#I mean the shared understanding that there is a duty to something greater than yourself that must always come first

[starlightandsunshine]

This might be kicking over a hornets nest but I think that Jedi/clone ships should be queerplatonic actually

[subwaytostardew]

Sooooo, what do the twins say when you give them a bouquet then a mermaid's pendant respectively?

Sorry for the delay! I actually hadn't written their dialogue until this ask prompted me to. Partially because it's optional and the vanilla NPCs all share the same generic dialogue strings... We haven't quite posted much nor finished Emmet's heart events yet but well... His relationship progression takes into account that you get the "Best Friends" achievement after reaching 10 hearts.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

▲ Ingo ▲

Bouquet rejection: "Ah! What a lovely gift! Did you grow these yourself? You have my gratitude, @! Though… by the look of your expression… perhaps I am misinterpreting this gesture?"

"AH! Ehem… I-I see you want to become more serious. I apologize for not understanding your intended tracks right away, but I must decline. As much as I enjoy your company, I believe we should refrain from speeding too far ahead of ourselves…"

Mermaid Pendant Rejection: "A mermaid pendant? H-how kind of you to further educate myself on your local customs…"

"A-ah! Y-you intend to couple as a two-car train in m-marriage? I apologize… I believe you are speeding too far ahead of our tracks. I'm not quite ready to conduct such matters at the moment."

Bothering After Rejection A: "Ehem! I've told you, I must refuse. Do not force me to speed ahead on such hasty decisions... Please... Refrain from such requests for the time being..."

Bothering After Rejection B: "I do not recall what would have led your train of thought down those tracks, but if I have done something to make you think otherwise… E-ehem… O-once again, my apologies…"

Bouquet Acceptance: "A-AH! THIS- This is…! Oh dear… Emmet isn't stationed nearby to witness such a display of a-affection, is he?"

"Ah… forget it! I suppose I've repressed my feelings for far too long. You deserve everything and so much more, my dear! From the innermost region of my heart's engine, thank you for taking the initiative with such a lovely bouquet! I will try my best to conduct our love openly and to the fullest, as is right! It is my sworn duty as your b-b-b… b-boyfriend, after all!"

Mermaid Pendant Acceptance: "O-OH…! D-dearest…! Is that…?! I can't believe it… You w-wish to… D-do you really mean… C-could it be? I'm not misinterpreting anything, am I? Is this but a dream? Do you really wish to c-couple as a two-car train… on the tracks set for the station of m-matrimony?"

"AH… I-IS THAT… Is that so… Pardon the interruption, but if it's not t-too much, I request that you wait a moment as I realign my cab in proper operating condition!"

"[Ingo bursts into tears, loudly sobbing as he trembles with- what you know as- a wavering smile on his face. His heartbeat races at full steam. He's so overwhelmed with emotion… His state of elation, the relief of knowing that you share the same dedication to him as he does you… It's all too much for him! Between his choked-up cries, you hear Ingo sputter out proclamations of love and desperate pleas for this moment to not be another mere fantasy alongside stuttered- but loud-'BRAVO's.]"

"A-ah… Ahem! Please, forgive me for the delay! I hope that my sudden outburst didn't set your train of thought on the wrong track! I have never awaited such a journey more than that on our horizon...! Of course, I accept! Thank you… thank you for granting me my most cherished ideal! I promise to pursue even greater heights coupled with you as your h-husband, with no terminal called 'End' in our m-married life together!"

▽ Emmet ▽

Bouquet rejection: "Stop giving me gifts. I am Emmet. I feel bad. Huh? Dating? Absolutely not. I don't really trust you. I don't like those jokes…"

Mermaid Pendant Rejection: "Oh. No. Is this supposed to be a joke? I am Emmet. I remember this. Ingo said those were for marriage proposals. I don't really know you. I don't want you. That's not nice. Don't do that."

Bothering After Rejection A: "What did I say? I said no. Stop that."

Bothering After Rejection B: "Do you think that's funny? I don't. Be serious."

Bouquet Acceptance: "Thank you for the flowers! They are verrry pretty. Is it okay if I press them? I want to keep them forever. I want to keep you forever. You mean so much to me."

"Huh? You want to get more serious? Good. You should. I feel the same way. This is why you're my favorite person. Let's have more fun! Is it okay if I take a picture of us with them? I like keeping reminders that you like me. I love the flowers. Verrry much. But your smile is my favorite gift! Can I have it?"

Mermaid Pendant Acceptance: "You… went out into the rain for me? Are you serious? You're not lying to me, are you? I can trust you. Right?"

"[Emmet stares at you silently with a desperate look in his eyes, teary as he awaits confirmation in his safety check. When you reassure him that you are indeed serious about your love for him, he pulls you into a verrrrry tight hug, smiling into the kisses he presses all over your face.]"

"Mm… I am Emmet. You wanted to marry me, too… I love you. Verrrry much! I'm serious. Really serious. Because if a love isn't serious. It isn't fun. I want to keep having fun with you. Always."

"Hm… You beat me to it! I wanted to propose. But I will not lose again. Our wedding starts in three days. I have everything planned. Be ready. I already set everything up. If your clothes got ruined in the rain. Don't worry. I already prepared an outfit for you. Just bring that perfect smile of yours! We are going to be each other's everything. Verrry soon. Coupled as a two-car train. Our tracks go on forever! I am Emmet. I will be all you'll ever need. I love you! Let's have more fun!"

[stevensaus]

I think one of the most important things digital technology has reminded us about human interactions is not through large language models or generative AI, not through the collection of knowledge or sharing of opinions. I think it's something a lot more fundamental than that. It's bandwidth. The idea of "not having enough bandwidth" is something that we seem to just get. If the amount of demand is greater than the amount that can be handled, Bad Things Happen. Video calls get dropped. Streamed music gets choppy. Web pages are slow to load. It's something I really have to pay attention to, both with my day job or when I'm running an online D&D game. I'll pause downloads in the background, shut off Steam, even close extra messaging apps to make sure things run smoothly. I learned that the hard way one time when a game on Steam decided that updating would be an excellent idea at exactly the wrong time. That understanding of bandwidth applies pretty straightforwardly to human interactions. 1 When you take up a new hobby, start a new game, put away your clothes, make a new friend, revel in self-care, do anything, that is taking up some of your bandwidth. And the amount of bandwidth everyone has is not equal, and may change over time. My chronic pain sometimes severely limits my bandwidth, for example. 2 Then there are those demands and requests of your bandwidth that are already being made of you. However you're employed. Pets. Children. Significant others. Friends. Socialization. Clubs. Forums. Hobbies. Self-care and maintenance. Some of them cannot be ignored (you've got to eat sometime), and some, whether because of culture (making dinner for the family) or contract (showing up at your place of employment) feel like they can't be ignored. 3 So as I result, just like when I am running a session, I have to be mindful of my bandwidth. Am I spending it where, and with whom, I want to? Am I spending my bandwidth waiting for a response from someone, and not taking care of myself? Am I devoting too little bandwidth to the people already in my life, and is there enough bandwidth being given in return? Am I dedicating enough bandwidth to taking care of myself? Are the demands and requests being made of my bandwidth things that really are mine to take care of? All of that is ever-changing. A friend may suddenly need more emotional support because of family issues. A loved one may suddenly take ill. Your role at work suddenly encompasses ALL of the "other duties as required" part of the job description during crunch time. You meet a new potential friend, or more. You take time for yourself. You discover a new interest. If you're running close to using your total bandwidth, those things -- like that unexpected game update -- can create a whole lot of havoc. Except when we're talking about human interactions, other people, there's more at stake than a video buffering when your bandwidth is exceeded. 1 In polyamorous circles, this has been called "polysaturation," but I think that that's narrowing the focus too much to romantic relationships. 2 I specifically mean uncontrollable things that alter your total bandwidth, such as a chronic condition or a disability. Things that would be covered by spoon/match/dice theory. 3 They can, though it may be difficult or unwise; they just seem like they can't. Featured Image by Michael Schwarzenberger from Pixabay https://ideatrash.net/2024/05/you-cant-upgrade-your-relationships-to-fiber-optic-evaluating-your-bandwidth.html?feed_id=20&_unique_id=663a2ba9cbfa6

[jjgutterarmadale]

Do You Truly Required Seamless Gutters?

Often, you have to ask yourself if seamless gutters are required. They cost a reasonable amount and do not appear like one of the most attractive of home enhancements, but they carry out in fact play a vital duty for the house. Whether its copper seamless gutters or GRP seamless gutters, lots of residences can benefit from them and also there are just specific situations where seamless gutters are perhaps not entirely essential.

