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belit0 · 3 years ago

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Hey, can you write Indra + size kink + cockworship + nasty cum stuff ?? Sorry, i'm hungry for that man

Sorry this took me SO FUCKING LONG omfg

No need to be sorry, I’m as hungry as you. I haven’t written smut in a while, so bear with me, I’m getting back at it:,(

Tw: Indra knows nothing about communication

When Indra enters the house, the sun has already set. He looks drained, tired. It’s been days since he started wearing his hair loose, devoid of his usual ponytail, and it only helps to make him look more massive than he is.

His steps are heavy as he heads to the bedroom, and when he looks at you with those expressionless serious eyes, you know he won’t be eating dinner today either. That’s okay, you’re not used to spending time together as a normal couple anyway, and you know you’d feel weird if he actually sat down with you and joined you for a meal.

His form disappears down the corridor and you know he has found the way to bed, seeking comfort from the adversities of the day. His shadow is dragged across the walls by the candlelight, and for a moment, it looks like the demon everyone says he is.

But of course, you know better than to believe those ridiculous tales.

It’s been months since this man appeared in your village, a place led by a poor wretch who was trying his best to get his people ahead. Only a few enjoyed good fortune, privilege, and wealth, and you were not one of them. Life before Indra, here, was based on working hard for pennies, finding food wherever possible, wearing the same clothes repeatedly for lack of more garments. Poverty was rampant among almost the entire village population, and despite the leader’s best efforts, nothing seemed to work for the betterment of the situation.

But a mysterious man with long hair and thick shoulders, tattooed eyes, impressive physique compared to the famine-stricken people... left everyone captivated. With just a couple of suggestions and commands, things turned around, and the outlook brightened for everybody. This mysterious man quickly rose in the hierarchical power of the village, and the current leader ended up giving up his place.

Indra became their ruler overnight, and hopes for the future of the town seemed to grow stronger and stronger again.

Town expansion was inevitable, welcoming visitors and travelers intrigued by the legends of this man who brought fortune to a doomed place. Enemies were also unavoidable. The Otsutsuki defended and used all his power to prevent the destruction of the foundations he had built with so much effort, leaving everyone terrified in his steps.

His red eyes became stories used by mothers to frighten disobedient children, his violet beast traveled on the tongues of all the merchants and their incessant rumors.

Respect mingled with fear, yet Indra never wavered.

He looked imposing as he walked the streets of the town, staring at nothing in particular, an expression forged by iron and ice. His towering figure seemed to cast a gigantic shadow over every other man nearby, and all the women were dying to take the vacant place at his side.

Everyone thought as he became leader he would choose one of the few wealthy ladies of the village as his wife, but he did not.

It was months after his ascension to power before he communicated with a woman. And that turned out to be you.

Although the village prospered and grew bigger every day, your life remained the same, complicated. Money was scarce as well as food, and working hard every morning was necessary if you wanted to get a crumb of bread.

You tended the garden of a prosperous family, kneeling in the morning dew, your clothes covered in dirt from the work you had started just a few minutes ago.

Footsteps in front of you broke your concentration, and when you looked up, a tall figure was staring down at you. A flowing robe floated in the wind, and that frown was visible even from the floor. Indra was intimidating without uttering a word.

“You look thoroughly filthy.” He had said. “I’m sorry, my lord.” You had replied, bowing your head in respect.

You did not finish that day’s work, for offering you a wide hand, Indra Otsutsuki himself lifted you from the dirt and escorted you to get a fresh change of clothes. Not one of the worn-out ones you used to wear, but an expensive one, of excellent quality, full of exquisite details. A garment of high society, one of the kind he himself usually wore.

From that moment on, he did not leave your side. It was only a matter of time before you moved into his residence, an immense house in the middle of town. You became the envy of all women, no one being able to understand how their leader could choose a servant girl as his partner.

And despite the fear you felt towards him at first, although his haughty looks seemed to be empty initially, you eventually grew to understand him. Dread turned into respect, affection, love.

After all, he saved you from that life of misery to give you one of luxury and privilege, asking for nothing in return. Even though you slept in the same bed every night, he never touched a single hair on your head, never came near you, never took the initiative you feared he may take.

“Why me?” you asked once, the blush on your face shielded by nighttime darkness inside the room. A large space lay between you both on the bed, and Indra, while you couldn’t see him, probably had his back to you. “You are the prettiest.” He replied simply, and you caught a note of amusement in his voice.

During the day it was rare for you to see him, but at sunset, you would both be in the bedroom. No lustful touches in the middle were necessary to make the night complete, for the silences which at first were awkward eventually were filled with chatter.

That intimidating look, that wide-backed warrior with blood-colored eyes, became a companion, a pleasant person to spend time with. Never smiled, never laughed, but you know he is calm, that he enjoys the moment as much as you do. You’ve seen him interact with other people, how his muscles tense when someone is way too close for his comfort, how his brow furrows when anyone speaks to him. You know you’re the only person he tolerates, appreciates, and loves around him.

That’s why seeing him arrive like this is something uncomfortable in your chest. Slowly following in his footsteps, you find his clothes lost all the way back to the room. You pick up garment by garment, and there is a certain satisfaction as you smell his clothes and feel his perfume. As you reach the doorway, he is already tucked into bed, buried under sheets. One of his arms supports his head and acts as a pillow while his other hand scratches his chest, which is slightly uncovered. One of his legs is bent, and covers slip off his skin, revealing a thigh and worked muscles. His eyes are closed, but he knows you are there.

Leaving his clothing on a chair, you approach him and sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in your lap. Rarely have you seen this scene, where he relaxes with all his rights in his own bed. Sex has never been addressed between the two of you, and it’s something you’re grateful for. Rumors travel faster than the wind, and many a woman has walked around claiming to have spent time in the bed of the mighty Indra. Whether that’s true, you don’t know, and you’ve never asked either.

If true, your experience is undoubtedly unparalleled.

Still, seeing him like this, becoming one with the bed and stretching out, getting a taste of his toned chest and his thick thigh... Curiosity suddenly demands more.

“You’re staring.” His eyes are still closed, but to be put on display is still just as humiliating. “I’m sorry...” You’re not sure if get up and leave at that moment, but it’s his voice that clears the uncertainty. “Why? I’m your partner, naturally.”

It feels like confirmation of your actions, and you become brave all at once.

“Can I help you... To feel better?....” Your voice is full of hesitation, yet one end of his lips lifts, revealing a wickedly tinged smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Climbing on top of him, your hands tremble with anxiety and anticipation. His eyes flutter open and he watches you intently, analyzing where your actions lead. The man really is huge, and being partially on top of him, the size difference is even greater. Indra seems to rejoice in your stupor, picking up on your intentions and stirring the sheets covering him as you settle between his legs.

Whatever nervousness you felt about what was to come only grows worse at the sight of his size, as even half-hard, his cock’s intimidatingly enormous length.

“Already frightened?” The teasing tone sliding across his tongue fills you with new determination, and with both hands, you hold his shaft. One at the base and one at the head. Your tongue timidly explores that unfamiliar surface, feeling in your grip how hardness invades his dick second after second.

Your lips wrap carefully around it, and pushing gently, inch by inch, his length finds its way into the pleasantly warm depths of your mouth. One of your hands slowly slides down, dragging skin in its wake.

Fixing your eyes on Indra while trying to deal with the raw, inexperienced situation and size, you notice impatience and need, lust swimming in red eyes dominates his expression.

From an instant to the next, your shoulders are enveloped by two gigantic hands, and position is turned around, a vast body hovering over you and trapping you underneath it.

“You teasing little fucker...”

Being handled like that awakens something on the inside that you rarely felt before, some sort of tingling urgently needing to be soothed. A broad palm grasps your chin, which moves your face in the direction Indra desires as he suddenly engulfed your lips.

You have never kissed this man before, and to be making out with him for the first time in these circumstances should feel wrong... but it only builds up more sensations in your lower belly, a treacherous emptiness, and an almost unfamiliar fire.

Your hands awkwardly find his back, and the need to press him against your face, to demand more, to extract more from those luscious lips is interesting. There is no more distance to close between the two of you, but you want to crush yourself against his labored chest until becoming one.

The moment ends quickly as you gasp for air, and trying to recover, a sultry Indra, who grins viciously seductive overpowers your gaze.

“I’ll introduce you to a thing or two...”

Before you comprehend what his words mean, the position changes again, and his two knees are one on either side of your head. He looks even more terrifying from this angle than in everyday life, and you don’t venture to peek at his dick. Two of his fingers slide across your lower lip, caressing your cheek, and suddenly squeeze your face harshly. Your mouth is forced open, but when his cock slides over your tongue and you understand the functionality of the pose, you ease back.

Your lack of experience was driving him crazy, and rather than loosening him up, you were upsetting him further. Managing the matter with his own hands, or rather with his own hips, Indra finds peace again.

Rising to height, one of his palms cradles your face, while the other supports himself against the wall. You try to find stability by holding onto his thighs, and as he buries himself lower in your mouth, sensations in your body become almost unbearable, coupled with his movements.

Indra is kind at first, gradually pushing into your inexperienced cavity slowly, closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to destroy your mouth.

Yet when your jaw relaxes completely, grasping the rhythm and feel of the situation, he lets go. The beast is finally released, and the Otsutsuki fucks your lips with abandon, hitting the end of your throat with each thrust. His hips move with agility, and imagining him between your legs with the same surrender and strength makes you hold on.

Tears decorate your cheeks and eyelashes, blending with the saliva dripping from your mouth every time that cock lunges at your face. Indra becomes completely abstracted, tilting his head back as deep growls rise from deep within his chest.

When air is inevitably needed and you can no longer avoid gagging, you repeatedly slap his thighs, drawing his attention. He leans his forehead against the wall and holds your face with both hands, withdrawing his dick from your throat and catching his breath with difficulty. His gaze is fixed on you, and although you could probably look better, you feel really appreciated under those red eyes.

The fluids from your mouth completely soaked your chest and cheeks, your clothes are soaked, and at the sight, the Otsutsuki slides his fingers across your wet skin, then strokes his shaft twice.

When you catch your breath, you place a kiss on the head which has been hitting the back of your throat for minutes, showing he may continue.

Without a second thought, he burrows deeply into your mouth, reaching a depth he hadn’t hit before. The grunt he exhales makes your skin crawl, and you really want to see him enjoy you like this for the rest of your life.

He gives you time to breathe again, and his thrusts become more shallow, seeking more contact with the softness of your tongue and the warmth of your cheeks. It isn’t long before his length is completely out of your cavity and he works it rapidly, seeking the longed-for finish. You’re not sure what you should do, so you simply watch him, amazed at the size of his hands.

After a few seconds, several white shots paint your face, staining your hair and chest, leaving practically nowhere without even a drop. It’s unexpected, but satisfying.

#naruto shippuden #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader #indra #otsutsuki clan #naruto

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lovee-infected · 4 years ago

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hello! I read your post where you clarified your opinion on the character of Malleus and to be honest I really appreciated it! I agree with what you say and I have to congratulate you for the detailed analysis!! May I ask (if of course that doesn't bother you) what do you think of Leona's character instead? I ask because I think (like malleus) that some fans have not fully understood the complex personality of this character and I would like to understand more of it too. Thank you :3

Hello dears! First off, thank you very much for your sweet compliments and glad to hear that you enjoyed my Malleus analysis!

To be honest, I think that being mischaracterized isn't the main problem with Leona, the main problem is that not many actually try to give his character a deeper and detailed look which makes us lose a bunch of interesting facts and points about him and his personality. Leona's design is quite brilliant and I guess we all need to take a moment to go through those interesting details in order to understand that he's way greater than we were expecting!

I mainly talked about some possibilities of how he's mischaracterized in part (1),(2) and (12) and in the rest of the parts, we'll be talking about more specific facts and details about his personality that are often ignored.

1) Let Leona be Leona

The simplest yet the most important part to begin with. While we all understand that he has indeed gone through a hard time throughout his life as the second prince and an often ignored child of his family, it's important to realize that this isn't going to change anything about his dark personality.

Accept it, this is just the way he is. He doesn't mind being reckless, doesn't care if he's annoying at the time, doesn't care if anyone likes what he's doing or not, and doesn't see any need to excuse himself for being so.

He's surely got a painful background to go through which him have the right for being so now, but this isn't telling us that he's still a little kitten. Leona is an adult now and considering him to be a soft boy inside who just needs attention and love is totally against the way he actually is. He isn't a child who can sometimes misbehave, he's a grown-up man. He knows what he's doing and how others may think of him because of his reckless actions. This is just how he wants to be, so let Leona be Leona. But I'm not saying that he's gotten to this point for no reason, this claim will be clarified in part (2) and (3).

2) Do not try to excuse his jerky nature

This is somewhat of a continuation of what discussed back in the first part, keep that in mind that this, is just the way Leona is. Saying that he's a cute kitten who just needs more attention and love, and that he'd be a totally different person by just having someone to support and confront him is surely an adorable headcanon, but it doesn't really suit him.

Or another way of this, saying that Leona may often come off as rude but he doesn't mean to, and he holds a kind and soft heart behind that cold and rough personality.

Look, not all characters are supposed to be kind and good inside. Some are specifically designed to present a cruel and rude personality because this is just the way they are, so trying to excuse his nature is nothing different from trying to change his official design. Leona's past life took on an important role in shaping his personality, but it isn't like he's still a 5-year-old child who'd be calmed down if you talk to him.

His current self, is a result of his past and his personal decisions at the moment; as an adult he knows how to handle his personality and behaviors, and he doesn't seem to really care about what others may think of him now. Both him and the others know that he can be much of a jerk at the time, and the point is: He doesn't mind being so.

3) Leona's childhood has seriously effected his personality and life

While his current personality isn't such a thing that can be changed if you just show him some love and attention, keep that in mind that no one is born evil.

What happens when you're supposed to playing and having fun as child but instead you're working your hardest training everyday to master your magic? And even worse, what if all those months and even years of hardworking result in nothing but your family and people's fear and hatred towards you?

He was just a child, and even if he wasn't going to be the next King he needed to be noticed and paid attention to. He needed his family to be at least proud of him and his powers, but all they did was to leave him on his own because all they saw was an angry kid yet no one ever cared to calm him down-! He might've be raised in a castle, yet there are many things he needed more than wealth and money.

As a child he needed attention and motivation, but since almost everyone around Leona failed him on it, this need of his was never fulfilled and as the result, this part of him would always remain as a child.

He still enjoys attention and being phrased like he enjoys nothing, yet it's not like that's enough to change anything about him. It might've been possible to change him in the past, but now, it's useless. He can no longer be easily effected and changed like a child can be.

4) He is telented and confident

Some may think that self-esteem is a problem of his: "Why he recognize that he's already really powerful?" "Doesn't he know that if he stops procrastinating he will achieve the success he's been always wishing for?" "Why is he always comparing himself to the others instead of recognizing his own telents?"

The answer to all these questions and similar ones is: He knows. He knows that he's talented and strong, he knows that just because someone like Malleus is standing higher than him doesn't mean that Leona is weak, and he knows that he can work way harder than he already is.

We'll talk about his procrastination in part (8) but for now, let's focus on his very own opinions about himself. None of us can exactly tell how much he can do and how talented he truly is, because while Leona is totally aware of his own abilities, he doesn't care to use or show them.

In fairy gala, for example, he turned out to be skilled with posing and walking when Vil pushed him into taking the work seriously, but in the end he just did it to get rid of Vil though he could've done it all in the first place! He did know how to pose, how to walk and how to be one hell of a super model without Vil learning him much about it, yet he didn't show the smallest sign of having the ability and knowledge in!

And when he did it, he was sure that everyone would be impressed, and they were! Though he might sometimes be cocky about it he's sure that if he decides to take something seriously, it'll end up in the highest of quality and the best of result, because Leona knows how to get the best of it.

So next time that you see him not wanting to do anything, know that it isn't anything about him lacking confidence or underestimating his own brilliance, he just doesn't care to show it. And at some point, it may even be because he thinks no one really deserves to get his best. He isn't cheap. He knows that he can do it. He just doesn't want to.

5) He was thought manners

Other than respecting ladies, there's a lot about him that shows his maturity and nobility. Leona is indeed real prince, but doesn't care to show it. With that being said, know that he can go from 0 to 100 in a matter of second, just like he did in Fairy Gala and turned into the prince who stole hundreds of hearts.

The thing is unlike Malleus, he doesn't feel the need to act like the royalty he is, most likely because of the same reason we previously discussed: He doesn't think that anyone is worthy of getting that side of him. He can act like a prince, but doesn't see a need to do so. In summary it's more of a: "Yes, I can be just perfect, but you won't deserve it anyway,"

Give Leona the motivation to reveal that hidden side, and you'll see how it'll impress you. Keep that in mind that we don't even know how stunning he can be when he is serious.

