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walviemort · 4 years ago

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Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle.

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes.

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before.

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it.

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual.

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester.

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished.

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled.

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him.

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner.

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted.

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” And they went for another round.

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink.

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing.

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Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return.

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts.

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked.

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of��well, all of it.

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel.

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies.

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88 (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #fairy godfather #my ff

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1tarot1with1k1o · 3 years ago

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hey! congrats on 50 followers! :)

if you still have spots for your game, I would love to take part! I was gonna ask a reading on my career? I am planning on going into the medical field and i would love to hear your thoughts!

thank you! And take your time! School and work can get to be a lot

Hi! Thank you <333

cards I got: 9 of wands, 2 of swords, 8 of pentacles

I mostly asked for advice on career matters for you, so take this however it best feels fitting to your situation. (I didn’t ask specifically about taking the medical path). They didn’t really give clear clarification in regards to the messages I’ve received, so I feel that it is something you have to ponder on, by yourself. (Obviously if it’s too unclear at the end, you can come back to ask for further help. I definitely won’t turn you down).

They’re telling you to not give up or feel defeated when things won’t go your way. Even if you were expecting a certain result, if you don’t get it, it’s because there’s something much more valuable awaiting you, later on.

The path you’re taking, might put a lot of pressure on you. There might be a lot of things going on at the same time, and perhaps at times you might feel overwhelmed. But they know you can do it. They fully trust you to win every obstacle you might face, and even achieve more than you were expecting to. You might doubt yourself at times, but they want you to remember you’re doing your best, and that you don’t have to be perfect at all times.

You definitely will manage to achieve your goals in the future. So even if you might feel lost from time to time, try to not get too discouraged about it!

Sometimes, compromises might be needed in order to advance. Value wisely your options, and what they can give you in the long run. They’re advising you to not choose what you think would more appeal others, but to choose for yourself. What makes YOU happy? That’s what you should always ask yourself.

Sometimes less is more. Stressing too much, or working more than you should, won’t really help you achieve your goals faster; quite the opposite actually. You might slow down the process by wanting to “impress” yourself and others. Taking extra steps can only cause you to feel fatigued sooner. So take it slow, and proceed only with the necessary tasks. It will be enough (they’re a lot of work as it is…).

Taking a logical approach, rather than a more emotional one, will be more beneficial to you, more times than not. Going after what your heart desires it’s wonderful! Just make sure to not overindulge in that mindset too much, and to actually ponder in a smart way about which prospect would aid you more.

I see you liking to learn new things, as well as getting deeper into the craft as time goes by. I think you love experimenting and discovering different things. But if you have perfectionist tendencies, try to acknowledge when you’re getting too lost in the pursuit of perfection, and take a step back. Look at the situation from a different perspective, and remind yourself that you got to this point all by yourself. So you can do it, and there’s always room for improvement. You’re just starting to “grow”, so it’s okay to make mistakes along the way. It’s just human!! Convincing yourself that you aren’t capable, might take the motivation to do stuff, away from you. So remember to keep a positive outlook (as much as you can sweetheart), and respect your progress; no matter how fast or slow it might be. They want to tell you “You’ve got this!!”, and encourage you to embrace your dreams.

I hope this helped you somehow. I felt very tired while doing your reading. To the point I completed it in 5 times haha. I had to take long breaks. If it’s your energy that I was picking up on, please TAKE A BREAK. You’ve worked really hard, and you must feel pretty tired. So just relax whenever you need to!!

If you have doubts, feel free to ask for clarification! Thanks a lot for waiting so patiently. Much love!! <333

#50 followers free game #closed game #tarot community #free readings #tarot reading #spirituality #klo #pxrxdise-dreamer

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justlightlysedated · 4 years ago

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I would love to know more about the aftermath of your planetary alignment fic - chapter 11 of the Untitled Collection of Malex Fics. What happens the next day?

a continuation of this

Maria was expecting to have at least forty-eight hours to wallow in self pity and then pick herself up and dust herself off and forget she ever heard the name Michael Guerin, but of course, she doesn't even get a full twenty-four hours to prepare herself before Michael shows up at her door.

Maria gets startled out of the daze she'd been in staring blankly at the tv while the local morning show was going on, and she looks to her right first where Isobel is passed out with her mouth open, drooling on one of the cushions, snoring slightly, hair a disheveled mess, one arm hanging down from the couch, an empty bottle brushing the tips of her fingers.

The knocking sound comes again and Maria looks away from Isobel to the door, and she wonders who the hell it could be this early.

A quick glance at her phone tells her that it's nearly ten, but the question still remains.

She pushes herself up to her feet, and walks, or well more like shuffles towards the door.

She doesn't think that she's still drunk, because her head is beginning to ache in the way it does when she overindulges. She definitely doesn't want to be sober, so she detours towards the kitchen and finds an open bottle of wine, halfway done and grabs that.

The knocking sounds again, this time sounding a touch impatient, and Maria definitely feels like she needs to rip into someone and it may as well be whatever asshole decided to knock on her door today.

She walks towards the door, and barely looks at her reflection. She already knows she looks like she spent the night drinking and hadn't gotten any sleep, but she doesn't particularly care.

Well, she doesn't care until she pulls the door open, mouth open ready to curse someone out, and finds herself face to face with Michael.

Michael might look a little twitchy, fingers clenching and unclenching, and rocking on his heels, like an addict jonesing for a fix, but the second his eyes catch hers, she feels her heart shattering even more.

It's not just that he looks completely focused, it's that she hasn't seen him look so completely clear headed in weeks, months never mind the last couple of days.

He looks almost like he got something that he'd been missing, and it's that thought more than anything that fuels the embers of her anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Maria asks harshly. "Shouldn't you be elsewhere fucking your brains out?"

Michael winces a little, but he also looks back towards where his truck is parked in front of her house.

Maria doesn't want to see if Alex is in the truck or not so she keeps her gaze resolutely on Michael's face.

If she were thinking more clearly, she knows that she technically can't be upset that he cheated on her, because they're not dating at the moment, but it hurts more than she thought it would, the thought that it's probably for good this time.

It hurts even more to know that the person who has him now is Alex, not because it's Alex per se, but because it was always Alex.

Alex is the common denominator before and now after.

She feels like a waypoint. Like their relationship both good and bad, was just something for Michael to do to pass the time before he was ready to be with Alex again.

And that's what hurts more than anything.

"Yeah, listen, I'm sorry, about how this happened," Michael starts turning to look back at her, eyes wide and pleading, like he wants her to try to understand and be forgiving, but Maria passed that two bottles of wine ago, and she really doesn't feel like being understanding and forgiving.

She understands that she went after Michael even with the knowledge of how Alex felt. She understands that Alex in his own way, told her that he was still in love with Michael when she'd finally bit the bullet and went to talk to him. She can even forgive Alex for pushing her to date Michael since he'd thought that was what Michael wanted.

But she has no interest or desire to understand and forgive Michael for this. Maybe if she had been the one to admit that their relationship wasn't working it would've been another matter entirely, but this last breakup had been because Michael needed the space, and she had been hoping that this whole thing would've brought them back together again.

Maria shakes her head, cutting off whatever Michael had been about to say.

"I don't forgive you," she tells him, and Michael takes a step backwards, eyes going even bigger and hurt. "You told me that whatever was between you and Alex was long over. You came to me and gave me pretty speeches about wanting to protect me. You begged for me to give you another chance every time that we broke up. You told me that I was the only thing that mattered. You promised that we were good, and that we were solid and what you wanted. But when it was actually important, it all turned out to just be words. Pretty, empty words you said because it's what you thought that I wanted to hear."

Michael shakes his head, taking a step closer, causing her to take one backwards.

“I know it might not seem like it now, but I meant every word that I said to you,” he tells her, and he sounds so earnest that Maria is inclined to believe him.

But she still scoffs and looks away from him, shaking her head.

“I mean it,” Michael says, and she hears him shuffling his feet like he’s trying not to move closer. “I really did think that I had put Alex behind me, but I guess I was just lying to myself.”

He sounds a little sheepish and earnest, and Maria knows that he’s probably telling the truth, but she doesn’t want to deal with it right now. She thinks that after the last couple of months that they’ve had, she deserves at least a few days to be petty and wallow in self pity.

“Look,” she says, cutting off whatever else he’d been going to say. She turns back to look at him, and she can tell that even though he’s standing right in front of her, asking for forgiveness, his attention is starting to wander.

He looks behind him one more time before turning back towards her.

She shakes her head at him. “I understand what you’re trying to do, but you need to give me some space. It’s one thing if you’d decided to get back together with him. It’s something else that your alien biology almost killed you, and the only one who was able to save you was Alex. Okay?”

He looks at her like he still doesn’t understand where she’s coming from, but he takes a step backwards, rocking on his heels, fingers twitching on his side.

“Just, leave me alone for a bit,” she tells him, and at this he nods his head, giving her a look that she can’t really decipher.

“I really am sorry,” he tells her, and Maria just shakes her head again, and turns around and heads back inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

She stands right at the entrance, and listens as he leaves, taking a little too long to start the truck, and then waits until the sounds of the truck disappears, and only then does she let herself collapse against the door, sliding down to the floor.

She takes a swig from the forgotten wine bottle still in her hand, and leans her head back against the door, exhaling roughly, and willing herself not to cry.

Alex has to force himself to not actually get out of the truck when Michael’s emotions dive into sadness, before jolting up and down and all over the place, sending heat spiraling down the back of Alex’s neck, in a way that tells him that they might not make it back to his house in time.

He hadn’t wanted to stop at Maria’s house, but he knew that she was important to Michael even if they stopped dating, and he could feel how much he needed to do this, to clear the air between them.

So he let him go with minimal complaints.

He stares, barely keeping still as they talk, and he can tell from Maria’s body language that she doesn’t want to deal with Michael, and he holds his breath, waiting tense, until she closes the door.

Michael whirls around and hurries back to the truck like someone is chasing him, and he opens the door, and gets into the truck.

Alex barely lets him close the door behind him before he’s digging his fingers into Michael’s hair and pulling him in close for a kiss.

Michael gasps into his mouth and the desperation that had been slowly been making his skin crawl dissipates a little bit, just enough that Michael parts their mouths with a gasp, dropping his forehead to Alex’s and closing his eyes tightly, fingers digging into the back of Alex’s neck.

“Feel better?” Alex asks, already knowing the answer.

Michael just exhales softly, and shakes his head. “I’m still feeling guilty, but it’s only because I don’t feel guilty.”

He opens his eyes and stares at Alex, and Alex really doesn’t need him to explain, because he knows exactly how he feels.

“Let’s go home,” Alex says, just to see the way that Michael reacts to the words, smiling slow and sweet before he presses a kiss to Alex’s mouth again.

Alex can still feel the desperate feeling at the back of his head, and he’s sure that if he had paid more attention to Liz’s explanation yesterday he’d know exactly how long this was going to last, but at the moment, that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Michael lets him go, and turns to start the truck.

Alex reaches out, and grabs Michael’s hand, threading their fingers together, and leans back in his seat.

Michael squeezes their fingers together, and pulls away from the sidewalk.

Alex knows that there’s a lot of things that they have to talk about but at this very moment, he feels like no matter what happens now, they’re going to be okay.

#this is the first thing that popped into my head #hope you like it??#malexprompts2021 #malex fic #long post #since it's over 1k

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nissakii · 4 years ago

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Is Kageyama Tobio an ISTJ? - MBTI Analysis with functions

Spoiler warning for the entirety of the Haikyuu!! anime Parts of the manga after chapter 292 will not be discussed. Thread with caution dear reader!

This is the new and improved MBTI type analysis for the Haikyuu!! character Kageyama Tobio. You can read the old one here.

After a lot of research and also input from other readers and writers, we have started to analyse and type differently when it comes to the Myers Briggs Type Indicator. There are tools out there better equipped to type and examine the abundance of personalities out there which are called cognitive functions.

You might already be aware of it, but Makii has delved deep into those functions for her BNHA Compatibility : La Brava and Gentle/Sidekick and her Villain post. With extensive research, she has brought up beautiful points there, please feel free to check it out!

Now that we know about these functions, and Haikyuu!! To the Top is in our arsenal as well, I shall go over Kageyama’s personality type again and we will see if he still is our ISTJ setter!

Now to explain first before we dive into Kageyama’s personality, what exactly are those functions?

This time, instead of going with the Letters that you might already know (I/E, N/S, T/F and P/J) and shuffling those together, we are looking at four core functions that play out differently in each person.

Explanation is coming, stay with us!

These core four are the perceiving functions; Sensing (S) and Intuition (N), and the judging functions; Thinking (T) and Feeling (F).

The judging functions, as the name reiterates, shows us how someone judes things. How they make their decisions and what their values are. What does the person do with information taken from their surroundings? How do they analyse it?

The perceiving functions on the other hand are all about the perceptions of said information. When you look at the world, what do they see? What stays in their head? What catches their eye and how do they interact with it all?

It's easier to remember when you think of the concept as taking in information and then sorting it.

Now each person has a natural preference as to how they use their function. In this case we look at extraversion and introversion again, and see how their functions are used. If one f.e. prefers to use their Sensing trait internally we will add a small ‘i’ next to it so it becomes introverted Sensing Si.

Looks familiar?

These are the small abbreviations you might see around when looking at type discussions, and then they are arranged in the order of preference.

With the stack we always alternate between introverted and extroverted functions, and the order of the functions are always JPPJ or PJJP (Perceiving and Judging) which now forms our previously known 16 personality types!

The four functions get stacked and form the “Function stack” or “Cognitive stack” which can look a little like this:

Fi (Introverted Feeling) Ne (Extroverted Intuition)

Si (Introverted Sensing) Te (Extroverted Thinking)

This would’ve been my personal stack as an INFP, and an even better way to properly look at how the personality type works. The first function in the stack is the most prominent and the last is the weakest, which can already tell you a lot about how a person sees the world.

Now that we have finished this rather lengthy explanation, let’s dive into Kageyama Tobio’s cognitive functions shall we?

Dominant Function: Si

The dominant function is the first function, and the one that encompasses said person the most. It is their core being, what they truly are and what most people see for the first time.

The dominant function also establishes if the person behaves like an extrovert or an introvert.

“I am not introverted!” is what we hear from Kageyama the first time this topic is mentioned in the anime. But is that really true? He is often seen as reserved and collected from the outside. A forceful and possessing figure,

“The King”.

Extroversion and Introversion is easier explained if we take it like the workings of a battery. As Makii has mentioned in her post as well, if you spend a lot of time with people do you feel more energized or is your energy depleted afterwards?

I feel like it’s important to mention that Kageyama’s biggest passion is volleyball, which is amplified by him saying how he would despair only if he couldn’t play volleyball anymore.

As an athlete Kageyama can’t really play volleyball alone, so saying he’s extroverted just because he’s always adamant on playing doesn’t really prove if he’s an extrovert.

In this case, what is the first thing we see with Kageyama? What would be the most dominant function for him?

If we typed him right the last time, and he actually is an ISTJ, that would be the Sensing function.

Sensing is the perceiving function that is all about organisation and strong discipline. People with dominant Sensing have the innate ability to look at what they do and maximize everything to the fullest potential. As we’ve established that kageyama definitely behaves like an introvert even though he might have some outbursts, that makes his first function ‘introverted Sensing’ or Si.

Kageyama still has his priorities laid out in front of him, but he is also very particular on how things are supposed to be done. He accumulates information and experiences from his past and uses those to evaluate current facts.

That is why Si-Te characters are often shown to be adamant on their strategies or typical 'textbook' learners. They do things in a mundane and familiar way rather than try out new things.

He’s known as the genius who is able to make incredible sets with shocking precision, and he has the highest expectations on himself and others. His Si is what makes him think deeply of only the things he is interested in, and makes sure to use practical and methodical ways of action. All of this is internalized in Kageyama’s brain, he doesn’t talk much about it and sometimes even has no concept of it himself, but his work ethic and controlling nature shows us that this function fits him very well.

Auxiliary Function: Te

The Auxiliary function is the second most preferred and used function, especially there to support the first dominant function. As the first function in introverts is internal, the second is external and therefore extroverted.

It is the first and most immediate thing that will be noticed by others when they interact with Kageyama.

His Si might be internal and therefore established when he is focused or when he lets other people see it, his Auxiliary as an ISTJ would be the Thinking function.

Extroverted Thinking, or also Te would show his love for routine and efficiency and also the reason why Kageyama often works to his limits and trains properly everyday to attain his goals. It also fuels his competitiveness, which is the first thing Hinata sensed about him when they met.

It is all about winning and winning until he beats Oikawa and becomes the best of the best.

Him being a hothead would explain that his Thinking trait is extroverted, when it comes to his training regimen for example Kageyama is very strict. He understands the importance of pushing his limits and working through every obstacle until it is solved.

His first two functions Si-Te show the adamant way of carefully planning the way he needs to pursue their goals.

Like mentioned before with the first quote of Kageyama wanting to win all his games in the future, those are not just empty words. He is shown to have a training routine that he follows diligently and he always nags Hinata to not just hit spikes but also work on his weak receives.

This also explains the white board in Kageyama’s room that shows a very complex workout schedule.

Kageyama’s goal is to stay on the court the longest and become the absolute best, and he is aware that all of that doesn’t come from nothing. Logic, strategy and internalizing and sticking with his own principles is a strong indicator for his Si-Te stack.

We often see that Kageyama still has some difficulties using his Auxiliary Te, as he tends to overindulge in this function. Especially when Kageyama is stressed or overwhelmed by a situation, we can see that more clearly.

He then tends to become very stiff and his judgment turns very black and white, which is seen for example when he already decided for himself what the role of the setter entails. Instead of looking at it from the perspective of Hinata as well, which was a piece of advice Oikawa had to give him before he could understand that more fully.

These traits make him very inflexible which turns to him not being able to change plans and ideas, we see this when he was reluctant to change the quick attack to something that could've been improved.

His recent interactions in season four are also an indicator of his stiff and humorless attitude that conforms his Auxiliary. It's the reason why Atsumu was able to get into his head space while calling him a "goody two shoes", which Kageyama couldn't fully understand until he broke apart.

Tertiary Function: Fi

The Tertiary function is now one of the weaker and strained functions that a person exhibits. As the first two functions of the stack show us the accumulated personality of someone, we must know that balance is very important.

The third and supporting function makes sure that there is a healthy balance in the cognitive stack and it also acts as a slow break to the first two.

Kageyama’s third function should be an internalized one, as we’ve established in the beginning that the functions alternate from being extroverted and introverted. For his personal stack, the next function is his introverted Feeling or Fi for short.

To his very analytical and strategic behaviour, to conform to a good balance the setter needs to learn how to factor his own and other people’s emotions into the mix.

