce carry the burden alone.

The knowledge of Bruce’s guilt, his burden, is what makes Clark’s heart ache. Because in this dream Bruce never has any of those things. Clark doesn’t have to see his dream to know the essentials: his parents are still alive and there is no Batman.

No Batman means no Justice League, which in turn means no Superman. And no Superman means no Clark. Clark doesn’t exist in Bruce’s dream, there’s no reason for him to. Dream Bruce doesn’t need a teammate and friend to help with missions and crime. Dream Bruce doesn’t need him, and that realization hurts more than Clark is willing to admit.

Clark knows that despite whatever he feels for Bruce, however much he loves him, he cannot possibly give Bruce this kind of happiness. It may be a dream, but the happiness is real. The feelings are real. And he can’t give that to Bruce – he can’t be that for Bruce. He can’t give Bruce what he longs so desperately for that he is unable to fight himself out of the Black Mercy’s grasp. The kind of happiness only a child feels, a child that hasn’t lost everything in one single moment. A child who hasn’t been obsessed with shadows and darkness for so long he can barely make out the light anymore.

While Bruce may not be that scared child anymore, he’s in too deep to back out. It’s been too long, too many years, too many battles. There’s no way Bruce would ever hang up the cowl for good; because while Gotham may need Batman, Bruce needs him more. He needs the bat to function, to channel his trauma and anger. He’s not nearly as bitter as he was when Clark first met him, but that doesn’t mean Bruce will ever be ready to put the Batman away. Clark burns with shame as he feels grateful for Bruce’s obsession. As long as Bruce is Batman, he might have need for Superman, for Clark.

Clark can’t think about his own selfish needs now though. At this point he would give anything to have Bruce back, to be able to look into his brilliant blue eyes again. He needs to hear Bruce speak more than he needs the air he breathed. So instead of getting caught up in his own head, he nods at Diana and flies directly for Wayne Manor. Bruce has a transportation tube in the cave and while it might be hard explaining to Alfred what’s happened, it is safer for Bruce to be at the Watchtower than at the cave for now.

***

“B, come on.”

“Don’t call me B,” comes out of his mouth before he even thinks it. Bruce frowns as he looks over his shoulder at the manor. He knows it’s Jason who called him, but somehow, he feels another set of eyes on him. Another voice echoing in his mind. The ache in his chest throbs.

“Clark gets to call you B,” Jason points out as he throws his bag in the trunk of the car.

The car. Which is somehow… smaller than Bruce remembers. Underwhelming to look at. He might have to have his dad check him over one of these days what with how his memory is playing tricks on him. He’s almost certain his car is supposed to be larger. And black too. This one is silver.

“Clark’s my–” Bruce swallows then clears his throat. “Clark isn’t my son; you’re supposed to call me dad.”

“You’re not my real dad,” Jason says with a laugh. His tone is teasing, and he doesn’t look menacing at all, but Bruce can’t help but tense at the comment. Jason instantly notices and frowns. “Hey, come on, you know I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know, Jay, I know,” Bruce reassures even though the pain in his chest tells him otherwise. Why is Jason’s teasing affecting him like this? They both know Bruce isn’t his biological father, that’s never meant anything nor been an issue between them before. It has never been an issue with any of his children. Jason knows his real parents, he still sees his mother once a month, but Bruce is his parent. His dad. And yet Bruce feels a kind of… emptiness at Jason’s words.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yea, I’m– I’m fine,” Bruce answers although he really isn’t too sure. Maybe he should have Jason drive, just to be safe. He might be coming down with something. He’s about to ask when Jason points down the driveway with a happy grin on his face.

“Oh look, grandpa’s here! We get to say goodbye before we leave,” he says and starts waving. The childlike glee on his face in contagious and Bruce finds himself smiling as well.

A moment later Thomas opens the door of their family car, waving Alfred’s hands away. Thomas Wayne can open his own door, thank you Alfred, go inside to let Martha know he’s home. Bruce catches Alfred’s eye and sends him a grateful smile. It’s good to know Thomas is always in safe hands when going to and from the hospital. Alfred nods back at him and Bruce feel the emptiness swirl in his chest. Shouldn’t Alfred say goodbye to them as well?