6) He is different from the rest of the NRC

One of the most important facts about him which is often ignored, come on! There're too many things that separate him from the rest of the students but are rarely paid attention to.

First off, unlike many of other students, Leona is an adult, and he's been one ever since he was a first grader. The importance of age explains a lot about one's personality, especially when it comes to a school.

While other students, especially 16 years olds like Ace and Deuce, still have a lot to go through to and are much and less open to learning a new thing from experiencing like they're just doing now, Leona is the least likely (Except Lilia) to face those character developments through his 4 years in NRC because he's already gone through them back in his 16s and 17s.

Even his overblot had the least effect on him and unlike Riddle who tried to come up with a rather softer personality and make a difference in his new self, Leona did nothing but to walk off and even during chapter 3 in which Savanaclaw helped MC to defeat Octavinelle, he didn't treat MC any kindlier than before.

His attitude is already shaped as it is, and since he's no longer a teenager it might be really hard to be changed. This is probably the biggest difference between him and the rest of the students in NRC; his personality is rough and almost impossible to be changed now.

7) He loves to be praised

Remember that we talked about that part of him remaining a child? His love for receiving compliments is a result of it.

Though he doesn't need anyone to bring any of his gorgeous features to his attention, he just wants to see people recognize them and beg him to show them more.

If you walk up to him and say how attractive or powerful he looks he'd probably answer you with either an "I know," or an "Of course I am,".

During his Fairy Gala voice lines he once said: "Sorry, I'm used to compliment," which can be defined into some interesting facts about him.

Since Jack too mentioned that he entered NRC because he looked up to Leona as his role model, we can assume that Leona is more than just a forgotten second prince back in his hometown. And since he said that he's used to compliment, it might be that he's already famous and admired by his fans as he already is.

But just as we said, compliment is something he enjoys receiving in general; it isn't going to effect him in any special way that might change anything about his personality.

It can't be said that he'd ever mind having someone around to phrase him though, he's more of an "Phrase me and don't stop" type and it isn't something that he'd ever reject unless it turns into something annoying.

8) There's a rather interesting stories behind his lazy nature

This one is rather important, Leona doesn't sleep because he's always tired or sleepy in general. And you need to know that Leona's sleeping issues are totally different from someone like Silver's!

Silver literally can't control his sleeping issues and that's how he's often found asleep in weird places but doesn't even know how he suddenly falls asleep while Leona, can stay awake by his own will whenever he wants to, he's just doesn't want to.

In contrast to a rather common belief on Leona being extremely lazy, he can actually be really hard working at the time. This guy had been through some extreme training as a child, therefore he can do way harder now that he's an adult. Sleeping is literally his way of saying "I don't care", so whenever he's got nothing interesting or worthy of staying up for, he goes back to sleep.

If we give it a psychological look sleeping too much often happens to people whose lives have no specific goals, they're neither motivated nor interested to stay awake if they've got nothing to do so -> Sleeping is the best thing they can do. You can tell that Leona sort of lacks motivation in general, because this considerably lazy lion is the same person as the one who's already working his ass off to prepare for the magic shift tournaments.

In the end, all that matters is what he desires. He's also pretty obsessive with his goals so when he wants something, there's nothing to hold him back from doing anything to achieve his goal. He wants it, he gets it.

9) Leona can be childish, but he isn't a child

We previously discussed why his childhood has effected his personality and now, you may wonder how it's effected him. A child's crucial needs are necessary to be fulfilled during their childhood because they. But even as those needs aren't taken care of, they would remain as holes inside the child's personality, because they're necessities which the child's character will always lack. This is much and less of what I meant by saying that this part of Leona always remains a child.

We talked about how he loves to be praised and appreciated, but now let's think of another example that can reveal that wild child. At nearly the end of Octavinelle's chapter, he was literally acting like a big bad boy taking candy (contract) from a baby (Azul). It's not just that, we can tell that he somehow enjoys bullying and teasing others in general. He won't even take it easy on his close friends like Ruggie or Jack, as he repeatedly insulted Jack back in chapter 2 & 3 and was even close to killing Ruggie in chapter 2.

Leona wants to feel powerful, and to be treated like a King. That's why he sometimes enjoys ordering others like Ruggie around all though he knows that before everything, Ruggie is his friend and deserves to be treated better.

He didn't have many friends as a child, therefore he doesn't really get to be a the perfect friend that his allies might deserve now. It's something rather hard to change about him, but those who know and care for him would certainly understand him and know that this is just the way he is, just like Jack and Ruggie are doing now. They could've left him all alone instead of staying by his side all the time, yet they continue to support and be there for him because they do care for Leona.

10) For now, Malleus is the Mufasa of his story

This one's pretty interesting, I really appreciate the creativity used in this design. We all know that Leona's creation was inspired by Scar from 1994's Lion King, therefore I'm pretty sure that almost all of you are familiar with Lion King's famous tragedy:

As the result of Mufasa's reign over the past few years, hyenas had been living in hunger and dread, there wasn't much food left for them to hunt and they didn't dare stepping into Mufasa's territory either. So Scar decided to take advantage and convinced hyenas that their hard and pitiful lives is Mufasa's fault as the King. He gained their attention and support to help him bring down the King, and promised them the wealthiest of lives where they'll never go hungry again in return. And that's how his plan to kill his own brother succeeded.

Now try to use the same plot in twst, but how is it possible? You may think that it must be with Farena Kingscholar because, Mufasa was also Scar's brother, but there's a problem: Farena isn't in NRC.

We don't know what is going to happen in the future storyline where we might get to face a real legacy between Leona and Farena, but for now, he needs someone in the Night raven College itself to play the role of that special rival so he can present his inner villain. And who would that special rival be? Malleus Draconia.

Now think about what happened in chapter two:

Savanaclaw had been the winner of magic shift tournament for decades until Malleus Draconia entered NRC. His iconic magic skills and horrifying powers led to Diasomnia's championship over the last two years. Savanaclaw is pissed off because they literally can't do anything against him and Leona on the other hand is so mad, (This point would be discussed in the next part) and can't stand Malleus wiping the whole Savanaclaw out for a third year. To top it off, he knows that if this happens again, Malleus would find his way to NRC's hall of fame. So Leona convinces the whole Savanaclaw that it's unfair to the rest of the NRC to lose the chance of revealing their talents and using their skills because of Malleus, and asks them to help him bring Malleus down therefore not only Savanaclaw would have a chance to win again, but also the rest of the students will actually have an opportunity to join a fair battle against each other.

See? This is JUST how Scar used Hyenas' weakness against them to make them pave the way for him and bring his enemy down. But the most interesting part is, it didn't end up in victory like Scar's plan did!

11) His relationship with Malleus has a lot to tell

Some may wonder just how does he think of Malleus? What is the feeling is even supposed to be? Is it jealousy? Hatred? Confusion? But I'm not going to talk about how he exactly feels. Instead, I want to talk about why he's feeling so.

First off, you need to know that Malleus and Leona are two sides of the same coin. They're both princes, they come from well known familiesband they're both great and often feared magicians but, there are some big differences:

Malleus would soon be the King, is among the greatest magicians of the world, is respected and well-known throughout the whole Twisted Wonderland and always finds his way to be the number one in anything that he's involved in.

The big difference between Leona and Malleus is that Malleus has gained everything that Leona always wished to have, he achieved them and Leona failed to do so. Malleus presents the picture perfect Leona thad he'd always wanted to be, and that's why Leona can't stand him.

It's not like he can be blamed for feeling so though, even the thought is painful. Imagine knowing that someone just like you exists in this world which has got everything that you once wanted, just why should it be so? Why should Malleus be the one to have them and not Leona? Isn't this life just too unfair...?

And the most irritating part about this is that Malleus doesn't feel the same way. Leona considers him to be his greatest enemy yet Malleus doesn't even consider Leona a rival. Malleus is always calm while Leona rushes to him which again is annoying, as if he doesn't take Leona seriously at all and this is driving Leona crazy.

That's why he can basically do anything just to make Malleus frown at least, he doesn't care if he's okay himself or not because all he wants is Malleus not to be okay. Another annoying fact about it is that it's really hard to insult or use anything against Malleus because he's just...too perfect. Even Leona won't dare underestimate his powers because he knows that it'll end in no good. He's basically looking for each and every possible detail about Malleus to use against him.

Just like how he did back in Malleus's SR robes story. He couldn't use anything better than telling Malleus that he'll never be invited and making fun of his horns to insult him. It's so annoying when you want to torture someone so badly but you just have nothing useful against them. He is ready to do everything to make Malleus angry, to make his calm and respectful expression disappear and finally take Leona seriously as his rival and enemy.

I'm sure that Leona doesn't know anything about Malleus's tamagotchi otherwise he would've told the whole school about it by now.

12) He isn't one to easily fall in love or to be effected by anyone

Many of the previous parts can reason this point, we talked about his personality, why it's so hard to change anything about him and how we should let Leona be Leona. But still many wonder if he can still fall in love? And the answer is: Yes. Leona as well can fall in love but it isn't necessarily easy.

Leona isn't used to letting people in and accepting that he needs them in life, which is why a relationship with him can have a pretty slow development.

In the first place, it'll take a rather long time for him to first trust someone let alone accepting them as a friend. He's pretty hard to approach you see, mostly because he often wants to be left on his own. He doesn't want to desire or need anyone and doesn't think that he'll ever need any other beings except for the times when he wants to get his room cleaned or have his meal prepared.

Love is something odd to him and it takes a very long time for him to actually feel it. You might think that he won't get it when someone loves him to the point of having to slap and shout: "Can't you see that I'm flirting with you..!??", but he's actually the total opposite. Note that he's pretty smart and would quickly realize it when someone's even staring at him, so nothing would be easier than telling if someone if having a crush on him. But he'd pretend that he doesn't know.

He doesn't really care what others feel about him and even as one loves him, he sees no reason to love them back. Whoever his lover is, they need to be really really patient with him because they must prove him that they aren't giving up this easily. He'd most likely try to tell you off and make you hate him multiple times, it really confuses him to see someone not letting go of him despite knowing how cold and mean he can be. He isn't a stray cat that would that would have his heart melted if you give him some head pats or treat him nicely, gaining Prince Leona's attention is no easy.

Even as he falls in love, it isn't going to totally change everything about him, so we can't expect him to let go of each and every poor manner of his because some of them are basically linked to the way he is in general.

He'd be different though, he tries to be more respectful and charming toward the one he desires, but as a lover he's often the: "Shut up and kiss me" type. He'd still be into teasing, but not in a humiliative way. He just enjoys messing with the people he likes so it's more of his way to play with his darling and showing admiration!

Beware though, if he falls in love, his darling would be his new goal, and he'd take no effort in making his darling his and only his. If he wants the darling, it must be him and only him who will get to have them. Just as much as it's so rare of him to actually reach the level of loving someone, know that he'll be so dangerous when he's serious about it. He won't be messing around when it comes to love.

I can keep talking about him all day but this has already gotten really long and I don't want it to get boring or any longer to read- I must admit that Leona's charater is quite interesting to study and the amount of details about his personality is surely fascinating!

#Twst #twisted wonderland #Twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #Character analysis #leona Kingscholar #leona Kingscholar x reader

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Hey I read this somewhere idk a fic or something maybe idk if its canon, that like brucie Wayne is Bruce's public, tabloid persona, dicks is Richie grayson and only people who knew him, family or friends call him dick

hmmmm. see, here’s where it gets a bit tricky babe.

so, it’s very clear that bruce has 3 different personalities: “brucie wayne,” the over-the-top borderline alcoholic playboy who throws money around like it’s nothing and over the years, has become (not canonically, but accepted by the fandom as) a kind of dull but doting father. then there’s batman, the gruff professional legend that actually acts as more of a legend than a human and drives everything for the sake of the mission. and then there’s just bruce, who is a little more relaxed and caring version of batman that’s only let out around his family and a few close friends.

but dick,,,,doesn’t really have that?

now as far as i’ve seen and read, dick grayson is,,,,dick grayson. the public calls him “dick,” (or probably, as i headcanon, “dickie grayson”). he’s seen as a cute little kid that bruce took in during the early years. i’m stopping myself from screaming and saying a bunch of words because jesus christ is high society racist. then later on when he grew up, people started treating dick as a mini-bruce: a fun, flirty playboy.

the thing is, there isn’t,,,,that stark of a difference between dickie and dick. with bruce, you get whiplash, but for dick, it’s almost as if a couple pieces fall into place? they’re both cheerful, exuberant, funny people who are freely affectionate and loving.

(and part of that playboy persona is actually dick’s.

there’s an absolutely disgusting trend in comics that i’m sure almost all of you have noticed of dick being objectified, catcalled, and sexually assaulted by a lot of people in the dc universe, mostly women. and dick’s shown to be very uncomfortable with all this unwanted attention from people he doesn’t know or doesn’t know well. we all as readers are also uncomfortable with this.

but it’s also shown that when he’s with his friends, he does act playful, fun, and flirty. this is because there’s already a foundation of mutual trust and respect, along with a relationship built on years of friendship. once dick knows, is familiar with, and comfortable with someone, his naturally fun and flirty side comes out, and it’s usually mutual bantering on both sides. and dick’s okay with it. he enjoys it because it’s a way of him relaxing and playing with his friends, and it isn’t at all affected by his appearance or anything because he’s known these people for years, because knows that the mutual appreciation of each other comes from friendship.)

so there’s that: the fact that dickie grayson and dick grayson’s personalities aren’t all that different.

but then there’s the fact that dick grayson is a performer. and he has a lot of masks. it’s almost like there are minute personality changes every time dick’s company and position in the team or duo changes. this is partially due to evolving times, character changes, and of course different writers. but this is something i’ve seen happen with the same author, and if i’m wayyyy off-base, then this can just be a hc of mine that explains the way dick’s core personality changes from writer to writer (ignoring the few writers that just completely obliterated him.)

when dick’s with the titans, he steps up as a leader. he’s commands respect and gives respect in return, issues out orders, sometimes has some control issues but he works through those and learns to listen to his team. when dick’s with the original fab five, or kori, or babs, he lightens up a bit. he’s more easygoing, relaxed, and goofy. he’s still committed to his job and has a strong work ethic, but you can tell he allows himself to chill a little bit in the presence of people that he knows has his back.

when dick’s with the batfam, he acts as sort of an authority figure. this came after jason, once dick started assuming responsibility for tim, but it continued on with each addition. bruce has obviously been the figurehead and sort-of patriarch of the batfam since the beginning, and alfred and babs are people the bats love and respect and give credit where credit is due. and trust me, it’s a lot of credit. but dick’s become their emotional anchor, someone they know they can rely on, someone they fall back on when they need it. he’s their safety net. (although i have to say. recently jason has been turning into the batfam team mom. idk what that’s about but i am thoroughly amused and kinda enjoying it.)

when dick’s with bruce, he becomes,,,,,,,i don’t want to say more childlike because dick’s gone to great lengths to make sure bruce respects him and treats him as an adult. and bruce does, for the most part. but there’s years and years of history between the two of them, and you can’t just wipe away the years of bruce raising dick as his own kid. too much has happened for them to go back to the easy dynamic they used to have, but too much happened in the past for them to ever pretend like they don’t mean as much as they do to each other. so,,,yea dick takes on a little more of a childlike role and bruce acts a tad more paternal than he normally does in the suit.

and when dick’s allied up with people to defeat either a greater or common enemy, his demeanor changes once again. allied, or fighting against people he has history with. this includes shrike, deathstroke, and tiger. when he’s with them, the nightwing mask drips into his entire personality. he’s chatty and witty, but each word is carefully calculated and has a purpose. he makes barbed jokes, fights with 110% of what he’s got, and pushes himself to his limits without ever letting anyone else know.

this is probably how the public never figures out he’s nightwing. (,,,,,,,most of the time.) dickie grayson is probably just different enough from nightwing that no one puts it together. going back to my point of dick being a performer, he probably holds himself differently, moves his body differently, styles his hair differently, has a different resting face, etc. these subtle changes are what people absorb easily, and are what throw people off. dick also probably uses this in the other masks i mentioned above, depending on how approachable, easy, or cunning he needs to appear.

there are constantly thousands of masks that dick’s putting on and taking off. so to sum up my own, person opinion and very long, very wordy, very rambly answer to your quick question: no, dick doesn’t have different drastic personalities like brucie wayne and batman. but dick does have a bunch of masks, and he slightly shifts his personality depending on his company.

#dick grayson #nightwing #batfam #dc #long post #dick grayson meta #nightwing meta #batfam meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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(Pact) Marks the Spot - [Beelzebub x Fem!Reader]

It’s 1 AM. Have some Beelzebub smut.