Fi exhibits itself as a sort of sensitivity to other people’s feelings. In the first season of Haikyuu!! We see Kageyama slowly and politely trying to sense the people around him in a very clumsy manner. He needs to know how he can take the perspectives of other people and apply them to his own course of action.

“Azumane-san, how was that toss just now?”

Pairing well with his observant nature, he accumulates actual facts to accommodate his peers. He might have a problem getting his emotions in check, but when it comes to volleyball his straightforward approach is what helps him determine how to f.e. set to someone new. In this moment his Fi becomes a gentle reminder that he needs to dial it down sometimes and consider how others feel.

Even if he does register other people’s emotions he uses them in a logical context instead of an emotional one, while keeping facts and logical aspects like skill and technique as a first priority.

And that is why his Feeling trait is less prominent, but still an important asset to his whole stack. If he overindulges in his Auxiliary and uses his inferior Feeling trait to compensate for that overly stiff and possessive nature, he might fall into what we call on this instance a Fi loop.

Signs for such a Fi loop would be the reluctance to see that problems are getting worse by using a black and white approach or knowing that the current course of actions could be improved but not changing it.

We can see this when Kageyama knew exactly that the first quick attack was stopped by other good players and could be improved, but did not back away from his original play. Even though Hinata told him to his face that it soon wouldn't work anymore.

He then interprets his own feelings as immediate facts and factors them into his decision making as "facts" which only fuels his Auxiliary Te, and then the loop continues.

Kageyama sees himself as the best and strives to overcome everyone who is in the way, so in his case he interprets his own feelings of "I am good/better" into actually being factual. His own feelings then cooperate to back up his own strategies.

Inferior Function: Ne

The infamous last function is also called the inferior function, and as the name states the most weak.

It is a person's emergency break or great strength and if not developed fully, can be their achilles heel.

It may be the weakest function of one's stack, but it has a huge impact for when it actually comes out. For the analytical type that Kageyama is, his Feeling and Intuition are bound to be the latter functions in his stack. That doesn't mean that he is emotionless or doesn’t like to try out new things true to his Intuition, it just means that he personally would rather value things by rationality and logic than emotion and theory.

Still, his Extroverted Intuition or his Ne is what wants new and exciting ideas to develop in his thought process. As it is the inferior function, it is only usable in small amounts of time and often associated less with Kageyama’s true character.

A good example for a Ne and Si conflict would be the season two improved quick attack.

As a Si-Dom he is less imaginative and likes to use things that always work for him. If he finds a safe route, he will cling to that stability and continue to pursue it, disregarding everything else.

When Kageyama started on the “freak attack” with Hinata he found said stability. Seeing the immediate boost it gave the team and the satisfaction that Hinata had in the beginning, it was especially hard for him later when the middle blocker demanded more.

Why change something if it is already perfect?

To have a direct comparison, Oikawa with introverted Intuition (Ni) as his Auxiliary function immediately saw room for improvement behind the success rate and a chance to make something “perfect” even better, while Kageyama was clutching on the current path that was successful.

Oikawa took his time to give every member in Karasuno advice and tips on how to improve, he is often seen observing in the background and pushing everyone he works with to their fullest potential. That is his internalized dialogue that plays with new ideas and concepts as he takes in his world.

When it came to the freak quick attack, it was shown that Kenma with extroverted Intuition (Ne) as his Auxiliary saw the weakness in it as well, pushing Hinata to want to improve it.

Kageyama's weakness is that he didn’t see the bigger picture, but only the short term solution that was most effective.

Another reason why the inferior function is so important, is because under high amounts of stress any personality can fall into an episode called ‘the grip’, in Kageyama's case that would be the infamous Ne-grip.

If caught in a spiral of routine that is a lot higher and alarming than most other days, a Si-Te with Ne grip can get irrationally scared of the future and compare it to bad things that happened in the past. Freezing up and getting the feeling that something may have already gone wrong 'just like last time'.

A good example for a really strong Ne-grip for Kageyama would be his middle school experience with his team when they abandoned him finally after he taunted them for their efforts and this memory makes him stop in his tracks and over think his current state.

His fear of situations taking a wrong turn and reliving past mistakes again makes Kageyama show signs of Ne-grip.

It's Hinata or the general new support system of Karasuno and even Oikawa who have to pull him out of his grip, when he starts to get overwhelmed by the sheer possibility of something going wrong just like last time.

Conclusion:

After this new analysis and with the help of other researchers and the personality database, it is now well established that I truly believe Kageyama is an ISTJ.

The reserved and logically inclined Si-Te setter who can still be a bit emotional with his Fi might feel quite ambiguous, still I think that his responses to sudden change and inefficiency due to his inferior Ne already determine a lot about him and his personality.

It truly was a pleasure to look at this whole analysis again and see if Kageyama was truly typed correctly, and I encourage every single one of you to look into your own cognitive stack to find out more about yourself!

Now what do you guys think? Agree or disagree with me? I would love to know if you have typed with or without functions in the past and what your experience with it is!

Until then, to the next tea time!

Ah~ this tea tastes the same and yet… Quite different now~

-Nissa

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thinkinem · 4 years ago

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seeing discussion of lgbtq+ representation in one chicago on the dash so I’m taking this as my opportunity to float my overindulgent head canon* that Matt Casey is one superbly repressed queer.

*this quickly got out of hand and is likely well into au territory, but if I have to think about-- it as incoherent as it is--then you do too!

The reason he botched his moment with Sylvie so hard was that when things slowed down and Sylvie asked her Gabby question, Matt got majorly overwhelmed by the reality that he was about to jump into another relationship with a woman that already has all these ideas about who he is as a man and as a boyfriend.

Usually he can ignore the dull feeling of disconnect that always comes when he’s first intimate with a woman. But dammit, he really thought Sylvie could be The One. He really thought this time those feelings of affection and aesthetic appreciation that he could conjure when he pressed himself to meant something. He was so sure that he was going to feel that spark people write songs about with Sylvie. That it was going to redeem him for all the ways he couldn’t be enough for Gabby, for all the times he looked Hallie in the face and wasn’t truthful.

But that spark, swoop, tingle, whatever it’s supposed to be, it isn’t there. Sure, he’s got the motions down, a smooth execution of the classic moves, and he likes feeling strong and needed and scooping Sylvie up without hesitation does that for him. But it’s not the aha moment he was expecting. The moments they’d shared over the past two years, the little glimpses of a future with this woman in his arms turn stale just like they always do when he goes to seal the deal.

When Sylvie pulls back, Matt’s heart stops. He’s sure this is it, that if anyone is going to finally see through him it’s going to be Sylvie Brett. And in a lot of ways he’s relieved. Sylvie is a safe space, a trusted confidante, he knows she won’t mock or laugh. But also the idea of putting words to the way he feels scares the life out of him, to say it out loud would make his Otherness too real. (Even when he and Kelly were in the middle of whatever it was they had, Matt could never fully admit to it out loud, not even just as a whisper in the dark to the man that had already seen all of him and stayed close anyway).

But Sylvie doesn’t see through him. Or she thinks she does, but really she couldn’t be farther from the truth. So when she asks if he’d go with Gabby, it feels easiest to say he doesn’t know.

But his “I don’t know” was less about going with Gabby as an individual, and more about the idea of committing himself to another/any woman again. The divorce gutted him. It forced up a lot of thoughts and feelings that he was relying on that relationship to keep a lid on. But also, it felt a lot like checking off a task from a to do list: he did his due diligence as a man to have a wife and attempt a classic version of a family just like he was always expected to do (and in a lot of ways it felt like a big fuck you to his father and every one of his sneering insults).

The thing is, Matt knows in his bones that he wants someone like Sylvie Brett by his side for the rest of his life; she’s amazing, loyal, funny, understanding, everything he’d want in a partner. But in that moment Matt decides he cannot go down this road again. Sylvie is all those wonderful things and more, and she deserves a guy who wants all of her, not just the idea of her.

For a moment he thinks it’s going to work out. He gets out the cliched “it’s complicated” and is almost ready to do it, ready to own who he is right there. But the words get a little stuck and then Sylvie is filling in the blanks with all the wrong colors (and, Jesus, isn’t that familiar). Then the next thing he knows, he’s breaking Sylvie Brett’s heart exactly the way he vowed to never do. The moment is quick and messy and feels terrifyingly unsalvageable, but it’s happening, then it happened, and there’s nothing he can do about it. (He sleeps with Sydney because that’s what he does when a relationship ends: he sleeps with a stranger, always female, and does everything opposite what he did in the relationship, just to double test the theory that it really is something in him and not just around him. Sydney: sexy and funny and charming; The Theory: confirmed)

And suddenly Matt is exhausted. He’s got decades of built up secret and accumulated grief on his shoulders and he can’t move with it all weighing him down. So he just sort of stops fighting it. He puts up the token efforts with Sylvie, tells her he doesn’t regret it, that she’s still very important to him, then lets her walk away when she informs him that it can never happen again, that he is a man still in love with his ex wife. On net, she’s actually kinda half right, and he lets himself have a quiet, sardonic chuckle at that.

Matt’s got the job, his rank, his men, the city. They’re more than enough to live for, to love, to give his all. They’ve got expectations of him too, and they’re ones he can meet with an ease that doesn’t exist anywhere else in his life.

Five weeks after Matt decides he’s really only meant to be Captain Casey, he wakes up on Christie’s couch with the mother of all hangovers. He gets a solid five minutes of laying awake, nauseous and self-loathing before his older sister comes in with a steaming cup of coffee and smile more gentle than he’s ever seen her wear. She digs her hand into his shoulder and tells him about coming home from her freshman year of college for Thanksgiving.

She tells him about letting herself be dragged back to the high school stadium by friends she hadn’t quite lost touch with yet for the annual cross-town rival Turkey Bowl football game. She tells him about not watching a single moment of the game, about missing the moment when Star Quarterback John Murphy’s collar bone snapped. She tells him about becoming the most committed high school football fan in the five minutes after the ATs got John Murphy off the field, and the coach decided that what the hell, they’d finish the game anyway, that scrawny freshman Matt Casey would finally get some playing time after a whole season of sitting the bench. She tells him about flying off her seat, about going hoarse the next day from telling everyone in the stadium “that was my brother, Matt Casey, the kid who made the final point, that’s my brother.”

Matt, sitting up now, gives Christie a soft smile and mumbles that it was fluke really, that he didn’t see a second of playing time again until his junior year, that he was always more of a hockey guy. Christie reaches across him again digging her nails into his shoulders, says with the mean kind of love only older sisters are capable of, “Matthew Michael, you are not a fluke.”

A week after Matt pulls himself off Christie’s couch Sylvie tells him she is done needing space, that she misses her friend. He’s grateful for that and does his best to not be annoyed when she starts looking surprised that he isn’t ‘fighting’ for her or doing whatever charming manly bullshit he would’ve done even just a few months ago. But Matt is done fighting for things he doesn’t really want, is done fighting himself at every turn and is ready to start fighting for himself. He isn’t a fluke and one of these days he’s going to prove it.

In fact, he proves it when he goes to dinner at Stella and Kelly’s new place on a warm fall night just under a year since he was standing in the hallway of Sylvie’s apartment exhausted of himself. It’s him, Stella and Kelly of course, Sylvie but not her boyfriend, and Sam Kidd, Stella’s older brother who just moved to Chicago and is “desperate enough for friends that I’m hanging around my baby sister, I know it’s--ow, Steve, don’t hit me!”

Sam Kidd is funny and charming and tells terrific stories about a precocious preteen Stella. And after dinner when he and Matt end up alone in the kitchen having volunteered for clean up duty, Sam puts a firm hand on Matt’s shoulder and says he appreciates how Matt has looked out for his baby sister these past years, that he was skeptical of the stories Stella told him about her Captain right up until he shook Matt’s hand earlier that night. Sam readily agrees when Matt insists that Stella has never needed any looking after but his hand lingers in an appreciative squeeze on his shoulder anyway.

They walk down the block toward their cars together after seeing Sylvie safely to her Uber. When they get to Sam’s sleek black sports car (he’s in marketing and apparently very good at it), Matt is less surprised than he thought he would be when Sam crowds him against the passenger side door and sweetly asks “would it be alright if I kissed you?” (Matt says yes, to the kiss and a date, as well as a second date and third one too).

They don’t make a big announcement or anything, but they also don’t hide it. When Stella and Kelly get married in the Spring, Sam pulls Matt out onto the dance floor and holds him close right in front of everyone. For the first time in his life, Matt doesn’t mind the attention a single bit because he’s finally where he fits.

When Matt is all danced out, and Sam is cutting in to dance with his sister, Matt finds himself in the little anteroom straightening out gift bags and taking a moment to feel quietly pleased with himself. Sylvie comes in then, eyes shining to compliment the new ring on her left hand. For a moment Matt worries she’s upset with him, but then her face breaks into a soft grin and he barely catches her “oh, Matt” before he’s catching her. When they pull away from each other Matt gives her a grin of his own, one that he hopes says I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry it all got so messy but I can’t be sorry for who I am. Sylvie must understand him because she’s still grinning as she says, “you’re happy.” It’s not a question, but Matt nods anyway because finally, after years and years, it’s fully and all the way true. He’s happy.

#matt casey #sylvie brett #christie casey jordan #chicago fire #chicago fire fic #chicago fire headcanons #if i was any good at this I would've included a casey/severide moment as well #but im not so i didn't #i have it in my head tho #also stella telling a very good joke about the two of them being so codependent that they had to fall in love with people from the same fam #also i feel like sylvie isn't very flushed out in this but like it's about matt so...#she's an ally #i want that clear #sylvie is 100% team matt living his truth etc #also definitely fast friends with Sam #he calls her in a panic one day bc matt came home with his arm all bandaged and unconcerned #but sam IS concerned bc ANY amount of skin melting is too much skin melting dont come at me with a degree system matt

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appleb0mb · 4 years ago

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Cardenalia: Lyric Analysis!

To all those theorists who want confirmation, here you go! Note that this is unedited. Long post below!

Verse One:

Silk laced with poison – ‘poison’ is in reference to Pomefiore’s chapter and the Evil Queen, when she poisoned Snow White.

The apple falling from the tree – The apple in this case is a second reference to Pomefiore, or more specifically Epel. 1Since apples only fall when they’re either fully grown or decayed, this is in reference to Epel leaving his hometown, entering a new environment – specifically Pomefiore.

It can also imply how 2Vil is raising Epel to be of a higher standard of beauty.

The wheel of fortune – 1In eastern cultures, there is a spiritual rebirth known as ‘reincarnation’ – or in this case, the cycle (also reference to the term ‘Lottery of Life’).

The Wheel of Fortune is based on people being separated and sorted into groups of status or wealth as they are born. Some humans believe that this is permanent till the day you die or be ‘reborn’ once again.

Has not been kind to me – (The following is more focused on the term ‘Lottery of Life’).

1Jamil believes that he has been deemed ‘unlucky�� and feels that he has lost the wheel of life from the moment he was born. As a result, this affects parts of his life such as his wealth, his family, his job, his wishes and desires, as well as his environment.

All these hands are crawling on me, crawling on me – The following is mainly based on Canon Jamil.

1This is in reference to when the members of Scarabia are constantly bombarding him with tasks and jobs. Jamil is tired of the huge, overwhelming responsibility carried on his shoulders as Vice Dorm leader. He internally feels mentally drained and in distress about it.

2This can include TWSTxDAL Jamil as well, since his power is reliant on Kalim’s power – which involves helping the people and environment around him. Without Jamil, Kalim’s power will be imbalanced and spiral out of control (he may even overblot because of that).

3Thanks to that, he feels like he is pressured and forced to comply with Kalim’s desires – without gaining anything satisfying or desirable from Kalim in the process.

4This can also be applied to Canon Jamil as well!

Time seems slow when I am struggling, I am struggling – 1Jamil feels like his pain of being in an everlasting bond with Kalim is filled with never-ending suffering. Additionally, he feels like his happiness and joy are short and brief – while his suffering lasts much longer and slower.

2This can also be in reference to Canon Jamil, in terms of him serving Kalim.

Desperate, I try to reach out to your hand – 1Jamil is reaching out constantly, begging for a way out of this suffering of feeling below or inferior to Kalim. In this line, he is hanging on to the last remains of hope that Kalim will realize of the eternal bond they are in.

2This can also be in reference to Canon Jamil, hoping that Kalim is aware of the dark side of him being a slave to Kalim.

What is with that smile? – This is in reference to Kalim’s bright and cherry innocence. As a result, when Kalim smiles to Jamil – Jamil is deeply hurt, frustrated and irritated - comprehending that Kalim still is naïve and unaware of the ongoing situation between the two of them.

2This can also be in reference to Canon Jamil.

Chorus:

Keep on singing, Cardenalia – 1Jamil is mocking Kalim and his actions, pretending to be supportive of Kalim and continue to be on his side. Instead, this implies Jamil manipulating and controlling Kalim to achieve his goal of freedom.

This is also referencing of Kalim’s innocence – of Kalim himself being stuck in his own ‘bubble’.

2This is in reference to Canon Jamil as well.

Keep on dancing, dancing backwards – 1In a way, Jamil is telling him to continue to act stupid/dumb of the bond they share. This in relation to Jamil being manipulative and mocking Kalim.

2Can also be in reference to Canon Jamil.

In my womb – 1In a mother’s womb – the baby I given the nutrients needed to grow as well as protection; while risking the mother’s life as a result. This can be applied to Jamil, but instead without nurturing and emotionally caring for Kalim as an individual.

2Additionally, this can be an insult to Kalim being naïve and useless – since a baby can only grow and cannot carry responsibilities or help themselves.

3Thirdly, this is in reference to Kalim being stuck in Jamil’s ‘trap’ or ‘bubble’, where he controls or monitors Kalim’s actions like a doll. In other words, Kalim is the puppet while Jamil is the puppeteer/mastermind.

4This can be taken as reference to Canon Jamil as well.

(I hate you) – This is towards Kalim, and in secret. That is why the brackets are applied.

Verse Two:

Same room, same time – 1This is based on when Yuu (You), Grim and Octavinelle were present with Scarabia (Canon Jamil).

2This can also be based on the TWSTxDAL story, when Yuu, Grim (somehow…?) and Octavinelle met Jamil and Kalim for the first time. In this case, the ‘room’ would be more so a ‘hideout’.

My eyes are dyed with jealousy – This is rather vague (since this can be interpreted in many ways). I will try to consider all the possibilities.

1Jamil is jealous of Azul – The fact that Azul is able to free and able to express his desires or ulterior motives without hesitation or restraint.

2Jamil is jealous of Kalim – This can be carried canonically or not.

Canon Version: Kalim allows Octavinelle into the Scarabia dorm, even though Jamil is against it. He despises how Kalim can be so carefree without carefully thinking of his actions – since Octavinelle is known for being mischievous and duplicitous.