“Bruce,” Thomas’ loud voice jolts Bruce from his thoughts. “Good to see you up and about. Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry?” Bruce asks, confused.

“He’s taking me to Roy’s before going home, grandpa,” Jason cuts in, thankfully. “He’ll make it home in time, no worries.”

“Ah, alright,” Thomas says. “Do give my best to my son-in-law, will you? And I expect to see you both here next week. It isn’t the same without Clark at Friday Night Dinner.”

“Of course, dad,” Bruce says automatically. That’s right. Clark has been away at business. How could he forget? “We’ll be here at 6.”

“Great. Will you be joining us as well, Jason?”

“Nah, we’re going on a road trip next week,” Jason says easily. “Ollie bought a new car and Roy and I are gonna go to the beach.”

“Maybe Sunday dinner, then?” Thomas suggests. “We could have Dick come over as well, and that girl he’s seeing. We’ve been meaning to meet her.”

“Oh yea, absolutely,” Jason agrees. “I’ll talk to Dick, and I’ll call grandma later to iron out the details.”

Bruce doesn’t interject or comment as he watches his father and son talk. Once again, he’s left feeling perplexed. He feels warm and happy but there’s something nagging at the back of his skull, like something’s wrong even though it clearly isn’t. Jason is here, Jason is happy. His father is too – Thomas looks healthy and content. So why does Bruce feel like he’s missing something?

Bruce is once again jolted out of his thoughts. He needs to stop getting lost in his own head, it’s becoming quite a habit today.

“Take care, son,” Thomas says with a soft smile as he claps Bruce’s shoulder.

Images of Thomas and Martha Wayne’s portrait hanging over the fireplace in the manor flashes before Bruce’s eyes. He has to look away for a moment to blink away his tears. What is wrong with him today?

“You too, dad,” he says around the lump in his throat.

Jason doesn’t end up driving, but it doesn’t matter. Bruce drives just fine and as soon as Thomas is back in the manor and they drive out of the driveway, he feels better. Less empty. It’s a weird feeling but he pushes it away to listen to Jay’s plans for the next week.

When he drops Jason off at Roy’s, Bruce is worried he won’t be able to find his way home, seeing as he can’t recall his own address – he’s making an appointment with his doctor the moment he gets home – but it isn’t an issue. His body knows where he’s going even if his brain is a little foggy.

It isn’t far from the manor, not at all. It’s a smaller lake house; smaller than the Wayne manor at least. They picked it because Clark likes the way the sun hits the lake in the mornings. He’s got a thing for the sun. It isn’t weird, with him being from the South and all.

“Kansas isn’t the South,” Clark often tells him.

“It’s south of Gotham,” is Bruce’s consistent reply. It never fails to make Clark roll his eyes and smile. It’s south of something alright, but Bruce has never bragged about his A’s in geography. Now biology on the other hand… another comment that will have Clark smacking the back of his head but also kiss his cheek with a giggle.

Bruce pulls up to the lake house to find another car leaving. A taxi, which means that Clark is home. Finally. It feels like he’s been gone for months, even though Bruce knows it’s only been a week. A week is still seven days too long to be apart.

He parks the car and doesn’t bother with his luggage – it’s a small briefcase on the backseat, that’s all, he’ll pick it up later. He doesn’t get to the door before it swings open to reveal a disheveled Clark Kent.

“Hi,” Bruce says. Exhales. The ache is subsiding with every breath as he looks at Clark, at his husband. He barely makes it a step before he’s pulled into Clark’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped tightly around Bruce’s frame.

“Bruce,” Clark says, and Bruce melts in his hands.

This is where his home is, with Clark. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, and that ache and tension that’s been bothering him all morning seems to have disappeared completely as Clark rubs his chin against his shoulder. They stand close together for a moment, before Bruce pulls back; not all the way out of Clark’s embrace, just enough to get a proper look at his face.

“How was your–” he tries but is interrupted when Clark’s lips press into his.