Now I’m getting all kinds of pact mark ideas. May put out some pact mark headcanons.

Unedited because it’s 1 AM.

Despite the thousands of years demons had been alive, pact marks were exceedingly rare. Mostly because humans had lost the ability to summon. Most people who managed to summon demons did it by sheer luck or for nefarious reasons. Sometimes it took multiple attempts to pull a demon; half the time demons took pity on the humans and showed up for the hell of it (and a snack). At the end of the day, demons had to choose to make a pact and that was rare in itself.

Giving your real name had inconceivable power in a world like the Devildom, where non-humans roamed. Making a pact had the same weight and bore the same vulnerability.

And yet you had several.

Mammon’s pact mark was on the side of your arm where bicep meets shoulder, Levi’s was on the back of the opposite shoulder (even his pact mark wanted to stay away from Mammon!) and Beel’s was adjacent to your belly button, basically on your hip.

It was rare for a human to have one pact mark, let alone three. You were slowly learning things about pact marks. Things that hadn’t happened in so long they were basically speculation in the Devildom. Demons could “pull” on the pact marks just like humans could, and each brother had a different sensation. When Mammon secretly vied for your company, it felt like a hummingbird beat against your shoulder, a little kid pulling hesitantly on your sleeve. Levi rarely “pulled” on his pact mark, but when he did it was a long push with gentle pressure, like fingertips on your skin. Beelzebub never consciously pulled on your pact mark and you swore you only got his muscle pains.

Satan was absolutely bewildered by the concept. Shouldn’t you be able to feel something else with Beel? Surely you’d at least be a little hungry, right? It sparked many conversations between the brothers and Diavolo. Did Beel not have this ability for some reason? Was it because he was sixth-strongest? Could you only feel things with Mammon and Levi because they were second- and third-strongest, respectively?

Beel was basically already linked with Belphegor…did that hinder his ability to “pull” with you? Satan, for all his infinite knowledge and even greater amount of books, could not answer this. There were ancient scrolls in Diavolo’s castle that were too frail to unroll. No one wanted to test it, honestly, and appreciated them as the relics they were. They had been translated and written up several times over the centuries, but the books were either missing pages or just gone completely.

Humans who’d summoned demons in the past liked to ask for Devildom “souvenirs” and textbooks were a favorite. So many had been traded for favors from summoners or witches. Diavolo vividly recalled a brazen attendant spiriting one away now and then; he was convicted and executed for selling them to traders. Most of them were never recovered.

Beelzebub could come when summoned and that’s what mattered. They chose not to look into it any farther than that. What would it matter? There was nothing written on it anymore. There were quiet whispers that maybe you couldn’t feel Beel “pull” because you weren’t as close to him as Levi and Mammon. As in: you could pull from him per the ‘master’ clause of the pact, but he chose not to pull on you.

That hurt you, honestly, because he was an absolute sweetheart. Out of all of them, you could definitely SEE the ex-angel in him and how he acted. How he treated people. You thought you got along well! You liked to go on walks, try new food, and sometimes he used you as resistance weight when he practiced!

If that wasn’t being close, what was?!

You’d been thinking about it a lot, so used to Mammon’s ghosting squeeze throughout the day. It was like his way of checking on you without saying it aloud (because he could never be honest). Sometimes you could feel Levi’s frustration, your shoulder prickling like a knot forming on the muscle. But Beel? You didn’t feel anything in particular when you brushed your fingers over the mark, shirt held up in front of a mirror as if that would give you a sign.

When you touched the pact mark for the other brothers, there’d be a push back. Almost like a question. Yes, do you need something? It was crazy how the sensations could put words in your brain. Almost like they were translated for you, a human, to comprehend. That human-demon translation was possible; Satan had found that much.

So the brothers were basically telepathic. To an extent.

You’d pout in front of the mirror and wish to feel something. You’d stand there for ages, wondering if you were pushing any buttons in Beel’s brain. Triggering a want to send you a sign. When nothing happened, you’d let your shirt drop down and go about your day.

Your wish was finally answered one morning when a low, throbbing warmth seemed to radiate from the mark. You didn’t get your hopes up. It was probably a muscle cramp, some kind of post-stretch that had Beel feeling tender. A sharp pain bolted through you as you changed into your RAD uniform, the force of it enough to make you lean into the wall for support. It definitely felt like a muscle cramp, like someone who’d done a lot of ab work bent too low the next day.

It scared you to think this was only a fraction of what he felt. The pact mark was supposed to filter down emotions and sensations to levels that humans could tolerate, but only when the demon focused. If the demon was taken by surprise or felt something stronger than they anticipated, that would reflect in their pact mate.

Whatever he was feeling had your stomach in a flutter. The throbbing had dulled but a twisting sensation had taken its place. You felt something building, building, building in your stomach. A warmth overtook you, first nice and relaxing, then searing, and you wondered if Beelzebub had put on some kind of muscle cream. Half-dressed, you ran to the twins’ room to see what he was doing.

It was a brief run, and the rush of air seemed to cool your stomach. You thanked your lucky stars that Belphegor was nowhere to be found as you burst into the room. The throbbing sensation returned with a vengeance, the heat swelling in you as you drew upon the bathroom. One of the brothers was showering in there.

You started for the bathroom, whimpering when the throbbing grew strong enough to make your thighs shake. Clutching the doorway, you pressed your thighs together. A light-headed feeling overcame you and you swear you saw glimpses of white. Glimpses of Beel with an unnaturally long tongue snatching the shower curtain back and watching you with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

That flash of light must’ve only been seconds but you awoke to droplets of water raining down on you. Beelzebub towered over you, naked and freshly showered and radiating a warmth almost identical to what you felt in the pact mark. He slammed the door shut with a shove that snapped you to your senses.

You felt like you were recovering from a shockwave. Ripped from a dream.

“Fuck,” you heard Beel hiss. A grumbling, guttural sound rolled in his throat as he propped you up, hands scooting you back against the door, pushing your legs flat, pulling you up by the shoulders so you sat a little straighter, and propping your chin up against a few of his fingers so you could look at him.

His horns were out.

“Why are you mad at me?” you slurred, sounding offended.

“I’m not.” He gnashed his teeth in frustration and it was the first time you’d seen them up close. He and Satan had the sharpest teeth in the family. That was something of a bragging right between the two, enhanced by their sins, but they looked even sharper now. “I’m just…” Beel struggled with his words, his brow furrowed in thoughtfulness and agitation, “feeling a lot of things right now.” his chest heaved as the words finally came out.

Those big hands flexed in emphasis, in frustration that he couldn’t make you understand.

“Like?” the fog was starting to clear from your brain.

“Like how I choose not to connect with you because I care about you. I don’t want you to feel the endless hunger I feel, the absolute power it has over me.” Beel was starting to find his center, to calm down. “Like how upset I felt when my brothers even suggested I can’t pull on your pact mark because I feel nothing for you.” His horns flared again, cracking audibly as the spiraled around his wet hair. They seemed to harden and curl with conviction.

Kind of like a bull getting ready to charge and gore someone.

“Then what the hell was that?” you make a point to look at his face, to crane your neck up so he doesn’t think you’re following the lines of his chest or looking between his legs.

His eyes softened as he looked at you. They glittered against the bathroom light and wet floor. Beel’s lips lifted in a sweet smile hemmed with fangs. A blush lit his cheeks, starting at his cheekbones and spreading, when he broke your gaze. “I pulled on your pact mark.” Beel’s eyes shot to yours with a suddenness that made you flinch and hit your head against the wall.

You felt frozen in place. His eyes were hard and dark, like a real violet crystal. “Wh-what was I supposed to feel?” your voice was so small you wondered if he heard it. You had an idea of what it was, but you wanted to hear him say it. To have him admit it.

“How much I love you.” Beel said slowly, his face completely turned away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you if you felt anything less. There was something else he could say, but he was afraid it’d be too much considering this ‘confession’ happened because urges got the best of him. Because he let his feelings sit for too long instead of being honest with you.

“Was it supposed to feel like an orgasm?”

WHY DID IT COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?! IT WAS TRUE, BUT WHY?! Here Beel was with his beautiful soul and his shy confession and you just STEAM ROLLED OVER IT!

The heat flared in your stomach again, swift and hot and somehow worse despite the fact you were sitting on a cold bathroom floor. Beel’s fingers reached for one of your ankles and he stopped himself. Burning eyes stared into you, and it was the first time you saw the muscles in his throat and jaw strain to hold his tongue. It slithered between his teeth, serpentine and seeking. “I love you that way, too.” Beel mumbled shyly, looking down.

Looking away, as if he was ashamed to say so.

You felt yourself melt against the floor, hoping the cold would soothe your burning body and calm your beating heart. Beel fell down around you, propping himself up on a forearm carefully placed by your head. “It’s a different kind of hungry,” he whispered with a hint of anguish and terror, forehead against his fist, “and I am not made to bear it. This isn’t supposed to be my sin.”

Beel wanted to cry. He was afraid his feelings were too strong for you, a human.

It finally hit you. This beefy cinnamon roll loved you and lusted over you. He was so overwhelmed with the sheer love he had for you—more than one kind—that it finally broke through his pact mark filter. When you realized that it made you feel even more special. It meant he’d been thinking of you, focusing for your benefit, this whole time.

“I can share that burden,” you whispered quietly, bumping his chin with your forehead. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees lightning fast, slipping a little on the floor. Your hands shot out to hold his shoulders in case he fell (not that it would do anything).

“You mean it?” Beel’s eyes were wide and searching. “You feel what I feel?” he asked, cupping your face in one hand, fingers reaching around the back of your head to cradle it.

“Yeah.” You blushed, pressing your cheek into his hand as you looked away. That big purr rolled in his chest, the one he was happy to give when you hugged him. The pact mark gave off a subdued warmth that surrounded you and comforted you. It felt like he was hugging you to him. It translated to Look at me, and you saw his violet eyes blazing, tongue slithering out in its ravenous glory.

It was one of the first times you’d really seen his “demon” qualities shining through. It was fascinating in a shameful way; you couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. I’m about to feast, you could feel the cold floor on your bare skin now, and you wondered how many pieces your clothes were in.

He was starting to salivate a little and your heart leapt in your throat as those sharp teeth winked at you. Beel pressed himself flat against you, peppering your naked stomach with sloppy, hungry kisses. A small part of you—an irrational, stupid part—thought he’d start burrowing through until he hit muscle and organ. Instead he traced with his lips and tongue, strong hands coming up to grab at whatever he could reach. Beelzebub kissed his pact mark and you swore he conspired with it, your walls clenching around nothing and desperately wanting something.

“So beautiful,” Beel’s groping turned to massaging and kneading. Wet kisses slipped down towards your sex and he hummed against you. Hummed in restraint and desire. In contentedness that he could have this moment. His fingers found you first, teasing your clit and running the length of your slit before delving inside. You both cursed, probably at the same time.

You braced one foot on his chest as he propped your hips up with his free hand. Your back arched, head bumping into the wall. Beel’s fingers kept a steady, surprisingly tame pace. A total contrast to the eager head you could feel prodding at your back as he rolled his hips. His fingers dragged along your walls, curling in ways that made your body clench.

Everything was hot and you didn’t know if it was the closeness of him or the pact mark. Was he sharing his feelings with you or just exploiting your deliciously sensitive human nerves? It didn’t take long for you to orgasm. You looked at him through his lashes, mewling as he gingerly folded your knees to your chest and opened you up. It was stretching muscles and kindling feelings that had barely started to die.

“You look pretty like this,” Beel rasped in a voice cut with fangs. He kissed your ankle a few times, moving towards the bend of your knee as he stared down at you with a mix of love and pure hunger. Humans were delectable all their own, but the tang of your orgasm was something he’d rip people apart for. The desire to taste you overtook him, his tongue snaking out of his mouth as he buried himself between your thighs.

You gave a wanton moan that damn near made him orgasm. As an angel, he never understood how demons could torment humans so. Now? Now he perfectly understood the almost obsessed drive to coax all of these pretty noises out of them. How such a thing was worth the damnation, the rumors, and the reputation.

He was kissing you and suckling you and you saw the white come back into your vision again. You thought your heart was going to give out! You bobbed in and out of consciousness with each throb of pleasure, your body trying desperately to clench around the muscle. Beelzebub indulged in your orgasm like the last bite of an exquisite meal, daring to flick your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue as he drew it back into his mouth. The Avatar of Gluttony licked the corner of his lip, as he often did when he was satisfied with a meal (a small quirk you’d picked up on).

His lips were puffy and shiny, much like yours. He let you catch your breath, resting one leg on his shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you how I felt,” Beel muttered as he rubbed the leg on his shoulder comfortingly. He put your other leg on his shoulder, squeezing your calves now. “I knew I would always be hungry. I would always want you. I didn’t want you to feel like meat….like an object.”

“But I liked how that felt.” You smiled at him.

“I’m trying to be serious,” Beel huffed, sliding your legs down to his hips as he moved between your legs to meet your gaze. His lips ghosted over your chest and latched onto your neck. “I could eat you all day long,” he said more to himself, the words muffled by his lips. Beelzebub started to rut against you. At some point he must’ve orgasmed because his cock was slick, sliding across your sex and rubbing on your stomach.

His teeth pinched your neck and you gasped. Beel’s cock twitched.

“You have control, and I know you love me. Sex is just a bonus.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. Beel’s kisses turned almost kittenish as he basked in the feel of you hugging him, cradling him so gently. His heart swelled with love as he nuzzled against your skin. He felt your legs winding around him as you tried to angle yourself for his cock to find. He reached between your bodies to stroke himself.

“If I don’t,” he managed between grunts of ecstasy and frustration, “I’ll get you pregnant.”

Was that a warning or a promise? He certainly had the stamina for it.

Was there scientific evidence of demon sperm being especially potent for humans? Beel finished on your stomach before your thoughts could wander too far. He felt the desire ebb for the first time in what felt like ages and leaned back to take in how angelic you looked on the floor with your messy hair and tender body just starting to blossom with the colors of his affection. It seemed impossible, but that sight was more satisfying than fulfilling a craving. He laughed to himself—poor little dazed human. A cute little dazed human, though—as he cleaned you off with the towel he’d set aside for his shower.

Beel swaddled you in a new towel, wrapped one around his waist, and stood to collect you. He set you on his bed and shrugged into some clothes. The sight was just as nice as the sex, if not better. He handed you a shirt, his eyes shining like an excited puppy as he waited for you to put it on. You slipped it on and he purred long and deep, sliding into bed with you. The sixth-born scooped you into his strong arms, pressing your stomach against his face and bringing you up towards the headboard.

“I love you,” he kissed your stomach. Kissed his pact mark.

“I love you,” you petted and played with his drying hair. The post-sex lull sauntered in and your thoughts began to slow. The last coherent one you remembered was how were we not interrupted?

“I told Asmodeus I was going to confess to you and Lucifer overheard. He was a little concerned things would ‘evolve into impropriety’ so I made a bet with him. If he and my brothers could pin me to the floor, he could supervise the confession. If I won, I could do it my way.”

You stopped petting his hair, now wide awake. “You beat all of your brothers?!”

“Of course!” he laughed into your stomach. “Well...sort of. Levi didn’t try, Asmodeus sat out as a protest, and Satan and Belphie just watched. Mammon was going to take bets but Lucifer said if he helped, he’d pay off some of his credit card debt.”

“So you beat up Lucifer and Mammon?”

“Not totally,” Beelzebub shimmied up the bed until you were nose-to-nose, wrapping his arms around you. “I threw Mammon out of the house a few times; he finally decided to watch through the window. Lucifer fought the hardest.”

“When are they coming back?”

As if to answer you, his D.D.D started going off. Beelzebub reluctantly untangled himself to grab it. You could hear him opening and closing chats. “Soon,” he replied as he set it down. “It took them a while to agree on furniture.” He tucked himself into you again.

“Furniture?!”

“Well…we broke a few things.” He admitted bashfully. “A lot of things.”

Now you were tempted to go down and see what the first floor looked like. Beelzebub felt your leg stretch over him, your body trying to push off the bed. There was a gentle insistence in your stomach, like a little weight pressing you to the bed. A sweeping feeling of comfy and cuddle me that sapped your willpower. Beelzebub was pulling on your pact mark.

#Beelzebub x reader #Obey me!#Obey me! x reader #Beel x Reader

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daysswiftlycomeandgo · 3 years ago

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I've been thinking about how upset some people get about fans shipping non-canon gay or lesbian ships. There are plenty of arguments out there on both sides, some more valid than others. But what I want to talk about is the assumption that someone who ships a same sex couple, only ships same sex couples and that these fans can't enjoy a friendship between two characters of the same sex without wanting it to be romantic.