TWSTxDAL version: The same is applied to here, but Jamil is unfamiliar with Octavinelle and Yuu (or is he?) since he meets you five in person as a group.

Kalim is a lot more open to visitors (since he barely receives none), and is annoyed and envious of how Kalim is ignorant of the dangers and risks of his new and unacquainted guests.

3Jamil is jealous of Kalim (2) – In general, Jamil is jealous of Kalim of winning the ‘Lottery of Life’ so easily without hard-work or dedication. He is given everything on a golden platter, without Kalim questioning the circumstances or the origin of the reward.

This can be applied to TWSTxDAL Jamil, except Kalim can use his powers by barely suffering in the process compared to Jamil. Though, it usually depends on who uses their power more (which is usually Kalim).

“Please stop” you ask me – ‘You’ can be the following:

1Yuu/You – Yuu is usually in charge of helping dorms and their Overblots. Indirectly, you are telling Jamil to stop accomplishing any sinister plans ahead of time.

2Kalim – This is based on when Kalim is under the Unique Magic ‘Snake Whisper’. Even though he doesn’t recognize he’s under hypnosis, I believe he would’ve reacted this way instead.

3Himself – Jamil has a sense of fear and worry that he’ll be found out, isolated, or no longer considered to be a friend or kind person to Kalim. This can be applied canonically to his dorm members as well.

Note that the context of ‘Himself’ can only be implemented as a one-liner, not with the line ‘To cease the puppetry’.

To cease the puppetry – This can apply to the following:

1Yuu/You – Yuu is telling him indirectly to stop controlling Kalim.

2Kalim – Kalim is telling Jamil to stop controlling him. Though, he is not saying ‘stop’ not for himself but for Jamil and the other members of his dorm. He doesn’t want Jamil to be hurt or affected in the process, even though Kalim himself is being hurt in the process.

In short terms, Kalim is being selfless.

This can be applied to TWSTxDAL, but he would give up his life for Jamil if it meant saving him (even though this is technically not possible). In this case, he is telling him to stop so he can keep the friendship of Yuu, Grim and the other spirits.

Other Spirits – Heartslaybul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle.

3Himself & Other – Note that this is an abstract interpretation canonically. This may be applied in the TWSTxDAL AU.

However, instead of Jamil this can be applied to his Overblot toying with him or fate, destiny, or a 3rd party playing with him like checkers. 4He feels that he is being used in a bigger plan for an unknown motive.

Now my cup is running over, running over – 1The cup is a representation of his luck and success. 2This is a sign of greed, dictatorship and overindulgence. 3In a way, this can be interpreted as him ‘winning’ the ‘Lottery of Life’/gaining control over the situation at hand. This can be interpreted as canonically or not.

You beg with – This can applied to Yuu/You, or Kalim.

Unceasing mercy, unceasing mercy – In reference to him going along with his plans ruthlessly.

Desperate, you try and cling unto my arms saying, - 1In a way, this is reference to the verse, “Desperate, I try to reach out to your hand”. This is ironic since Jamil was crying for help, but now he is the one being cried to.

‘You’ can only be applied to Kalim.

“End my suffering” – 1This is Kalim begging for Jamil to stop. 2However, the term ‘suffering’ is in reference to hurting the friendship of Yuu, Grim and the other Spirits. But canonically, he wants him to stop wounding the friendship of everyone (Yuu, Grim and Octavinelle) and the Scarabia dorm members.

Bridge:

The following lines are only in relation to Jamil himself speaking to everyone, but more specifically to Kalim.

| - to differentiate that the verses are separated lyrically.

Hate me – 1He wants Kalim to stop caring for him, since he is hurt thanks to Kalim’s kindness. If Kalim did not care for him so much, he wouldn’t have been betrayed him in the first place.

Kill me – 1Canonically, he knows that if he betrays his master/Kalim, he might be put to death. But he doesn’t care of the consequences – even if his freedom will be death.

Despise me – The same applies to the verse “Hate me”.

You shatter me – 1This is in reference to Kalim breaking his spirit, his hopes and desires. Moreso, Kalim ‘broke’ his ability to be who he wants to be as an individual.

Breaking | Slowly – 1This is when Kalim is ‘breaking’ his patience, his individuality/character, and desires. This can also be in terms of friendship as well.

How could you do this to me? – Jamil is questioning Kalim in this case.

The following lines are only in relation to Kalim responding to Jamil.

Time won’t | Heal all the wounds | I made in you – 1Kalim knows that these ‘wounds’ in these friendships can’t heal the mistakes he made in Jamil.

But let us | Live, learn, grow, and love – 1Kalim still wants them to understand each other’s feelings and restore his friendship, including everyone as well. He wants Jamil to continue living (for himself) and loving each other as best friends.

Everyone (Canonically) – Yuu, Grim, Octavinelle, and the Scarabia dorm members.

Everyone (TWSTxDAL) – Yuu, Grim, and Heartslaybul – Octavinelle.

Chorus:

Let us dance, Cardenalia | Let us dance, dance together – 1This is Jamil speaking to Kalim that he wants to dance with him. 2This is a sign of Jamil letting go of his anger and frustration, and turning his joy and happiness into dancing.

To the ends of hope, love, and despair – 1Jamil is stating that in good times and bad times, he will be there for Kalim in return; 2thanks to the promise that Kalim made (“Time won’t heal the wounds I made in you, but let us live, learn, grow, and love”).

Let us fall, Cardenalia | Let us fall, fall together – 1The fall is in reference of them descending either in reputation or ‘falling’ to their deaths.

2In the TWSTxDAL AU, Jamil knows that if one of them dies, the other will die as well.

Note that the word ‘reputation’ in the following paragraph only applies only to Canon Jamil.

Even if | Our hatred is our despair – 1Even if he hates him, he knows that he still cares for Kalim. 2Therefore Jamil states that even in bad times, he will be there in death. No emotion will separate them from the bond that they share.

#TWSTxDAL #TWSTxDAL lyric analysis #twisted wonderland #twst #date a live #scarabia #twst kalim #twst jamil #kalim al asim #jamil viper #gosh I did this last night and I haven't stopped since...#well...minus sleep :P #UwU #stay tuned.

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ibijau · 5 years ago

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30 day otp - day eighteen: Rain

18. R - Rain. Are the otp+ caught up in the bad weather, cozy inside, or are they somewhere like on a space ship or in the middle of the desert yearning for a good storm?

warning for mild alcohol abuse and jealousy

set after lxc and nhs became a couple, but before nhs discovers his brother’s death wasn’t an accident

It’s stupid to be walking in the rain like that, and it’s needlessly dramatic, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t care because he is, maybe, quite possibly, a little bit drunk. There was too much wine available at this stupid Conference. There’s always too much wine, especially when they’re held in Carp Tower, but it’s the first time Nie Mingjue isn’t there to stop him from overindulging when he’s bored.

And heavens help him, but he has been bored all day. It’s the first time he has to actually pay close attention to what’s been discussed, and his mind spent the entire revolting against the inane conversations around him. Disputes about territories and taxes and petty personal disputes treated as if they’re great scandals. Nie Huaisang doesn’t know how he survived this until the banquet where finally wine was served. He’s tempted to sneak in some wine tomorrow, so he can get drunk in the morning and not have to hear all this drivel. The only thing that can stop him from doing that is if Lan Xichen asks him not to, but… Lan Xichen has better things to do than to pay attention to Nie Huaisang.

The gnawing feeling in Nie Huaisang’s chest is nothing new, but it has been growing stronger since Lan Xichen kissed him for the first time.

He has always envied the close relationship between Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, the affection and respect these three shared (tainted by distrust and resentment, yes, but still Nie Huaisang believes his brother would never have been so furious if he hadn’t still liked Jin Guangyao). He still envies it, but there’s only two of them now, and sometimes Nie Huaisang sees Lan Xichen smile at Jin Guangyao or touch him with easy casualness, and he wonders…

Shivering because of the rain (or perhaps not just the rain, but he won’t admit to anything else) Nie Huaisang gives in and finds shelter under a tree. It’s cold, and it’s lonely, and he regrets not having some more wine with him to make him forget the way Lan Xichen’s hand was on Jin Guangyao’s shoulder when he ran away, the soft smile his lover (his lover) directed at his sworn brother as they chatted.

Lan Xichen who has barely spared a single glance for him since the conference started.

(Nie Huaisang knows, logically, that Lan Xichen cannot show him too much preference, not in such a public space, not when they are supposed to be friends and nothing else.)

(He’s drunk though, and this feels like rejection, especially when Lan Xichen has no problem showing a lot of preference for Jin Guangyao)

Around Nie Huaisang, the night gets darker. The rain gets worse. It occurs to him that he can’t see shit, doesn’t know where he is in those too big gardens, and probably won’t be able to find his way back.

It wouldn’t be his first time spending the night outside, cold, wet and drunk. It happened twice when he was studying in Cloud Recesses, and Wei Wuxian’s antics got him and Jiang Cheng stuck outside past curfew. Back then, it had been a fun experience. Nie Huaisang doesn’t expect this to be, but it’s his own fault for being stupid, so he’ll deal with it.

He’s just starting to look for a less wet patch of grass to sit down and fall asleep on when he stops something approaching through the rain. A pale silhouette, carrying what appears to be a large umbrella. Nie Huaisang hesitates, but eventually shouts to get that person’s attention. Embarrassment is better than sleeping in the mud.

A statement he starts to reconsider once the person gets closer and he recognises the white robes of Gusu Lan. Of course that’d be just his luck to be found by his lover when he is in such a pitiful state.

Lan Xichen lowers the umbrella as soon as he’s under the shelter of the tree, and pulls Nie Huaisang into a tight, warm hug.

“I was so worried! A-Sang, why did you disappear like that?”

Nie Huaisang, clinging to his lover’s robe like a child to his mother, knows that he should be happy that Lan Xichen came looking for him. If he were a little less drunk, if the last few months had been a little less harrowing, he would be happy.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he grumbles instead. “You and A-Yao were having such fun.”

He can feel the slight jolt in Lan Xichen’s frame at his bitter tone. He can also feel a hand carding through his wet hair, as if to comfort him.

“Of course I noticed you were gone,” Lan Xichen gently tells him. “You’ve looked like you were in such a bad mood all day… why didn’t you join us to chat?”

“Why would I bother? When the two of you are together, I might as well not be there.”

The hand in his hair stills. Nie Huaisang feels Lan Xichen move and guesses the other man must be trying to catch his eyes, but he resolutely looks down.

“I’m sorry if we’ve given you that impression,” Lan Xichen says, slow and careful, as if Nie Huaisang were some sect leader he’s trying to pacify. Which he is, really, and he hates that. “A-Sang, we really do enjoy talking with you. I value your opinion, I hope you know that.”

Nie Huaisang huffs. “What’s there to value? Listen, it’s fine. Talk to Jin Guangyao, I don’t care. I’d rather talk to him than to me, too, if I had the choice.”

For a moment, the only sound is the rain around them, still heavy and loud, isolating them from the world. Nie Huaisang feels warm fingers leave his hair to push against his chin and force him to look up. While he tries to resist, Lan Xichen leaves him no choice. Still he keeps his eyes down, refusing to see whatever anger or pity is sure to be on his lover’s face.

“A-Sang, look at me.”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head.

“A-Sang. Please. Look at me.”

He shakes his head again, but there’s something in Lan Xichen’s voice that he can’t resist and he does look up after all.

It’s pity, not anger, that he sees on the other man’s face.

He’s not sure that’s the option he prefers.

“A-Sang, I really do enjoy your conversation, your company,” Lan Xichen insists. “I love you.”

“Only because he won’t let you love him,” Nie Huaisang retorts, quickly looking down again.

The fingers on his chin tighten for a second before letting go, and suddenly Lan Xichen isn’t touching him at all. Nie Huaisang shivers, but he can’t blame the rain alone for how cold he suddenly feels. No matter what happens after this, he’s never drinking again. Or at least, not around other people. If Lan Xichen ends whatever exists between them out of anger at being discovered, there is no force in the world that can stop Nie Huaisang from locking up in his office once he’s back in Qinghe and drinking every single drop of alcohol that can be found in the Unclean Realm.

“That is not true,” Lan Xichen whispers at last, the words almost drowned out by the rain around them. He sounds hurt, but Nie Huaisang still refuses to look up. “I have never once in my life had such thoughts for A-Yao. He is like a brother to me, he has always been. You might as well accuse me of having untoward thoughts for Wangji.”

“You don’t touch Wangji like you touch A-Yao,” Nie Huaisang hisses furiously.

“Of course not. Wangji hates being touched by anyone, while A-Yao welcomes it,” Lan Xichen points out, the slightest hint of irritation piercing through.

“I’d welcome it too, yet you’ve never done it. Even before… before this started, you’ve never…”

Lan Xichen quickly wraps his arms around Nie Huaisang’s body and pulls him close against his chest, holding him tight.

“I think I’ve touched you plenty in recent times,” Lan Xichen claims in a strangled voice. “Not in public but… with you, I’m never sure how much I could get away with, who will guess what we have if I am too familiar. I don’t have to worry about that with A-Yao because I’m not hiding anything when I’m talking with him. With you… I don’t want people to guess. I don’t want people to know and tell us we need to stop.”

If Nie Huaisang’s face is wet, it’s no longer just because of the rain (but he can still blame the wine for making him emotional, and he will if questioned).

Damn Lan Xichen for being so good, for never getting angry, for being kind even when Nie Huaisang is doing everything to make him realise that he has settled for someone who will never be good enough for him.

“I love you,” Lan Xichen says again. “Please don’t doubt that.”

“I love you too,” Nie Huaisang replies, half convinced that he’ll always doubt the other man really cares as much as he does, no matter how many years they get together.

A little less distressed now, Nie Huaisang rises on his toes to claim a quick kiss, just a peck at his lover’s lips to remind himself that no matter who Lan Xichen really wants, for now he’s the one who gets to do that, him and no one else.

When he pulls back, Lan Xichen wrinkles his nose.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, not quickly scolding but ready to get there if necessary.

“A little too much,” Nie Huaisang admits. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Not because he doesn’t think it’s true. Given the choice between him and Jin Guangyao, it’s obvious who anyone would prefer… but he’s lucky that Jin Guangyao is married, that he’s never shown any interest in men, that his life history would make him unlikely to cheat anyway. Nie Huaisang can only ever come second best, but a lifetime in his brother’s shadow has taught him to live with that.

Still, it was a cruel thing to say to Lan Xichen, who must suffer from this one-sided business. And the last thing Nie Huaisang wants, ever, is to be cruel to the man he loves.

“All is forgiven,” Lan Xichen replies, too kind as always. “Let’s go back now, and get you something dry to put on. You are so unreasonable, running into the rain like that without even an umbrella.”

Nie Huaisang nods, and presses himself against his lover’s side so they can share Lan Xichen’s umbrella. It doesn’t fully protect them, not when the rain is still so intense, but Nie Huaisang isn’t going to miss a chance to be touching his lover.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #I don't always picture nhs as jealous but it's 'fun' to explore that option #I just love all versions of nhs and all possible motives for his actions #jau writes #30 days challenge

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gremmin · 5 years ago

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The other day I had a dream:

(There was a chameleon changing colors when I seen him he tried to hid from me this was me and my sister in the same place like a Arizona type house but she’s been being very distant to me lately, ✨)

Ooo he chameleon shows us The ability to camouflage is something that is used to defend against unwanted predators in the wild. To see a chameleon in your dream means that you are recognizing your ability to change and adapt to the environment around you. 🦎 (So it is saying I have to camouflage myself when I’m around Sonya and other people to protect myself and that it is becoming more easily for me to obtain being that way) 🦎 as well as A dream about a chameleon shows that you have the ability to change and adapt to strange and uncertain circumstances in your life, especially if the chameleon in your dream is adapting to a healthy green environment. The dream shows that no matter what is thrown at you, you can handle it.

The chameleon symbolism represents a period of changes. ... The chameleon spirit animal symbolizes sensitivity and clairvoyance. It encourages you to have patience, to gain insight, to always be curious, and to be resourceful. I’ve forgotten what color it changed to but I’m pretty sure it was green turning into a blue.?

The next sign I saw was a mini pig 🐖

To dream of a pig is associated with being rather stubborn in life. It can be associated with gluttony and greed in waking life. Additionally, the pig can also stand for a terrible menace. Perhaps somebody has cost you dearly or treated you badly. 🐖 (since this was a mini pig in the dream this shouldn’t be as big of a problem but a small annoyance, it can mean maybe I’m walking with greed, this could be for certain reason because why would I want to give to my sister who is hating me, maybe I’m being blind in a side, Sonya has been treating me horribly as if I’m not even in the house when she came up stairs, this only adds to how much I won’t want to “forgive” her. Fuck her.

🐖 In dreams, pigs can be a sign of stubbornness, selfishness, filth, gluttony, greed, overindulging and similar things. This dream could represent someone in your life with such traits, or it could reveal some of your characteristics, pointing out that you need to change them ( I’m just going to flat out assume that it’s about Sonya because it only make SO MUCH SENCE) come to a fact that Sonya was actually born under the pig totem in Chinese totem! As well as Kenny! They are about the same people lmfaooooo

The next sign I saw was me riding on a horse I cannot remember the color at this time: 🐎

Riding a Horse – If you dream that you are riding a horse it can indicate a control over your natural instincts and a strong drive towards your goals in life. ... Controlling or Restricting a Horse – If you see a horse that is being constrained and controlled it can indicate a feeling of your true self being repressed. 🐴 ( I’ve learned a lot how to handle myself and respect myself in a lot of ways now, I have strong goals and I could feel tied up because my relationship a bit but maybe I’m overthinking it, but I’ve taken a lot of control myself to be able to drive and feel confident while driving, I’m getting close to some goals.)

Horse. ... The horse is a universal symbol of freedom without restraint, because riding a horse made people feel they could free themselves from their own bindings. Also linked with riding horses, they are symbols of travel, movement, and desire. 🐴 (I’m a half of Sagittarius I have a strong will to travel and a lot of desires, a lot of movement is key to my source of energy)

Other characteristics horses represent are prosperity, forward motion, growth, loyalty, and stamina. Moreover, all horses are associated with the feng shui element of fire, as well as strong yang.

I’m feeling as if the horse was a light brown; Brown is the color of stability, comfort, and the home. Brown horses in dreams can symbolize a time of feeling safe and secure in our relationships at home and even indicate a comfort with ourselves.