Examine Your Area

The first point you have to do is to evaluate where you live. ask yourself if you get a great deal of rainfall in your area? Remember if your home is on a hill, as this will most likely aid stop your home from getting swamped if there is a hefty amount of rainfall. Homes that have inclines either side do not necessarily require gutters, copper seamless gutters or otherwise, as the rains will merely drain away. You're relatively privileged if you stay in such an area, as you are not likely to be subject to flooding. The important point is to locate some means for the rain to recede, and if you don't have any kind of suitable methods to do this after that rain gutters are going to be the solution. Copper gutters are a great choice and a worthy consideration if you do decide gutters are needed as well as for that reason require to be fitted on your house. https://www.tumblr.com/jjgutterarmadale/710392745556164608/residence-seamless-gutter-repair-tips-advice?source=share

US vs UK

Remarkably, the demand for rain gutters is frequently determined by the country in which you live. Those in the United States, for example, will certainly locate that there are particular locations which don't obtain much rainfall in all, whereas the UK is known for its hefty flood-risk months. It's no surprise then that the majority of the UK homeowners have actually rain gutters mounted, so they can avoid their houses obtaining swamped. Copper rain gutters are perhaps one of the most popular option in the UK, as they are very sturdy and also long-term, which is a necessity. Nevertheless, with the quantity of rains the UK gets on typical each year, there is no question that homes need solid gutters implemented to deal! Consider it by doing this - if there is greater than 15 inches of rain that falls yearly, then possibilities are you want some guttering. It's certainly not something you can place down to 'chance' because flooding is a danger everyone should understand.

The Basic Guttering Purpose

Gutters are required to regulate the circulation of rain and also they are fitted under the roof walk on the front as well as back of the residence. You will certainly see a pipeline that is positioned on the side of the home, and also this is where the rainfall flows down. On larger buildings, there are often a variety of downpipes ready throughout the building frontage. The downpipes aid to eliminate the water build-up in the rain gutters as well as the contents then move down the pipeline as well as down the ground, receding efficiently and also preventing damages to your residence.

If you're still doubtful regarding whether you ought to obtain guttering on your residence, bear in mind that it can make the distinction between a flooded home and one that stays completely dry. If you're considering longevity and also gutters that will certainly last a very long time, copper seamless gutters are the most effective option.

Before making a decision if you need a rain gutter replacement or a fixing, thoroughly analyze your seamless gutter system initial for signs of damage, deterioration, and loose fasteners. Simply make sure when you do your exam, avoid walking your roofing system since it may even cause additional problems on the frameworks of your rain gutters and certainly your roofing. Use action ladder to get the best sight as well as if you see troubles, don't fix it without understanding what to do.

So, do you require new gutters? I have actually prepared a list which you can address with 'yes' or 'no', make sure you respond to after assessment and examine the choice below after you respond to:

1. Our seamless gutters are vinyl/plastic; 2. I see small openings in the gutter degree; 3. I see crinkling and blistering on the edges; 4. The seamless gutter fasteners are slightly detached; 5. Level seamless gutters are not draining as anticipated; 6. The rain gutters are sloping towards the downspout; 7. We experience unneeded leak when it rains; 8. The mitered corners do not look great and has leakages; 9. I see cut rusting/chemical damages (inside out the material).

If you respond to 'yes' on more than 4 (4) items on the checklist, you should consider your gutters replaced, otherwise, you still need specialist solution to have your seamless gutters fixed (examine your local directory site for a service specialist). If you're a first-timer in changing your residence gutters, you have to understand what you are getting in to, and at the very least have sufficient time to speak with a gutter solution expert and plan for this financial investment. Though constantly bear in mind that your seamless gutter solution specialist will certainly still make their very own inspection and will certainly come-up with their assessment based on: the age of the seamless gutter, the materials it's made of, the positioning of the gutters competes a vie the roofing, the weather condition in your location, and also intensity of the damages if any kind of. So, the decision may still alter

Our seamless gutter is extremely depending on just how much we care on it in the past. Substitute of your rain gutters may be an economic headache, yet there's something you can do concerning it. However don't feel bad if you were busy as well as were not able to spend adequate care, you can quickly find professional help when it's called for.

Remember, periodical cleaning and also assessment of your rain gutters will certainly conserve you from the expensive seamless gutter fixing and substitute as well as will certainly aid you plan ought to you want to change it.

[glowingbadger]

So many thanks to my lovely followers who helped me come up with this concept! Arranged marriage has been the vibe with some of y'all lately and I am here for it.

Dimitri x Reader arranged marriage

AFAB reader ('wife', but no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

You lie in bed beside your husband- your Lord Husband, you should say -and there seems to be no cure for the anxious restlessness that's made a home in your heart. It had been like that since the moment you'd learned you had been betrothed to the infamous Boar King. A man of legendary strength and rumored temper. A one-eyed titan who had struck down countless foes with untold brutality. Yes, he and his allies had unified the continent. But great deeds can certainly be done at the hands of monsters.

He'd hardly touched you. Hardly looked at you, at first. You believed he must be disgusted by you, by this whole arrangement. But the need for an heir would be of even greater importance in the wake of the recent war, and so the most suitable arrangement (which turned out to be you) had been hastily made the moment the treatise had been signed. And so you'd come to live with the Boar King, and even to share his bed- though not yet in the fullest sense. It had taken a week for him to meet your gaze directly. When that bright blue star leveled on you, you expected to feel aggression, the rage that common folk told tall tales of in taverns. Instead, you felt hesitation. Sadness. Remorse. And a whole host of other things you didn't have names for yet.

By week three, he had tentatively taken your hand to help you off of horseback. That was the first time he ever touched you. You remember that he held you like fine parchment a little too close to a flame. After that, things had come a little more easily. You shared meals, and even a few polite words and the occasional briefest physical contact. He asked about your comfort in the castle. He assured you that anything you should need could be called for. Now, lying next to him in your bed- the bed you would share for the rest of your life -there's a geometrically perfect space between you two. A gap, seemingly exactly calculated to ensure that your bodies were unlikely to meet in the night.

"Ngh..." He groans, his body twitches and tenses. You've learned that the King suffers from nightmares, though of course you haven't let on that you've noticed. Tonight seems to be worse than the others.

"No..." he growls through grinding teeth, "Stay away... go... no-!" his fists grip the sheets so tightly you worry for the fabric. Then, you're not sure what madness prompts it, but you move closer to him. Just a little at first. Inching towards him as though approaching a frightened animal.

"My Lord..." you whisper, and your fingers just briefly graze his arm. He's warm, his body is firm and strong. You'd never allowed yourself to really look at him in his nightclothes before, but the relaxed collar of his shirt reveals defined collarbones and fair skin, but also a cross-hatched web of old scars. Some part of you had known all along, but for the first time, you truly, fully realize that he's actually strikingly handsome.

You lean over him a bit further. His head turns toward you, but he's still in the throes of his nightmares. Panting breaths cause his chest to rapidly rise and fall beneath you, and you can't help but feel the ache of sympathy in your heart. Gently, carefully, you bring a hand to his face. You can feel how tightly his jaw is clenched.

"Your Highness," you speak louder this time. His eye bolts open. His hand seizes you by the wrist hard- too hard. It hurts, and you flinch, but keep your voice down. For a moment, you fear the inevitable retribution that will surely follow. But then, he exhales, and he releases your hand.

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't realize-" he stutters out, and in this moment, he looks softer and sweeter than you've ever seen.

"You were, uhm... having a nightmare, My Lord."

He nods at you, then sighs deeply. You're at a loss for what to do. Shouldn't the King's wife comfort him in such a situation? Would he even accept any comfort you might offer?

That shock blue eye meets you, and you can tell he wants to say something. All he manages is,

"Why do you call me that?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"'My Lord', 'Your Highness.'" it's too dark to tell for certain, but you almost think that you see a pink flush across his face.

"You're my King." you say meekly.

"I am your husband." he replies, and his eye narrows. It's not quite scolding, but there's definitely frustration there. Truly, it's impossible to tell exactly what he means by saying it, but you can't help the warmth building inside of you. He raises a hand to your cheek, and you're not afraid, though your heart races much the same. His hands are large and calloused, the hands of a man who has created miracles and atrocities, and now it's gingerly brushing your hair from your face. You move closer to him on instinct, and you notice with some relief that he doesn't shy away- not this time. Then, you open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out at first. You sigh, and try again,

"My- My Lord Husband, you should sleep. I didn't intend to bother you, only to make sure that you were-"

He sighs once more, and his eye closes.

"Sleep will not come, I already know. Not on a night like this."

You certainly don't know what to say to that. Anything you can think of would be meaningless platitudes and hollow assurances. You don't know the man well enough to know his demons, but you're certain there are plenty. The two of you are quiet for a time, and though his breathing has steadied, he shows no signs of regaining sleep any time soon.

And so you do the only thing you can think of to do for him.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He breathes in sharply, and you feel his frame tense beneath you- but he doesn't pull away. Your hands cradle his face as you place gentle and tentative kisses to his lips, which are far softer than you'd dared to imagine. And as you carefully move atop him to straddle his hips, you feel his hand tightly grip your thigh.

"What are you-?!"

"I thought that I would... perform my wifely duties to you, My Lord Husband. If you'll have me." you add, a slight tremor sneaking into your voice.