Now I've been reading fanfiction for close to 2 decades and I've shipped couples across the spectrum of sexuality. And I fall firmly in the camp of: I ship couples that have the most development and it just so happens that most media up to this point has been dictated by white men and thus the characters who get the most development are white males and males in general tend to have more characterization than women.

So as someone who ships same sex couples and also loves a good friendship/found family, I just want to give some examples of different forms of storytelling and how they affect shipping. (This is only from my perspective and I am in no way a professional.)

Now of all the shows I've loved and obsessed over in my life, the two shows that come to mind quickest in terms of quality friendship storytelling are Psych and Scrubs. The center of both of these shows is a friendship between two males and yet the most popular ships of these shows are the heterosexual ones. I would argue this is the case because the shows gave actual storylines to their female characters and gave them lives outside of the male characters. When you have fully fleshed out characters it's way easier to become invested in their relationships.

Let's take a closer look at Psych. We meet Juliet in the second episode of the series, and while the attraction between her and Shawn is obvious, it takes 4 and a half seasons for them to start dating. Throughout the first four seasons there is a much greater focus on Juliet adjusting to a new city and new job and proving herself. We see her build close friendships to Lassiter and Chief Vick as well as Shawn and Gus. Throughout the series we see Shawn change more as a result of his relationships with Gus and Henry than as a way to get Juliet to go out with him. Juliet and Shawn build a mutual respect and love for each other before ever dating. And they have other relationships in their lives that are just as important to them as their romantic one.

Which leads into the friendship between Shawn and Gus which is the most important relationship in the entire show (followed closely by Shawn and Henry). Shawn knows when to push Gus out of his comfort zone and Gus knows when he needs to pull Shawn back. They are open with each other about their jobs, their sex lives, their families, their insecurities, etc. Something interesting to me is that there are multiple scenes in Psych in which Shawn and Gus pretend to be romantic partners when working a case. Usually something like that would be shipping fodder, but Psych treats it as a given, a natural product of their closeness and the situation at hand. There is no gay panic or even an ounce of awkwardness afterwards. The scene happens and they continue on as they always do.

I feel no desire to ship Shawn and Gus because the relationships presented to me are already the best version I can imagine. Shawn and Juliet are great as a couple and I love seeing them together. At the same time Shawn and Gus have the best friendship on tv and I appreciate Psych for giving us that content.

Now compare that to my current obsession: 9-1-1. I very much ship Buck and Eddie together and I truly feel it is a product of the show making their relationship to each other, and to Christopher, as the most significant in their lives. Outside of Abby, and Shannon to an extent, the love interests for Eddie and Buck have been bland. Ali was only around a short time but what do we even know about her? We learn more about her in the earthquake episodes than we do during her entire relationship with Buck. Other than learning she travels for work during her last episode, we know nothing about her and nothing about her and Buck's relationship. Now Taylor is a little better as we learn in her first episode that she has always wanted to be a reporter and that she is willing to do anything to get there. Then in Season 4, we see her friendship with Buck first and get an idea of what they're like together. But we still don't know anything about what's important to her or her values or what she wants in life outside of her job. We see her tear up when talking about Covid but we get no context for why this is effecting her more than other stories. It doesn't feel like we ever really get a reason for why they like way other so much. Which is different from Buck and Abby who connect through their jobs and appreciate someone understanding the difficulty of being a first responder.

As for Ana, what do we know? She was Christopher's teacher and is now a vice principal and is pretty? She has no history, no agency, no motivations outside of wanting to date Eddie. We see her with Chris but not actually interacting with or talking to him. She is a nothing but a stock photo version of a girlfriend.

Compare that to what we see of Eddie and Buck together. Buck going to visit Santa with Eddie and Christopher, actively spending time with Chris, being the person Christopher goes to when he is panicking, taking care of Chris after Eddie has been shot. Buck losing it when Eddie is buried alive and when he's been shot. Eddie losing it when the lawsuit keeps him from being able to talk to Buck. Eddie being Buck's major support during Buck Begins. All of the tiny moments we get of the two, really three, of them at parties and at each other's places. Eddie using Buck's first name as a way to reinforce that Evan is important, not just Buck. That he made him Christopher's legal guardian in case of Eddie's death without even telling him because that's how confident Eddie was in that decision. That Buck doesn't have to sacrifice himself to matter and in fact should never sacrifice himself because that's how much he already does matter.

When a show gives me that much emotional context to characters that we know so much about already, of course I'm going to ship them together rather than with the love interests who are barely even real people within the story.

#psych usa #911 fox #buddie #shawn x juliet #shawn and gus

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mfkinanaa · 4 years ago

Text

CANCER RISING.

Born with Cancer on your Ascendant (or Rising), self-realization comes through a sophisticated attunement to your highly developed feeling nature.

You make sense of life through instinct and emotion.

You are likely to experience strong intuitions, and at times psychic sensibilities, and will therefore need to learn the difference between insight and projection.

Because you are so sensitive, you must recognize the impact that this can have on you.

You will need to acknowledge your sensitivity, accept your desire to nurture and support others, and acknowledge when this sensitivity leads you to take on too much, or become overly responsible for how others feel.

Learning to use your intuition to guide your choices is an important skill.

Self-awareness will grow as you develop emotional intelligence.

Your Home is Your Castle.

You may be very adaptable to change in your external circumstances, but need a peaceful and secure home base for your foundation. Home is very important, providing a sanctuary from the outside world. You may have a tendency to switch off and retreat here from time to time, especially when hurt, depressed, uncertain or confused.

You are likely to need clean, comfortable surroundings, and will prefer the company of refined people who can appreciate your unique qualities. Often close to family and friends, you are probably domesticated, with good cooking skills, as well as very capable on the work front.

However, a love of travel means that it is important to have the means to be able to get up and go. You may enjoy frequent changes of environment, allowing you to soak up the most of what life has to offer by soaking up the atmospheres of unfamiliar places.

Business Smarts.

Cancer rising gives business acumen, and you could do well as an entrepreneur owing to your heightened sense of how to cater to public tastes. You bring a practical, cautious yet determined approach to your own affairs which translates to good business practice. There is often great tenacity here, and you are likely to accomplish what you set out to do, despite constant flux and changes.

With persistence as well as careful strategic planning, you can easily profit by providing what others need.

In your professional or personal life there may be a tendency to avoid direct confrontation. You may approach problems sideways, in an attempt to negotiate emotional boundaries. You may at times be inclined toward stinginess, owing to an overly cautious attitude to money, which comes down to fear about having the ability to control external circumstances. You should learn to trust your feelings enough to know when it is time to conserve what you have and when it is time to spend.

Heightened Sensitivity.

As Cancer is a Cardinal sign, you need to direct your sensitivities, but this must be done in a way that is not overwhelming. Learning how to offer support when required is important, but you need to understand you are not responsible for others’ emotional wellbeing. The ability to nurture comes easily to you. Opportunities to care for others leads to growth and self-awareness.

Yet knowing when to draw the line is paramount. You must learn what is and IS NOT yours to be responsible for.If not achieved, then your life may feature constant episodes of drama and emotional intensity.

In this case, you can attract weak, needy, helpless or manipulative people – people in extremes of emotional crisis – in order to learn valuable life lessons. You can find yourself in relationships where one partner plays the role of adult and the other becomes the child. You might find yourself wondering why all of your friends seem to have problems? At the end of the day, this may have something to do with your need to feel needed, or inability to say no?

Healthy relationships need to be formed without guilt or co-dependency. Lessons in partnership usually involve learning to control and discipline your responses, so that they are appropriate to the situation at hand. You must also learn to trust what your instincts are telling you.

Family Life.

Family is likely to be very important to you. You will happily take on the role of responsible care-giver in any situation and will thrive on knowing you have a happy and productive family life. Whether you choose to focus your attention on family of origin or family of choice, a stronger sense of self will come through maintaining close family ties.

When young, you may be deeply invested in the emotional state of your mother. This can be detrimental if bonds of responsibility are not transformed at a later stage. Letting go so as to develop independence and strength is crucial. You may have been dutiful as a child, shy and overly aware of the emotional undercurrents within your home.

It is easy for you to unconsciously take on your parents’ expectations, as you want to be obedient and conform to the family structure. Yet at the end of the day you must tread your own path. As you get older the action-oriented qualities of this sign should push you out into the world, to find your own identity on your own terms.

The Gift of Cancer Rising.

For greatest success, you need to understand how the ebb and flow of your own inner cycles, letting intuition guide you. Your sense of rhythm and timing will lead you to where you need to go. The accuracy of your often precise instincts is a great asset, and your intuitive hunches will almost always be spot on.

Trust your feelings and learn to decipher between what is real information and what is just an emotional response. In time you will learn that intuition is a higher form of knowledge and your feelings are in fact your sharpest tool.

LEO RISING.

Born with Leo on your Ascendant (or Rising) you are likely to find that a sense of authority and the opportunity for creative self-expression is necessary if your are to maintain your selfhood.

Accordingly, you will have your own unique or special way of doing this.

Your talents need to be developed so that they can grow.

In many ways, when Leo rises your task in life is to shine!

There is a strong need to be “somebody” – to feel important and respected somehow.

You will either grow in greater confidence and warmth of expression as you share your generous spirit with others, or develop a tendency toward affectation and extravagance which belies an underlying insecurity.

Much depends on the choices that you make.

Healthy Attention.

If Leo is your Ascendant you are likely to need attention and approval from others, so you are better off to admit that from the outset. The need to stand out in your own right is paramount. You have extraordinary reserves of creativity and love that need an outlet. Following your heart and exploring your passions will help you bring these gifts to the fore.

Once you feel you are getting the recognition you deserve then you can become a great source of fun, inspiration and leadership. Doing what you love brings your best qualities to the fore.

Larger than Life.

Just like the sun itself, you are likely to be fixed in focus -appearing constant and reliable, with a cheerful disposition that uplifts others. Life is to be enjoyed, and you may feel the need to live in a grand manner, befitting your “special” status. Or you may be happy with simple surroundings, but will make the effort to ensure there is plenty of time for pleasure, romance or fun.

In some ways you are likely to have a larger-than-life attitude. You are all about grand gestures, big dreams and stunning vistas. You are also likely to be a capable and demanding authority figure, well suited to leadership and managerial positions. Others respond well to your kindness, sense of fun, faith and optimism. As a rule, you tend to be proud, are sometimes insecure despite your capabilities, and hate above all else to be criticized.

As Leo is the sign of royalty, there may be a tendency to at times expect “the royal treatment” – indulgences befitting a personage of such elevated “status”. If not received, your temper tends to flare.

Overblown displays of outrage brought on by wounded pride can mask deep insecurities. The fear of ‘not being recognized’ easily becomes sullenness if you don’t feel that you are receiving your due.

A Born Leader.

The need for comfort and luxury is likely to lead you to work very hard for success. Your love of recognition makes achievement even more important for you. This is fine as long as you don’t work too hard, neglecting the family and friends who are after all your main audience and support crew. Give them their due attention and they will be there for you on the occasional day that you are down.

You are naturally here to lead in some way, but need to learn that leadership involves sharing command. Finding out what makes others special and unique helps you incorporate them into your plans. You must learn to temper your urge to fulfill your own potential by learning to appreciate and accept the contribution that every body makes to the whole, of which we are all a part.

Beware you don’t treat others with disdain or disrespect. You are so inclined to do things your own way, you may look down your nose, so to speak, at others who do not do things as you would. People will follow you gladly if you treat them with respect.

Scorn them, and they may leave you all alone, which is precisely the situation you fear. You need an audience or form of feedback to know you are performing at your best.

Turn Talents into Strengths.

When young you may have trouble adjusting your expectations to the actual circumstances of your life, but over time you will learn how to find the magic in the every day and the best in the people around you. Recognize where your talents lie and turn them into strengths. This means spending the time required to be your best and make the most of your unique gifts.

A positive statement for Leo rising is to affirm “I have the right to express my unique, individual creativity and spirit, and can do that without denying others the right to express theirs.”

The Gift Of Leo Rising.

It is important that you feel comfortable enough to show others who you really are, without demanding validation. Then you can shine from the uniqueness of your own creative spirit, bringing joy light and laughter to every situation in which you a part. You bring organizational and leadership qualities to any endeavour, with a natural flair for drama, creativity and fun.

VIRGO RISING.

Born with with Virgo on your Ascendant (or Rising), you are likely to view the world through the lens of mental analysis, with a view toward organization.

You have strong critical faculties and need to find practical outlets for your skills, talents and abilities.

Typically humble and at times self-effacing, you are likely be more concerned with being useful than being recognized.

You need to be productive – to be of service somehow – and your chosen career will typically give you the opportunity to experience best employ your skills.

You are likely to be practical, capable and dexterous.

You may be very good with facts, figures and details.

You may also be quite hard on yourself because of early childhood experiences, and need to learn to recognize and appreciate your talents.

The Urge For Service.

When your Ascendant is Virgo, you are usually willing to assist and be of service to others. Unless other chart factors dominate, you are likely to be hardworking, conscientious and studious. You like to know your place in the wider scheme, and feel most comfortable with a plan in place.

Cleanliness and order are often very important, as is the need to be systematic. You are likely to be good at solving problems, and will do well in any situation that requires you to work through an issue or challenge in a linear, demonstrable way.

A Tendency Toward Criticism.

Despite your abilities, you are likely to be tough on yourself, with a tendency to worry. If you do not perform tasks to an imagined standard of perfection you can be very self-critical. Your tendency to worry may undermine your nervous system, and the uncertainty of too much change can take a heavy toll.

On the way to realising your potential you may need to overcome a crippling lack of self-confidence. Virgo rising is often associated with a tendency to self-censor and self-criticize that can be debilitating. You may inwardly question and criticize every move that you make, leading to extreme levels of anxiety, and even chronic illness, if the impact on your nervous system becomes too much.

A Sensitive Constitution.

You may a have delicate constitution, and need to take extra care of your physical body. Your health, and especially digestion, is easily affected by negative thoughts and emotions. When anxious you will second-guess yourself. You may find yourself easily overwhelmed so that stress gets confused with logical analysis.

This confusion amplifies your tendency to self-doubt, and you should perhaps get feedback from others when you are spiralling down a mental sinkhole. Learning to praise, rather than criticize, your own talents is a great step forward. Developing a sense of purpose through being of assistance can work wonders.

Instead of trying to be perfect, perhaps you should aim instead to simply be better?

You may be very particular about food, which reflects your delicate nervous system. Learn to listen to your body and take care of your health, but watch out for tendencies to worry about your wellbeing as a substitute for something better to do!

Taking care of your self is a smart choice, and you will benefit greatly by incorporating a healthy diet, workable routines and natural therapies that can assist wellness. Regular practices such as yoga and meditation that work to synthesise mind/body focus are especially useful for you.

Discernment and Discrimination.

Whilst you enjoy doing things for others, you may have a need to try and control outcomes. This will be based on an innate fear of chaos or potential lack of order. You should make an effort to relax and welcome the input of other people. Look for people and experiences that can teach you how to flow, trusting in the natural rhythms of life without trying to preempt every outcome.

Virgo is associated with the assimilation of experience. This occurs through trial and analysis, through discernment and discrimination. Use the processes of metabolism and digestion as metaphors for your own approach to life, and in this way can learn to see any imbalances within your own body as perhaps symptomatic of an imbalance in how you are assimilating your experiences. Once you connect your fine sense of discrimination with your practical sensibility you can be of service to yourself and others in an unlimited numbers of ways.

The Gift of Virgo Rising.

At your best, you can be supportive, nurturing and stable helping others achieve practical outcomes. In this way, your sense of discernment, practicality and willingness to serve rises to the fore, adding purpose and fulfilment to your life. You do best with partners and friends who uplift you, helping you see the bigger picture behind immediate appearances.

#astroworld #astrology #astrotips #cancer rising #leo rising #virgo rising

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

shatter.

a/n: kirishima is best boy so when he is sad, i also get sad. god i wish he is real. anyways, i wrote this with that one image of him in my mind. you know, when he cried. oh, and happy new years eve.

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst

warnings: some guilt tripping?, toxic behavior if you squint, mentions of death

pairing: kirishima x gn!reader

summary: kirishima just couldn’t stand seeing you always getting hurt from doing hero work and he constantly persuades you to quit– through words and action.