Riding a horse in this manner means that we have command over impulses, our instincts, our intuition, and are friends with our unconscious 🐎 (Like Iv said I have taken a lot of time to work on myself along with my impulsiveness and my sexual instincts, my intuition has become quite sharp as well it all makes me super happy and I feel calmer in life now, I now expect for things to happen for a reason. I don’t have a lot of friends but I have quite a few acquaintances, a friend is someone I can be completely open with a someone I can talk to without hesitations and Iv known them for quite some time, you earn your stripes in my eyes lol )

The next sign was walking my dog Harley, 🐕 now Harley has passed for a long time now I’d say about 9 years now wow.. I always need to give him a moment I’m very sad on how I lost him.. rip my babyboy Harley,

To take a dog for a walk in the dream is a positive sign which denotes that, you will have much success and your life is highly productive. So keep working hard to maintain your lifestyle. If you see another person walk a dog in the dream it means that you feel you are in charge of something you are accomplishing. 🐕 (I was actually walking Harley while riding the horse lol it wasn’t hard but Harley was going slow at sometimes and I was nervous about his walking rope/chain. 🐕 ( maybe this was indicating that I will have a big amount of power with a type of business that I have that I will have success but it could be rocky at times,)

To see a dog in your dream symbolizes intuition, loyalty, generosity, protection, and fidelity. The dream may suggest that your values and good intentions will bring you success

The next sign was someone eating a mushroom, that so happened to be Austin my bf eating the mushrooms lmao this wasn’t a very good choice for him in the dream because it was a unknow mushroom and if I remember correctly he didn’t feel good after eating it:

Mushrooms are very symbolic and can mean quite a few different things. If in your dream you are eating mushrooms rather carelessly, this may indicate a sudden abundance of wealth. However, this is a wealth that is dealt with somewhat foolishly. ... Dreaming of a mushrooms that are growing in the ground symbolize fertility. 🍄 (this is probably saying he will get a large amount of money but handle it carelessly, and loose it all this is what I’m always worried with him/: I’m really good at money but he can be very poorly with it)

Eating mushrooms in a dream is a symbol of a happy marriage and a full life, dream books predict. 🍄( it was a dream of Austin and I so we should have a happy marriage one day and a full life together ) 💕

Eating raw mushrooms - unexpectedly interesting relationships. 🍄( Austin was eating the mushrooms raw I’m nervous of him trying to have a affair one day.. even though he’s not like that I still have to suspect it) 💔

if you pick up mushrooms, it means that you will receive unpredictable reward for hard work and diligence, manifested in some deals. After eating mushrooms in a dream, you will have only pleasure and enjoyment in life. 🍄( Austin picked them up lol)

Another sign was a pink prying mantis:

To dream of a praying mantis represents your feelings about a person or situation that has a total disregard for your feelings. Feeling that someone is intentionally unsupportive. ... A praying mantis may also reflect your own attempts to pressure people with fear or unbearableness to get them to go away. ✨( Sonya has disregard for my feelings asf lmao she is a very UNsupporive person in my life) ( I can say that I pressure people a lot into leaving me alone because I know it’s for the best and I guess that’s just how I like to live, easy and simple)

A Spiritual Symbol of Peace and Patience. The Praying Mantis naturally attracts attention. Its beautiful color and graceful form command us to look and ponder. Encountering these remarkable insects may indicate that Spirit is speaking to you in an important way. ✨( that could be saying to have more peace and patience and to watch in silence)

Overwhelmingly in most cultures the mantis is a symbol of stillness. As such, she is an ambassador from the animal kingdom giving testimony to the benefits of meditation, and calming our minds. An appearance from the mantis is a message to be still, go within, meditate, get quite and reach a place of calm. ✨( this week I am home alone Austin goes to work and colter is at my moms for the week I’m going to be cleaning but also working on myself with excersizing and more meditation with my spirit guides) I need to take time to be calm and collected and to understand so much more and love this silence I get to have this week)

The color pink for the pink prying mantis is that Pink, a delicate color that means sweet, nice, playful, cute, romantic, charming, feminine, and tenderness, is associated with flowers, babies, and sweetness. The color pink is the color of universal love of oneself and of others. 💞( this pink is meaning to be sweet and having all that good energy put to use, good things come out of it)

(Before all this a sign I had in a earlier dream before this long dream took place I was with Logan and Crista she was still pregnant and I seen a color black take over, I have a lot of rocky dreams with those two and they seem to always be rough and confusing. ) I’ll look up a lot what it means at some point but here is what the color black indicates:

Color Meaning: Meaning of The Color Black. ... Black is associated with power, fear, mystery, strength, authority, elegance, formality, death, evil, and aggression, authority, rebellion, and sophistication. Black is required for all other colors to have depth and variation of hue. The black color is the absence of color.

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thesagedahlia · 5 years ago

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💔 Apryl Jones & Lil Fizz: The Re-Up💔

Gone for a minute, now we back with the jumpoff...no, I'm not talking about Apryl 👩🏾‍🦲☻

When my prediction of their break-up came to past, I wasn't as excited of my skill, as I was indifferent about the loss of this "relationshituation". I pulled cards the day it was announced as well, & I keep getting the tower card (for those that don't know, the tower is faulty foundations that come crashing down, or even self realizations, & a lot of the time is triggered by the powers that be), so I felt they were done-zo, like not for 'play play'. I also picked up on her deflecting the relationship & downplaying what really happened (like, I can't get the tower multiple times & NOT think there was more to the situation). My interest was dying down however, so I almost didn't do this whole project. Thanks to a tip from one of my followers, who spotted Apryl & Fizz together & speculated that she was with child, my 'nosey' nose started itching. Come to find out, it seems their 'paradise' blew up right in their faces, & it was in ways that I both did & didn't expect...

By the way, they still unfollow each other till this day 💅🏾

**DISCLAIMER**

I am not declaring, nor am I insinuating, that anything I say in my predictions are true accounts of any of the parties involved. This reading is for entertainment purposes only, & should only taken as such. All in good fun, folks 🤷🏾‍♀️🧿

💔The state of Apryl & Fizz's relationship energetically❔

I feel like their break-up was triggered by some reckless or careless behavior out of boredom or lack of fun. I feel like one or both people started to become discontent & dissatisfied within the relationship. Undelivered promises may have caused some loneliness as well, which is pointing to a possible infidelity. Their foundation wasn't as strong as they made it seem to be, & if feels like Apryl was who created issues outside of the equation. I also have reason to believe whoever she 'slept with' (if she did) led to a pregnancy scare/unwanted pregnancy. I feel like there was confusion as to who fathered the child. I feel like there was a separation to were Apryl probably didn't tell this everything, or she did & it wasn't believed. It feels like there is a complete lack of clarity or illumination regarding this possible pregnancy scare. I also feel like if Apryl was pregnant, she may have had fertility issues or as she may have contemplated an abortion or went through with terminating the pregnancy. I feel like they argued a lot of about what happened & it caused a lot of stress. I don't think there in the best place & Apryl may be remorseful & apologetic, but I also feel like she is defensive of her actions. Fizz feels like he has a chip on his shoulder over this, & he firmly believes that she's repeated negative patterns out of boredom. I feel like Fizz has also found peace within his solitude, & I don't feel like he is looking to fix things with Apryl. I feel there was a reality check of the stagnation they were experiencing, but I think it put a damper on their actual friendship. I'm also getting a strong feeling that whoever it is that she is being accused of sleeping with feels like an old friend or an ex of hers. Until there is ability to assert control or to receive some sort of revelation, there is an energy of uncertain outcomes or playing the waiting game. Fizz may not have been as active regarding her 'pregnancy scare', because of the overwhelming possibility that it could have been someone else's. This could honestly be a case of unrequited love or challenges to let go of a heartbreaker I'm also getting the feeling that they tried a long distance stent and their relationship but it still wasn't enough to bring things into balance.

💔 Did they break up/why❓

I'm going to say yes, they did at that time it was announced that they did, & it was a case of possible infidelity. Apryl comes off as the 'party girl' type, so she definitely has doing some overindulging, but it led to some confusion in the relationship. Apryl was being recognized around the streets, if you dig what I'm saying. It feels like it was a friend, or ex of Apryl's, that she may have been rumored to have hooked up with (I'd say it was either a friend of Apryl's, Fizz's, or this can be a mutual friend of both) that seemed to be a 'one night', if you will. I feel there was a clinging on to this relationship after a while, & a shred of it does seek the attention that comes with being together, but the connection got a little routine & burdening. It did feel like someone was searching outside of the relationship, but it didn't seem intentional; it felt like it happened naturally. Apryl is wanting a happy family life, but she is looking for in all the wrong ways out of loneliness. I feel like her children with Omarion became a priority when custody was awarded to him. I feel that dealing with that became more important than her relationship with Fizz, so plans have changed. I also feel it was hard for Fizz to process if Apryl was dealing with the friend or not, & I think the whole situation of that changed the dynamic of their relationship as a whole. There was a realization that they weren't going to grow from this, as there was no real direction. I feel like it not only drove a wedge into their relationship but also the friends relationship with each of them.

💔SINGLE LIFE💔

💃🏾 How is Apryl Jones coping with the single life ❔

She seems like she is focus on her foundations & achievements namely her family/children. It's also a strong energy of her focusing on herself & not looking to deal with love or a relationship. This is the age of someone who is single, but I do feel like she hooks up from time to time; single, yet mingling. I certainly don't feel Apryl in the house every night, & she does deal with men (or it can be a specific water sign man) that aren't emotionally mature, are emotionally manipulative, & comes off as the non-committal types. I don't feel her wanting to commit right now & it may be from discouragement or fear of uncertainty. She has a blocked heart chakra so emotionally she may be unstable herself. I do feel her really being hung up on what she went through with Omarian, but I also feel she still wanting a happy ending with someone. She's not in the right emotional state right now, so anyone she gets involved with will be unorganized or unconventional. I feel like her relationship with Fizz was a way to lash out through what she was feeling. I see her being attached from her emotions & love as well, & she may be attracting non emotional men to 'tame her beasts'. I feel like this is her way to cope, but it doesn't stick for her. She doesn't open up about how she may be suffering, & she copes in silence as well. I feel like she doesn't want to have relationships/friendships because I feel they have caused her a lot of drama & stress in her life in general, as well as her love life. She's operating on inner conflict & pain, so she is in the mindset of not allowing friends/partners into her life for too long if they begin to cause her stress.

🕺🏾How is Lil Fizz coping with the single life❓

Fizz feels like he isn't making any decisions or movements to be committed to anyone, as I feel he is getting over the relationship with Apryl & I felt that to have been taken as a failure or an embarrassment to him. I feel he felt good about his relationship with her in the past, at first, & he felt it to be fulfilling his wishes. I think really committing is a challenge for him, so I don't see him being open to a relationship anytime soon. I do feel like he's not sitting at home either & he is also in much of an in-&-out player energy with women. They both seem to be lacking introspection, but with Fizz, he seems to be coming out of his emotions as opposed to them. I do feel like he is coping with the same methods as Apryl, but he seemed to be content with this function (or so he is making himself believe this). I feel he will open up intuitively & spiritually when he begins gaining clarity on why love hasn't worked out for him in the past, & a lot of the time he would either be mismatched or we he would attract very logical or cold women. For him, this may be a slow discovery/recovery from this, & it will be a matter of gaining illumination to patterns. I also feel Fizz really does want to find someone he has genuine feelings towards & someone he would be willing to commit to, just like Apryl, but he needs to understand why he attracts certain women. I also feel he gets wary of women who gets involved with him because he's 'Lil Fizz'. He wants security & stability with someone he cares for, but he has to start getting serious about the type of girl to be with. I feel like these types of women are familiar to him & he may have a hard time implementing these expectations right away.

💔 Do they ever plan on getting back together❔

Right now, their relationship is in a state of conflict regarding some gossip or misinformation about an affair, & it is coming up as an accident that they are both aware of, but I don't think the details or as extensive or as clear. Despite this knowledge putting a wedge into their relationship, the spark went out in their relationship rather quickly as well. Also I think Apryl was trying too hard to force a family with Fizz, which also cause discontentments further promoting the connection has run its course. I feel like in their relationship, Apryl was drawing a lot of negative attention to herself, & it also felt like she is the source of a lot of drama & conflict. I feel Fizz was committed to a fault, but I think he began to become discouraged about the security within their connection. I feel that day felt it was best to close the cycle out & separate, & it feels like deception may have resulted in an unwanted pregnancy, or scare (or at least that is what's speculated). Whether there was issues with the pregnancy fertility issues or mis carriage was experience fertility is coming up a lot; which coincides with Apryl being the permiscuous type. Moving forward, trust issues came up more often than not; even though there was loyalty to the friendship, it feels like an issue of letting go of the past. It feels like they would need to be open to healing the past, but I don't think they are in this space just yet. It may be hard to overlook Apryl's alleged actions, & I feel Fizz is fearful of being cheated on or rejected. This break-up feels final & it feels like there needs to be a mutual effort & desire to be together, without it coming from and unhealed place. The alleged cheating was kind of what called everything off & turn the desire off. Overall, I think the ship has sailed since the situation isn't healed all the way.

💔What lies in the near future for both parties❓

💃🏾 Apryl will be focused on her own stability, or lack thereof, & I feel like she isn't in the best place financially, or in the coming months it will get to an uncomfortable place for her. I'm not sure of her living situation, as it seems she either has roommates, or she is living in between places, but I feel she is dealing with someone she may be dependent on. It's giving me the impression that her only claim to this man is financial stability, while he is only attracted to her for physical appearance. I feel her focus will also be recovering her reputation after the backlash of dating Fizz, which the attention from that was a possible reason why she dealt with him for that time, other than how she felt about him. I feel like she is wanting to build herself back from her relationship with Fizz, as she has had a strong fall from grace with all that has happened, & it may be difficult to recover her respect from the public eye. She has the energy of an underachiever & hasn't got into a place in her life (yet) where she can genuinely say she's financially stable or happy.

🕺🏾 Fizz feel like he is in a mentally entrapping situation that feels like it has to do with Moniece because I'm picking up mothering energy. It feels like he keeps her at bay (or tries to), but I feel like it may start to become difficult to keep her happy, let alone be able to cooperate or coparent with her. I feel this is a never-ending cycle with Mo for him, but I think he is really needing to focus on bringing positivity & optimism to this situation. I feel like he feels a lot of hostile energy, but the only reason for her hostility is due to the lack of forward movement & his lack of discipline/commitment to coparenting. I would even go as far as to say that he can be a absent father at times, or he may wait too long to take any action because he got a chip on his shoulder when it comes to Mo. He really tries to keep any monetary advances away from her but that is putting a wedge within his relationship with his son. In layman's terms, Moniece is gonna fuck around & take his ass to court, which will put him in an even more financial bind.

💔BONUS QUESTIONS💔

👶🏾 Was Apryl ever pregnant by Fizz/is there a child promised to their relationshituation❔

I see the possibility of a scare, but I feel Apryl either had complications or had the pregnancy terminated (or it was just a scare). I feel like she & Fizz had already been broken up, & it is coming up that the scare was revealed after she was separated from Fizz. I also feel Apryl had an affair around the time they separated in a may be a source of reference within a timeline of conception. I get the feeling of reluctance on having to come clean about what was done in the dark because they seem to have been already in a tight space I also believe there was gossip of Apryl being unfaithful that seem to be getting around through mutual friends & that that was where the scare stemmed from, rather than the fact that they were seemingly separated at that time. I also feel like there was even some run-ins regarding these parties. I also feel Fizz was good friends with the man she allegedly had an affair with, or he may have been familiar with him by way of a close knit network. I feel like this hurt Apryl's reputation even worse in private, yet I don't feel there will be a baby to come out of this relationshituation.

🤳🏾 Why have Apryl & Fizz unfollowed each other on Social Media❓

I'm getting the energy that it was obstacles & challenges in regards to continuing to be able to see what one another is up to. Their break feels indefinitely, & it was a combative situation that was lacking balance, even now. I also feel they were needing to understand what they were doing in their relationship together, & things were dying down as a result. I'm also getting the sense that they were beginning to recognize the lack of stability & immaturity that seemed to cause disharmony between them, & I'm also seeing that monetary issues played a part in their break-up as well. It also feels them unfollowing each other was ego-driven as well. It seems to have been a lot of conflict that seemed to be bringing out toxicity in both of them; basically they need to separate physically & visually. I don't think they are on speaking terms either, since communication is coming up with what needs to be organized.

💏 Did Apryl ever cheat in Fizz when they were together❔

It feels like it was a situation where there was misinterpretation or disillusionment regarding what is & what isn't. It feels she was focused on asserting her truth, which led to a need to control the rumors of this. In her inner truth, that is coming up that there WAS an opportunity to cheat that she did not seize, with the same individual that I kept picking up on a regards to this allegation. With that said I'm going to have to say no, she didn't cheat on Fizz. I feel like this was a rumor that blew up & caused strife between her & Fizz but the exchange of this information is what needed to be organized. There already seemed to be some boundaries in place against the possibility to cheat, by way of her own rejection. I do feel like this has had a profound effect on their relationship, & I don't think Fizz was able to trust her the same after that.