It is ridiculous. He’s kissed Clark more times than he can count; they may be married, but they are not old and boring just yet. Despite that Bruce feels as if this is the very first time their lips brush. His eyelids flutter closed, and he can’t help but lean into the kiss.

Clark hums against his lips and pulls their bodies impossibly closer together. Bruce’s arms find their way around his neck, his hands burying themselves in Clark’s thick hair. Oh, how he’s missed this. He’s missed is so much he feels like he’s never had the pleasure of sucking on Clark’s lower lip and so he takes the chance now. Clark’s breath is warm on Bruce’s mouth, and he never wants to let him go.

Eventually they have to though.

“We should, uh,” Clark laughs as his arms go slack around Bruce’s middle. “We should probably take this inside. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to catch us.” Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. “Again.”

The memory of that particular morning is etched into Bruce’s mind, and he can’t help but chuckle. They shouldn’t tempt fate too much and so he nods. He goes back to the car – Clark’s hand firmly in his, as if he’s afraid Bruce will disappear if they’re not touching at all times – and grabs his briefcase before locking it.

“Dad says hi,” Bruce says conversationally as they enter the house.

“How is Thomas? And your mother?” Clark asks, releasing Bruce’s hand to hang up his own jacket.

“They’re good.”

Bruce knows where to put his shoes, his briefcase; this is his home, their home, but as soon as Clark’s hand isn’t in his anymore, that ache is back in his chest, and he stutters in his movements.

It must be that he’s missed Clark more than usual. He feels empty when they’re not touching. There are ways to make up for that though and it doesn’t take Bruce more than two minutes to pull Clark towards their bedroom, polite small talk be damned. Bruce has never been good at that anyway, and Clark knows it.

Despite the physical contact Bruce still feels off. A soft desperation overwhelms him, and he knows he needs to touch Clark, to have Clark touch him. To be closer. He feels on the verge to tears as he pushes Clark onto their bed – covered in the blue bedspread that Clark’s picked out because the color reminded him of Bruce’s eyes – and straddles him.

“What’s gotten into you?” Clark laughs but he takes one look at Bruce’s face and goes quiet.

Bruce is sure the desperation is clear on his face and that Clark must be worried, but his chest is throbbing and feels tight. The itching at the back of his skull is back and all he knows is that being with Clark will help. He’s missed him, he misses him, he needs him.

Why does his chest hurt so bad?

Why does it feel like he’s running from something, like he’s not got enough time?

Bruce pushes the confusing thoughts from his mind – who knew he’d be so pathetically in love still, even after a year of marriage? – and pulls at Clark’s clothes instead. He needs to feel closer and there is no reason Clark should wear this many layers.

Even now Bruce is impressed with how fit Clark is underneath his plaids and ill-fitting suits. He’s tried convincing him that buying new clothes won’t even make a dent in their account, but Clark refuses to spend their money. (“Your money, Bruce. I didn’t earn them, you did. And I didn’t marry you for a joint account, I married you because I love you.”)

Another nagging feeling creeps up on him as he traces a hand down Clark’s chest. He doesn’t work out much, but he’s still so strong… Bruce shakes his head, trying to chase this wave of odd thoughts away too. He needs to do something with his hands, with his body, that doesn’t require him to think. There are too many thoughts in his head and all he wants is quiet.

Quiet and Clark.

When they’re finally chest to chest, Clark flips them over, pressing Bruce into the bed. He kisses him with such intensity that Bruce feels his head spin.

Clark’s hands are gentle on his skin, tracing over his hips, ribs, chest. Searching and exploring as if they haven’t done this a million times before. His movements are soft but whenever he hears Bruce’s breath hitch, he pays extra attention to that particular area. He doesn’t have to listen for Bruce’s breathing to know where he’s sensitive – something stirs in Bruce’s mind at that thought, but as soon as Clark thumbs over one of his nipples, he forgets it again.

Clark has them both naked in record time, and his hands are warm as they run up Bruce’s thighs. His lips follow his hands as he makes his way up Bruce’s body, licking and biting after every other kiss. When he reaches Bruce’s neck, he looks into his eyes.