His pupil is wide and this time, you're certain that you can see a charming crimson flush across his cheeks. He speaks your name almost incredulously, though his hand hasn't left your body.

"You- you are under no obligation-" he stammers, and when you try to assure him, he presses on, "you're a prisoner to this marriage, don't you understand? I have no right to ask anything of you- much less that you give your body over to me!"

He seems to have completely forgotten that the entire point of this union was to produce an heir.

"I certainly wouldn't force myself on His Highness if I'm not pleasing to you..."

"That is absolutely not what I mean to imply," he says, almost laughing as he scoffs away the very idea, "I desire you as much as any sane person would, of course, but to think that you would be made to do such a thing merely to placate me-"

"I want this." you say, surprising even yourself with the strength of your words. You sound even more confident than you feel. But every word the King says to you peels away at the wall of anger and fear that you both had been content to keep between you until now, and you feel strongly about your decision. Still, he pauses a moment longer, as if waiting for you to back away from your claim. And when you don't, he draws you down to him and kisses you deeply. You can already feel his manhood rising between your thighs, but soon enough it's just one more piece of information amidst a whirlwind of sensations.

His strong arms wrap around you and his kiss travels down your neck to your chest. He fumbles awkwardly with the front of your nightshirt, so you remove it for him and he wordlessly returns to sucking gentle love-bites to your skin. Shy and curious moans and sighs surround you both in the dark of your bedchambers as you eagerly explore each other. His hands are rough, but he's trying so dearly to be delicate with you. You're more direct, your fingers tangled in golden hair and your body flush to his, creating an intoxicating friction between you.

Your lower body shifts more firmly against him, grinding his now quite stiff member between your thighs. He growls against your skin, and you feel his fingers drag down your back.

"I... ought to do more for you..."

Ostensibly, he means in terms of intimacy, but you have a strange feeling that he intends this to be a more general statement. You rest your forehead to his and murmur,

"I want you, My King."

"Dimitri." he says as his hands trail down to help remove your underclothes, "Just Dimitri, I beg of you."

And soon enough, he's pressed hot at your slick entrance, and you cling to him as he begins to push inside. He's thick- it hurts just a little, and you think for a moment that he was probably right that you both should have done more to prepare. But now he's filling you inch by inch, stretching you out around his cock, and your mind is numb to every thought except one- this is my husband, my lover.

"Dimitri..." You moan into the evening air around you as he bottoms out deep within you and the tinge of pain begins to fade into pleasure. He gives no reply other than the potent throbbing of his cock, rubbing against your inner walls as you both begin to move. You're surprised by how easy it is to fall into a natural rhythm with him. Your hips sink down onto him as he thrusts up towards you, and each pass sends a jolt up your spine. Dimitri buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly, holding onto your hips as you squeeze tightly around him.

Your nails dig along his muscled shoulders as you feel your climax winding tight at your core. He doesn't seem to mind- you're not sure if he even notices. His pace picks up. Briefly, his hands ease their hold on you, as though offering a means of escape. You have no need for such a thing. With a whimpering moan, you press yourself as far down onto his cock as you can until his tip hits your core, then sway forward, grinding his length into you until, with a gasp of his name, your body slacks into his arms.

He whispers your name in turn with something like awe in his voice. With his cock now coated in your climax, Dimitri loosens his restraint, and begins fucking into you in earnest. While your thighs tremble and you can hardly keep yourself supported above him, you manage to meet his gaze and smile warmly, then press a tender kiss to his parted lips. He grits his teeth, and he holds you to him with such strength that you no longer even need to support yourself. Then, he swells, twitches, and his pleasure is spilling out deep inside of you, filling you and warming you through.

You moan happily as you feel his release, then relax your body to lay comfortably against his sturdy frame. He's panting harshly still, but neither of you rush to separate from one another. Once he's just barely composed himself, he lifts your chin and kisses you with a sweetness that you never thought you'd find in a man, let alone the Boar King himself.

Though, once you've eased his spent manhood from you and laid your head against his chest, you hear his heart beating, still just a bit too fast and fluttery. You think for a moment that, yes, your husband is the legendary, ruthless Boar King. Your husband is also Dimitri, a man who looks at you with sincerity that makes your heart ache. A man you don't know well- not yet -but who you find yourself opening to more and more each day.

"I... don't wish to keep you awake terribly long..." he says, with a stilted nervousness to his voice, "but, if you're not overly tired, I- I'd like to... talk for a little while."

You smile a warm, but private smile, then say,

"I'd like that very much, Dimitri."

[inhonoredglory]

another character based question - how do you feel about mikasa? a lot of fans dont like her, im curious about how you feel! - armin anon

Hellooooo Armin Anon. OMG it’s been forever since I had the time to sit down and do a proper meta, and I apologize.

First off, I finished the manga!!! (So, spoilers ahead for anyone else reading this.) I had to lie down after reading 139. It’s a tremendous story and I’m still taking it all in. The set pieces and personal/emotional stakes of everything that happens is just astounding. If it’s one thing Isayama does good, it’s the gut-wrenching personal anguish that underlies the action. I’m absolutely floored. My favorite bit was probably the timey-wimey stuff in Paths and Eren. That blew my freaking mind. But onto Mikasa!!

A Cruel Yet Beautiful World

I remember way back when I started the anime that I started liking Mikasa first out of the group. I liked how sullenly silent and no-nonsense she was, and I liked her loyalty to Eren. Her emotion, especially when Eren died in Trost, was palpable and terrifyingly beautiful. Her grief was incredibly realistic––rushing off with a death wish that even she couldn’t succumb to in the end, because of the drive to fight that she got from Eren. In a world like SNK, her relentlessness breaking through her grief was incredibly moving. And her philosophy is basically the driving theme of SNK: “This is a cruel world, and yet so beautiful.”

This is the same moral message she gives Eren when he can’t find the strength in him to fight Annie––and gives him that warm, understanding, inscrutable smile that allows him to finally accept his own monsters, fight Annie, and save her and Armin. (One of my favorite panels of her from the manga, actually.) Mikasa is basically the first character we meet who embodies this contradictory morality, which grows to engulf SNK and other characters as well (Levi, Reiner, and Armin especially come to mind). Which could be why I was drawn to her at the start, since the complex moral outlook of SNK was the primary reason I fell hard for this story.

(And gosh, it’s tragic to realize that it’s teaching moments like the scene above that made Eren into the person who could influence his own child self to murder, the person who could wipe out so much of humanity, the person who could take Ymir’s challenge to free her by destroying the love of the person who cared the most about him. I’m still processing yo.)

Acker-parallels

I started really analyzing Mikasa when I had to defend her from a friend of mine who accused her of resenting Levi (for beating up Eren) and that’s why she attacked him so violently in the RTS serumbowl. Because of my research into rebutting that, a lot of my affection for Mikasa now comes in seeing the little ways in which she cares and trusts other people, including Armin, Levi, Gabi, and Jean. And her quiet sensibility that goes beyond her love and protectiveness of Eren.

With Levi in particular, I find a lot I like about her. Because you can definitely see her annoyance at him, but she also trusts him more than anyone else in the Corps outside of Armin. After Levi’s violent encounter with Historia, she was the only one who implicitly trusted Levi’s judgement, backing up Armin’s more reasoned logic. She sees beyond her own emotions and even moral feelings and realizes the world is cruel enough that sometimes people have to do dark things to help others and survive.

This is very much the same statement Levi made to the 104th when he had asked them to follow Erwin’s orders when the commander’s plans were questionable on the surface: “Do you trust him? Those dumb enough to say yes… come with me.” These two understand each other on a moral level, and they ask for their comrades’ loyalty without demanding it, because they each know that everyone’s conscience is their own.

There’s a clear parallel between Mikasa and Levi, not only because of their Ackerman heritage and sensibilities (loyal to a fault to their chosen person, impossibly strong, quiet and grim), but their frustration when they cannot protect the people they are responsible for. They both know they are the strongest around, and if they cannot fulfill on that power, a lot of people will die.

There are many moments in which Mikasa puts aside her personal feelings to do her soldierly duty, from leaving Eren to help with the evacuation of Trost to leaving Eren and Armin to fight the Colossal Titan alone in Shigonshina.

And then there’s the fact that Levi’s the one who could break past Mikasa’s headspace and distraction so that she can do the right thing. He understands her strong emotion, he respects it, but he also knows when that has to be put aside for the greater good. But he doesn’t put her down for having those emotions, either.

Strength from Eren, Humanity from Armin

Mikasa’s love and loyalty to Eren challenges her tremendously after the timeskip and her sorrow at Eren’s change is what really stands out to me about her character in the Marley arc. The absolute grief in her eyes when she tells Eren what he’s done is devastating, and it shows just how much goodness and compassion she does have.

And yet she longs to understand Eren, to trust him, to believe there can be something redeeming, and not merely jaded and tired, in what he taught her so many years ago––to fight, to win, to live.