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fatmatt450lbs · 6 years ago

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You asked for it... I just caught a reflection of myself in the window at the mall. It always takes me by surprise when I realize that the human whale I am looking at is me. Its so surreal to imagine what I have become. Today is a special day. Its my partner’s birthday, special enough for me to sneak out of the house to the mall without him knowing. I had to call ahead for a Van as I no longer can ride in a conventional sedan. This trip took some special planning as everything is so much more time consuming and exhausting. Even as I slowly plod through the mall I know its worth it. For as hard as this is becoming for me…. Its hard for him also. But the one thing we share is our YING-YANG love of my ever increasing obesity. It started 4 years ago shortly after my 35th Birthday. I was Living the “LIFE.” I had everything. A perfect house, a perfect job, a perfect husband, good money, fast lifestyle, and was completely miserable. You see I used to be fat. Not enormous but fat. At 5’10 and 330lbs upon my 30th birthday I decided that it was time to make a change. I have always needed and craved attention, at 330lbs you are basically non-existent. Once in a while you get noticed but it is not often. I thought if I could get skinny, then FIT my life would change. Well it did, but not the way I’d hoped. I got Skinny, then Fit, (using drastic if not outright stupid) measures. I came out of the closet, got deep into the GAY CIRCUIT scene, had some fun but that was just it. I still hadn’t realized my “POTENTIAL” and was still craving that attention, not to mention real food. I was hungry. I knew what I was hungry for, but was so afraid to “give in” to who I was, who I am, and what I am becoming. I met my partner a while back as I was coming to terms with myself. He is a strong, intelligent, beautiful man. His body is the exact contrast of mine, Hard, Strong, Defined, Developed, MUSCULAR, and cut. The more he develops his body, the more enrapt I become. He knows the power he holds over me, Sometimes I think maybe I should slow this down but he enters the room and all of that doubt just seems to fade away. Along with the entire tray of fresh Lasagna, Last week I actually tried to take a real stand, tried to demand that we slow this down. He said “sure” with that arrogant yet SEXY smirk. He then just left for work. Left me lying in the bed, he knows it is impossible for me to get up on my own. He used this to let me know my place now. I rocked and struggled to try and raise myself, to do anything for this last stronghold but all I accomplished was to get both feet on the floor, but with no way to pull my body upright. I am sweating, gasping for breath and stuck. Now I realized why he’s always insisted on having the phone on the other side of the room instead of beside the bed. He knew this day would come. As I laid there, with nothing to do but think I realize, this is it. Its where I am going to end up, a living monument to gluttony, self indulgence, lack of control. An enormous blob of a human, unrecognizable, BURIED. Not long after 1:00pm he comes home. He stands over the bed, and just looks at me. He is aroused, the DARK passion in his eyes lets me know he sees my future the same way. The sex that day, that easily dark day closed the deal. Now most of my days are filled with lazing on the sofa or waddling to and from the bathrooms and Kitchen back to the sofa. Food is always easily in reach. I don’t have to exert much effort. There are snacks all over the house all the time. He knows what I can’t resist. He knows all the foods that make me fall. I usually am surprised when the 2lb bag of Peanut M&M’s are just gone. I don’t remember where they went or even that I ate them but I find myself at the end of the day surrounded by wrappers, cartons, cans and bottles. He always goes to the GYM before he brings home dinner. Then the real eating begins. At least 3 nights a week I eat until I pass out. The more I eat the more aroused he gets, the more aroused he gets, the more I stuff my face. He just stands there, Beautiful, perfect, a GOD. Its like I am eating all his sins and I can’t get enough of them. I can tell he is so turned on by my depravity, my dark obsession, my food. His arrogant control is hypnotic, hot, and what I want. Last time I was weighed, I was 640lbs. Amazing what 4 years of happiness can do to a man. My partner LOVES the attention, the stares, the laughs, the spectacle. People just stop and stare, the looks of shame and disgust turn us both on. The dichotomy of the 2 of us side by side only adds to the event. One the Ideal, one the fear of most anyone. A living example of what can happen to someone who gives into their weakness. I realize that this is one of my last trips to ANYWHERE alone. I am already over 2 hours late and I haven’t even set foot in the store. Its so much harder than I thought. I guess he knew. I was kidding myself. And to imagine, I used to run 10k races. Now I can’t even walk 10 steps without resting. Finally, I have been sitting on this bench for over 2 hours. I couldn’t do it. I can’t even make it back to the street. As I look at what has been reduced to, what I have done to myself, I can’t help but feel that I deserve my fate, my fat. He is shaking his head as he walks toward me. I had to break down and finally call him to come get me. No surprise, but I can tell he is pleased all the same. He just walks up, hugs me and helps me up. We take a whole lot of time to get out of the mall, all the while he is patting my back. Once we get to the Van, he helps me into the back and closes the door. I can feel the gravity of my belly and tits as we take the curves back home. All the while I keep seeing him looking at me in the rear view mirror. There is something different in his eyes… I am a little excited, and a little scared at the same time. Once we get home he helps me out of the car and heads into the house ahead of me. Finally I make the front door and open it to a BIG Surprise. He is standing there completely NUDE, Pumped and aggressive. He says as he pushes me down on the sofa… Your are mine from now own… By the end of the year you’ll be housebound and after that it really starts to get interesting. He continues “I’ve helped you become what you said you wanted to be, NOW you are going to become what I want you to be. You are going to become the pathetic, overindulged blob that you were MEANT to be.” Admit to yourself… the food? You can’t control it, and now you are dependant on me and you know what? I’ve just gotten started on you. Here pig,” At that point he pushes a cheesecake all over my face, starts stuffing it in my mouth, I am gagging and still he keeps pushing and pushing. You wanted to eat well then EAT. I’ve watched you bury yourself in food, in fat, in gluttony for the past four years, I have helped but I took it easy on you. Now that you are SO FUCKING fat you are helpless, you can’t even roll out of bed without my help YOU NEED ME I own you and … well guess what porky, NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY. Now eat pig…. Finish that fucking cake before I get back in here or there will be hell to pay. With that he gets up and starts walking into the kitchen. I am shaken, afraid, and I can’t believe that I have allowed this to happen. I look down at my cheesecake stained clothes, I try to get up and realize that this is going to happen, that I am gone, I have buried myself. I look up in time to see him walking back … oh shit.

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getting-rid-of-anniex · 5 years ago

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An (Un)Healthy Check up

This is me, probably about 6 / 7 years old...?...(looks like I’m busy burying a vampire I’ve just staked?)...what I would give to let that little girl know that she really is enough, and to never let the world get her down so much so that she questions herself.

Fast forward 31 years and I’m now on a quest to try and get back to being as much like that carefree child. The most stressful thing I had to think about then, was whether I would get some sweets at the weekend and if Barbie and Ken would like the salon I’d made for them out of toilet rolls and a load of old boxes.

The unfortunate thing about ‘LIFE’ is that - ‘LIFE HAPPENS’(!) and the person you become is built up of many moments and experiences. In my case, my moments and experiences ended up helping to construct someone lacking confidence and overflowing with anxiety. I started dieting from about the age of 15 (and since then the weight only went up!) Friendships became toxic and I ended up having to build myself a new peer group. I developed a pattern of using food and drink to both celebrate and commiserate. I overindulged on happy days, sad days, sunny days, rainy days; to plaster over a stressful situation, and gee myself up when I needed some dutch courage. My health took a battering, developing asthma, bad knees (at one point the doctor did say I had arthritis...later on rescinding this?!?), IBS and depression. I’ve gone through stages of going totally bonkers with exercise, from running every day, to not at all and just lying on the sofa eating crisps. I tried so many times to follow weight loss programs - if only I’d saved that money instead. After repeatedly falling off the wagon I’d restart another program with so much excitement, only for the hard work to start and the realisation that this wouldn’t be a walk in the park, to hit. I’d throw in the towel and unhappily stuff my face (self sabotage anyone?) My stomach was in a constant mess resulting in time off work (and increased time in the loo!). I tried gluten free, but again after a month or two of symptoms easing and feeling good I’d then decide it wasn’t as bad as originally thought and devour everything in sight, only to go shooting right back to the beginning. As well as feeling like crap because my stomach was in agony, I’d also be mentally berating myself for not being able to stick to anything AGAIN. Why didn’t I have the ability to stick to anything? Especially when all the things I was doing, I was doing in the hope of helping myself?

Appointment no.1

After realising finally just how much I was hurting myself, and how much I was struggling, and after crying on the shoulders of some very amazing friends and family (I really hope you guys know who you are) I decided to see the doctor. To help with my IBS, anxiety and stress (which was a bowlful of Catch-22 IBS related loveliness!!!) I was prescribed anti depressants. Whilst these helped initially, they didn’t touch my inner demons. Self destructive patterns were repeated and the only thing I learnt, was how better to hide things from others.

This must stop!

Back in 2018 my body finally had had enough. After feeling like utter shite for months on end, monitoring over the course of a few weeks how my heart would start racing (just sitting at my desk) and having increasing episodes of hot flushes, I knew I needed to get in contact with the doctor. This time I really wanted to do something...and I was scared. The ball got moving though earlier than I’d planned.

Sitting at work my heart suddenly started to race. (There were no harsh words/emails, up-coming meetings/reviews, and I hadn’t eaten a heavy or spicy meal, there wasn’t anything in fact that could explain why this was happening). It felt as though I was having a panic attack (although never having had one, I couldn’t say for sure?). Luckily I was able to get an appointment with the doctor (another one) later that same day. I feel forever grateful to have been given an appointment with this particular doctor. For the first time ever I felt listened to, rather than just hurried along with the explanation for everything being the bog (pun intended) standard ‘gluten intolerance’. This went so much deeper. I was booked in for blood tests (and stool samples - yuck!) to check for any intolerances (also checking for Crohn’s and Celiac disease)/vitamin deficiencies, given leaflets on the FODMAP diet (although I do feel like this isn’t the full answer for my stomach issues, it definitely helped to fully monitor what foods were triggering my IBS symptoms). We also had a bloody good talk. I didn’t feel like I was just another foot through the door and that the clock was being watched; I really could have hugged my Doc. I left feeling so positive (for most probably the first time in years). Even if we couldn’t rule everything out straight away (there would be a lot of trial and error in the up-coming months), it felt as though someone was on my side and wanted to help. Someone had finally just sat and listened (I’m not including friends and family in that comment - believe me, they definitely have done more than their share of hand holding and listening. This just meant so much, having someone from the health profession listen rather than assume.)

Blood test results

Well the results came in: B12 deficient and lacking folic acid. (I did have to have a further round of blood tests to rule out Pernicious Anemia, but this came back negative.) I also had to provide a ‘sample’, but the only embarrassing part about this was the idiot monkey behind the reception desk deciding that she needed to shout out across the waiting room that my little tube contained pooh (ground please swallow me up!!!)

Diet

B12 and folic acid were tackled with supplement vitamins and a controlled diet (at the time I was going through the FODMAP diet - which was so hard to navigate. So in the mean time I’ve knocked that on the head, but have tried to limit certain foods and just be more mindful about what I am putting into my body - for example I don’t eat apples as they really don’t like my stomach, I have to be careful how much beetroot/coffee/chickpeas, nuts and chocolate I have and I do try to limit bread/pasta. I was put on a list to speak to a dietician....I’m still waiting to see them!)

I have also rejoined WW online (but if being truthful, I’m still struggling with this. It’s still that bit too easy for me to not track all foods). It’s definitely a work in progress. The recipes are fantastic - I just need to be more honest with it if it’s going to work. One positive with this app though is that it has helped learning to track my weight only once a week (I used to have a day ritual of weighing myself).

I’ve cut right back on alcohol (to be another post soon, as this is a whole other story in itself). I’m already feeling the benefits, and some of them in unexpected ways - my skin has never felt/looked clearer (and from someone who is obsessed with studying the wrinkles on her forehead, this has been a fantastic bonus).

Fitness

I’ve downloaded some fitness apps to try and increase the amount of exercise I do (sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day does not help with general fitness!)

ZR5K: I’m currently doing a 5K training app (learning to run whilst escaping from Zombies - I’ve not used this app when it’s dark, I think it would unnerve me too much).

Race at your pace*: I’ve signed up for ‘Race at your pace’ (it was only £10 (medal only option)...and I get a medal at the end - as long as I complete my target of 25 miles run through out January). This has been a real motivator - I love the idea of getting a medal at the end of the month. This has also been mega easy to implement - I just track at the same time as escaping Zombies! *£10 for a medal - more if you want a Race at your pace top. **mile target is set by yourself and you can complete it by either running/walking or swimming for that particular month. MapMyRun: I currently use this as well, to track where I’m going and how long it’s taking me. It’s been a brilliant tool for monitoring average pace, and I’m hoping as the months role by to see this improving. Yoga: I’m also starting to implement some yoga into my daily routine too. I find that as well as it helping to stretch and loosen my muscles after a run (very slow shuffle), it also helps me to unwind and switch off.

Mindfulness

Breathe: I have downloaded a relaxation and meditation app. As with all the apps I’m currently using, I’ve gone for the free option so with this particular one, I don’t get the longer/more specific meditations, but there are still a great range to select from. They have been really helpful unwinding before bed. I just need to get into a better routine of using this daily.

Supportive networks

The hubby, friends and family have all been invaluable to me getting to where I am now. My husband is an amazing man (also a pain in the arse, but hey - I’ll forgive him that) and I absolutely cherish all he does in order to help me on my journey to being a better, happier human being! I cannot stress enough, how you need people around you who (may not have the answers but) will listen - without judgement. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the people around me who I know I can talk to, cry on and ask opinions of. I’ve been incredibly honest with my boss. Luckily he is someone who I know I can talk to and he’s been very understanding. After worrying about time off work due to sickness (stress/IBS/depression issues etc) I opened up completely about everything - food, health (mental and physical)....and I’ve even asked if I can set my health goals as part of my personal development target at work. (Being proactive about helping myself can surely only have a positive impact on my work/life balance. A happier/healthier worker will have a better attitude at work and (I’m hoping) a more productive output???)

Other ‘things’

I’ve also tried to absorb anything and everything that is supportive, positive that will help shore up my personal goals on my journey to self improvement.

I’ve downloaded healthy living podcasts, listened to audio books on being alcohol free and been reading ‘self help’ books - such as ‘The Happiness Equation’.

So this is me - minus the fringe and wondering if I should have curled my hair (see, I’m still a stress head). I’m not 100% healthy or happy but I’m trying my hardest to get there. I’ve got a lot of things to figure out but this time I’m willing to try. I may not be a little six year old happily sitting on the beach, but I’m determined to approach life with that same open and curious mindset...and vampires beware, I’ll still stake and bury you, no questions asked if you try to bite!

______________________________________

That’s all for now folks.

Along the way Annie X came on the scene. I’ll explain my relationship with her in the next ‘session’.

Thanks, be kind to each other and I’ll see you next time R (and Annie X) x

#health #mental health #health & fitness #self improvement #getting rid of Annie X #getting healthy

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @welshwoman1988!

To both the admin and my giftee Welsh_Woman (welshwoman1988), I doubled the word limit and I am so sorry. My words just ran with me and there was so much I wanted to fit in. I never have been able to write short one-shots and this was my first secret santa exchange EVER and I just got so excited. You said you liked Royalty AUs and I saw that you’d liked an image of wolf Derek snuggling with Stiles on a bed on your Tumblr and somehow that turned into this – I don’t even know how to be honest. I hope you enjoy your gift :D

Read on AO3

*****

Sails in the Night Sky

The biting chill of oncoming winter was brutal in the dark of night, obvious even through Derek’s warm, lined coat. He tipped his head skyward, the stars hidden from view by a thick covering of dark clouds. Rain was coming.

The echoes of the argument he’d left behind in the castle walls still filled his head like a thunderstorm. His ears still rang with his uncle’s tactless insistence that he not waste his time anymore wallowing in the peasantry, Laura’s halting, stalwart defence of both Derek and the less fortune. Then, of course, there was his mother’s quiet, warning that cut through it all with the sharpness of lightning.

“If you hate it so much then have them moved!” he’d snapped in the end, half afraid his mother or uncle would do exactly that. Even so, he’d surprised his family with his vehemence, because he’d always merely done as he was told, until that point at least. Hales ruled beside their siblings, with their partners in life having very little say in affairs of state, though before he’d died, his father had done his part for the public. Still, Derek was due to rule alongside his sisters and he had always been the more submissive of his fiery family members, but nothing had ever filled him with fire the way this had.

Derek sighed as he continued on, turning his collar up against the cold and the echoes of his mother’s raised voice that still hummed in his ears. She managed to make him feel like an errant child even as the sounds of applause, the cries of awe and delight mixed with those of aversion in the night.

Nobody had ever seen a ‘circus’ before, never even heard of anything like it. It was new and exciting and the talk of the kingdom but also filled the more reserved, those that fought change, with bitter resentment. Derek knew Peter’s reason for stopping him from working his way down here night after night was a simple factor of control. His mother’s reasons, however, were more complicated.

He’d originally assumed her protests to the circus stemmed from the same resistance to change as a lot of the others, but earlier that night, when tempers had flared, his mother had simply replied calmly, “they are good people, they take care of their animals and each other and they make their money, little of it that they do, in happiness. It’s a more honest trade than most.” Even so, she’d levelled him with that sad, knowing stare and added, “But my boy, if you associate with what the people consider abnormal, they will soon realise that you aren’t their variety of normal either.”

Derek approached the white tent and thought of Stilinski. The showman had been born in the capital with little money, had met his wife in a foreign land and always dreamt of bringing the life he’d built with her back to the place he was born. He’d dreamt of making it work here, making a home where everyone was welcome, where everyone could fit. Derek only wished the kingdom that was his birthright could be the same.

The familiar sounds and smells, the sight of the large white peaked tent just off the main road out of the capital lifted him as they greeted him, as they’d done every night in the last few months.

The tent’s canopy looked like sails in the night sky, and despite his family’s earlier protests, Derek felt himself drawn toward them like a ship out to sea.

The noise was as immense inside the tent as ever. The smells of sweat and snacks, of an overindulgence of alcohol from the less savoury onlookers, the ones that brought the bitter smell of intolerance to the mix, tested his control. He’d been trained since his youth to cope with the myriad of smells and sights and sounds a crowd carried, they all had and so after a grimace it all settled and he edged around the back of the tent, where he could see a set of crudely constructed stairs spiralling round the perimeter, up and round to some platforms above.

Derek ducked under the rope blocking off the stairway and climbed. The crowd below was so thick that he hadn’t been able to even hope to glimpse the large, sandy ring that he now saw more clearly the more he climbed.

A girl with beautiful red hair tied at the top of her head spun in the centre, fire twirling from the batons in her grasp and she beamed like something out of a fairytale, as beautiful and dangerous as the fire she bent to her will. She twirled it expertly, swinging it around herself and dancing over the swirling rope of fire her equally beautiful partner wielded like a deadly, flaming version of the skipping ropes the children of the court played with. Together, she and the dark haired woman kept the audience on the edges of their seats.

He’d never seen anything like this until the first night he’d stepped in here. He’d never seen people that moved the way they did, he’d never seen this kind of setup. The way the audience howled and clapped with every risk they took, every sinuous movement suggested it wasn’t just a limit of his position either, none of them had seen this before, not even at the heart of the capital.

Derek reached the top of the stairway just as they took their final bows to the applause of the majority. He braced himself with one arm against the supporting beam of the tent, the tall mast of the ship of dreams that lay before him, as the two performers took their leave of the ring and a wave of silence cut across the crowd. He waited, then sure enough, a bright light swung up to point at the far side of the tent, where there was a platform twinned to the high crow’s nest that Derek was on.

His vision was better than that of probably any of the people below. From where he stood, with the mobile spotlight on the figure on the opposite platform, Derek saw him clearly. There was only a split second from the light hitting him, to his reaction but it all moved in slow motion thereafter. Long legs hooked over the bar suspended from above and the lithe body swung round, upside down, arching like a taut bow. The momentum of his movements sent him swooping forward like a gull across the waves. The ocean of people below gasped but were otherwise struck silent with awe.

The bird glittered as he swung forward, glitter catching across his cheekbones and long fingers that stretched out with his arms, urging his impetus further. The swing carried his flight right up to where Derek was standing, as speechless as the people below. When their gazes met, Derek saw the deep amber eyes reflecting the light, as dazzling as the glitter that painted their edges.