“you’re gonna be a great hero, babe!” kirishima had an arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in to kiss your forehead.

three years in U.A. and it was finally graduation day. you both had your heart and mind set on your desired agencies, ready to serve and protect the society from evil as pro heroes.

you and kirishima work under different agencies but your relationship with him has remained steady ever since your last year in high school. now, you are together for almost three years with a small and cheap apartment to reside in though your schedules aren’t exactly the most favorable as a couple.

when kirishima has a day off, you have to be out for work and the same goes the other way around. even when both are at home, you barely get to speak to him since one of you is already sleeping while the other just got home. be that as it may, both are still very optimistic. it makes each moment together not to be taken for granted and it serves as a reminder to appreciate each other more. even when you are lightly awake from feeling the mattress dipping from behind, the moment he holds you close as he dozes off to sleep is something you greatly treasure.

but sometimes, one of you has to be out of town. far away from your home and one of you is bound to get some scratches and ugly bruises– which seems like you’re more a victim of. kirishima tends to be a worrywart and he gets upset that he can’t stay at home too long to take care of your needs and you need to assure him every time that you’ll be fine and that a good rest can get you back up on your feet.

the reassurance and the constant worrying tends to turn into a regular argument at some point. not forgetting when he suddenly starts to blame himself for how useless he is. when will he ever understand that this has nothing to do with him but your own carelessness? it’s getting all too mentally draining.

the nauseating feeling of not being good enough is already shitty and you don’t need the pity look he throws at you every now and then. you know he means well but it ticks you off when you have to say the same thing all over again and he needs to focus on his job. the villains out there are not going to shove their asses into prison by themselves and every argument in the house is a waste of time.

still, you have an admirable passion for your job and he respects that (or used to?). as a hero himself, he understands the risks pro heroes need to take and the kind of danger that they have to face everyday. kirishima knows that you’ve worked hard to be who you are today but certain times he fails to convince himself that you are fit to work in this field. kirishima doesn’t mean to disregard your work and all but hell, this sure isn’t the first time that you got a bad bruise on your body– though the broken foot is new (still doesn’t change the fact that you needed a cast for your arm before).

“please? retire for me?” he mutters under his breath, his eyes are wavering with worry from the other side of the room as he looks at you sitting on the couch with a crutch resting close to you. the words that come out of his mouth seem to already be scripted from saying the same thing over and over again.

“not this again. eiji, we’ve talked about this before.” you groan, sinking down further into your seat. you just got back from the hospital and your body needs a good rest before you can heal properly.

“i know but,” he sighs dejectedly. “i can’t stand to see you like this.”

you shake your head, your voice firm. “no. eiji, this is just a fracture. it’ll heal soon.”

“baby, you know i can protect both of us.” kirishima’s voice is soft as silk in hope to be able to persuade you into something you clearly defy time after time.

“are you saying i’m not capable of defending myself?” you raise your voice a little, clearly vexed and kirishima’s gaze meets the floor, trying to construct words so it doesn’t sound wrong or offend you any further.

“you’re not answering me, eiji.” you snort, his hesitance giving him away.

“i’m not the one injured here.” kirishima glances at your bandaged foot and the crutch next to you. his heart throbs at the sight of you needing to use a crutch to help you walk.

“oh, good for you.” it feels as if he’s adding insult to injury. it’s all thanks to his quirk that the scratches he received only managed to look like mere paper cuts because he won’t be saying that without it.

kirishima knows that you can be stubborn sometimes and it reminds him of a certain friend of his but he just wants you to listen and understand from his point of view and not to take it any other way. it undoubtedly makes him upset that you’re hurt but he’s more… scared. so scared to the point that he finds himself being so grateful from you just sitting there in front of him, breathing and alive. he doesn’t want to lose you. he can’t bear the pain if– if you’re not in his life anymore. his world would crumble and there would be nothing left of him.

“do you love me?” kirishima asks out of the blue, deliberately using the question as his last resort to either make you feel guilty or to force you to obey him as some kind of proof that you are true to your words.

“don’t you use that, eijirou.” you sigh in annoyance, knowing too well where this conversation leads. undeniably, you do and he knows damn well too. you’re certain that he is just using that as an excuse or a way to end this argument and it just seems very tacky.

“well, do you?”

“you know i do!” you practically shout before quickly regaining your composure again. “i love you, eiji. so much.”

“then if you do, you would listen to me!” there’s a pitch higher in his voice, a mixture of sorrow and anger in his tone and his eyes begin to look glassy.

it almost startles you and you know he’s about to put on the waterworks but as the hard headed person you are, you still continue to stand on your ground.

“and if you love me, you would understand!” you shout back from your seat. you would walk away if you could but you know you’d be too slow before he catches up so there’s no point in that. instead, you shift your gaze somewhere else and force yourself to tolerate the tense and stuffy ambience of the room.

“babe,” his voice croaking. “i don’t.. i don’t wanna lose you.”

“and what about you? would you quit your job for me?” you snarl, still refusing to look at him when he takes small and slow steps towards you.

kirishima falls silent for a second before answering, “i– i told you. i can protect–”

“see? you wouldn’t even do the same.” that should be the end of discussion. if he’s not willing to give you the same energy, why would you? as a hero himself, you believe he should understand the love you have for your job because you understand him too, so why can’t he?

an exasperated breath draws out from your nostrils as you reach for your crutch to stand up. “eiji, i’m tired. i’m gonna take a rest.”

kirishima just stands quietly in the middle of the room as you start to walk to your shared room. he knows he has lost the argument but he’s not going to let it end like this again– not this time.

“you don’t love me.” he suddenly breaks the silence, making you stop in your tracks to turn around and look at him– which none of you know would be the last time.

“what?” you murmur in disbelief, though you heard him very well. even though your heart is wrenching inside your chest, the anger that hasn’t yet subsided from prior rushes through your veins even greater.

“why won’t you ever listen to me?!” he suddenly shouts as tears begin to roll on his cheeks. “i want the best for you– i– you’re everything to me!”

your own vision suddenly starts to blur and you realize that tears are starting to pour out from your eyes out of your own frustration.

“how do you know what’s best for me?!” you scream back angrily.

“i’m your boyfriend! i know– i know you’re too weak for this!” he blurts out as he walks towards and stands in front of you.

“why? because i got hurt?!” you push his chest with your free hand though you know he won’t budge considering how shredded he is.

kirishima grabs your wrist to stop you from pushing him as he continues to look at you with irises that burn with rage. “because you’re not fit to be a hero!”

amidst your struggle to free your wrist, now you only stare at him, too shocked to utter any more words. is that how he thought of you all this time? like a fool trying to play hero? a weak hero that keeps getting injuries and unable to defend themselves let alone the lives of others?

your head hangs low and kirishima panics and lets go of his grip as he slowly realizes what he just said to you on the spur of the moment.

“babe, i’m sorry. i didn’t–”

smack.

the sound reverberates throughout the room and it falls silent again. your breathing has gone erratic and able to give him a good slap him in the face earns you some sort of satisfaction. none of you are the type to get physical during a heated argument but that was the final straw. even if you reconcile after this, what then? it’s not like you asked to get beaten up and if it does happen again, you both are going to go through the same thing again. you can’t take it anymore and it’s leaving you with the last option.

“i think,” you finally choke after taking a deep breath. “we’re not on the same page anymore.”

“w-what do you mean?” he sobs, having the urge to pull you into his embrace and apologize over and over albeit knowing that you’d push him away.

your lips purse into a thin line. must you spell it out for him?

“eiji, i’m–”

“baby, no. please– d-don’t say it–” kirishima starts to cry again as he drops to his knees and holds your uninjured leg tightly to his chest, sobbing through your pants. “i’m- i’m sorry!”

“eiji, stop.” you weakly try to shake him off. “maybe if we– if we part, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

kirishima looks up at you through the tears in his eyes, “i don’t want– babe, i love you! please don’t– don’t leave me!” he stands back up on his feet and his big hands reach to gently grab your face so you can look at him. “let’s... let’s talk about it, okay?”

“no, eiji. you can’t even trust me.” this time you start to sob. “a-and we keep on arguing about the same thing.”

“t-then, please? we’ll work it ou–”

his phone suddenly interrupts as he gets a call. he takes out the phone from his pocket and his face drops when he realizes it’s from his agency. he knows he can’t possibly ignore it. with a sniff and cough to alter his voice, he picks it up. kirishima continues to talk to the phone, sparing you glances once in a while as if to analyze the weight of importance between the emergency and the current situation you both are in.

you know very well that the people still need a hero and right now, they need red riot. with a heavy heart you whisper, “go.”

that last option probably isn’t the best but kirishima really couldn’t come to terms and you both failed to reach a mutual understanding. you’re persistent– the kind of person that knows what they want in life and that no one can get in your way. the fact that your boyfriend, out of all people, doesn't seem to show you support like he used to back in the days in U.A. leaves you disappointed.

the longer the fight carried on, the deeper you drowned in the pits of self loathing. comfort and reassurance weren’t the things that kirishima provided. no, all he kept on doing was putting you down further. especially after he said that you aren’t qualified enough to live the dream you’ve always wanted. oh how it’s going to be stuck in your head for a while.

maybe, two people are better off without each other than being secretly unhappy together.

his lips are pressed flat as he hangs up the call. he doesn’t have much time in his hands but he doesn’t want to leave you either. afraid that once he walks out the door, it’ll be done forever. kirishima only wants to hold you again, to assure himself that it’s alright– that all of this is just a mindless fight and you’ll stay with him.

but you take the first step away from him and kirishima only watches you quietly as you walk away and disappear into the room. lots of thoughts are running through his head and things he wants to say but couldn’t. his selfishness made him take things too far but it’s all out of love (or probably his best interest). he knows that you’ll be mad at him if you knew that he went to great lengths just to make you change your mind. but now, his efforts proved to be futile because he still ends up losing you and he has no one to blame but himself.

kirishima doesn’t mean what he said about you not suited to be a hero. he watched you over the years, he knows what you’re capable of and he admires your determination but being in the real world opens his eyes. he had seen death and almost tasted it himself, and that made him realize how precious you are to him– how every moment with you counts because he knows that you could be gone in any moment.

and you were just so damn obstinate. why couldn’t you understand his feelings? he even talked nicely but you just wouldn’t listen. he almost gave up before an idea suddenly struck in his head. kirishima didn’t want to get his hands dirty but you probably still needed a little push.

he had connections and he got the money.

you were on your shift while kirishima just got home. he spent some time on the couch, glaring intensely at his phone– particularly on the few digits on the screen. his heartbeat was running a marathon as he stared at the phone icon in rumination. the shaky thumb hovering above the screen seemed like forever before he groaned and clicked the off button instead.

multiple times he had tried and each time he failed to find the will to simply click the call button. he doesn’t want to hurt you, not at all but you were definitely leaving him with no choice.

so he took a deep breath and typed in the numbers again, this time immediately pressing the phone icon and waited for the other line to pick up. though the longer he waited, the more he felt the guilt and wanted to hang up the phone. shortly enough, his call was answered.

he had a script ready in his head from the first time he tried to call them. it should be no problem. just tell them that he wanted them to hurt you, but not until the point that they could kill you. he sighed. even saying that inside his head made him queasy but what’s love without a little pain, right?

“hey, i need a favor.”

kirishima hoped that his wicked scheme would work and even if it didn’t, he’d just have to give them a call again until your will to stay a hero shatters.

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima angst #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #kirishima fic #r; writes #kirishima bnha

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anarmorofwords · 3 years ago

Note

I kinda wanna write a better version of tlh where Tatiana is still insane but there's no Belial bc that makes zero sense to me

In this version there would be:

Kamanna done correctly with actual genderqueer rep and not toxic relationships

Barbra and Oliver bc fight me she didn't die

Genie and Filomena bc I love them and all the lightwoods are queer

The gracelet doesn't even happen bc I refuse to write that

Grace is pretty much still the same but she breaks off their(hers and james') relationship bc she notices that he loves Cordelia

No bad James. He's not a shitty person to Alastair, and he doesn't treat Cordelia like a sex object

Anna puts a stop to Kellington and Matthew's relationship before it gets serious. She also tries to get him to stop drinking all the time

Alastair apologizes around seeing them again for the first time. The merry thieves are a little reluctant because of some of the things he did but they don't actively try to keep him away from events that they're at

Matthew notices how Alastair looks at Thomas and locks them in the sanctuary with Genie and Cordelia's help

Grace gets badly injured due to a mistake in necromancy and Christopher helps her treat it without letting people know

Lucie meets Jesse, and falls in love ofc, so in order to bring him back successfully she asks Malcolm to train her in using her magic

Matthew opens up to his mom about the incident. She doesn't blame him at all and instead apologizes for often putting her work before him

Matthew finds out about Charles and Alastair because he found Alastairxs break up letter to Charles

Matthew, the mother hen he is, decided to attempt to murder his older brother, only being stopped by James who had been there at the right time

Kamala ends things with Charles and tells Anna that she still loves them and hopes that she will give her another chance

Anna told her that they needed time to think, and that she is worried how Kamala's reputation will be affected if anyone besides their friends and Anna's family finds out

Kamala respects her decision and doesn't contact her until Anna's ready to talk about things

The merry thieves don't ignore Christopher and they actively listen and help him

The merry thieves also aren't terrible to Grace bc they realize she's been isolated alone with Tatiana and 1) she might not understand what's saying/doing is wrong or 2) that sometimes she's trying to push them away so her abilities don't accidentally make them do something

Good tid parents

James and Alastair being respectful to each other despite personal differences

Matthew, Alastair, Kamala, Christopher, and Grace being besties, or as I call them, the neglected squad

No fetishizing mlm/wlw

Domestic cuddles and taking care of the other one when they're sick

Jesse/Lucie/Matthew pairing bc I love them and I refuse to pick between lucie/matthew and lucie/jesse

Christopher teaching Grace the elements(at the time) on the periodic table

Tatiana dies at the end yay

It's very unpolished and I'm open to b hearing any feedback and/or suggestions that anyone may have

The idea came to me and I decided it would be best if I told someone before I forgot

hi, I'm sorry it took so long,but I wanted to properly answer this and I keep having either internet connection issues or little time

DON'T BE SHY, WRITE THIS 👀

In all seriousness tho... THIS IS ABSOLUTE PERFECTION?!? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START I AM UTTERLY IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA, I NEED IT

Look, I've been on the verge of rewriting ChoI, and I keep saying I want someone to write a TLH that will live up to its potential, but I've never actually came up with a proper idea for it, and you?!! YOUR BRAIN DARLING THIS IS GENIUS

ok hold up I'll just react to each and every single one so

yes please?!? I mean it started off so sweet in EEV?! Also actually genderqueer Anna and not dancing around the subject like CC is doing now?! That's what they deserve, and that's what we all deserve too

yesss please. also just,,,, Barbara, the feminine, not-wanting-to-fight-which-doesnt-make-her-less-badass queen that she is, getting the page space and appreciation she deserves

that's actually brilliant?!? it would be so great, just imagine the new girl arrives for her travel year and Genie is completely awestruck. I'm so invested in Joshwood it's difficult to imagine not having them, but this is actually the only valid alternative?!

ok that's fine. I think it could still happen and be done well, but tbh for now... the gracelet doesn't seem to have done anything relevant to the plot itself? I mean yeah it messed up James's life and Jordelia, but what did it give Belial? Tatiana? nothing. It makes no sense atm.

could be! maybe she's still encouraged by Tatiana to befriend/seduce him, but without the gracelet it doesn't work out? or maybe James somehow manages to realize that she's in danger and he actually like,,,, kidnaps her? idk idk

yes. YES. just,,,,z James is a sweet compassionate literature nerd who accidentally makes a good leader and he actually cares about people, and not just judges them from his high horse; he does still have hero syndrome, but he's kind and respectful and overall a good character

ANNA INTERVENES ABOUT KELLINGTON PLZ. PEOPLE ACTUALLY NOTICE MATTHEW'S STRUGGLES. JAMES DOES, TOO, BECAUSE THERE'S NO GRACELET.

ok yes, so what about: basically TMT don't harass Alastair and accept his apology, and realize they were also being stupid and mean at times at the Academy (especially Math). Matthew doesn't want to accept Alastair's apology, because of The Sin, but his behaviour alerts the rest of TMT and they inquire what's wrong and he tells them about the sin and that's how he later tells his parents (because his friends encourage him) and as you say, she just hugs him and reassures him it's not his fault; so after that Matthew slowly begins to heal and accepts it wasn't Alastair's fault, and also since they've kind of adopted/started including Alastair in things, he can't help but notice he's actually changed and he even starts to grow fond of him

then like you said, Matthew notices Thomas likes Alastair PLEASE HE SO WOULD. I'm not sure about the Sanctuary, if it actually happens (I'll get to why later on), but him and Lucie get really invested in the matchmaking schemes, they include Genie/Kamala because these two are friends with Alastair (both? Or at this point only Kamala?) but they also share some Moments during their scheming/talking about love 👀 (yes I'm a Fairdale shipper, I think it's time to expose myself lol)

Which leads me to (sorry I'm going off order rn) YES YES YES LUCIE AND MATH PLEASE. A FELLOW SHIPPER, HELLO, NICE TO MEET YOU. But since we're actually fixing him then we can give Jesse a personality and I'm totally down for poly Math/Lucie/Jesse

Lucie seeking Malcolm's help in secret, morally gray heroine style?!? no, it's probably not legal. but also has there ever been a Shadowhunter like her? If the Law doesn't expect such situations, it can't really forbid them...