There’s such a difference between these same words said here by Mikasa, so many years later, after so much heartbreak, to the anger and flame that were in them when she first heard them, back when she realized that this was the way of the world. That death and killing happens in the natural world everyday and that’s how you survive. That the world is both cruel and beautiful.

And yet as the years wore on, as Mikasa grew closer to others, found purpose in protecting others, sought a life with Eren… as she wandered further into the forest of life and society and relationships, she lost some of that simple injunction... to live is to fight, to fight is to win. She, like so many of the 104th and the others on this journey, found that it’s not enough to just fight and live and be satisfied. We really want it all to mean something, to have our actions be redemptive. To allow ourselves to believe that we do what we’re doing because we’re not just saving ourselves, but saving others, “saving the world” like Yelena points out (in the forest therapy session pfff). And it’s that drive for something bigger in our actions that grieves her so much with Eren, because as she wants her own actions to be fundamentally good and selfless, she wants his actions to be moral as well.

So while Eren is the person that frustrates Mikasa and motivates her to become stronger and braver than she ever was, Armin is the person who humanizes Mikasa and allows her the space to be gentle and vulnerable. She comforts Armin, confides in him, puts her faith in him, and puts her life in his hands.

She trusts Armin with Eren, and she values Armin’s intellect and compassion, qualities she doesn’t have in nearly as much quantities as he does: “There are only so many lives I can value. And… I decided who those people were six years ago. So... you shouldn’t try to ask for my pity. Because right now, I don’t have time to spare or room in my heart.”

This bit from her confrontation with Ymir and Historia was a defining moment for me with Mikasa. It’s honest and realistic in a way that few of us care to admit about ourselves, and it’s just super chilling and badass coming from her, too. It also shows how much she fights for Armin and Eren both. They are the two people she loves the most in the world, and she never gave up on saving either of them––from death or from themselves.

I’m looking back on Trost now and finding so much irony with the ending to SNK. In Trost, she was the one to give up on Eren, telling Armin that it was hopeless to try to extract Eren’s personality from his Titan form. And yet, like in the end, it’s always been between Armin and Mikasa to try to salvage Eren’s humanity. In Trost, Armin tells Mikasa to leave––to go do what she’s good at (saving lives)––and to entrust Eren to him.

It’s a huge expression of both Mikasa’s trust in Armin, and her belief in Armin’s abilities and friendship for Eren. And in the end, it’s the two of them again debating on if there’s any humanity left in Eren. The bond they share is intimate and deep. With all the military doubting Eren and scheming to take away his Titan (with even Jean and Connie unavailable to them emotionally), it’s only Armin and Mikasa against the world––the only two people who can truly consider Eren’s actions and hold off on judging him. And you can feel their love for him even as they doubt him.

And like back then, it has always been Armin who understands Eren most, the one who recognizes his own evil and Eren’s and finds a redemption in having others stop you, because you cannot stop yourself.

And that’s the thing I really take away from SNK and from Mikasa’s journey, that we all have devils inside us, and yet there is still beauty to be found, within us and in the world––from the natural wonders that Armin dreams of, to the comfort of purpose and companionship that Mikasa has in Eren. Love and wonder is what redeems us of our devils. And yet love itself is complicated, and can turn ugly in its obsession. That giving up that love is what makes the love selfless and beautiful, what absolves us of the selfishness within us. That’s what Mikasa learned. And in the end, she was able to release that love for the good of the world.

So I guess to sum up, I really love Mikasa. I can see why her dogged loyalty to Eren might annoy some fans, but I think there’s a lot more to her than simply that, and in fact, her journey and growth is heart-rending and one of the most symbolic arcs of SNK and fundamental to its entire theme. She’s a badass with a lot of emotion and depth behind her cold mask.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Something else I haven't seen before. What would the MC's parent from each background think of the ROs? Who would they approve of and who wouldn't they? I guess in the case of orphan MC, what would E's parents think? Since they kinda maybe vaguely adopted orphan MC?

Hmm, interesting! Since I did the opposite, I should have seen this one coming haha

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

Storm's comments:

E: "Rose has had that expectation for some time. This is preferable to the alternative. I know you will be in good hands. Rose raised them well."

R: Your father doesn't mince his words, a clear disdain evident, "Valleford. See that you don't take after your father, or there will be less than pleasantries next time we meet."

L: "Scio. I assume your father...?" Storm's lips pull in a small frown as L gives a small nod of confirmation, "I understand if you cannot forgive me. Your father is a significant asset to the Hospian war effort. If I find him, I will kill him."

V: "You've seen enough at your age," Storm says quietly, looking into the hollow glint in V's eyes, "I'm sorry. Those were battles that should have ended with my generation, not yours."

P: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, "I assume your father is well? He does not speak of his second child often, but you seem more spirited than the other. That will make the greater difference when it matters."

M: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, though there's little sentimentality in his voice, "I assume your father is well? He expresses confidence in your upbringing, but I can't say I share the sentiment. You lack something fundamental. Something to drive you to achieve more than what's expected of you."

Ra: Storm's eyes lock onto Raven with a harsh intensity, "Your eyes are filled with blood and you conceal weapons. Tell me your intentions or I will kill you right now."

S: "I admit I am unfamiliar with Orden. The conflict never reached that country, but I understand there are many hardships there already," Storm says, looking the brightly grinning student up and down before his lips pull back in small contentment, "You come out better than most. You have impressive strength."

F: Storm holds a frown as he takes in the vivid green hair, "Many allowed Frenza to claim their distance due to their significant contribution to Triaina's independence, but it doesn't absolve you of everything," he says in warning, "Don't step over the boundaries you've been afforded, or the military will have no choice but to respond."

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

Scurra's dialogue:

E: Scurra makes a grimace as he recognizes E, "Damnit, you've gone and done it now," he grumbles as he pulls out his wallet and hands a fold of bills to E, "Give that to your mom, will you? She's worse than a debt collector with bets..."

R: "Valleford! There's a name I haven't heard in a while. I knew they had a black sheep in the family, but I guess they couldn't take away the infamous good looks," Scurra chuckles, his eyes lightening reminiscently, "They've put me in a good bit of trouble on more than one occasion. I guess I should consider it a family curse now that MC is involved with you."

L: "Oh, I know those eyes," Scurra says wistfully, "Coming to find the world is a bigger place than you imagined, aren't you? It's even more expansive than that, too. I had that same look when I traveled overseas. I hope MC is being a good guide for you," he looks to you, and gives a knowing wink.

V: Scurra gives a meandering hum as he looks at V, "I've been all around, but I've only seen natural hair color like that a handful of times. They all had your same stare, too." He closes his eyes thoughtfully, "None as young as you though. I hope you're the last I have to see with those eyes. They're a bad omen."

P: "A fiery one, aren't you! Has no one ever told you not to say bad words in public?" Scurra laughs, "You should stop while you can. You're so transparent with your feelings that I almost mistook you for a window, so there's no point to pulling a tough act."

M: A small, genuine smile rises on Scurra's lips as he inspects M, "How interesting. You're so similar to your twin, but you're definitely the better actor. As I think about it, you remind me of MC's mother in many ways..."

Ra: "What are you doing here?" Scurra frowns, staring harshly at Raven. A silence passes and eventually he looks away, messaging his jaw, "Oops, guess I was mistaken. You looked a little like someone I know."

S: "You've got Orden written all over you, don't you?" Scurra says cheerily, "It's been a while since I've visited, but I have to say it gave me the most enjoyment. You all certainly know how to keep it lively."

F: "Your family has always been so hauty!" Scurra covers his mouth to suppress a chuckle, "But I think it would be a mistake to talk down to everyone you meet. I happen to be on great terms with your mother. If I took the opportunity, you two would have been siblings!"

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

Xero's insight:

E: He smiles warmly to E, "It's good to see you again. I'm afraid there was little I could do for you: your mother has already found out about your relationship. I expect she'll make it as embarrassing for you as possible, if I know her well. I hope you're mentally prepared."

R: Xero studies R with a faint curiosity, "I'm afraid your father and I are on less than speaking terms due to some...past difficulties, but I understand you are more than simply your father's child. You may be villianized for your differing viewpoint, but aren't we all? I don't find it is so bad," Xero gives R a knowing small."

L: Xero's eyes widen upon seeing L, then falls into a soft smile, "To think history would repeat so aptly. To see you two now reminds me of my own school days," Xero closes his eyes and releases a light sigh, the smile still present, "I pray you'll also find the same happiness I did, and that it lasts longer."

V: Xero's grip tightens on an file in his hands as he sees V, his voice meticulous, "You are...Wolfe, correct? I'll admit the what I've heard and read of you is...less than appealing, but," he casts his gaze between you and the ex-Jagd member, a faint smile growing on his lips as V steps cautiously between you. "You seem to have a strong sense of duty. I hope you will be a good pillar for MC."

P: He looks disaprovingly, "In my field, words are paired with intention. To speak is to lay bare your thoughts. Why would you neglect your intent by forcing a negative connotation where it doesn't belong?"