Bruce can’t look away from the intense blues of his husband. It is Clark who moves, kissing him gently on the lips, until he can slot their hips together. He slides his lips over Bruce’s cheek, catching his earlobe between his teeth.

Somehow Bruce can’t quite catch his breath. Clark’s touches make it feel like there’s a fire slowly licking up his body, and a soft moan escapes Bruce’s lips. He grasps at Clark, trying to touch every part of him he can reach at once.

Clark kisses him again, hard and rough, licks into his mouth, sucks at his tongue, and Bruce can’t think. He tries to pull air into his lungs, but it feels like he’s paralyzed. He reaches for Clark’s arm, hand wrapping around his wrist to ground himself.

“Please, B,” Clark gasps into his neck. “I need you.”

The words echo weirdly around the room and Bruce can’t breathe; he can’t see. Something’s wrong, something isn’t right. Clark’s hands burn where they touch him and Bruce struggles, trashes in his arms. He can’t get air into his lungs, his chest is tight, his head is throbbing, he cannot breathe.

***

Bruce’s face twitches, just a little when Clark sets him down on the bed in the medical bay of the cave. Instead of risking moving him around too much, J’onn has met them in the cave, but there isn’t much he can do. They have sent most of the others either to the Watchtower or home. They need to figure out what kind of attack today was, and they can’t do that sitting around Bruce’s sickbed. At least not all of them. Clark makes sure Bruce is as comfortable as he can get on the bed before he turns to the others.

“How do we get it off him?” He asks, hoping against hope that J’onn will have something they can try. If not J’onn then maybe Diana. They have to do something. They can’t leave Bruce stuck in a dream that slowly draining all his energy. He already looks paler than usual underneath the cowl.

“He is supposed to reject the dream, right?” Diana wonders with a frown. So she’s noticed it too; even if the Black Mercy is altered Bruce should’ve been able to see through the hallucinations. It’s Bruce they’re talking about. “Why has he not done so already? It has been over an hour.”

“It seems Mongul has altered the plants,” J’onn says. Even his usually stoic face is showing signs of worry, which makes Clark even more distressed. “They are stronger and more resilient than last time we encountered them.”

“What does that mean?” Clark asks even though he knows J’onn won’t have all the answers. If he doesn’t ask, he feels like he’s given up. And he won’t give up on Bruce, he won’t.

“It will be harder to see through the illusion,” J’onn explains. “It is the only reason I can see as to why Batman has yet to regain consciousness.”

Diana and J’onn exchanged worried looks and Clark can’t help but step a little closer to Bruce’s side. He knows Bruce can’t hear him, much less feel his presence, but it makes him feel better to know that he’s at least able to be there physically for Bruce.

“What do we do then?” Clark asks, voice quiet, more to himself than anyone else. He feels useless like this; if only there was something he could do to help, but so far all he’s been able to do for Bruce is bring him home and keep him safe while he’s out.

“It seems to respond well to you, Superman,” J’onn says after a short moment of silence. His voice has an odd tinge to it, but Clark isn’t sure why. All he can think of is how they’re going to get Bruce out of the dream before it’s too late, and how they’re going to explain this to Bruce’s children if they can’t.

Clark is jerked from his own thoughts at a tugging on his wrist. He snaps his head to the side, hope igniting in his chest, but Bruce hasn’t moved. He looks down at his wrist and flinches. He has enough mind to not yank his hand back, in case it’ll disturb the Black Mercy’s position on Bruce’s chest, but it is a close call.

One of the yellow vines have slid halfway around Clark’s wrist. It’s not tight or uncomfortable but Clark isn’t sure if it’s safe. He doesn’t feel any dreams invading his mind, not really, just a low buzzing at the back of his skull.

“Are you okay, Kal?” Diana asks, and Clark can see how tightly she’s gripping her sword.

“Is it affecting you?” J’onn adds curiously.