Time stood still, just as it had that first night, the young man was always so surprised to see him return despite the fact that he always promised to. Then the momentum of his swing, the movement of his flight carried him back. He twisted on the bar like it was effortless, long limbs speckled with moles that drew Derek’s gaze along the taut, lean muscle there. His breath caught and his mouth went try with every swooping turn of limb.

He didn’t perform every night and he didn’t cut away to meet with Derek every night either. Derek wondered what it said about him that the young man’s flight and their sarcastic conversations allowed his head to feel clearer than had been all these years. There was always a signal, if he landed on the platform Derek was on, he had time to escape with Derek, if not, he landed on the opposite side.

Applause ripped through the tense silence like a thousand waves crashing against the cliff face and Derek took a step back as the man dismounted before him, taking a bow before the spotlight on him drifted away. Derek blinked at the sudden change in light.

The same dark kohl and golden brown glitter painted those eyes as every night. The pale glitter that lay like stars across his cheekbones glistened, mystically untouched by the sweat beading from his hair and across his throat into the deep ‘v’ of his nearly translucent shirt. His chest was heaving, his glitter-tinted cheeks flushed with exertion but he smiled as he panted, “you’re not really meant to be up here, you know?” It was the same teasing, slightly breathless rebuke and didn’t sound at all displeased. On the contrary, the young man studied him carefully, tilting his head as the lights focussed back again on the ring below and the next act ensuing.

“I thought not,” Derek agreed softly, an edge of amusement to his words, “but then I assumed someone would’ve removed me if they were so concerned.”

The man’s lips quirked in a devastatingly charming way. “I asked dad to let you be. You must be growing on him,” he revealed, before he tipped his head on his way passed, gesturing for Derek to follow him.

The living quarters of the performers were to the rear of the grand tent, a cluster of worn but well cared for wooden caravans. They were far enough from the animal enclosures on the opposite side for the smell to pale in comparison to the aroma of cooking food and subtle perfumes wafting from the other open, empty caravans, left open to facilitate the comings and goings of the other performers.

He hesitated when the young man climbed into one that smelled only of him, watched as he perched on the stool squeezed between a dressing table and a mussed, sweet smelling bed. He usually entertained Derek’s presence as he tended the animal pens or did some other chores, or beguiled Derek with sarcastic wit just outside the noise of the big tent. He’d never led him back here before. The intimacy of seeing the place he slept, raised in the sheltered way Derek was, made him swallow thickly.

Those piercing amber eyes watched his reflection as he shrugged off the near translucent fabric of his shirt, damp with sweat. He tipped some oil that smelled of almonds onto a clean cloth and began swiping the glittering paint from his body. It had glistened like diamonds embedded in his skin under the light of the tent, but now as the man wiped it away from his chest first, then the column of his throat, all Derek could do was stare at the flesh the faux glamour had covered. Flawless, honey coloured and speckled with moles here and there that reached up across his neck, jaw and cheekbones.

“You’re amazing,” Derek managed at last, finding his voice, thick with awe. The breathy compliment was far away from their usual banter.

The man at the table gave him a wistful look. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot more pronounceable than my given name,” he said. His voice wasn’t accented in any particular way, which Derek thought peculiar of people that were clearly travellers when he’d first met him.

“You’re still not going to tell me your real name, are you?”

Again, the same wistful smile. “You’re awfully persistent with that. Usually people need to know, why the trapeze? Why such death-defying stunts? Why risk your life for so little financial gain?”

Derek frowned, unsure if the young man truly meant ‘people’ or other men or women he’d led back to his caravan just like this. The thought made his stomach squirm, when for months he’d felt himself special for sharing just an hour of conversation with the young man he only knew as Stileseach night. “I thought that was obvious. You love it.”

That stilled Stiles’s constant, almost frenetic movement. The glittering paint around his eyes had been wiped away with the rest now, leaving only a few rogue speckles of starlight behind, blending perfectly with the moles on one side of his face, probably only visible to Derek’s gaze.

“It’s my life,” Stiles said seriously, with the tone of a man slightly stunned by Derek’s answer. “Everyone needs the chance to smile these days, not only the rich.”

Derek nodded, thinking of the homeless that flocked the streets of the capital not far from here. The ‘circus’ as the people were calling it, it was all about the lights and the show in the tent but back here, there was a rundown comfort of home and people barely getting by. They weren’t making a fortune, despite the splendour they delivered night after night.

“You told me your mother taught you before she died?” Derek asked, moistening his dry lips. Even from the slight distance the steps up into the caravan and the door put between them, he saw the man’s eyes, shining with the glow of the twin lanterns there, follow the path of his tongue across his mouth.

“Yeah, she was a natural, she was the talent that built us up from nothing, you know?” he offered easily, face bright as he said it. Right from the start it had been clear that Stiles loved talking about her. “She came from a place far from here, my father met her when he fought in the wars. She taught him. They taught me.”

Derek thought of Stilinski, the man in richly coloured tailcoats and nodded in agreement. Stilinski had performed with his son after his mother died, but he’d grown older and so when his father-in-law died he’d taken his place as show-master. The man had a smile that crinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth and it was an expression you couldn’t help but return. It was the same light, the same vibrance of life that burned so bright in Stiles. The same light that burned in all of the people behind the circus, in all people who enjoyed what they did with all they had.

“Tell me your real name?” Derek asked again, still feeling a little giddy, wondering if it was the convergence of so many scents in one place or just the man before him. He was so close within his reach and half-naked and so, so beautiful and honest and real, magnanimous like none of the people of privilege his uncle and mother had tried to urge him to court.

Right from the first time Derek had let repression, boredom and inquisitiveness call him into the tent and he’d seen the way Stiles moved, right from the first time their eyes had locked he’d felt drawn in by him. He’d felt drawn in by the sight of a life that burned so bright regardless of the limitations the rest of the world tried to place on him, something so rare in the world he’d grown up in

“What would you do with it?” Stiles asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Derek frowned, brows drawing together and Stiles swivelled on his stool. “Call you by your name.”

“Like a secret promise?” The twinkle flared like fire, giving Derek a brief view into this man’s beautiful soul. “Surely ‘Stiles’ is enough? Everyone else calls me that. Or do you have another pet name for me in your head?”

Derek exhaled in annoyance through his nose, dragging his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m calling you a little prick, right now.” His words startled a laugh out of Stiles that completely changed his face, mouth wide with surprised joy. His entire body jerked with it in a way so free and uninhibited by society’s rules. It was perfect.

“You have a mouth, Prince Hale,” he said approvingly, laughter still in his eyes.

Derek jerked as if he’d been slapped, because in all the times they’d spoken and yes, even laughed together, all the times Derek had helped him haul water or muck out the animal pens, he’d never once used that title.

“You…you know?” he asked, feeling as if the ground had opened up beneath his feet, the sails torn from his ship as it was cast out to sea.

Stiles’s laughter faded into a resigned smile then and the man reached for the plain robe off the mussed bedding and pulled it on. “I know who you are. My father told me right from the first night you came here,” he said as he tied the belt around his robe, fingers lingering on it, as if he needed to keep them busy left they betray him. He had such strong, long, expressive hands. “You were very determined not to tell me yourself.”

Derek set his jaw. “I just…” He didn’t know what to say. He’d been so tired, so very tired of having expectations pressed on him, of having every aspect of his life dictated to him, albeit by a well-intentioned mother and uncle. He’d been tired of it all but when he’d seen Stiles, when he’d glimpsed his life here, it had felt like an escape. No, more than that.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stiles added with quiet reluctance. “You shouldn’t come back, Derek.”

Derek flinched. “Stiles,” he tried, the odd nickname full of such earnest longing for him to understand. “If you’ve always known what I am then–”

“I always knew what you were, but I didn’t know who you were,” Stiles argued, storming forward to the doorway of the caravan. He glared down at Derek, more glorious in his rage than any of the mild-mannered, sweet tempered ladies and gentlemen of the court he’d encountered.

“I kept thinking, every time I saw you would be the time you admitted it, trusted me enough and it never happened.” His face held barely concealed anguish and Derek ached for putting it there. Stiles shook his hand, dragging his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “What the hell am I to you, Derek?” he asked, “just some entertaining diversion until you grow up and accept your responsibilities and whatever partner your mother finds you?”

“That’s not it,” Derek all-but snarled, because the inch of truth in that, at least the part about accepting responsibility burned.

Everyone here had responsibilities to the show, to each other, and if one of them didn’t step up it would fall apart. He wondered how he must look to Stiles, to be shirking his responsibilities when everyone here worked so damn hard for so little. But even so, it hadn’t been about hiding anything from Stiles, it’d been about hiding himself from that world, because he was terrified, because the Derek in that world was pathetic and lost and when he was with Stiles, he felt strong.

“I can’t be your sordid secret, Derek,” Stiles murmured, voice rough around the edges with pain, his eyes shining in the light the lanterns strung between the caravans offered. “I can’t be some mistress you come back to when your real life gets too hard and you want an amusing diversion.”

Derek’s head snapped back to him so quickly his neck protested. “Then why did you ask that I be allowed to stay?” he demanded heatedly. “Why invite me back here to the place you sleep if you have so little faith in me?”

“Because I hoped you were different!” Stiles snarled like a cornered wolf, eyes ablaze and his voice broke a little as he added, “Because I wanted you to be different. Because no one has ever looked at me the way you did that first night, the way you are right now. There’s never been a connection like that, at least not for me.”

“Not for me either,” Derek replied, his voice a softer counterpart to Stiles’s hurt rage, so gentle that Stiles’s fire seemed to simmer out a little.

Derek stepped forward, gripping the small balustrade and levering himself up to stand on the steps. There was a hairsbreadth between them and his hand covered Stiles’s on the doorframe. He could taste Stiles’s breath on his lips and see every fleck of brown, amber and whisky in Stiles’s eyes.

“That’s why I’m here,” Derek continued tenderly. “Yes, my life is…complicated. It drives me insane most days but that doesn’t change that I’m here because of you, not because of that.”

Because they had a connection.

Stiles searched his eyes and his fingers twitched under Derek’s on the wooden frame. There was so little air between them that Derek felt light-headed from the lack of air until Stiles drew back. He looked suddenly tired as he slumped onto the edge of his bed, avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“That’s why I showed you,” Stiles almost whispered, “showed you me without the glitter and the spotlight, just me. Nothing else. I wanted you to see that and come back anyway.” He risked a look at Derek out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted the connection to be real.” With a sigh and a little, self-deprecating smile he added, “my mother used to say that we travelled the world and they all applauded, but when the spotlight went out we were still foreigners, different, unwelcome strangers once the laughter faded.”

He sounded so lonely for a man that said that bringing happiness to others, regardless of social standing was all he wanted in life. But just as Derek had his secrets, Stiles had one other than his birth name. It appeared that Stiles wanted a home, one where he belonged. Derek ached to share that dream with him.

Derek did something he’d never done in all his life except for his mother and uncle, something society would gasp in dismay at the sight of and he didn’t give a shit. He lowered himself to his knees before Stiles and captured his strong hands in his own, drawing those doe eyes to him before reaching up to cup his cheek. He dragged his thumb across the moles there and drank in his heat. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he confessed.

Stiles had travelled the world, had seen so much and for all his poverty, he was rich in ways the Hale family could only ever hope to be.

“I’ve never seen anyone who looks at the world the way you do. You see all men equal, you see the good in everyone in spite of all the ugliness you’ve seen across the world. You’re incredible.” Because he knew Stiles had heard the slurs and jibes of those that protested their presence here, detested the ‘unnatural circus’ that no one had ever seen the like of before. He wasn’t fool enough to think that worldview was something Stiles had only encountered here.

Stiles reached back for him, cupping the back of his head and stroking his fingers through his hair before gripping tight, as if he were afraid to let him go and find out he wasn’t real. “You belong in another world, Derek.”

Derek wanted to sink into him until there was no telling them apart from one other, wanted to absorb everything Stiles was. “Maybe we can find a way to make a new one.”

Stiles let out a little laugh even as his eyes glistened. “I must be insane to believe you.” His grip tightened on Derek’s hair and he tugged him in so that their foreheads pressed together. “But God help me I want to...”

Derek felt as shaky as Stiles sounded, his fingers trembling as they slid down to cup Stiles’s jaw, his warm, soft throat and the pulse thudding rapidly with excitement within. The longing Derek felt twinned within his own veins. He dragged his nose across Stiles’s cheekbone, inhaling softly at the almond, sweat, warmth, grassy scent that was Stiles before letting their mouths brush.

His stomach tightened and then melted at the contact, at the little hitch in Stiles’s breath, lips melding together soft and a little slick with the oil Stiles had used to clean his skin. Derek groaned when Stiles’s tongue touched his own like a question and sank into him, his thumb tracing Stiles’s chin and tugging gently so that he could taste him deeper.

Stiles’s free hand smoothed down Derek’s torso between the narrow space between them, in constant motion as if he wanted to map every inch of Derek but didn’t know where to start and was worried if he didn’t now, he never would. It was a frenetic greed and Derek kissed him deeper for it, to let him know he felt the same. It was a little clumsy, perfect, real, their noses bumping in their urgency to taste each other.

Derek’s hands slid down Stiles’s throat to his shoulder, the gentle movement smoothing Stiles’s robe off his shoulders. It pooled beneath them when Derek drew back and Stiles followed, his fingers aiding Derek’s on the ornate clasps of his cloak and tunic as they kissed, more urgently with every inch of skin revealed.

Stiles clumsily peeled away the tights he wore to perform, and when Derek stood back off the bed to remove his own clothing in the narrow galley between it, the clothes rail and dressing table, Stiles swiped the door shut. He gave Derek a wry smile when he tugged away the constricting undergarment he wore to hold him in place when he performed and reached for Derek almost instantaneously. They fell clumsily to the bed in a mess of limbs that rocked the caravan.

Stiles laughed softly, the sound stifled by Derek’s mouth. Derek answered it in kind, his amusement, arousal and affection mingling into a grumbling laugh growl that caught in his throat. It was a desperate, inelegant thing between them, urgent with need to touch everywhere and drink in every inch of heat.

Derek’s stubble raised a red flush over every freckle and mole and Stiles’s strong hands held onto Derek’s neck and shoulders so tight Derek felt his nails dig in. For all that, it was a slow build. A slow dance ending in them mostly grinding together, clasped too close, limbs locked together too tight with Stiles’s sheets pulled over them to protect them from the encroaching chill.

It was the best night of Derek’s life.

“Mieczyslaw,” Stiles breathed softly against the hollow of his jaw from where they were wrapped around each other in the sticky afterglow. He had one arm hooked around Derek’s shoulder while Derek’s curved around him, dragging affectionately through his hair.

“Hmm?” Derek asked, blinking his sated, sleepy eyes open.

“Mieczyslaw, that’s the name my parents gave me. It was my grandfather’s name. But there was two of us, so I was always Stiles and when he and my mother died…” Stiles shrugged but Derek understood, knew what it meant to have that name whispered into his skin like a kiss, like the greatest secret on earth. It was, Derek realised, to someone like Stiles who people judged at face value, someone who never let anyone in close enough to see, who had so little. This was the greatest thing he could give.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’s again, unable to find the words to show how much that meant to him. He felt as if the clouds had been swept aside by the whirlwind of Stiles’s life, humbled and thinking clearly for the first time.

It was like an awakening.

His home had all the creature comforts a man could long for. It had fine linens, servants to run hot baths with opulent oils, food and drink to heat his belly, but he’d never felt as warm as he did now, naked under a mountain of sheets with Stiles, watching the light of the still slightly swinging lamps paint his face with their glow.

He looked into Stiles’s eyes when their lips parted and felt affection so fervent it made him shaky with it. He felt admiration and knowledge that instilled him with shame, because all this time he’d felt trapped in his privileged life and Stiles and his makeshift family were knee-deep in heartache, struggling every day and never asking for more. While Derek had responsibilities at home, he also had love and security and a family who only wanted the best for him, for the world, even if they had a peculiar way of going about it sometimes.

He arguably had everything and Stiles and his family had nothing and yet they were happy. They wanted only to make others smile. Derek had been the instrument in his own misery before now, letting his mother and uncle manage him. He’d once believed that all there was to stepping up to his role was politics, unwanted opulent balls and sufferance. But seeing the magic these people created from nothing but skill made him realise what he could do with everything he had, what he wanted to do, because of Stiles.

“So how do we start?” Stiles murmured against his jaw.

“Hmm?”

“Reshaping the world, so that everyone has a place, so that we have a place together, where do we start with that?”

Derek stroked his hair thoughtfully. “I talk to my mother and uncle.”

Stiles tensed in his arms before pushing up onto his elbows. “And if they tell you to stay away?” he asked guardedly.

Derek studied him carefully, before glancing around the caravan. “Then I still have two sisters that can rule without me.”

Stiles looked as if he might protest for a moment, but Derek knew him well enough by now to know he never wasted time with half-hearted platitudes or anything other than what he truly felt or thought. He smiled and drew Derek in with fingers behind his jaw. “I think I’ve inspired a rebellious streak in you,” he murmured against Derek’s lips, his own mouth a little red with stubble burn.

Derek snorted. “You just gave me a reason to grow a backbone,” he said as he bore him back to the sheets.

“I have to tell you something,” Derek murmured against his belly when the world outside had grown quiet, the circus fast asleep.

Stiles stroked his hair, smoothing the mess of it their lovemaking had made behind his ears in a way that was so relaxing, so comforting Derek thought he might melt around him like a puddle.

“You don’t have like a secret wife or husband or harem do you?” Stiles asked sleepily and Derek nipped at the tight, lean muscles of his abdomen.

“I have to tell you something, about me, about my family but it’s not just my secret to tell.” He tilted his head to look up into Stiles’s face and Stiles brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Derek, I’ve been to so many places, I’ve seen so much…” Stiles moistened his kiss-bruised lips and then struggled up in bed, enough to reach for the bookshelf behind his head that acted as a headboard. He offered Derek a leather-bound book in faded midnight blue, worn at the edges but well cared for.

Derek frowned and went to open it, but Stiles’s hand stayed the motion.

“No,” Stiles said gently, “when you get home. Look at it then. My mother and grandfather made it, it’s…it’s sort of a family heirloom, I suppose.”

Derek shook his head. “Stiles, I can’t take this.”

“It’s a loan,” Stiles said firmly, holding his hand out in refusal when Derek tried to give it back. “Bring it back with you, when you return.”

So you’ll have to return, Derek couldn’t help but think he was truly saying and he kissed him more fiercely than he ever had before so he would know.

A while later, as he swept his cloak around him and crept down the steps of Stiles’s caravan, he leaned up to whisper against his lips, “I’m coming back.”

“You’re very eager to make me promises, Prince Hale,” Stiles mused, but there was a wary edge to his voice, as if he didn’t dare believe it was true.

“I never make promises I can’t keep.”