M: He seems slightly more on edge than with P, "I don't believe I should offer my approval to someone unwilling to determine a focus. It's a testament to your negligence."

Ra: Xero crosses their arms, his face skeptical,"Marriage? Your lack of detailed forethought and hyperfixation gives me the impression of an unhealthy mind. As it stands now, I will refuse to give you my blessing."

S: "I'm afraid I'm ignorant to everything Orden related," Xero says sheepishly, "I am happy to learn all that I can, though. Perhaps you would like to bring your family at some point? I would be happy to host them here." Xero smiles warmly, clearly unknowing of the chaotic rabblerousing he's invited into his home.

F: "Ah, the royal line," Xero says in recognition of F, "Your own mother was a classmate of mine as well. To think one of her children would grow so closely with mine. Please give her my regards, would you? She has always kept herself closer than others, so I was happy when she took an interest in my friend. He's a lucky man."

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

Mr. Razor's thoughts (if he was alive)

E: He bows his head gratefully, "Thank you for taking care of MC all this time. Your selflessness has saved me a lot of worry, and I doubt I'll have any more leaving them in your hands."

R: Razor's eyes bore a hole through R, "To defy your father was a considerable risk. And not knowing what the academy had planned for you, you still allowed yourself to be incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time," Razor taps his fingers to his chin, a smile spreading over his lips, "I enjoy those that stick to their principles, but what say we work on your jailbreaking?"

L: "Your father's quite an important man. He's lucky I was never contracted to kill him," Razor says matter-of-factly. A chilling air of silence deafens the room until Razor holds up his palms, "Just kidding. I've never killed anyone. They all died mysteriously."

V: "How's Jagd doing?" Razor narrows his eyes keenly on V, "I'm surprised they were able to bounce back after what I did to them. I guess they filled the empty spaces with whoever was able...or moldable."

P: Razor smiles sadly, "It must be difficult to be given another person's expectations and do well with them. You're like a fish trying to climb a tree. But I enjoy how far up you've climbed despite that. Would you like a reward? I know, how about...your father's weakness?"

M: Razor seems disinterested, "You're not worth the words, Crater. You're nothing more than what your father made you to be: a simple shadow to live vicariously through."

Ra: Razor's eyes have an approving glint, "The one that slipped through the cracks. How very odd. MC's mother was quite odd too. It's an endearing quality, isn't it? Yes, I think you'll make a perfect companion for MC. You've already been looking over them all this time, haven't you?"

S: "Earnestness is one of the first qualities people tend to throw away when faced with hardship. It is impressive to see how you've progressed through your poverty and discrimination so aptly. Perhaps you have a hope that things will get better?" Razor's mouth spreads in a wicked smile, "I do enjoy seeing how people struggle for such a small glimmer of light. I think I'll offer my aid."

F: "Ah, it's always cute to see people play at royalty," Razor smiles at F's exasperated face, "Why do you seem so angry? Do you actually believe your position has meaning? I'll assure you it doesn't," Razor casts a darkening stare towards the royal, "To me, you're no harder to kill than a beggar on the street. The power you attempt to flaunt means nothing, because in the end it does nothing to elevate you beyond a simple street urchin."

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

End

Thank ya for the ask!

[erenisms]

bestie | jean kirstein

jean, being your self-proclaimed best friend, decided that it's his duty to set you up with his other best friend.

pairing: bestfriend!jean x reader (+ slight!marco x reader)

genre: crack, fluff, platonic (inspired by that one bnha incorrect quote i posted)

warning/s: cursing

word count: 793

It was a nice, cloudy day but you decided to stay at the apartment you shared with Jean to catch up on your favourite show. Surprisingly, he stayed home, too, and you thought you could bond over some [show title]. You thought it was going to be a fun, peaceful day with your roommate of almost four months and you thought wrong.

The two of you were splayed on the couch with the snacks now littered on the floor as you attempt to wrestle his grabby hands away from you. His right hand pulling on your ear and the other was pinching your cheek as he practically hovered on top of you. You had no idea why was Jean trying to claw your face off yet here he was, trying to claw your face off.

“Just let me set you up on a date with Marco already!”

“Is this what this is all about?!” You yanked a fistful of his mullet and successfully wrenched him away from you.

“If you don't date now, you're going to die alone.” He threatened as though that meant something to you.

“Jean, I'm nineteen.”

“Nineteen is old!”

“You're old!”

“How dare you, I'm only twenty!” He had the audacity to look offended when what he just said was completely contradicted what he just called your age.

“Well if you said nineteen is old, that only means you're older. A relic! Ancient! Fossil.” You retorted with a glare, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” Jean huffed, mirroring your position on the couch. “Look, [Name], I promise Marco's a great guy. Maybe even greater than me, maybe, but that's not the point. I'm sure you two will hit it off. And if not, which I highly doubt, then at least you met my friend. Plus you fit his ideal type way too perfectly and he seems the kind of guy that you'll be into, you know? Soft, kind, understanding, mature, practically a saint! He's hella talented, too. And I forgot to mention that you're both from Jinae so that's a huge bonus! [Name], trust me, you'll be head over heels for him.”

You let Jean finish his mini monologue and/or persuasive speech as you positioned yourself more comfortably. You now had your elbow on the armrest and your legs propped up on the coffee table. Your head lies lazily on your hand as you side-eye him blankly.

“If you're so insistent that he's so amazing then why don't you date him instead?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” He grimaced, looking like a child that was forced to eat their vegetables. “You know I like—”

“Mikasa, I know.” You cut him off, snickering. “Everyone knows you like Mikasa. And I mean everyone.”

“Shut up!” He fumed, trying to shake the embarrassment off. “And don't distract me from the subject!”

“Dude, why are you so adamant that I go on a date with Marco? Can't the three of us just, I don't know, all meet up at a café or something? You only want me to meet him anyway.” You shrugged, not really meaning what you said.

“Well, as your best friend, I took the responsibility of not letting you grow old with just cats on some farmhouse in the mountains—”

“My best friend? Since when? I thought Sasha's my best friend?!”

“Since I stepped in this apartment, you heathen. And stop trying to change the topic!”

As you were about to fire something back, your phone rang. Both of your attention was caught by the ringing device on the table that your feet were placed in.

Love is calling...

“Wait, ‘Love’? Excuse me?” Jean stared incredulously at you.

Just to spite, you looked back at him straight in the eyes for emphasis as you slowly picked up the phone and answered the call.

“Hey, Marco.” You greeted the caller, still holding eye contact with the male in front of you. “Yeah, of course, baby... Hmm, nothing really. What about you?”

You couldn't help but smirk when Jean's mouth fell open in both surprise and possibly offence. His face was dumbfounded as he mouthed a ‘what the fuck?’ at you and you just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just watching tv, actually. Didn't really felt like going out today— oh! And my roommate's here with me right now. Do you want to say hi to Jean?” Your smile widened. “Great! I'll put you on speaker, okay?”

You did just that, holding the phone between you and your still bewildered roommate.

“I— what the hell, man?! You and [Name] are already dating?!” Jean exclaimed on the phone while looking at you, snatching it from your grip.

“Hi, Jean! Yeah, we are. Sorry, I didn't get to introduce you two to each other sooner.” Marco laughed sheepishly on the other side. “Say, why don't the three of us meet up at a café this weekend? I miss [Name] already!”

- love, zari

[daughterofanarcissistwoman]

A trauma involving the mother or father is sometimes referred to as a "wound" because it damages the body-mind, needs proper healing, and often leaves a scar or weakness in your body or emotional makeup. No wound is more charged for both men and women than the mother wound. Your relationship with your mother or whoever provided your "mothering" is the primary relationship in your development, and it inevitably conditions much of your life.

By repeatedly staying with difficult feelings and body sensations, your perspective of the past shifts. You become far less reactive and more flexible in your emotional responses. It is not that your history is rewritten, but rather that the self experiencing that history is transformed.

You may also secretly believe that your wound is ugly, something to be ashamed of. But ask, do the wounds of your friends make them any less attractive? Are you not inspired when they handle them in a courageous manner? Why would it not be the same for you? If there is some part of you that you find unacceptable, make it the object of your loving-kindness practice.

The Four Functions of Mothering

You can bring more clarity to your mother wound by reflecting specifically on what mothering means to you. There are four basic functions of mothering- nurturing, protecting, empowering, and initiating-and a trauma can occur in any of them. Although they are interconnected, it helps to examine them separately in order to clarify the trauma.

Through practicing mindfulness, compassion, and loving-kindness, you develop the four mothering capacities within yourself. The practice of developing these inner capacities is slow, but the effect is strong and easily felt. Keep in mind that "fathering" also involves these same four functions, with some differences. Ideally these functions are shared by both parents, with each compensating for the other's weaknesses. If you struggle with a trauma around the father, you can reflect on these same functions.

Reflecting on these functions will also help you understand that no woman is only a mother and no man only a father; "mothering" and "fathering" are done by women and men who by their very humanness are less than perfect in what they can give. For many people, this understanding alone is liberating.