Plz Matthew ready to strangle the carrot when he learns about their relationship, YES. sure, maybe he's still not the biggest fan of Alastair, but he's seen how much the boy's been through and starts to develop an attachment to him, and besides, NO ONE DESERVES TO BE GROOMED AND TREATED LIKE THAT. He's SO MAD at Charles, and he confronts him about it - remembering Kellington as he does, and it makes him sick to think his brother would do the same thing to someone. Maybe he gets very emotional over this and later finally tells his friends about Kellington? Maybe they didn't know before, only Anna did? So when they all realize what was happening then they comfort him etc? Or maybe it's just Alastair that learns now, and the others knew before, and they share a bonding moment over that?

Injured Grace seeking Kit's help is a genius idea I didn't know I needed

Kamanna giving each other time and space and deciding they need to question their relationship and figure out if it actually makes sense would be great. Anna realising she's very privileged and Kamala doesn't have those same opportunities, and also in general realising coming out should never be pressured or forced. Just,,,, Anna being self-aware and respectful towards Kamala. Well-written Anna. Plz. Also Kamanna is actually developed and not just "in love" because,,,,, they're attracted to each other? Maybe even remaining friends while Anna makes up their mind?

yeah just TMT being more compassionate and less judgy because they're not written by Judith so her bias isn't projected onto them

It's not a want, it's a need. They adopt Alastair and Grace eventually. Like, maybe not literally - although, Grace? - but you know what I mean.

I think they all should just have various friendship dynamics and switch between them, because people need more than one friend group

no fetishizing, no watching your brother make out with his lover, yessss

yes domestic cuddles, affection, taking care of wounds, all those things. plz.

Gracetopher bonding over science yes

obviously. or maybe she's imprisoned?!

ok, now for some more notes/my ideas etc., if you don't mind:

I actually think Belial could still be featured? After all, I don't think Tatiana could do much on her own, and since she seeks help from demons, it makes sense to include a Greater Demon as well. But Belial would have to be a stronger villain, written better; I'll think more about this

if that was the case, the serial killer plot could still happen, but be done better. and it would allow for a scenario I talked about with @littlx-songbxrd to happen, where it's Alastair who's falsely accused of murder. It creates a great opportunity to explore some things, because we know Alastair is much more likely to be seriously suspected, considering all the prejudices and bad rep his family has and all that

...what do you say to well-written Jordelia? 👀 Cordelia hasn't been obsessively in love with James since childhood, she only had a crush then. And now that they meet again, she's fond of him but not in love, not straight away. They're both grown up, and different people, but as they spend more and more time together, they fall in love. What if Cordelia gets to flirt with some other boys first? What then. What if she ends up choosing James, instead of going for the only boy she's ever had feelings for and idealized since childhood. What if we even make it friends-to-lovers and have James be a little jealous at some point?! but not in a possessive awful way, just "oh damn oh no"

Now I won't know peace until this exists BUT THANK YOU

#ask answered #thank you this is brilliant #alt tlh #save for later #the last hours #tlh #anti cc #yes I'll be adding/thinking more about this I AM OBSESSED

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tabernacleheart · 3 years ago

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[Our responses] to the invasion of woke ideology at universities [must not be] limited to intellectual strategies, but involve an even deeper response: one involving the virtues of humility, conversion of heart, and courage. These [virtues] are needed even to enlighten the intellect. To take back Christian universities, [firstly] we have to turn to Scripture and turn to Christian tradition and really learn with humility what has been given to us... It takes humility and courage to say that, "well, maybe the Biblical worldview has wisdom that is greater than me, than my own thoughts or opinions, or whatever is being pushed this year by the corporate media." And this humility requires something else that’s essential: and this is conversion. Both understanding and personal change are at the very heart of what we call catechesis. It requires setting aside our own prejudices and opinions, and even attractions and desires, [such as in the] big driving issues of sexual morality and gender identity today. We need to understand that we are a fallen race... our intellect is affected by original sin, so that we see darkly this reality. Our will is affected by original sin, to be rebellious and to not want to follow God’s will, and this involves in part the wounding of our affections and passions. [We must understand this in order to change].

There’s also a great need for courage: not just to have a personal conversion and to follow the truth in divine revelation, but also to speak the truth in the classroom... because there’s tremendous pressure to be politically correct, to be woke, to be accepting, not to 'judge.' [But] you have a choice. [Either] you can just steer clear of controversial subjects, which means that you concede defeat, because the culture is not silenced-- Or you can [decide to] calmly and thoughtfully engage [those subjects], but you have to expect you’re going to take some hits. And that is not easy for [those who fear the opinion of others-- those who, for example,] may personally hold conservative Biblical positions, but they won’t [bring it up] because it’s too much of a hot topic, they don’t want anyone to get upset. And so, in so many ways, the rise of the world culture is because of a lack of courage from Christians who have failed to make a convincing case for the truth of the Bible and Christianity. [But when you do speak up, there will always be people] who [are] appreciative and thankful that [you did,] for tackling those topics, [as well as] others who were upset. [You will always have both, through no fault of your own. So focus on your duty of teaching truth for those who will hear]. You can never underestimate, especially at Christian universities, all the students who are really thirsting for truth. They [truly] respect faculty who are not afraid to speak the truth, and to say what is right and what is wrong, and to really unpack what God has revealed in His words, because ultimately this is what gives us life and this is what makes us happy.

Students must be courageous as well. [I have] had scenarios in [my] classroom where about eight or nine students were “conservative” Christians, and maybe two or three “woke types” would manage to silence the whole classroom [by asserting their own views as correct]. This fear of offending, this wanting to be accepting, this fear of conflict, trying to avoid conflict at any cost, is prevalent across society. But that [moral cowardice] has [a much] higher cost than actually engaging these issues. Part of the problem in the classroom is that students tend to conceptualize a dichotomy between truth and love. Most of them are well meaning: For them, loving is accepting everything, even things that are not true. [This is exemplified in] the whole LGBTQ agenda. But living in truth is the only way by which we can really love people. Otherwise, it’s not loving if we live our lives based on a false view of the human person, false view of human sexuality, a false view of human marriage. It’s always a question of apparent good, [but] evil advances under the guise of good. Very few people are going around and saying, ‘I’m really trying to spread evil in the world.’ Everyone believes that they’re doing good. Even those pushing that leftist agenda, they somehow think that they’re making society better. [We must respect that motive precisely by guiding them to the truth.]

[But] change is possible. [There is] hope for the re-Christianization of universities. Things can be turned around if you have enough good people stand up, who are not afraid to speak the truth, and put truth above expediency. As the old saying goes, evil only triumphs when good people do nothing.

Doctor André Villeneuve

#Doctor André Villeneuve #catholic education #wokeness #real love #this is a vital distinction #courage #stand strong in the faith #never compromise the faith #speak the truth #truth #humility #conversion #gender #sexuality #a vital warning

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mbti-notes · 3 years ago

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Anon wrote: INFP with social anxiety here. I have a therapist but we're focusing on some other issues right now. In the meantime, I was wondering if you had some advice for me. I know you're not a professional (you say that multiple times in your posts) and of course I'm not asking you for a fix for my social anxiety with this - I'm just asking your help to understand what part my cognition could be playing in all of this cause I'm really curious.

Basically, my problem is the time frame right BEFORE I meet someone and, sometimes, immediately after. I don't really have problems socializing in the "middle", if you get what I mean; I'm easily adaptable and once I'm relaxed, once I realize no one is there to attack me, my mind starts getting ideas and I kind of know what to say, even though I'm a bit out of practice and I still have problems convincing other people of my emotions (like, mirroring their emotions so that they know I agree with them and stuff like that; for some reason they never ---believe me when I say it with words).

When I make plans, anyway, and I still haven't met the person, I get this anxiety: like I would rather stay home than go there because it's going to be "boring" and I'm probably going to feel like an idiot or make some sort of social gaffe. I mean, I do kinda get bored after a while anyway, but I also know I tend to overestimate that level of "future boredom" to the point it hurts me to even think about showing up and forcing myself to think of stuff I can-- say.

I get anxious because I start thinking about the way people used to treat me in the past (I've always been the black sheep of my family and/or my social circles and I vividly remember some bad things they used to say to me) and I start worrying that, deep down, they still think of me like that and they're never going to forget that "preconception of my identity" and open their eyes to who I am now, or I guess to who I've always been.

I do realize it doesn't make much sense, this "who I ----really am" part - but I've always had the impression that I was a bit different than the "me" they percieved, maybe because after many, many years of being accused of "selfishness" and "inability to tune in with the emotional atmosphere" I learned that in order not to ruin the "social mood" I should've adapted myself to the group - but the problems is that I suppressed "myself" in the meantime (and with myself I mean, like, my real interests, the things I'd like to talk about for ages without-- having to be interrupted or looked down on because, quote unquote, "ok, cool, but we don't really care").

I understand now that if they don't give me hints of actually caring about the subject I should stop rambling like a fool, but this is making me feel like I have nothing "useful" to offer them and therefore bringing the anxiety I'm struggling with. It makes me scared that I'll never be able to be myself around them because of the "social rules" I want to respect to be accepted, & to make----it worse I'm out of practice like I said before and sometimes it just gets too awkward and I want to get out of there.

I bet I'm doing something wrong because friendships and relationships in general are not supposed to be "boring", am I right? And yet until I don't get distracted by the actual conversation, I feel like it's going to be really boring and uncomfortable and sometimes going through it is SO horrible... most of the time I end up making up some excuse to go home earlier and talk----my internet friends instead (thank God for the internet!!!!). Anyway, thank you if you'll answer! And have a good summer vacation c:

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

The first thing I notice is that your thought process bears a very striking resemblance to many INFJs who struggle with social anxiety due to poor Fe development (see past posts). As a general rule, if I have good reason to suspect that someone might be mistyped, I won't provide info about function development until they undergo a proper type assessment. Otherwise, they might adopt the wrong method of improvement.

You say you want to understand what part your cognition plays in the social anxiety you experience, so I will mention the aspects of your cognition that seem most significant:

1) No Chill: You overthink things to an extreme, to the point of self-sabotage, perhaps even creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. when expecting the negative actually makes the negative happen). Overthinking means that you're not confronting the real obstacle getting in the way of your socializing. You're constantly trying to envision, imagine, or predict what will happen in a social interaction? WHY? What's the point of that overthinking? It's how you avoid confronting your fear head on.

2) Insecure: Your "predictions" are too often faulty because of being tainted by your underlying insecurities. You're insecure about being attacked, being accused, being misjudged, doing something wrong, being deemed of no value or unworthy of care, not being accepted or acceptable, dying of awkwardness, feeling bored, feeling uncomfortable, and on and on. You've described your thought process in detail. But nowhere do I see you confronting your insecurities, digging deeper into them, in order to understand the root of them. Insecurities are a manifestation of fear.

3) Control: Irrational anxiety is oftentimes about trying to control things that you shouldn't be trying to control or cannot have any control over - it wastes mental energy and leads to futile behavior. As long as you're trying to control social situations and their outcome, you are either trying too hard to make reality match up with your expectations or you're fumbling whenever reality unfolds outside of your expectations - you become rigid and frail. You claim to be "adaptable" but everything you say after that only proves you don't know the meaning of the word. You can't handle unpredictability, hence, the attempt to be in control by trying to "predict" everything. Do your attempts to control actually work? Do they help or hinder you? If they mostly hinder you, then isn't it time to change your strategy? Anxious people often believe that having more knowledge or control is the answer to their fear. But, in your case, the huge cost of being controlling is being incompetent. What's worse, the fear is still right there running the show.

4) Unresolved Trauma: You attribute your troubles to your past. Fair enough. Growing up in a social environment that did not respect and appreciate you is painful, even extremely traumatic for certain personality types. It also makes people too hungry for validation. It's natural that you wouldn't want to feel the pain of it again. However, if that pain remains unexamined and unresolved, you will unconsciously keep seeking to resolve it, which means re-enacting the trauma over and over again throughout life. The proof? Every time you meet someone, your first stance is defensive, because the first thing that comes into your mind is that you don't want to be attacked or invalidated. That old pain is running the whole show because you are deeply afraid of experiencing it again, yet you don't realize that YOU are the one calling it back up and rehashing it. What are you doing to resolve the pain rather than indulge the fear?

5) Self-absorbed: Social anxiety makes people too absorbed in their own thoughts, feelings, hopes, and expectations. They are too preoccupied with what they want, what will happen, how they will be perceived, how they might make a mistake, how they might be attacked, etc. This means they're not truly present with people, so the relationship can't really go far. Driven by fear and insecurity, they are always behind a wall, too difficult to reach.

Even if you happen to meet the right people, do you make it easy for them to befriend you? It seems that you can't open up with ease, you can't go with the flow of the other person when they don't live up to your expectations, you can't keep your emotions in check and misjudge situations, you get bored when it's not about you, you run away instead of making things better. Looking at yourself objectively from the outside, would you want to be friends with someone like that?

If you want to have good friends, you first have to BE a good friend. You want care, love, and validation? We all do. The best way to receive it is to be the first to give it. By being more aware of other people's needs and doing more to show that you care about them, you put them in a better position to care about you and meet your needs in return. This is the difference between actively trying to "make" a friend vs passively wishing for a friend to drop into your lap.

Being a friend isn't about what "value" you have, as though you're some kind of object being appraised and sold. Being a good friend is quite a simple matter of putting out the energy to care and show that you care. When you meet someone who's moved by your care, they will care for you in return. When you meet someone who's unmoved by your care, figure out the real reason why, in order to determine whether you should keep trying or put your energy elsewhere.

You never really know who you'll hit it off with. One of my favorite experiences in life is making a friend in the unlikeliest of places. As an adult, meeting new people is a numbers game. All you can do is keep pushing yourself to meet new people. The more people you meet, the greater the odds of clicking with someone. If you're looking to meet like-minded people, go to places that are likely to have people who share your interests. If you don't hit it off with someone, simply move along. You don't have to be friends with everyone, do you?

Yet, you take every little social interaction so seriously that each step is like life or death - that's what makes socializing tiring, laborious, and unfun. Why not enter into every social interaction with an open mind and an open heart? Why not truly go with the flow, without having to undergo the repetitive ritual of predicting what will happen or fussing over what did happen?

6) Poor Emotional Intelligence: This point is the common thread that runs through the previous points, which is why I keep repeating the word "fear". You have extremely low tolerance for negative feelings and emotions, which means you really need to work on learning how to deal with your emotional life better. Any little sign that things won't turn out the way you want and you start to panic, overthink, blame, or flee. Why do you recoil from yourself and your own feelings and emotions? Why are you so easily shaken by boredom, awkwardness, invalidation, failing, other people's negativity, etc? Why do you react so badly to these things (when others just brush it off and keep going)?

7) Low Self-Awareness: It's not enough to just name the fear ("I'm afraid of____"). Does the label explain why you have this particular fear and not some other fear? It's not enough to blame the past ("It's because of ____"). Why did someone else with a similar past as yours not develop this fear? To get to the root of fear, you have to identify, in exact terms:

what aspect of you has to change to overcome the fear

what aspect of your identity has to "die" (i.e. be let go of) in order to evaporate the fear

Until you answer the fear properly, it won't go away.

#social anxiety #anxiety #fear #emotional intelligence #mental health #ask

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dredshirtroberts · 3 years ago

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Constellations

on AO3!

Rating: M / Lime Pair: Eskel/Geralt Summary: Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal.

My entry into the @eskelbigbang. Trying something new for posting fic so bear with me. Check out the awesome art by @dat-carovieh on their tumblr and twitter @ LupisLionstooth!

Eskel growled a little as he stumbled off the path, clutching the wound on his side. The scar on his face creased with his snarl as he collapsed into a tree. He hated being wounded. The blood loss was greater than normal and his vision swam as he tried to push forward. The horse beside him whickered softly at him as he tripped. A loose stone, probably—or at least he hoped. If there were nothing in the path that would be worse. That would mean he was worse off than he’d thought.

He needed to keep going. He had an appointment to make.

"You should meet me in Novigrad,” Geralt had said over cards last winter. They were several glasses of his horrible wine in (it wasn’t horrible, Eskel loved it, but he loved picking on Geralt more—loved making his nose wrinkle with irritation, and Eskel did prefer ale over wine but the wine made at Corvo Bianco was alright and, best of all, free) and having a quiet evening.

Most of their evenings together were quiet these days. How long had they lived now? How many of their friends were lost to the passage of time?