It was a long walk back to the castle. The city never slept, some were already up even as the sky started to glow with that subtle purple hue that signalled the encroaching dawn. Derek heard the telltale sounds of them readying for the day, the baker preparing his products, the fisherman hauling their catches off the docks but it all fell away into the lingering night as he walked.

The lanterns that lined the stone bridge that stretched from the city toward the castle, toward his home were extinguished long ago, not even a lingering hum of heat or scent of burning oil remaining. The world was quiet, calm out here on this bridge. It felt like he was floating above it all, with only the smell of the water running far, far below to caress his senses like a promise.

He paused on the bridge, resting his arms on the broad stone balustrade and running his fingers reverently over the worn cover of the book Stiles had given him. Stiles’s scent and the scent of his father still clung to it. This book was more precious than anything Stiles owned. All the sparkle and glamour were nothing compared to this.

He carefully opened the cover to see a small portrait tucked into the jacket. It was the kind he’d seen done in shops to commemorate events such as weddings or births. It was a good one, so must’ve cost more than a week’s takings. He caressed the edges of the little rectangle, a baby, perhaps a year old with Stiles’s bright eyes and little turned up nose and a woman with the same nose holding him tight, while Stilinski the showman, younger, less lined embraced them both.

My beautiful boy, your father and I love you so much. The note written across the back of the image was from Stiles’s mother, clearly.

Derek tucked it back in carefully and flipped through the book, filled with drawings and the same neat, curling scripture. His stomach plummeted as he read the words, studied the diagrams. His thoughts roared in his head and he froze at the sight of the carefully, painfully accurate drawings of things he’d never seen put to paper before. His fingertips scanned the pages and his hands were shaking as he closed the book carefully, staring hard at the foreign scripture now.

Bestiariusz, cut into the worn, soft leather in the same hand. He’d scanned it before but discarded it as Stiles’s family’s lost tongue, something his brain couldn’t comprehend at first glance, now though, in hindsight…

“What has your heart fluttering like a hummingbird, young nephew?” His uncle’s voice cut through the night and Derek, already on edge, whirled around, eyes wide. Had he been so worked up, had the blood been pounding so in his ears that he hadn’t noticed Peter’s approach?

Peter regarded him with a raised brow and slowly came to stand beside him, resting his arms on the stone alongside the book. He stared out across the water toward the horizon where the sun was still a way off.

“It’s amazing how early our senses can pick up the changes in the light, in the sky. We can sense the dawn long before the humans can,” Peter said thoughtfully, before turning his head to look at him. “Your mother and I told you to stay away from the circus because even as extraordinary as their feats of human skill are, Derek, they are still human. Even they could not comprehend what we are capable of.”

He stared hard at Derek then, expression tight as the king he was, looking on Derek as his subject now, not his family, not his loved one. “You’ve seen how the people of this land look on them. Some come to see their show, yes, many do in fact, but there are still those that fear their otherness. It only takes a few to rally the pitchforks and chase us through the hills like feral beasts. Our ancestors built this kingdom from the ground up after being chased from our homeland centuries ago. We will not make the same mistakes as them. The humans may one day be able to accept the circus but they will never be ready for our abnormality.”

Derek tore his gaze from Peter’s and looked at the cover of the bestiary. He moistened his lips, tasted Stiles on them and knew the caution his family had exorcised over the centuries had kept them alive, had let them thrive. Knew that they kept their secret for a reason, but he didn’t think he was entirely right. The initial jolt of shock and dread that had filled him on realising what the book was had settled a little the more Peter had spoken, the more Derek had realised how wrong he was.

“I think people change with the times. In some places, Stiles said that the circus was welcomed without pause, without backlash. He said that for every town that welcomed them with open arms there were those that chased them out, but that those were becoming few and far between.”

He thought of the woman who’d spent her life making this book. It was filled with sketches lovingly drawn, like art rather than scientific scrawl, facts and notes made like a bird lover might for the wildlife they tracked. Stiles’s mother had travelled the world, studying the supernatural with the same wide-eyed, worldly fascination her son carried even now.

Maybe the world wasn’t ready for their secret yet, but some people were, Stiles was and if he could share his secrets with Stiles while they waited for the rest of the world to catch up? Well then he was sure someone as strong as Stiles could help him ready them.

“What in heavens is a Stiles?” Peter asked with clear distaste and Derek couldn’t help it, he let out a little laugh, holding the book with reverence, like the wake-up call it was. He tucked it carefully inside his cloak. “His mother studied the supernatural, I think…I think the circus was her talent, her job but her studies were her passion. She indulged both, all over the world and saw…everything. So has Stiles.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You told him…”

“I didn’t have to,” Derek said, feeling giddy with the lightneess that thought filled him with. “He knows. He knows what I am and he’s not afraid.”

Beside him, Peter stiffened. “You’ve been having clandestine meetings with a circus boy and you think he knows you?”

Derek didn’t rise to the bait, just answered with the truth he felt to his bones. “I think he could. I want him to.”

“Derek,” Peter began again.

“I want to speak to mother, about this, about everything,” Derek cut him off, “in the morning, I’ll…”

He trailed off. It was like the warning sirens that signalled the floods were going off in the distance, except this wasn’t a sound made by their horns. It was sound, smell, atmosphere, panic growing steadily more thick in the air as the wind changed and carried it in his direction. He and Peter both froze as it registered.

Fire. Chaos. The circus.

Stiles!

By the time they got there, the tent was ablaze, the white sails turned to great flaming beacons under the red dawn and the capital was in chaos. Derek surged forward at the sight of it, the smell of burning overwhelmed his nose so that he could not pick out Stiles’s scent, so he frantically searching the faces of everyone fleeing the fire. The smoke was thick in the air, he choked and spluttered. A crowd had gathered, some to watch the pandemonium, some flying forward to help the circus workers to rescue the animals, taking hold of reins of horses and helping to haul the cages of the more dangerous animals to safety. But he saw no Stiles.

“Derek!” Peter called warningly, and the unspoken order was clear. Do not make a scene, do not make what you are known. Derek gave him a single, lingering look, before bolting into the chaos.

He darted down the side of the fire, avoiding the licking flames that had all-but devoured the tent, which he hoped was empty. He strained but could hear no heartbeats inside, no cries for help. He hoped that was because it had been empty, not because someone had been trapped inside. He made for the caravans.

The fire seemed to have started in the tent and the smell of alcohol on the flames, when none of the circus workers entertained alcohol made him think of sabotage, but he had no time to dwell. He struggled to listen, to sense beyond the ferocity of the fire.

He didn’t hear a heartbeat, he didn’t see Stiles, but a screeching, terrifying unnatural whinnying filled the night and he bolted towards it. The striped horse Stiles had called a zebra once had been caught by its lead rope on a fallen section of cage. Derek flew toward it on instinct, catching the rope by the knot beneath the beast’s jaw and laying a strong, steadying hand on its neck.

“Hey,” he breathed softly, holding it tight as it struggled, eyes wide. “You’re ok. We’ll get you…” He trailed off at the sight of the body crumpled in the stall the zebra had been caught in. He dove down, keeping hold of the zebra’s rope and reaching for Stiles. He coughed and spluttered as he reached for his neck, the smoke growing thicker even as he checked for a tangible sign of life, not trusting his senses in the din.

There was a heartbeat, faint, sluggish, thick with smog but there. He knew a moment of dangerous hesitation, staring at the beast, now frozen with fear and the flames coming in tighter and tighter, Stiles’s body limp and smeared with ash and soot from the open cover the horses were stabled under.

At last, Derek dragged an ornate handkerchief out of his pocket. He pulled Stiles roughly upward, his body heavy and lifeless but no weight at all to Derek’s strength. He grunted even so, as he pressed his shoulder under Stiles’s weight and staggered to his feet, still keeping a grip on the zebra. It stood stock still, petrified and Derek tugged. “Come on,” he snarled, but the beast didn’t move. Derek pulled, looked around wildly at the fire as it roared higher. In a moment of panic, he roared, eyes burning, fangs flashing. The zebra jerked as if his fangs had struck flesh and bolted forward.

“Stiles? Stiles!” Stilinski’s voice called out as they made it to the where the whole city had gathered, the fiery-haired girl coming forward to take hold of the Zebra’s makeshift halter just as Stilinski practically collided with Derek.

Derek lowered Stiles carefully off his shoulder and into Stilinski’s frantic arms, spluttering and coughing and wiping smoke from his stinging eyes as Stiles’s lifeless body tilted to the ground, head lolling, face smeared black. He looked so pale, so unreal in the red sunlight.

The world around him was on fire, there was madness as everyone tried to put out the flames, as people tried to tend the wounded but it was suddenly deafeningly quiet as Derek stared at him, at Stiles and willed him to move. He lay still on the cobblestones, splayed out like a man drowned and Derek had never felt so helpless in all his life.

“Stiles!” Stilinski screamed, shaking his son’s shoulders.

Then, suddenly, there was a firm, strong hand on his shoulder. Derek didn’t even react, didn’t turn at the feel of his mother’s presence, at the voice of his queen, not until she said, ever so softly, “bring him.”

Derek jerked to face her, frowning at her unreadable expression. “The capital’s infirmary will be full tonight. Bring him to the castle, he’ll have more of a chance with us.”

Derek supposed the bittersweet thing about tragedy was that it rendered all men equal. His uncle and mother, the king and queen, and Stilinski the showman of the circus that had shocked the world were as equals now. Covered in soot and grime from the flying flames, it was hard to tell what positions separated them.

Derek’s uncle and mother stood close by as the physician, who was kept on hand mainly for show or for the human members of the household, worked over Stiles’s smoke-damaged lungs. He’d been spared any burns but his breathing was laboured and Deaton worked quietly on a medicine for Stiles to inhale as his unconsciousness stretched out further and further into the new day.

At some point Peter had been pulled away to deal with the culprit of the fire. Apparently it had been an accident, one of the drunken sots had been loitering, had stumbled trying to foolishly light his pipe and it had all escalated before he could stop it.

Derek thought absently, as he watched Deaton continue to burn the eye-watering medicine for Stiles to breathe in, that the capital had Deaton’s revolutionary medicinal practices to thank for growing so wealthy. The infirmary the McCalls ran under his tutelage had the highest success rates on the continent and Derek had no fear for the other circus performers and people that had worked to rescue them, only the man on his childhood bed, who still had yet to wake.

“Come, Mr Stilinski, a clean body is a clean mind,” his mother said gently to Stilinski, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We’ll get you fed and washed up before your son wakes.” Stilinski seemed almost catatonic, moving without really reacting, without tearing his gaze from Stiles.

Derek swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “I’ll watch him, Sir. I won’t leave his side.”

Stilinski blinked as if coming awake from a dream and his eyes roved his son a final time, before lingering on the place Derek’s hands grasped Stiles’s wrist, at the bestiary beneath them that he evidently knew too well. He stared at where dark tendrils of pain were drawn away from his son into Derek’s body and it was also something he apparently recognised.

“I believe that,” Stilinski said, a man of few words, so unlike his son, but with no less sincerity.

“Hey…” The hoarse, haggard voice cut through the doze Derek had dropped unwillingly into. He jerked his head up from where it had slumped on the bedside and blinked suddenly awake at the sight of Stiles’s weary, beautiful face.

“You didn’t sneak me into your bed, did you Prince Derek?” Stiles mused croakily.

A disbelieving, exasperated smile tugged at Derek’s lips as he gasped out a laugh he was still too shocked and relieved to truly feel. “Your father put you there, with the King and Queen watching. He understands the needs that…pack have.”

Stiles closed his eyes but gave a tired smile. “Scandalous, the debauchery of royalty…”

Derek squeezed Stiles’s hand tightly, tapping his fingers lest he slip into unconsciousness. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles rolled his head weakly to pin him with that stare, the one that asked if Derek was stupid.

Derek smiled a little more honestly now, because Stiles was feeling well enough to be himself, at least. He didn’t lessen his grip on his hand, however. “The man who burned the circus down, he did it by accident, but he’ll be punished for his crimes.”

Stiles frowned. “Fairly?”

“We aren’t savages,” Derek said tightly, even though in his rage right then, he wanted to tear the man to pieces for his stupidity. It hadn’t cost any lives, heavens above, but so many were injured and not just the circus performers, but some people who’d tried to help and some businesses that had been closest to the fire had been caught by the heat. Lives had been irrevocably changed. He definitely wasn’t ready to rule yet, to see beyond his heart and think clearly. He had so much to learn.

“No,” Stiles said, fingers curling under Derek’s touching the surface of the book beneath their joined hands and somehow gripping Derek’s hand too. “You’re werewolves.” There was no trace of fear in his face, only awe, only affection for the sight of Derek by his sickbed, with him even when the glamour of the lights had burned out.

Derek had so much to learn and he wanted Stiles to teach him, to learn at his side.

Stiles licked his lips, chapped from dryness, the proximity to the heat but already healing with painfully human slowness.

“I suppose, if I’m surrounded by riches, I must be in your castle?”

Derek’s lips twitched. “In my bed, you were right, even in jest.”

Stiles’s eyebrows lifted. “So you spoke to your mother and uncle? Or did you really sneak me in here under the cover of night?”

“Like I said, your father put you there. It’s been three days since the fire and it’s daylight now,” Derek said deadpanned. “But yes, we talked some. We’ll talk more, no doubt.” Slowly, slowly, Derek drew his fingers out of Stiles’s grasp.

“You took my pain,” Stiles said, not seeming surprised. He lifted a slightly shaking hand to look at his skin, as if he would see the place that Derek drawn his pain from. Even through his weariness and discomfort Derek could see his awe, his intrigue and wondered how many questions Stiles would have for him, once he was well.

“I read about it,” Stiles continued, coughing with a wince the more he spoke, “didn’t…didn’t realise it’d feel like this.”

Derek held a hand out to rest on his chest as his body shook with great heaving coughs, a silent entreaty to rest his lungs and throat. He reached for the bowl of medicine Deaton had left and brought it over. “Here, inhale this, it’ll help. Deaton’s work is like witchcraft.”

Stiles quirked a brow, even as his chest heaved. “Like witchcraft?” He inhaled heavily, sending his lungs into a spasm of uncontrollable coughs. Derek leant in, hand resting on Stiles’s back between his shoulder blades, dragging the pain the spasms were causing until they at last subsided and the medicine began to do its work. It’d work better with Stiles able to inhale deeper breaths, allow his lungs to expand fully with it, Deaton had said..

“He’s a druid, not a witch, though some wouldn’t know the difference,” Derek said carefully.

After a few deep, cautious breaths, Stiles managed shakily, “I know the difference.”

Derek nodded. “I know.” When he was sure Stiles’s breathing had steadied, he drew back, shrugging off his jacket. Stiles’s slips parted around a question that Derek held his hand out to silence. “Rest, just…don’t talk for a while, as difficult as that is.”

Stiles frowned but he didn’t seem too displeased with Derek’s teasing, just confused.

“I need to show you something,” Derek said, “I want to show you, tell you everything. We’ve got…we’ve got so much to say, I don’t even know where to start, so I’ll start with this.”

He stepped back and to the side, standing at the end of the bed and regarded Stiles carefully as he stripped to the waist. He toed off his shoes and then loosened his trousers, just enough that they hung on his hips. He heard Stiles’s heart thud a little faster, saw his cheeks flush in his sickly complexion.

Derek hesitated just a moment, fighting a lifetime of secrecy and subdued fear, before he let the change take him. His body stretched and snapped, twisting unnaturally, curving forward and shucking his loosened clothing as he did so. He braced himself on the foot of the bed and watched as his fingers changed into large black paws. When he lifted his head, if he stared hard enough, he saw the black wolf reflected in Stiles’s honey-hued eyes.

Stiles was staring, his gaze wide with wonder and astonishment but no fear. Not a scant inch. He’d obviously never seen this up close, in real life. It was likely something he’d only heard about in stories from his mother. But he was seeing it now, as real as the daylight streaming in through the window.

Derek gave him a moment, let him look his fill before he climbed onto the end of the bed. He realised, belatedly that it might appear threatening, standing over Stiles’s wounded body like this and so he wagged his tail gently, hoping Stiles would understand.

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathed, voice still hoarse. He carefully set the bowl of medicine on the side stand, the effort laboured but steady, before he reached for Derek. His long fingers, usually strong enough to hold his body up a hundred feet in the air sank into Derek’s fur, into the softest strands of obsidian silk and slid up. He caressed every inch of slender muscle that could rip him to pieces, foreign and unnatural, yet Stiles was not afraid. He was in awe.

“You’re incredible,” Stiles managed, with the same reverence Derek had offered him in the intimate closeness of Stiles’s makeshift home.

Slowly, Derek crept forward, going low on his belly without a care for his appearance until he was sprawled across the grand bed, across Stiles’s legs, warming his healing body.

Stiles stroked his muzzle, his ears with that same look of wide-eyed wonder that betrayed his thirst for the world despite how much he’d seen. It also betrayed his need for belonging and Derek ached to wrap himself around him as far as he could go.

Unable to articulate it in this shape, but unwilling to lose the gentle intimacy, Derek brushed his nose against Stiles’s cheek, his neck and when Stiles’s arms enveloped his neck, knotting in the thick fur at his scruff, he nuzzled in close and just breathed.

When the circus was rebuilt, it filled Derek with a bittersweet feeling to see the last of the white sails of the tent. It was a building now, with foundations that offered the animals and performers room to grow and flourish. It was a more permanent home to protect them all through the coming winter and the next, and the next. It’s was a sign of their permanent fixture and although that was bittersweet as well, Stiles had relayed to Derek the relief from his family at having somewhere to call home without giving up the life they loved.

It was Hale money that rebuilt it, a charity that Stilinski had hated and his jaw had ticked when Stiles had jokingly suggested he consider it a future dowry. In spite of this though, he hadn’t been able to argue with the security it offered his family, his son, the business of making happiness his wife had built.

It was a place of grandeur, with lights and glamour and crisp red dressings with gold trim to celebrate the vibrancy of its performers. No one could argue with its magnificence and it could seat hundreds more than the tent ever could. The fact that it was still open to people of all classes was what had saved it for Stilinski, Derek had thought.

In the few years since the fire, the circus had become an attraction that people had travelled the world to see, now they knew where to find them. They had become the gem of the country and Derek wondered if one day, this celebration of differentness would one day touch the entire world. Maybe then it would be safe to be what they were without fear. Until then, he considered himself one of the luckiest men alive.

He knew one day, when he took the throne that Stiles would have to take his final bow, give up performing but he thought by the time that day came, it would be long in the future, when Stiles was ready to trade this circus for that of the castle, one that would allow him to help the less fortunate smile in other ways.