Mother As Nurturer

The first of the four functions of the mother is nurturing, the giving of care that allows for life (symbolized by the mother's milk), which encompasses meeting the wide range of physical and emotional needs a child has in order to grow and develop. You know about a child's needs for food, shelter, medicine, comfort, and relatedness; a child who is not held enough develops into an adult with a range of physical and emotional difficulties, just as an inadequate diet manifests as health problems later in life. But there is a more subtle aspect of nurturing I call "nurturing with joy," which celebrates the existence of the child as a source of delight for the one who is mothering and which manifests in the child and continues into adulthood as a sense of innate worth and spontaneous joy.

If you did not receive sufficient nurturing in childhood, as an adult you may feel an insatiable need, an inability to take joy in others, or a lack of self-worth despite your competency and confidence.

As you develop mindfulness, you find your capacity to be in the moment includes the ability to nurture yourself and others. The practices of loving-kindness, empathetic joy, and compassion can feed your nourishing capacity. Finding teachers who nourish without creating the codependency of excessive mothering can furnish further inspiration and role modeling. Being mindful of the fear is in itself transforming. Observing the thousands of ways in which you are nurtured and nurture others in the greater community also break up the solidity and credibility of your wound's story. Nurturing, as with all the functions, begins with the mindful intention that this is a value, a particular energetic quality, or manner of relating to yourself and others that you wish to cultivate. By giving up clinging to your agenda that nurturing should be a certain way and instead simply staying with your intention, you slowly develop an inner nurturer. In so doing, you will change both your inadequate feelings and your story.

Mother As Protector

The second of the four functions of mothering is protecting. This is the instinctive and cultivated impulse to see that no physical or emotional harm comes to one who is vulnerable. It is symbolized by the warrior or guardian spirit. A child needs to be protected from physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, and from the threat of all three. Ironically, the first persons a child has to be protected from are the mother and father and their destructive impulses. These destructive impulses might take the form of excessive anger or emotional instability, for instance.

There is a subtle aspect of protecting energy that gives the child the incredible gift of feeling intrinsically safe, a feeling of trust in life. Unfortunately, quite frequently a child must try to flourish in a home environment that does not feel safe, even though no overt harm is done. As an adult the individual will often be at a loss to explain the unsafe feelings that plague them.

If you did not receive sufficient protection as a child, as an adult you may feel that there is "no one in your corner." You may have a memory of some traumatic event or environment that recurs during meditation. You may have developed an elaborate compensatory behavior pattern for your anxieties. You may be confused about the discrepancy between your family's "factual history" of your childhood versus the feelings you remember having as a child. For these reasons, in making the mother wound your practice, you focus on the feelings arising at present. They can be worked with, released, and transformed. The past is not so easy to work with. It is comprised of outer and inner events that are now immutable, hazy in recollection, or maybe even inaccurate.

There is no "magic bullet" that will dissipate all your past trauma or create instant feelings of safety. But if you continually bring attention to feelings of fear, loss, and confusion as they are arising and receive those feelings with compassion, they will begin to lose their grip. Gradually you will discover that they come less often, with less intensity, and stay for shorter periods of time.

Mother As Empoweror

The third of the four functions of the mother is empowering the child, encouraging and teaching independence and self-confidence. It is symbolized by the queen, who elevates her subjects and facilitates the beginning of their coming into their own power. The mother uses her royal power over the child with fairness, patience, generosity, and a commitment to preparing her child to become her equal or even to surpass her. The ability to perform this function comes from the mother's own self-confidence and love and from embracing the view that it is her sacred duty to empower her young. Empowering is achieved by encouraging self-reliance and providing education, discipline, and learning opportunities for the child. You are empowered to try, therefore to make mistakes and still be fully accepted. Your interests are met with enthusiasm; the importance and joy of hard work are recognized and encouraged. Failure is treated lightly, while curiosity and integrity are held in high regard.

In fairy tales, when the queen neglects or is afraid to allow the young their power, the kingdom becomes ill and languishes. In real life, this is seen in the mother who neglects or is even afraid of her child becoming powerful, so that a host of problems develop through neglect, constant criticism, or creating dependency.

Sometimes because of over-identification, the mother is willing to empower but insists that her child be like her or succeed in ways that satisfy her own ego. This is a false form of empowerment, a subtle form of enslavement. You may not realize that there is a difference between the functions of nurturing and protecting and that of empowering, but the difference is crucial. With nurturing and protecting the mother is doing for you, whereas the empowering function allows you to find your own power through doing for yourself. With your mother's blessing, you become independent and self-confident.

If you struggle with empowerment, then you may lament your anxiety and ineptitude, your perfectionism, or your unwillingness to try new things. Struggles with self-confidence will be visible in your meditation. It is as though a blessing was withheld, and it is debilitating. Slowly, through your yoga of being fully mindful of the wound, you learn how to give yourself the blessing of unconditional acceptance.

Mother As Initiator

The fourth function of the mother is initiating, and it is the most difficult to understand. It is through acts of initiation that you come to feel as though you are a valuable and welcome member of your family. As you develop, it is this function that provides the inner feeling that your life has meaning, and by the teenage years you understand that you have the right to become the full expression of your own unique life. It is also the initiation function that permits, accepts, and celebrates your leaving home to start your own life.

A girl achieves the inner experience of womanhood by way of initiation by the mother, who does this through how she treats her own womanhood and that of her daughter. The father plays a key role in initiation as well by recognizing the girl's power and her natural right to become a woman. For a boy, it is the father who is the primary initiator into manhood, but it is the mother who recognizes that the boy is leaving her side to enter the company of men. She signals that this is appropriate, not a reason for guilt, and she supports his bringing "mother replacements" in the way of female friends and girlfriends into her house. In welcoming them she acknowledges his independence.

When initiation occurs in a timely and clear manner, it is a beautiful process, though often painful for the parent. Most initiation takes place through symbols, rituals, and unspoken behavior. When it does not occur, there is a sense of guilt, of staying a youth, of not knowing or not feeling entitled to one's place in life. For a mother to be effective in providing initiation, she must have somehow received or found her own. It is the most selfless of all the aspects, for she is encouraging a separation that leaves her without. This initiating power is associated with the shaman, the goddess, the magus, and the medicine woman.

In seeking initiation you may be attracted to teachers who claim superior understanding, who create an impression of having vast authority, thus signaling what is often a false claim that they can initiate. You may frantically want answers in your life, not understanding that initiatory power will come to you if you treat your questions as sacred. It is tempting to surrender your power to a teacher rather than seek a teacher who will initiate you so that you gain self-empowerment.

You may simply want something to happen in your life that signals your aliveness, meaning, and place. It is a call for initiation.

Your experience of the first three functions may have been less than "good enough," therefore you may never have had the momentum to seek initiation.

Likewise, your mother and your father may have suffered from their own lack of initiation such that providing initiation was simply far beyond them.

Throughout human history, the tasks of mothering were shared by members of the extended family, tribal elders, and family friends. The community had rituals that helped in the process, including those that taught you to take comfort in the earth or nature as the Great Mother. Unfortunately, nowadays there is often only a mother and father to do all that needs to be done.

The wounds do not disappear, but they lose much of their charge. They fail to hook your mind and imprison your heart.

https://dharmawisdom.org/teachings/articles/healing-your-mother-or-father-wound

[chibiwritesstuff]

Hey! May I ask for Malleus and Lilia being hesitate to start a relationship with the mc because of their long life span? And also welcome to the fandom!

Σ(°ロ°) You probably didn't ask for angst but this is just such a good angst prompt and I LOVE writing angst more than anything so I hope you don’t mind. I might have gone overboard with it though. If you do want a happy ending instead don’t hesitate to tell me! Thank you! Everybody’s so nice in this fandom.

Also, stan Lilia. Man, I simp for this old man so much.

Pairings: Malleus Draconia x Reader, Lilia Vanrouge x Reader.

Now, let’s depart enter this twisted wonderland~

“Tsunotaro, I think I have fallen for you.” You quietly said warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Will you let me stay by your side till the last breath I take?”

That was a few nights ago, and he left you without giving a reply. Instead of saying anything, he instead returned to the confines of his room and hid. While Sebek was glad he’s back Lilia sensed something in him that he asked the younger fae to leave the future king be. Now, all he can do is watch you from afar as you share your smiles and laughs with your peers from Heartslabyul.

Oh, how I miss hearing that laugh of yours… He can’t but think as he kept his gaze at you.

You two stopped meeting each other ever since. Well, more like you change your course of direction the next night you saw each other. He can remember clearly how tired your eyes look, how you’re ready to cry one more second you stay in his presence. You merely bowed your head and walked straight in Ramshackle Dorm.

“Lilia, what should I do?” He cried that night. “My only friend, the only one who understands me outside of our family… has left me.”

“Humans are quite delicate creatures, Malleus.” The older fae answered, pity evident in his eyes. “From the sound of it, the trust that you two have has been severed from your actions.”