Lambert never stayed, preferring the road. They both dreaded his never returning but after the loss of his soulmate—the Cat Witcher that Geralt had helped avenge—he’d never been quite the same.

Ciri had grown up, grown into herself. She’d had a longer than average lifespan from her Elven blood, but she stayed with Yennefer more often than not, and had become a strong woman and mage in her own right. Yennefer, for her part, came and visited infrequently, lost often in her own research and pursuits.

Geralt’s bard, Dandelion, had retired from traveling, had owned a bar, had been a professor at Oxenfurt, and then, eventually, had passed in time from an old life lived long and lived well. Their other friends were either distant or dead.

So, things were quiet.

“Why would I meet you in Novigrad? I’m here?” Eskel had asked.

Geralt had rolled his eyes, “I mean when you’re not here. Back on the Path. We should meet in Novigrad. It’s a mid-point between here and your normal territory. And the biggest bookshop on the Continent.”

It was a tempting offer. And it wasn’t really like Eskel was going to refuse. They’d just never planned to meet before. Geralt had retired from the Path years ago, staying at his winery or traveling to meet his friends but never hunting monsters. Not that there were many monsters to find these days as it was. Eskel’s coin purse had been light for years, the only saving grace was Geralt’s hospitality during the winters, and his generosity with the funds that came in from the winery.

“Alright. Why?”

“Because I miss you when you’re out, dumbass,” Geralt groused with another eyeroll, the bite in his words sour and reminiscent of their younger brother-in-all-but-blood. The quick twitch of the corner of his mouth down and the tightness near his eyes belied the sincerity behind the words, however.

“Aww, I miss you too,” Eskel batted his eyes at Geralt sweetly, teasing, “Alright sure. I’ll meet you in Novigrad. When?”

Eskel was supposed to have been there days ago. But the contract he had been on was not only longer than anticipated but a larger beast as well. A more vicious one. And now he was injured and trying to make his way to Novigrad to meet Geralt.

He needed to meet Geralt there. He missed the man, his closest friend for the past century and a half, his only family. The closest thing Eskel would get to having his soulmate.

They didn’t talk about their marks. They used to. Before the Trials. Before everything had changed.

They were very young, the first time it had been brought up among their year group. Ten boys huddled around comparing the discolored skin that showed the closest their mate would ever come to death and recover from. They were in nothing but their smallclothes, sitting in a circle in one of the dorm rooms of Kaer Morhen and lit by only the fire in the hearth that kept the room warm in the cold nights.

Eskel’s mark was a series of dots on his arm, black-purple like bruises, peppered in regular intervals, dark lines running deep into his skin, touching the veins that brought blood to his hands, peppered in at the crook of his elbow. It was remarked by one that they were like stars—a description Eskel held onto for many years, even onto the Path itself, the constellations of Destiny drawing him to the match to his soul. Some boys had dark red patches on their chests, deep shadows of wounds-that-weren’t-yet slicing through their legs, their arms, their stomachs. One boy, Gweld, had a pale line running right across his throat.

Geralt’s was the biggest. A swath of pink skin from hips to shoulders, like he was flayed open and a new patch was sewn on in a slightly wrong color. Eskel’s heart hurt to see it. He liked Geralt best of the other boys, he wasn’t too loud when Eskel wanted to read, exchanged stories of knights and chivalry and wanting to be a hero with Eskel. And they of course got up to much mischief together, which Eskel always appreciated. To see him marked like that, to know that whoever Geralt’s soul was promised to would have to survive something that bad, was painful.

Eskel and the other boys knew Geralt’s soulmate was a Witcher. It was obvious. No one else would survive an injury that large, that deep.

Vesemir had caught them that night, scowling and barking to get back into their beds, that they’d all have kitchen duty in the morning and for the next week after for being out of bed so late. The boys had complained, whining as they got into their bunks.

The outline of Geralt’s soulmark was etched into Eskel’s mind for a long while after. Forever, really.

They’d discussed their respective marks privately at other times. Osbert had caught them out once, poking and prodding at one another, wondering what the cause of their marks would be, speculating on when they’d meet their soulmates. Would it be before they’d gotten the scars that would be representative of the marks on their bodies? Would it be after? What scars would they acquire and how would they show up on their soulmates?

Osbert had seen their marks. Saw Geralt’s and nodded, his eyes sad but knowing. Then he’d seen Eskel’s. The look on his face was one that Eskel wasn’t able to parse at the time, but as he looked back on the memory in later years, he realized it was devastated.

Eskel didn’t know what caused him to feel that way until he was strapped to the table during the Trials, mages and Witchers alike hovering over him. One of the mages had seen his arm, had nudged another beside him and said, “Look, this one already has where the needles go on his arm. Nearly labeled and everything.”

The laughter that had passed between the two mages frightened Eskel, but not more than the knowledge that his mate, the soul that matched his soul, the one that Destiny herself had picked for him, would go through the Trials, and that would be the worst thing they would survive. Would they die? On the table? He knew it was a possibility but…

Would he die before meeting his soulmate? That hurt worse, the thought of leaving his soulmate to the world without knowing what happened to Eskel. His brain raced through all the injuries he knew he’d acquired since coming to Kaer Morhen—which one was the worst one? Which one brought him closest to death? Which would be the mark on his mate’s body if he died on the table, chemicals and reagents and mutagens pouring into his bloodstream, changing his body?

For the first time in his life, he wondered if his soulmate would fear him after he became a Witcher, if he survived. And as the needles pierced his skin, their caustic, toxic mixtures seeping into him and altering him irrevocably, he cried.

Eskel, of course, had survived the Trials.

Geralt had, as well. Not easily, though. He’d been chosen for additional mutagens, extra tests, further Trials. Once-auburn hair that shone blood-red in the sunshine was snow-white. His skin was death-pale, and shadows seemed perpetually under his eyes. He had been unconscious when they’d brought him back up to the dorms, and Eskel had sat by his bed as often as he could, watching, waiting for his friend to wake up.

If he’d checked Geralt’s arms for the marks that still lay purple-bruised on his own, darker now with the pinpricks of the needles that had actually entered his arm, well… They weren’t there. His arms were as clear as the sky on a summer day. It was as if the Trials had not happened to him. Eskel knew that Witchers healed quickly, that the marks on his arm—the one’s he’d acquired, not the ones he’d been born with—would disappear shortly. But to see Geralt who had gone through more with nothing had…

Had…

Eskel hadn’t realized until that moment how much he desperately wanted Geralt to be his soulmate, until he had been so devastated by the undeniable truth that he wasn’t.

Eskel collapsed on the ground, the world shifting on its axis as he blinked foggy blurriness from his eyes. The horse behind him had stopped obediently. Geralt had trained him well, of course. Eskel didn’t expect otherwise from a man who had trained every single horse he had ever ridden—even if he did end up calling them all Roach.

He wasn’t going to make it to Novigrad.

It was the last coherent thought he had before he slumped to the ground, the world going dark around him.

Eskel had many wounds in his lifetime. Wounds that had brought him to the brink of death and he was saved only by the timeliest of Swallows, of magical healers, of mages. It was the fate of a Witcher. Their Destiny to be covered in marks from their profession. Some wore their scars proudly, some hid them away. Eskel didn’t really mind either which way. Not until Diedre.

The deep, horrible mark on his face certainly made him feel as though he were better off dead. It wrapped around the side of his face, tore part of his lip away leaving him with a constant snarl, reaching to his ear. He knew, in that moment, that whoever his soulmate was, had to hate him for giving them this…this…

This thing on their face.

It was also when he lost all hope that Geralt could still be his soulmate. That his best friend would ever become more. Geralt had always had a rather romantic idea of how soulmates worked. He would take his pleasure where he could get it in the meantime—as most Witchers did, but he would wait to have a romance with someone until their marks matched scars.

And Eskel, the fool, loved him for that. Loved him for his hopeless, idealistic view on soulmates, when in reality a soulmate was just a person, as flawed and horrible as every other person on the Continent. There were soulmate couples who hated one another. Those who never met. Those who hurt their mates, were the ones to give them their scars.

As soon as Eskel knew he was not Geralt’s he worried. He worried for Geralt because the man, despite everything was still soft on the inside, was still the boy with bright eyes who waxed poetic about becoming a Knightly Witcher, who would save the world, not just from monsters but from everything he could. The man who had wanted to name himself Geralt Eric Roger du Haute-Bellegarde entirely earnestly. The man who loved every horse he ever met and named them each after the same kind of fish.

Eskel worried because he could not protect Geralt if his soulmate hurt him, because Eskel was not his soulmate.

Eskel traced the constellations on his arm, the little stars that marked where his soulmate went through the Trials. That marked where he went through the Trials. Absently, late at night he wondered if they were someone he had already met.

After the pogroms and the attack of Kaer Morhen he no longer needed to wonder. If he hadn’t met them yet, they had probably already died.

It was years before he let himself consider that they had died even earlier than that. Likely the first year on the Path. He tried not to think about if they were from the Wolf school or another.

Sometimes he would run his fingers over the shape of the scar on his face, wonder if his soulmate could feel it—could have felt it, he sometimes reminded himself, they weren’t alive anymore, likely. He would think about what it would be to run his fingers lovingly over the mark that tied them together, let them touch his mark—the memories of the Trials were painful, traumatic for all who went through them, but maybe with the fact that it connected them together in so many ways it would be… better.

Eventually he stopped letting himself think about it at all. It hurt too much. It wasn’t Geralt, it would never be Geralt, and he would never know his soulmate.

And maybe, if he were really and truly honest with himself, he didn’t want to know his soulmate.

Eskel woke in a bed.

This was mostly jarring because he had the distinct memory of passing out in the middle of the road, but he’d woken up in worse places than a bed before. At least this time there were no succubi.

That had been interesting.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Geralt’s voice was gravelly as always, and coming from Eskel’s left hand side.

Eskel grunted as he turned his head to look at the white-haired man beside him. The ever-present dark circles under his eyes seemed darker than usual, the pallor of his skin waxier and wanner than Eskel remembered from the last time they’d seen one another.

(Geralt had been looking healthier since he’d retired, well-fed, relaxed. This looked like Geralt on the Path—something Eskel hadn’t seen in years, decades even.)

“You look like shit,” Eskel said, pulling his face into a rough approximation of a smirk. His body felt heavy and he could feel the familiar tug of stitches in his side. At least he wasn’t actively bleeding out anymore.

“Yeah, well,” Geralt started like he was going to retort, but his voice fell flat as his expression did something Eskel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on the man before, “You’re lucky I caught your scent while I was out hunting or you’d have died laying in the road.”

“Business as usual, then,” Eskel grunted, attempting to sit up a little. Geralt moved quickly, faster than Eskel was anticipating, and a hand was on his chest, pushing him back down into the bed. If Eskel really wanted to, he probably could have ignored the hand but…

Geralt’s long fingers were cold and felt nice on his heated skin and it had been so long since their last hug in Toussaint before Eskel had left on the Path again. Maybe this year he’d actually talk to Geralt about retiring with him, about setting up in the winery with Geralt, becoming even-older-old men together. It wasn’t like the monsters were getting any more populous. He could take up a trade, maybe, and pretend he wasn’t made into a monster himself by mutagens and actions and scars. Maybe he could pretend they were soulmates again, that this was enough.

He suddenly remembered why he hadn’t chosen to retire with Geralt yet. Why he might not ever.

“Stay down, idiot. You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Doubt I need them much longer,” Eskel grumbled.

“The fact that I could see your intestines before I got you fixed up begs to differ.” Geralt’s eyes were narrowed, the slits of his pupils dark in the wheat-gold of his eyes.

“Eh, they needed a bit of fresh air,” Eskel’s joking tone didn’t quite hit, and Geralt’s jaw clenched as he swallowed thickly. Eskel winced, turning away, “That was dumb of me to say, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re…you’re right. It’s part of the job,” Geralt was leaning back, taking his hand with him and Eskel gritted his teeth together to avoid begging him to keep touching Eskel, to never let go.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” Eskel shrugged.

They sat in silence for a bit, Eskel’s eyes feeling heavy again.

“You give me something for it?” He asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

“What?”

“For the…” He gestured to his side, “Did you give me something?”

“Nah, why?”

“Tired,” Eskel mumbles, feeling his eyes drift shut again. Though, perhaps the exhaustion is more from having pushed himself on the Path for days on end before his last contract, and then further while injured, from having little to no food because he couldn’t afford it and the hunting was scarce close to the griffin.

Perhaps it was being in a bed for the first time since he’d left Geralt’s side in early spring, or maybe just the safety and comfort of having Geralt by his side again, listening to the man’s steady, Witcher-slow heartbeat and the soft sound of his breathing.

“So sleep,” Geralt’s voice is fond in Eskel’s ears and he thinks it’s probably just his mind making things up as it slows from waking to meditation to sleep, drifting from consciousness to dreams with little to no effort.

Eskel thinks he could get used to it, and fears what that means.

Eskel wakes again and it’s morning. Sun is shining through the window in the corner and birds are chirping outside.

Geralt is asleep, leaned forward on the bed, head resting on Eskel’s lap, and hands clasped around Eskel’s own. Previously cold fingers are warmed by the heat of Eskel’s palms and something in Eskel’s chest clenches in a way he is all too familiar with.

Geralt’s hair is loose, unbound and a tangled mess around his shoulders. Several strands have fallen across his face, a lock of it draped over his eyes, closed in sleep with pale lashes fanned out over dark circles. Soft breaths huff between parted lips that move slightly with the dreams that he sees behind his eyelids—Eskel can see the shape of his eyes darting back and forth beneath the thin skin.

He brings his other hand up, the one unclaimed by Geralt’s grasping fingers, and gently pushes the hair out of the other man’s face.

Geralt is beautiful. And Eskel loves him. He loves him so much.

Golden eyes drift open slowly, pupils sliding from wide circles to rounded slits with the light as Geralt blinks, taking a moment to wake up.

“Hey,” Eskel murmurs, a smile sliding over his face—easy, this time, and he is sure his emotions are plastered all over his face but he can’t really find it in himself to care. Geralt is here. Geralt was worried for him. Geralt slept at his bed rather than in one of his own, holding his hand.

“Hey,” Geralt’s already rough voice is moreso from the sleep as Eskel brings his hand away from the white hair that slides through his fingers like water made semi-solid. “You actually awake this time?”

“Probably,” Eskel chuckles, resting back against the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Been a tough season so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wants to explain, but also he doesn’t. He doesn’t want Geralt to worry about him more. He didn’t really want Geralt to worry about him injured, either, but that wasn’t his fault.

(Their trainers might have disagreed, might have said of course it was Eskel’s fault he had been injured on the Path, but they weren’t there now, were they?)

“What got you?” Fingers trace the line of the wound, healed already, the stitches already out, having been removed while Eskel slept. Eskel shivers.

“Griffin. Villagers weren’t exaggerating the size, after all.” Eskel pulls himself up to sitting, his muscles protesting after so long relaxed in sleep. “Got here in the end, though.”

Geralt snorts, “Barely.”

“Eh, I knew either you’d come find me or it was my time to go,” Eskel half-jokes. A mirror of their earlier conversation. A conversation they’d had about various wounds and injuries accrued over their extra long lifespans. Geralt’s face is impassive, neutral and shows nothing. Which means he’s very upset by this comment.

“Come back to Toussaint with me,” Geralt says, and his voice is soft enough that if Eskel wanted to he could pretend he didn’t hear it.

Eskel isn’t sure what he wants.

“Why?”

Geralt’s jaw works as his mouth stays shut. There are words, Eskel knows, caught behind teeth and tongue and throat that will not come out because Geralt’s mind won’t let them. Ever since Blaviken, he’d been like this. Their hands are still tangled together and Eskel squeezes Geralt’s fingers to his palm gently.

“Why do you want me to come to Toussaint with you in the middle of the season, Geralt?” He asks again. Sometimes saying it again, saying *more* helps. Sometimes it makes it worse. He desperately hopes this makes it better.

“I don’t want…” Geralt starts. Stops. Squeezes Eskel’s fingers back. Then he pulls away. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll get food.”

Eskel drops it. Geralt will come to him in his own time. Eskel will decide what he wants to do in the meantime. A few days rest as planned here in Novigrad will be enough for now.

Geralt comes back with food for them both, and Eskel’s body remembers that it is starving. They don’t speak much during the meal, and when it’s over they talk about everything other than Geralt’s invitation.

Geralt doesn’t bring it back up that day, or the day after. Or the day after that.

They spend a week together in Novigrad. Eskel raids the bookstore—it was very impressive, filled with tomes on tomes of books with knowledge and poetry and stories and everything and anything. Geralt came with him, though he only picked at the plays and atlases, but he purchased several books that Eskel looked at longingly, tucking them in his bags to travel, saying they will be waiting in the library for Eskel when he comes back.