The idea of ruling, when his mother and uncle finally stepped down was still a daunting task but he was beginning to realise how much opportunity there was to do good along with that responsibility. Stiles and his family had brought such happiness with nothing but talent and determination. He had resources in abundance that he could not waste, not now. Derek knew how much good he could do now, and he thought that was because of Stiles.

Derek was busier now than he had ever been, trying to use his position as best he could. Stiles always returned to his bed when the lights of the circus dimmed for the night, but still Derek tried to make at least one performance a week. There was nothing quite like watching Stiles fly.

Stiles didn’t scan the crowds for him, he was too professional for that, but whenever he took his final bow with the others, then he searched for Derek. Those bright brown eyes that held the magic of the entire show found Derek’s gaze in a sea of applause every time.

Now, like every other time, Stiles made a beeline toward him. As he drew closer to the crowds, Derek’s guard moved to envelop him, to wrap around him as if their lives depend on it. They knew, the world knew and while the public were confused at the freedom the prince’s betrothed was allowed, it was out of concern, not distaste. They could be forgiven for not knowing Derek’s senses allowed him to protect Stiles in ways they could not imagine, how he watched for even the slightest hint of malice from the surrounding people toward the man he loved.

Still, the guard made a good show of normalcy and they guided Stiles through the crowds until he was in front of Derek. Stiles’s breathless smile incited one from Derek’s lips. Without need for words, Derek took his hand and together they allowed the guard to usher them out into the cool quiet night.

They walked back in comfortable silence, with the guard a few yards behind, Stiles tired and Derek content to listen to the merriment of those returning home from the show. The stars were a thick smattering of fireflies in the midnight blue above and the castle a glistening beacon in the distance. The long stone bridge was an arm connecting one world to the next and the lanterns burned brightly along it. It was on his mother and uncle’s orders, their way of blessing, like leaving a light in the window so they may find their way home together.

It was as cold as the first night they had met and Stiles pulled the long coat he liked to call his prince’s costume around himself tighter to stave off the chill. His nose and cheeks were pinked from the cold and he was exhausted in that way that practically vibrated with satisfaction. He was happy, it was a tangible thing and Derek stroked his thumb across Stiles’s in a subtle, wordless whisper of a caress.

“What?” Stiles asked with a mischievous smile, stopping as he met Derek’s eyes. There was so much love there in that gaze Derek couldn’t offer any words to reciprocate. He just shook his head, wondering at the world they were building every day and where it would take them.

If the sight of the tent that night had been like sails in the night sky, then Stiles had been the moon, the stars, the force in the breeze carrying him home from where he’d been adrift for so long. Now, as he stood there on the bridge, he was filled with a rush of need to let him know exactly how much he meant to Derek, more than any words could offer, any official title. He hooked his fingers behind the column of Stiles’s pale neck and drew him in so that their lips could meet.

THE END

#welshwoman1988 #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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devncy-a · 7 years ago

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holy shit

there’s 800 of you

what did i ever do to deserve so many wonderful followers?

honestly i was so scared dipping my toes into this fandom. i know i’ve said it a hundred times on this blog. writing connor gave me so much anxiey because ... duplicates. i love other connors so much-- but i feel i don’t do this character justice half the time and i’m That Artist that compares themselves to other artists. (like every other artist) but then ... you were all so welcoming. you wanted to write with me and despite there being hundreds of connors out there, you made me feel special and like i belonged. i’m not in a very good place right now mentally and being on this blog and having something to do, having people to talk to and not isolating myself has really helped keep me from sinking too low into that hole.

so i’d like to call out some of the people who have made this time on this blog special and memorable for me. because without you guys, i probably wouldn’t be here on this blog

@pl-600-s - first of all THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME FOR OUR THREAD i’m trying to get to my old drafts but ;o; dw i’m not dropping it. but you were the first person to thread with me on this blog! and honestly it’s been an absolute pleasure writing with you again honestly. i’ve missed writing with you all from the speaks group and you gave me a chance here not only to write with you again, but to allow me to test the waters for this muse and you honestly helped give me the confidence that i needed to stay with this muse in the beginning when i was so uncertain. you know i could blather on about how thankful i am for you all day bc you’ve always been there for me. love u mom <3

@upgrademodel / @negotiatr - chesh you are my rockstar tbh. i look up to you so much as a writer and i’m honestly so blessed that you write with me. you are honestly so sweet and a BIG meme. you’ve developed so much with me story-wise and honestly it’s been so much fucking fun. whenever i wake up at the ass crack of dawn i love to check tumblr bc i usually get to read a reply from you and just writing with you in general has actually helped me in a lot of ways you wouldn’t expect. i could go on but this is already getting kind of long. sorry to get all gay.

@serendipitybound - olive you are honestly like one of the sweetest people alive you know that? I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WHILE I GET TO OUR OLD THREAD it’s there, waiting in my drafts. im so bad at keeping up with my drafts. but, you had the very first ship w/ me on this blog and out of all muses i would have never thought i would ship w/ simon off the bat lmao but we developed such a wonderful story for these boys and you were around right at the beginning and helped me arch out more confidence in my character because you actually enjoyed writing with me and i can’t thank you enough for that.

@machinesupremacy - V first of all, thank you so much for just. writing with me. in general. you’ve literally put up with all of my musings and plot ideas and whenever im like “i wanna do this” you just add another thread to our ongoing threads. i don’t quite remember when you came along but we’ve developed such a great relationship between our characters, i love their dynamic. and you’ve helped me be less afraid to expand on my ideas and musings. i find i share my musings with other rp partners a lot more and yeah. thank you.

@nvalcntine / @reaperxfsin - crow i know we just started rping but i felt like you deserved a spot on here as well. you put up with my novel length replies and GIFT ME NOVELS IN RETURN. you’ve been so sweet and nice to me and honestly i just want to thank you for writing with me it’s honestly been such a pleasure and it means the world to me that you think im worth it tbh ;o;

...

and now for some mentions of mutuals who have written with me in the past, who still write with me (and put up with my slow ass), those who i see on my dash, and overall the people who keep me here.

@jericoded // @blackcoffeefumes // @drowvned // @savingfxce // @heartstability // @fvckingpasswcrd // @addedchallenge // @kamskitest // @theyresist // @flawsinourcxde // @flawedcodinq // @plasticdroid // @machinafidelitas // @strictauthority // @jericholeader // @rkniines // @ltdrunkagain // @inviscodes // @goddamnitconnor // @deviantprotected // @negotiatortm // @wiretied // @fckpasswords // @beautyinmachines // @s1mon-pl600 // @lutnnt // @usurperr // @overindulges

#follow forever #i guess #long post #thank u so much ;-;#also no one call me out for the shitty graphic i know it's shitty #ⁱ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ⁻ ⁽ ᵒᵒᶜ ⁾

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intim3ate · 7 years ago

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Kinktober Day 13 - Distant/Distracted Sex | “Slow Grind Satisfaction” | Genji/Sombra

Genji wants Sombra. Sombra has work to do. They both find a way to get what they want.

I fucking love Somji. I thought this prompt would be good for them. That’s really all there is to it.

Please enjoy and join me in Rarepair Hell, once again ♥

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Genji sits up in the hotel bed. Sombra sits on the edge of it, holographic screens bathing her face in a soft purple light. The drapes are drawn, covering the hotel room in cool darkness. It’s easier to see the screen, she had insisted, but Genji is pretty sure that at least part of the decision to keep the room dark is that Sombra knows she looks good in low light.

He watches her affectionately, still groggy and half-drunk from the lingering effects of last night's sex. It really had been amazing.

This is not the first tryst he’s had with Sombra, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. It’s difficult to meet up with her sometimes, though; she works for Talon, and he for Overwatch. When she’s not busy with whatever mission Talon has her running, Sombra is underground, and there’s almost never a time when Genji isn’t up to something heroic, but they make it work. They make it work with quick, frantic fucks in back alleys, or like this, with fancy hotels and long nights spent in a whirlwind of overindulgent sex.

And they had had a lot of sex last night. But some old habits really do die hard, and Genji doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied when it comes to Sombra.

He shuffles up behind her, one knee on either side of her hips as he wraps his arms around her middle. A hand sneaks up to squeeze one of her breasts and he leans forward, pressing his lips the the crook of her neck.

“Mmm…” Sombra hums and leans back, pressing herself against Genji’s body. He’s long since shed his armor, so she feels a pleasant mix of warm, firm muscle and metallic chassis against her back. Genji kisses up her neck, grateful to feel her smooth skin and the warm, humming metal of her spinal implants pressing into his chest pleasantly.

“Working already?” Genji asks."It is still so early."

“Mhm.” Sombra taps a line of code into one of the screens. “Why, did you want something?”

Yes, he thinks. She knows damn well what he wants. What he’s trying to do. But Sombra tends to prefer the subtle approach.

“You didn't even bother to get dressed,” Genji says, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected, like he's making a casual observation rather than a leering suggestion. He's pretty sure he's failing miserably. “Tell me Sombra, do you often work naked? Or are you doing this just for me?”

She smiles, but doesn't look at him. “I thought you might like the view.”

“I do,” Genji purrs. “Too much. It is as if you knew how much this would torture me.”

“I might have had an idea.”

“Hm.” Genji kisses a line up her neck and delights in the way she stretches it out for him. “Come back to bed with me,” he whispers, low and deep and dark in her ear.

“I'm busy,” Sombra says, dismissive but for the unmistakable lilt of mischief in her voice. She wants him to keep going, wants to push him forward, egg him on.

It's a game now. A challenge.

Genji groans and leans his head on her shoulder, all too willing to play along. His second hand traces up Sombra’s stomach, right where he knows she's the most sensitive. But, to her credit, Sombra manages to hold (mostly) still and suppress her shudder of pleasure.

“Please,” Genji breathes. “I am sure I could keep you just as busy.”

“Could you?” Sombra sounds skeptical, but amused. “And how would you do that?”

“Any way you like.” He strokes up her stomach to her chest, wrapping his fingers around her neck lightly. “With my hands.” Genji's other hand trails down, slowly and lightly, to rest between her legs. He slips a finger between her folds and crooks it, rubbing at Sombra's clit gently and teasingly. He leans in close to her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging it lightly. “Or perhaps with my mouth.” He slips his tongue out to lick the shell of her ear, then takes it between his lips and sucks, just the way she likes it. “Or maybe…”

He shuffles even closer, pressing himself against her completely. Genji is completely hard now, turned on by the idea of getting her back in bed with him, of coaxing her to ride his dick. There's no way she can't feel his need pressing up urgently against her back. “Maybe I’ll fuck you. I could throw you down onto the bed and fuck you so hard you will not even be able to think, much less work.” He smiles against her neck. “Yes, I think that sounds best. Don’t you?”

Sombra makes no effort to show she’s even been listening, but Genji can feel her breathing grow laboured. He has her now. So he keeps on stroking between her legs, waiting for an answer, hoping his teasing will chip away at her resolve faster. It seems to be working, too; with every stroke over her clit, Sombra has to fight to swallow down a gasp. Genji smiles. He doesn’t even need to see her face to know how red it is - he can feel the heat radiating from it. And besides, it’s much more satisfying watching his hand move, watching the way Sombra’s hips twitch ever-so-slightly into his touch.

It takes a while, but finally, Sombra relents. “Fine,” she says, and turns just slightly enough that Genji can see the side of her face. He's surprised to see that, instead of looking helplessly, desperately aroused, Sombra is smirking, eyes glinting with something that lights a fire in the pit of his stomach. "I'll let you try."

She captures his lips in a bruising kiss, but before Genji can respond, Sombra puts a hand to his shoulder and pushes him down flat onto the bed.

Sombra grins like the devil and climbs on top of Genji, straddling his waist and hovering over his eager, leaking cock. The screens she had been working on follow after her extended hand, and Genji's eyes flit from them to her face. He opens his mouth to protest, because no, there's no way he's gonna let her ride him while she works on whatever Talon scheme she's running. But she doesn't give him any room to speak, and sinks down onto his cock quickly and easily, pussy already stretched out and slick with arousal. Genji gasps, suddenly breathless and already taken with how easily she surrounds and pulls him in.

"What was that?" Sombra asks, but she doesn't even bother to look at Genji as she speaks. Her eyes are already back on her screens. She flicks between them with singular focus, like she's looking for something. But her smile, like a promise from the devil, keeps Genji going.

"Nothing." He's determined now to distract her, to pull her attention from her work onto him. He thrusts his hips upward, hands coming to Sombra's hips to hold her steady. She doesn't seem to have any problems balancing, however, and in fact seems to be holding her own quite well. She rolls her hips to meet every one of Genji's thrusts, easy and fluid, like she's done this so many times it's become routine - like it's boring.

Genji growls. It's annoying. It's infuriating. But it's also so, so hot.

Genji takes deep, shuddering breaths as he rocks up into Sombra. His hands clench, fingers and nails digging into her hips, leaving deep crescent-moon marks and small, dark bruises behind in their wake. He only has nails on one hand now, and he knows Sombra enjoys the sensation of them cutting into her, leaving bright red marks all the way along her back, but Genji is still mindful not to hurt her - usually, anyway. Right now it's all he wants: he wants to draw sensation from her, force her to pay attention to him. The challenge is part of the fun, part of what keeps him going, bucking up into the warm, wet heat that is Sombra.

Sombra clenches around him and Genji moans, long and loud. He's never been a quiet lover, really: he likes letting his partners know how much he's enjoying himself. Sombra has called it obnoxious before, but always with that underlying tone of fondness. He hopes she feels that same fondness for him now, because her indifference is driving him completely insane. He's ready to do just about anything to distract her.

Nothing.

Sombra tap-tap-taps away at her screen, humming to herself when she comes across something that must be particularly interesting. Genji just groans, making sure to draw the sound out, make it sound as obscene as possible. He wants to let her know how much she's affecting him.

Yet still, she does not look at him.

Genji lets out a strangled noise, one of frustration this time. But Sombra moves, just-so, and Genji just barely catches the upward quirk of her lips. She's definitely amused, which means she isn't entirely absorbed in her work. Good, Genji thinks. There's still hope.

He slows his thrusting and changes his angle, grinding up against a spot he knows will drive Sombra crazy. She jolts a little in his hold and Genji smirks. "Ohh, Sombra," he breathes. "You feel so good. I could fuck you like this all day and it would still not be enough." He moans again and tosses his head back in pleasure, but is careful to try and keep his eyes on her face. Predictably, she doesn't grace him with even the slightest glance.

"¿De veras?" she asks. "At this rate, you will be fucking me all day if you plan on getting me off. I thought you said you were going to blow my mind?"

Genji whimpers. "You are too cruel," he says, but they both know he loves it.

So he keeps going, keeps grinding into Sombra's cunt slowly and methodically. Her chest is beginning to heave - from pleasure or exertion, Genji isn't sure, but he likes to think it's the former. Sombra isn't nearly as good at hiding things as she thinks she is.

But still, her will is strong. She doesn't break even when Genji changes his movements up again and thrusts sharply up into her. She bites her lip to stifle the noise she was undoubtedly about to make, and Genji grins. The first cracks of her resolve are beginning to show.

And then he gets an idea, a wicked one - one that he knows will at least get a rise out of her, if not break her completely. He moans again, soft and dirty and anything but unaffected. "Oh... fuck. Fuck, Olivia..."

And that's it - that's what gets her. Sombra's screens dissolve in a flurry of pixels with just a flick of her finger. She stares down at Genji, eyes narrowed and livid.

"What did you just say?" she growls. She goes tight around him and Genji groans, this time completely natural and unforced.

"I s-said... ahhh..." Sombra shifts on his lap, but her hips go still. That doesn't stop Genji from rolling his, however. "I said you feel so good on me, Olivia..."

Sombra raises her hand. Genji feels a tickle in his throat, and suddenly his voice is gone, voice box shut down completely. He reaches for his throat to massage it, as if that will get the feeling in it back. He knows it won't: Sombra has hacked his voice away. It's an old trick of hers, one she uses when she wants to put Genji in his place properly. Genji loves it.

He grins wildly up at her, all glinting teeth and excitement. Finally.

"I like you better when you're quiet," Sombra says, and she grinds down forcefully onto him, sinking down all the way to the base of his dick. He can feel her outer labia rub against him, a little jolt of pleasure sparking through him with every little motion she makes. Sombra reaches out and taps into the mechanical nerves of Genji's arm, lifting it and forcing him to put his hand back on her hip. She cuts the connection just as abruptly and rocks her hips, silently telling Genji to take charge and move her again. He does without question.

Genji begins to renew his efforts, thrusting up into Sombra quickly and sharply. As soon as he does, Sombra brings her screens back up. "Don't even think about slowing down," she hisses at him. "I'm going to finish my work and you're going to come. Then, if I think you've done a good enough job, I'll stop what I'm doing and think about letting you fuck me again." She glares down imperiously at Genji and taps out a small pattern in the air to bring his voice box back online. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect. Whatever you want," Genji answers without hesitation.

"Good." Sombra turns her attention back to her screen. "Then get to work and come for me before I make you."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Genji fucks up greedily into Sombra's pussy, pushing and pulling her in time with his thrusts. It's a wonder she can get anything done at all with how much he's moving her, but then again, Sombra never ceases to amaze him.

His moans and groans slowly give way to desperate whimpers. He's getting close, so close, and the way Sombra just uses him, bounces on his cock like it's nothing, like she isn't driving him insane with want, with the need to come, pushes him even closer to it. He wonders if she even knows she has this kind of effect on him.

It's a stupid thought. Sombra knows everything.

"F-fuck!" Genji cries out, eyes clenching shut and fingers digging ever deeper into Sombra's skin. "Sombra, I'm..."

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. With a choked gasp, Genji lets go. Sombra lifts her hips at just the right time, leaving Genji to come all over himself, coat his stomach in his own seminal fluid.

Sombra climbs off Genji. He doesn't see her flick her screens away again, but he does feel her crawl between his legs to lick the jizz from his stomach. Without thinking, he combs a hand through her hair, egging her on. She licks up every last drop, and when she's done, Sombra crawls up his body to kiss his lips. Genji can taste himself on her, and it makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it.

"Feel better?" Sombra asks. She traces a long nail along the divot between flesh and metal on his chest and Genji shivers.

"Not quite." Genji lifts his head and beckons Sombra closer. He pats her backside and she shuffles further up his body. "But maybe if you came too..."

Sombra grins. "I still have work to do." But she follows Genji's lead anyway and straddles his face. He lifts his head up to kiss the outline of her pussy, still wet and welcoming. He slips his tongue between her labia and licks a line from her entrance to her clit, moaning at the taste before pulling away and smiling.

"Then this time I will just have to work harder to keep you distracted."

Sombra chuckles. "Really? Good luck with that.”

And with that, the challenge is on again. And Genji never backs down from a challenge.

#overwatch #somji #sombra #genji shimada #r: e #fanfic #kinktober

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