“I want to stay by their side, I want to keep talking to them, laugh with them.” He continued wallowing in his sorrow as he remembers all the times you two spent on each other's side.

“Tell me, Malleus.” Lilia made him sit upright and face him eye to eye. “Do you reciprocate their love?”

It's not that he doesn’t return your feelings, far from it. He loves you more than anything in the world. Yet, the thought of him living on as you age and eventually dying scares him. He’s tired of being left behind, of losing things he deeply cares for and living on without them by his side. Fears that clouded his judgment that night which lead to the pain twisting in his heart for not being able to be near you anymore.

Time is but a blink of an eye for his species but who would have thought that it could feel this agonizingly slow as well. What he thought had been years already is merely but a day… without you by his side. Just one conversation, that’s all he wants. He wants the normalcy of his days with you to be back. So, imagine his joy when you approached him with a smile once more.

“Tsuno – I mean, Malleus.” He frowned when you refrained to use the name you had lovingly given him. The pain in his chest returning even greater than before. “I have great news to share.”

“No need to call me by my name. You’re more than welcome to call me Tsunotaro as you please.” Please, call me Tsunotaro again. Call me with that love you have for me. “What is this news?”

“Crowley has found a way to send me back home!” You grinned as he felt his heart shatter into pieces, eyes widening in disbelief. “I can finally go back home! Everybody’s heading to the Hall of Mirrors to send me off.”

“Is that so…” He can't breathe. The pain is too much even though you’re finally talking to him again…you’re smiling at him again. “Then allow me to send you off as well.”

“Alright! Let’s go then!” You took his hand and guided him to your destination.

How warm. He can’t help but think so. I would love to hold your hand forever and never let you go.

You two arrived and you let go of his hand to greet the others. Farewell speeches were made, tight embraces, and souvenirs from each dorm handed to you. You grinned as you accepted everything given to you. Alas, it’s time for you to leave and you stepped in the mirror. The moment you’re gone, the mirror cracked, signifying that your departure is a point of no return here. He stood still as everybody slowly left the Hall of Mirrors until he’s the only one left. His eyes began watering as everything that happened finally sinks in. The now cracked mirror mockingly reflecting his broken image. You left, returned to your world facing forward with a bittersweet smile… and he let you go without answering your confession.

“Then the least you can do is give her closure.”

“(y/n), I too have fallen deeply in love with you…” Tears flowed endlessly as he gave his reply to no one. “So please…”

Will you stay by my side till the last breath you take?

“Isn't it better to have a few years filled with love than have a lifetime worth of what-ifs?” You cried as he rejected your confession to him before running away towards your dorm.

“(y/n), it's nice seeing you here.” Lilia’s smile faltered a little as you hesitantly smiled back before leaving as fast as you can.

Day by day, you both tried to initiate conversations with each other without being too tense. He can tell how you’re forcing yourself to talk to him like nothing happened and it hurts the both of you. Both wanting the pain to end yet now willing to let go of what little interaction you have. He tried to distract himself by performing his duties as Diasomnia’s vice-leader, cooking food, even go as far as reading history books that he knew the true version of said history. All to dull the pain he feels as soon as his thoughts drift towards you.

Why did you have to have such a short lifespan? He kept asking himself as he leafed through a book he’s holding. I would love nothing more but to stay by your side and start a family. A simple life with you… how nice it sounds.

But he can’t fathom the idea of existing without you by his side once your time in the world expires. He’s more than happy to love you with all his being but he can’t help but hesitate as he thinks of the future ahead of you two. A few more days have passed and the two of you had officially stopped talking to one another. It was merely by chance that he spotted you talking with his son. He was on his way towards the light music club room to distract himself once more. Against his better judgment, he eavesdropped at your conversation with Silver.

“I envy you, Silver.” You spoke with such sadness that Silver can’t help but pat your head. “Despite you being human as well, Lilia chose to keep you by his side.”

“He truly does love you,” He reassured as you slowly began to shed tears. “He just doesn’t want to live without you by his side when the time comes.”

“And look at what happened instead.” You scoffed as you wiped your tears harshly. “I can’t even bear talking to him without being reminded that I’m not important enough to be able to stand by his side till my last days.”

“(y/n)…”

“I thought since he has you, he knew that this will happen and he’d rather treasure those few years with people he loves than just leaving them be.” Your eyes, tired and dull from the emotions swirling in your heart and mind. “Tell me, am I too foolish for clinging on that little hope back then?”

“No, you only followed what you felt was right.” He dropped his hand to his lap and looked down the ground. “Sometimes things just don’t happen the way we want it.”

“Thank you, Silver. No offense on your situation with Lilia though.” You smiled in defeat before standing up and dust off your clothing. “Please do keep your promise to me.”

“As much as I’m against it, I understand.” Silver sighed as he stood up as well. “Farewell, (y/n). Please don’t forget about us when you return home.”

Lilia froze as hopelessness settled in him. You’re leaving not just him but everybody else. He silently left the area and walked aimlessly as his feet somehow managed to bring him back to his room. His body felt colder than ever, body stiff and eyes wide at the realization of his fears. His fears of you leaving him behind as he will keep living his immortal life. Except, instead of through death, you’ll return to where you truly belong.

But, you also belong by my side…right?

He can’t help but laugh bitterly at his situation. He knew this would happen one day. He accepted this since that dreadful day he rejected you. So why…

“You’re right, (y/n).” For the first time in his immortal life, he shed tears and let out a scream of agony.

I’d rather spend a few years filled with love with you than live my immortal life filled with what-ifs about what we could have been.

[mfkinanaa]

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.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hey, I hope you are 100% ok with found family theme? Because found family theme in Transformers are my favourite trope. For the request, would you do the headcanons for Ratchet, Drift and Windblade with the reader who is a techno-organic?

Found Family is the golden trope above all tropes and 1000% supported on this blog anon don't worry about it. Time for some fluff.

Windblade

·Though she's somewhat new to exploring the galaxy, she knows the value of close friends, and how they can become your greatest support when times are tough. She forges bonds that are deep with those she trusts, and she intends to keep those for the rest of her life. To a certain extent one might say she has a family that's always growing. Granted she doesn't just let anyone in, but her kind nature means she's always seeking out those who need companionship. For you, this worked out rather beautifully from the outset. Unlike so many others your nature didn't perturb her in the slightest. She was merely curious, but upon discovering you were being ostracized she took you under her wing and never looked back.

·Like any found family, she introduces you to the other members and explains to each one in private what you'd endured. The bots she'd never known a day without, Chromia and Nautica, stepped up immediately to help. This family is built on mutual support and protecting one another, so think of yourself as having just gained some very large and powerful but loving bodyguards. Chromia in particular has no patience for bullies. Neither does Windblade, but she prefers to sort things out peacefully if you ever find yourself the target of more bullying. That likely comes from her role as a Cityspeaker, given that communication is her greatest skill, and she extends that to you as well. You'll never find her anything but enthusiastic to listen to what you have to say, and she loves to talk and share her opinions right back.

·Speaking of Cityspeaker duties, however, there's someone else in her circle that you'll get to meet. Titan's aren't just her coworkers, she bonds quite closely with them too, and she likes to help others understand that these gigantic beings can actually be quite lonely. Thus, your newfound family turns out to be much larger than you could have ever anticipated. That's to say nothing of how boundless the love and acceptance proves to be, as for the first time you find yourself surrounded by a judgement free environment, and it's like a breath of fresh air. Anything on your mind can be spoken without fear of rejection! Windblade takes listening incredibly seriously, after all, and so for the first time in your life you speak and are heard. The lack of genetic relations does nothing to stifle the wonder of it all.

·Yet, for her incredibly soft spark, Windblade quickly proves she has no patience for the bias you've become accustomed to as a techno-organic. Comments you were once forced to just endure are now met with fiery resistance from your adopted family. Should anyone ever get the idea they can threaten you, that assumption is very quickly corrected. The Stormfall Sword rarely even needs to be unsheathed for them to learn you're under considerable protection, and even if it does Windblade won't hesitate if she fears you're in any kind of danger, and neither will anyone else on your side. When you ask why they reply as if it's obvious; family looks out for family. They're with you through thick and thin, and you don't have to endure any cross words so long as they're around. Each one promises that much.

·Having endured what you have, it takes some time for you to understand that they mean it, and that they'll never abandon you. Windblade has truly taken you under her wing, as she so often likes to joke.

Ratchet

·Being a medic for a species desperately understaffed with doctors can be exceptionally difficult, especially with such high mortality rates, but that's never stopped Ratchet from caring. He knows every life is precious, and he forms friendships with the intent of them lasting a lifetime. No one is ever going to be uncared for if he has something to say about it. Thus, you more or less find yourself "adopted" by the gruff medic before you can even blink. Though techno-organics often face exclusion from bots, Ratchet has spent enough time performing surgery to know that what's on the inside physically hardly matters in terms of character. He's held the sparks of Autobots and Decepticons alike, and at the end of the day they all look the same.