Eskel decided that meant they were not going to talk about the invitation to Toussaint again unless he brings it back up.

The thing is, Eskel doesn’t want to leave Novigrad. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt. He doesn’t want to go back on the Path where he will be lonely and cold, where there is little food and fewer friendly faces. Back to monsters and fighting and nursing himself back to health, to glares and fearful children, to long stretches of time with no contact with anyone other than the horse and his reflection in the water.

He doesn’t want to risk not being able to get back to Geralt.

That night, he begins the conversation.

“We’ve been here a week,” Eskel observed, taking a bite of a soft, buttery roll. He was not sure what kind of money Geralt was paying the innkeep here but they have eaten well since Eskel arrived.

Geralt freezes momentarily. Had Eskel not been watching, he would have missed it.

“Yep.”

“Been trying to think about where to go next. Not many monsters up north anymore,” Eskel keeps his commentary light, his tone gentle and observational only. Nothing to indicate that he’s leading the conversation anywhere.

“Eskel.”

“Geralt.”

Ah, he has been found out. Figures it wouldn’t work on the man who has known him the longest of anyone alive in the world right now.

“I- I can’t-…” Geralt pushes back from the table a little, tension clear in his body and shoulders, “I won’t-”

“I was thinking I could head south. Maybe travel with you. Head to Toussaint. I know they were having vampire problems decades back. You think there are still any hiding out? I bet there’s an infestation in your library. I should really check that out, you know. Since you’re all out of practice and all.”

Geralt glares at him but there is a relief etched in his bones that Eskel can feel as he grins unrepentantly, feeling his stiff scar tissue crinkle the skin on his cheek as he does.

“You’re an ass.”

“Hmm, but you’re friends with an ass so I think that says more about you than me.” Eskel teases and Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Ass-kel.”

“Come now, Geralt. We’ve surely grown past the insults you thought up when we were twelve.”

“Not if you still act like you did back then.” Geralt points out and Eskel laughs. The tension breaks, and the two of them end up nearly giggling over their dinner.

It is good to hear Geralt laugh again. Eskel wonders when the last time he heard it was and realizes it’s been much longer than a season on the Path.

Travelling with Geralt is easy. It is also the hardest thing Eskel has ever done.

They camp on the road. It’s economical, and reminds them both of earlier times, times before the world changed and left them behind. It also leaves them with little to no privacy between them and Eskel has never wanted a wank more in his life than when he has to wake up and watch Geralt still asleep in his bedroll, or bathing in the stream. But trying to get off with another Witcher around is even more difficult than it had been to try and get off in a keep full of them—especially when he doesn’t want Geralt to know.

Because Eskel is sure Geralt would figure out exactly what was causing Eskel’s need as soon as he was caught.

Geralt’s back is nearly unmarred by scars, leaving his mark clear as the day Eskel first saw it. The mark Eskel has seen in his mind's eye for decades. Nearly a hundred years of thinking of that shape, the line of it. The pink is the same shade as it was before but seems so much darker, starker with the contrast to Geralt’s death-pale skin. The shock of color interrupted by fine scars from smaller wounds, and from the bright white hair trailing between Geralt’s shoulder blades. Eskel wants to run his hands over it, claim it, mark it up with bites and scratches and make it his because that mark ties Geralt’s soul to another and Eskel wants what he cannot have.

He turns away, usually, and does not watch as Geralt bathes. Does not imagine what he is doing, does not follow the sounds of the water moving as it is sloughed over skin, hands chafing at dirt to scrub it off, dripping, dribbling sounds as it is squeezed from the long locks of hair.

The trip to Toussaint from Novigrad is the longest it has ever been and Eskel is glad when they arrive at Corvo Bianco, greeted by the man Geralt has hired to run things in his stead. The rooms Eskel normally uses are clean and available for him and he realizes he has actually agreed to do this. He will be staying in Toussaint. He won’t be finishing the season on the Path. He will be with Geralt.

He doesn’t know if he’s made the right decision.

Geralt is far more relaxed in Toussaint than he ever was anywhere else. He allows himself to be open with his affections—something he lost when he went off on the Path, and gained back in fits and spurts after rearing Ciri. Hugs to his brothers for no reason, gentle touches to shoulders and arms and hands, leaning on them when sitting together, especially when drinking.

Lambert always scoffs and complains, shoving the man off and griping about how he’s become sentimental in his dotage. Geralt always grins and laughs, making a joke of it, teasing the youngest of their remaining family and ramping up the gestures to absurdity for his benefit.

With Eskel it is quieter, softer. Eskel always returns the touch, reveling in the chance to hold the man he cannot have. Arms around Geralt for the hug, squeezing him tight. A returned pat to the shoulder or back (where his mark is, don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t–), a squeeze of fingers when their hands touch. His arm wrapping around Geralt’s shoulders when it’s late at night and they’re leaning on one another, deep into their cups and watching the stars and the lights of the town below the vineyards as the night drifts on around them.

If he adds a few touches of his own here and there, well, it’s just to show Geralt that it’s okay to share these moments. And a kiss to the top of the head during those late nights is entirely innocent enough.

(Wishing it was more, wanting desperately for more, more, more, is just something Eskel has gotten used to after all this time. Wanting and wishing is one thing, acting on those is another and he won’t do that to Geralt, he won’t.)

So it is that they find themselves late into the night, out on Geralt’s balcony, several bottles of wine in, and Geralt resting his head on Eskel’s shoulder, Eskel’s arm not around his shoulders but further down his back, settling on his ribs. His fingers are absently tracing patterns through the fabric of Geralt’s shirt—if he’s tracing the line of the mark on Geralt’s skin, well…It’s on his back, Geralt probably doesn’t put that together.

Geralt sighs softly, a happy, content sort of sound, and turns his head into Eskel’s shoulder, headbutting it gently with his forehead.

“You good?” Eskel asks, his voice barely above a whisper. For some reason talking louder feels like it might break some sort of spell between them. Something that would cause them to have to part.

“Yeah,” Geralt hums, a smile visible from what little of his face Eskel can spy looking down at him, “Yeah, I’m… I’m good.”

“Good,” Eskel pulls him in closer, abandoning his tracing of Geralt’s soulmark through his clothes to lay his hand steadily on Geralt’s side.

“You?”

“Yeah. Me.” Eskel teases laughing a little, “I’m good.”

“Good.”

And it is. Good, that is. They’re happy. It’s warm, the last of summer fading into autumn, a breeze blowing and rustling the leaves of the vines in the vineyard below. They can hear music from the town—probably none of the human inhabitants of the land Geralt owns can, but the two Witchers are able to. It’s faint, what with the distance, but it’s audible and sets a nice background tone for their evening. There are bugs making chirping noises and night birds calling in the trees and it’s peaceful and everything Eskel never knew he wanted alongside everything he always wanted.

“Esk?”

“Hm?” He glances down again at Geralt, having been staring out at the lamplight across the valley in a daze, feeling Geralt’s body heat against his own and his thumb absently stroking against the ribbones he can no longer feel so starkly under Geralt’s skin.

Geralt’s face is… much closer than Eskel thought it had been the last time he’d looked down at him and now it’s moving even closer and–

“Ger?” He whispers when Geralt stops, a hairsbreadth from their lips touching.

“I–” Geralt stops again, pulling back a little.

“I didn’t say stop,” Eskel breathes, leaning in and connecting them together in a way they haven’t before.

Geralt is on him like a starving man on a feast, hands gripping at Eskel’s shirt, pulling him in closer, closer, closer. And Eskel goes willingly, opening his mouth to Geralt’s assault, letting him do the leading, finding out where Geralt wants this to go because wherever it is, however far, Eskel will follow.

His hands bracket Geralt’s sides, palms resting above hip bones and thumbs pressing gently into the softer flesh under his ribs. Eskel slides them up and down slowly, just a fraction of an inch in either direction, and Geralt makes a noise that Eskel has never heard him make before and suddenly Eskel is the starving man and Geralt is the feast.

They break for air when even their lung capacity is at its limit. Gasping and panting, Geralt leans into Eskel’s neck, biting kisses into the flesh there, bared because this is home, he is safe and needs no armor, no barrier between his vulnerable parts and Geralt because he can trust this man like he trusts no other on this earth.

“Fuck, Geralt. Geralt, I–” Eskel groans, tilting his head to the side to give Geralt more room, “How long?”

“Forever,” Geralt breathes and Eskel’s hands grip his hips, yanking him closer, closer still, burying his face into Geralt’s neck for his own marks to be made on the pale, pale skin.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel’s teeth bite at Geralt’s jaw, “I wish I’d known.”

“Please,” Geralt asks, “Please come to bed with me. I– I can’t. I can’t wait for you anymore.”

Eskel answers by grabbing underneath Geralt’s ass and hauling him up. Geralt inhales sharply—whether in surprise or arousal is hard to tell—his legs wrapping around Eskel’s waist as his arms drape over his shoulders. And then there’s more kissing, which honestly Eskel doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without because it’s perfect.

Geralt doesn’t have a mark on his face, and doesn’t have scars on his arm, but Eskel thinks that this has to be better than kissing your soulmate.

He carries Geralt through the door between the balcony and Geralt’s bedroom, carefully making his way over dirtied clothes and stray shoes and half-read books to reach the bed. His knees bump the edge of the mattress and he grins wickedly into the kisses Geralt is plundering his mouth with before releasing his hold on Geralt suddenly.

Geralt clearly did not realize just how much of his weight Eskel was holding, falling to the mattress with a shocked yelp of surprise before Eskel was on him again, leaning over him, pressing him back into the bed.

“Still good?” Eskel asks between kisses to Geralt’s shoulders and neck.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Geralt is nodding and his breathy words are half-whined, “Still good, fuck Eskel. Eskel I’m– I’ve–”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.” The kisses he is giving to Geralt get gentler, softer, sweeter, “I’m sorry, me too.”

“You’re an idiot,” Geralt breathes, fondly, “The fuck did I do falling in love with a dumbass like you?”

Eskel’s heart is fit to burst at this and he looms over Geralt suddenly, “Say it again.”

Geralt is blinking with wide, dark pupils encompassing almost the whole of his golden irises, his hair is fanned out around his head like a snowy halo and Eskel wants more than he has wanted ever before and he didn’t even know that was possible but here he is. Geralt is with him, wants him, and he can have him and it’s so much more and so much better than he thought it would be.

Why the fuck did they wait so long?

“Fuck, Eskel. Eskel I love you,” Geralt’s hands rest on Eskel’s arms, but they’re sliding up to cup Eskel’s face, thumb tracing the scar from lip to cheek and back again, “I have always loved you, you stupid idiot. How the fuck have you not known?”

“When the fuck was I supposed to know?” Eskel asks, frowning, “You never said!”

“I thought you did! I thought you were waiting for your soulmate or whatever but maybe you’d settle for me eventually.” Geralt scoffs, “Seriously? You had no idea? I’ve been so obvious that Yen said something about it ages ago.”

Eskel wants to comment on the fact that Geralt thought Eskel was waiting for his soulmate when the whole time Eskel thought Geralt was waiting for his soulmate. He wants to say something about how low Geralt’s self esteem is that he thinks Eskel would have to settle for him, like Geralt isn’t the only thing in the world Eskel can’t put a price on if he absolutely had to. He wants to make mention of the fact that Geralt thought he was being obvious about it, that Yen somehow figured it out.

Instead he just grins down at Geralt.

“I love you too, you son of a bitch.”

It’s good, what they have. It’s pretty much the same as it was, but Geralt is even more physically affectionate and now Eskel can kiss him and hold him and Geralt kisses and holds him back. Geralt is very good at kissing and Eskel tries to be as appreciative of it as possible every time he is gifted with the opportunity.

They have not gone farther than rutting against one another through their clothes and Eskel can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

On the one hand, he very much wants to fuck Geralt. It’s something he’s been thinking of doing for nearly a hundred years, and now that he gets to be so close to it, it’s almost painful that he can’t. On the other hand, seeing Geralt’s soulmark while they’re intending on doing something intimate together, despite how many times Eskel has fantasized about marking it up, making it his, making Geralt his, he’s not sure he would actually be able to follow through with anything if he saw it in the moment.

Geralt, too, seems to be reluctant and that’s probably the main reason Eskel hasn’t made any motions to go further with it. They share a bed at night for sleeping, they wake tangled in one another, they eat together, they drink together, they hold and touch and kiss and say “I love you” to one another like it’ll be the last time they ever get to say it, like it’s the first time they’ve ever said it before, and it’s good. It’s so good. It’s more than Eskel ever thought he’d get, and it’s enough.

Eskel has taken to helping out in the fields for something to do during the day. It’s harvest season and they need all the hands they can get out there, so he joins in and assists. It’s warm in Toussaint, in the early autumn, and he is sweating and dirty when he comes in for the afternoon.

Geralt is sitting outside, drinking and reading his legs crossed as he reclines a little in the chair he’s sat in, reaching blindly for the glass of wine on the table beside him to avoid looking up from his book. Eskel smiles but does not interrupt, instead shucking his shirt off with a roll of his shoulders and taking the bucket of water beside the patio and upending it over his head.

The sluice of water is chilly enough despite the bucket’s position in the sun, and while bracing, it is also refreshing and feels good on his sweaty and overheated skin. He shakes his head out like a dog—or a wolf, he thinks to himself with a smile—his medallion clinking gently on his chest as he stretches out. Not quite as rigorous as a training session with Vesemir, but close enough. He might even be sore later if he’s lucky.

There’s a startled gasp from behind him and the clattering of a glass on wood, followed by a curse. Eskel turns around to see that Geralt has knocked his wine over and is desperately trying to clean it up while also not setting his book down in it. His movements are flustered and Eskel wonders what startled him so.

“Good book?” He asks, a laugh at the edge of his voice, amused by Geralt’s movements.

“What? Oh, uh. Yes. Yes very… very… um,” Geralt struggles to come up with a word. “When did you get that big scar on your back?”

“What?” Eskel blinks at the non sequitur.

“The big scar on your back. That’s– it’s– it looks old but I don’t think I’ve seen it before?” Geralt is affecting a tone that says he’s trying very hard to appear nonchalant, which means he’s failing miserably at it. Eskel crinkles his brow with a confused smile.

“I have lots of scars on my back, Geralt. You will have to be more specific.”

“It’s…” Geralt stands, still acting flustered, and turns Eskel around, laying a hand on the top of Eskel’s shoulder and dragging it down in a rough diagonal before tracing the edge of it—it spans the whole of Eskel’s back, and he thinks he remembers which one it was.

“Uh… Leshen, I think. About… twenty years on the Path? It’s been a while, Geralt, why?”

Geralt spins him around and takes his arm, pulling it forward and stretching his elbow flat. The network of dots on his elbow are visible to the sun for the first time in, gods, half a century at least—he’s tried to keep them covered as much as he can because looking at them was too much. A pale finger traces over them, slightly cool as usual. Eskel wants to take those fingers and chafe them between his palms to warm them up but he knows that would only work a little. Plus he kind of likes that Geralt’s hands are cool to the touch.

“Yeah, uh… that’s where they put the needles for the-”

“The Trials. Yeah. I remember.” Geralt whispers, his finger tracing a connecting line between the star-shaped marks, “Had it done twice.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eskel scowls, remembering the fierce terror at waking up and not knowing where Geralt was, learning that he was having more torture forced on him, then the recovery period where he had sat sentinel at Geralt’s bedside.

“Worst thing I ever lived through,” Geralt murmurs, glancing up at Eskel through white lashes and oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

Eskel feels numb. And dumb. And like he’s been struck by lightning. Or a griffin. Or a Leshen.

Oh.

“So… we’re idiots, right?” Eskel asks after a moment.

Geralt laughs leaning forward to drop his head onto Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel’s arms come up automatically to hold him, threading fingers through his hair, loose and long and gorgeous. He finger-combs the locks as Geralt shakes, not answering him. Eskel doesn’t worry, it happens sometimes, that Geralt won’t have words.

He does worry a little when he catches the scent of tears, “Geralt?”

“Yeah,” He finally says, “Yeah, we’re idiots.”

“But you’re my idiot,” Eskel says and it’s the strangest, greatest feeling in the world that it’s unequivocally true.

“And you’re mine,” Geralt leans back, tilting his head to the side, and taking Eskel’s mouth with a fierce—but somehow sweeter than even their chastest—kiss.

They knock their foreheads together lightly, eyes closed for just a moment as Geralt’s hands reach up and cup Eskel’s neck and face.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#the witcher #eskel big bang #ebb2021 #eskel/geralt #my fic #my writing #the captain writes #soulmate identifying marks #mutual pining #idiots in love #soulmates #making out #fade to black #happy ending

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