“I’m fine,” Clark reassures them, even as he keeps his eyes on the vine. It slides the rest of the way around his wrist. It doesn’t feel much different from a hand wrapped around him like this. It’s dry and warm, not slimy or wet, with little imperfections making it rougher some places than others. It reminds him of Bruce’s calloused hands. The thought has him swallow thickly as a burst of heat swirls in the pit of his stomach.

“I can’t feel anything,” he adds after a while. He really doesn’t. Just the low heat pooling in his stomach and the warm vine around his wrist.

“It reacts,” Diana says quietly. “When you speak.”

Clark looks to where the plant has attached itself to Bruce’s chest and he immediately sees what Diana is talking about. It seems to have shifted, leaning towards Clark when he speaks.

“They didn’t do this last time, did they?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the plant.

“They did not,” J’onn agrees. “But they were not yellow either.”

“When Hal and Oliver got stuck together–” Clark starts but he can’t finish the thought. He wouldn’t want Bruce to see the inside of his happiest dream, he’s certain Bruce wouldn’t want him in his either. Clark wouldn’t fit in, in Bruce’s normal life, after all. It would ruin the fantasy.

“You are not a Lantern,” Diana answers the rest of his sentence. “But perhaps you can lure it away from Bruce with your words?”

“It does not react to mine nor Diana’s voice,” J’onn adds. “There must be something in the way you speak.” Or the way you feel. J’onn is nice enough not to say that last part out loud.

Clark swallows and takes a small step away from Bruce’s side. The vine tightens for a short moment and then unravels a little. Clark looks to J’onn, who just stares back at him with a blank expression. He doesn’t know what to do either.

So Clark wets his lips and talks.

“Please, Bruce,” he says, quietly. It feels oddly intimate to speak to Bruce when he’s unconscious. It doesn’t help that Diana and J’onn are in the room. “You have to wake up. What you have here is worth it; the people you have here are worth it. You have people who love you. Come back to them, come back to us.”

J’onn and Diana try their best at giving them the illusion of privacy, but it doesn’t matter. Clark’s already begun speaking and he’s spurred on by the vine slowly wrapping more and more around his wrist. He leans even closer, grabbing at the side of the bed when Bruce’s eyebrows furrow. A reaction, finally.

“Come back to me,” Clark begs, throat feeling raw. He needs Bruce to hear him, to wake up. He can’t live in a world where Bruce isn’t there – where a stupid alien plant sent to take out Superman ends up killing Bruce instead. He can’t, he won’t.

“Please, B, I need you.”

***

Bruce blinks awake slowly, squinting against the sun in his eyes. Oh, no, not the sun. It’s the bright lights of the med bay shining painfully down at him. The cowl’s lenses compensate for the brightness the instant he’s fully conscious and he looks around to see where he’s at. It is indeed the med bay tucked away in a corner of the cave. Why is he still wearing the cowl if he’s at the cave, if he’s safe?

“Oh, thank God,” sounds a soft voice and he can’t help but look at the person speaking his name so gently. “You’re okay.”

Clark is looking at him with such an open expression, his eyes warm and caring, a small smile on his face. He’s clearly relieved. Bruce feels like he’s going to throw up. He looks away, looks to his chest. It feels oddly light as if there’s something missing. Realization comes fast.

Ah. Black Mercy. Of course.

And with realization comes the crushing truth: none of it had been real.

Bruce looks up at Clark again, daring himself to confront the pain blooming in his chest. He can’t help but close his eyes tight before they meet Clark’s though. Coward. Bruce can barely stand to look at him, his stomach turning. Because this Clark isn’t his, doesn’t belong to him. This Clark isn’t the one who touched him so gently, held his hand so carefully. This isn’t his husband, Clark. This Clark is Superman; is his friend and nothing more.

This Clark doesn’t love him back.

#Superbat: through the haze chapter 1 #misha writes #hooooo boy this got a lil long I apologize #wish I could tag that original anon now #ANON IF YOU SEE THIS PLEASE TELL ME WHAT U THINK #superbat #superbat fanfiction #clark kent x bruce wayne #clark kent/bruce wayne #Superman/Batman #superman x batman #long post

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