·That being said, he makes it very clear to you that if anyone gives you a hard time, he wants to know straight away. His famously gruff demeanor isn't all an act, and he can absolutely make a bot regret every single mean word they said to you. Not only that, but he knows how emotional health is just as important as physical, so he makes sure to check in on you quite frequently. It's not our of character for him to sit you down if he sees something is bothering you, at which point he'll gently ask if you'd like to talk and he'll listen. Being busy doesn't mean he won't do everything in his power to make time for you.

·Something people often forget though, and you'll probably be quite surprised to see, is how much he likes to celebrate positive achievements and praise your hard work. Like a proud papa, he'll absolutely gush when he hears you've succeeded at something you've been working on. Not just to you either, if you're okay with it, he'll brag about it to anyone that listens. Confidence is important, so he does everything in his power to make sure you know your worth. The other medics all freely join in as well. Everyone who works in the medical bay gets close to one another, so they become your extended family of sorts, like a gathering of aunts and uncles who all do surgery together. It makes for a surprisingly cheerful crew.

·Upon getting closer to him, you eventually see that Ratchet isn't just acting gruff to cover a soft spark, he's arguably the softest bot on the entire ship. On more than one occasion you've drifted off somewhere only to wake up mysteriously tucked in to your own bed, and when asked he'll simply get flustere and say the mattress is better for your back. Trust him; he's fallen asleep at his desk often enough to know. Should you ever come down with any kind of illness, however, all pretenses of gruffness will dissapear very quickly. You'll find yourself doted on by a very caring docbot, one who encourages you to relax and not strain yourself while he brings you anything you need.

·Being a techno-organic often means enduring so much isolation that receiving any kind of medical care is hard, as neither organics nor bots typically want to treat you. However, as you spend more time with the medic who's adopted you, something begins to become clear. Not only do you receive all the medical attention you need without hesitation, but all the care one requires to truly be healthy. As a family should, he and the others medics look out for your emotional wellbeing too. Your sense of self finally begins to heal as you never knew it needed to.

Drift

·When it comes to being alone, few bots have a greater understanding than a former Decepticon. Even on the Lost Light he's pushed to the outskirts, and thus his precious few friends become lifelong companions that are naturally his family. Having explored far and wide and knowing that the prejudice against techno-organics like yourself is awful, his first action when he saw you was to offer his protection. He'll never let anyone endure loneliness if he can help it. You're surprised by how incredibly warm and affectionate he is right from the start, as his reputation would hardly suggest a bot who welcomes you like a literal ray of sunshine.

·Yet in surprisingly short order you find yourself under the protection of a bot who's simultaneously the friendliest and deadliest being on the ship. Drift checks in with you regularly to ensure you're not being made fun of or even made to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. He doesn't want to kick anyone's butt, but he makes it clear he absolutely will if you're at risk, and he has the go ahead from Rodimus on that front. Speaking of which, the captain of the ship immediately grants you his own protection as well, stating that anyone who befriends his bestie is good by him. You're happy but incredibly surprised to find two individuals with such different personalities acting like they've grown up together, and the two don't even care about all the ways their perspectives differ!

·Growing closer to Drift only makes you more amazed at how impossibly mellow and relaxed he is. Though the bot could easily best almost any bot on the ship in combat, he's only interested in being friends with his fellow Autobots, hoping to extend the tenets of his religion into all aspects of his life. Though he wants you to convert, there's absolutely no pressure to do so, and he happily accepts your refusal if you decline. The laid back mech shows you the kind of nonjudgemental support system you never knew was possible. When asked about it, he says that he wants you to have a place where you'll always feel accepted, and he hopes to provide that.

·Even more than acceptance, you find him to be incredibly encouraging of all your goals, no matter how small some of them may be. Every time you achieve something he's effusive in his praise. Though he doesn't say why, eventually you put together that he sorely lacked the same in his youth. No doubt, he wants to provide you with everything he was missing. Whether he's more akin to a dad, uncle or cool brother becomes irrelevant over time. In time you come to realize what matters is you have someone who will always be in your corner. Should you ever need positive reinforcement of any kind, it's merely a request away.

·It takes time for it all to really sink in that you've been adopted more or less, all without your new family ever mentioning as much. In fact, Drift so naturally welcomed you into his life you're not sure he realized it either. The ninja bot is simply so loving and accepting you could forget there's a harsh universe out there every time he pulls you in for some comfort after a hard day. The peace of having such a system of support is indescribable.

[raffinit]

Sylvanas/Jaina: jealousy (but like, not in the super toxic way??)

I’m sure you wanted cute couple things with this prompt but my brain worms got the better of me

—————

It took Jaina a fair bit of time before she understood the state of turmoil her emotions were in. The conception and pregnancy held their own unique agonies and traumas — the birth most of all. Perhaps, if it had been a child that she had wanted to begin with; a child made with someone other than the Banshee Queen...

Weeks, it took her. Weeks before Jaina could stand to hold her own child — her own daughter, who had her blue eyes and soft spread of freckles. It was one thing to see her own features replicated on the impossibly tiny and squashy face of her child, but it was another thing to reconcile the fact that her daughter had a face too elegant and elf-like to ignore.

Not to mention the ears. Not as long as a full-blooded elf, but there was no denying the child's heritage.

Their child, whose name came from Sylvanas, because Jaina couldn't bear to even look at her after the birth.

Their daughter was called Aeryn Windrunner. Daughter of the Lord Admiral and Warchief. A beacon of hope for the new era of peace. Sylvanas had asked her once for a middle name, or perhaps to hyphenate their family names for the sake of heritage, but Jaina had simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Call her what you like," she had said. "I don't care."

Sylvanas had pursed her lips, red eyes burning with something like concern, but said nothing.

Because they shared a chamber; because it would be cause for concern if it ever came to light that Jaina couldn't stand to hold or feed her own child — Aeryn slept in their rooms. Tucked away within a lavish crib, made with elven filigree carved into solid oak wood, and a mobile hanging over it in shapes of anchors and ships.

Though Aeryn slept in their rooms, Jaina did not tend to her. Sylvanas woke with her each night; cared and caressed her and hummed little wordless tunes when the babe would fuss the most.

There were some nights when all she could was weep. In anger, in grief, in shame — in envy at the way Sylvanas took to the baby better than she had.

At the gentle urges from the midwives and healers, Jaina kept her milk. It would've been a waste, after all, but that didn't mean she needed to nurse Aeryn at her breast.

She expressed her milk whenever the need arose; Sylvanas took care of bottle-feeding.

Jaina threw herself back into her duties as soon as she could walk without the pains of birth between her hips. She was tender still, likely could have stayed resting for longer, but she couldn't bear to stay trapped within their rooms for much longer.

No one questioned it, but the smiles full of knowing and sympathy made her skin crawl.

One night, Jaina returned to their rooms to find Sylvanas cradling Aeryn in her arms; the babe's plush cheek tucked against her neck as she stood against the moonlight of the balcony.

Without turning to address her, Sylvanas said, "She likes the sound of the waves. It puts her to sleep the fastest."

Jaina stiffened and turned away. "I didn't ask."

"It's something you should know regardless," Sylvanas said, glancing back to meet her eyes impassively. "For when Greymane or your mother ask of her. They will want to know everything about her. You should at least have enough information to lie."

She expected it to sting, but Jaina felt little more than ire.

"By all means, answer them on my behalf," she replied snidely. "It makes no difference to me."

It continued for a time; Sylvanas mothering their child and she tucking her head beneath the pillows when Aeryn would cry at night. Sometimes, she would watch through her lashes as the Warchief — blooded and branded tyrant of an enemy faction — hovered and fussed over the cradle with gentle words and tender touches.

Other times, she would huff and toss in bed, until Sylvanas would slip away quietly to the adjoining study and the baby’s cries grew faint and muffled behind a closed door.

She wept most bitterly those nights. Why, for what, she couldn’t understand. It was nothing more than hormones at that point. Surely.

A month passed. It was customary, it seemed, to celebrate the first full moon of an infant — to celebrate its first full month of life.

On the morning of the celebration, Sylvanas bathed and dressed Aeryn herself. Though they were never short of nannies and maids at hand, tending to their daughter was something she had always done. Jaina never cared to ask why.

"You'll need to hold her for the ceremony," Sylvanas said. "Try not to drop her."

Jaina scowled at her, but could admit that their daughter painted a very pretty picture; wrapped in a lavish swaddle of reds and golds. Auspicious colours to elves.

"What exactly am I meant to do?"

"Hold her," Sylvanas replied simply, though she seemed entirely unwilling to relinquish Aeryn from her arms. "It's tradition for mother and child to bathe together the morning of the ceremony — but that is assuming we abided by the confinement period. We didn't. This ceremony is meant to officially introduce her to our people. Family and friends and the realm, as it were. You will hold her while I cut her hair."

"Why cut her hair? She barely has any."

Sylvanas let out a sigh, as if there was no greater burden than to answer her. "It is tradition. We used to shave their heads. Now we just trim enough for the symbolism of it. Traditionally, the hair was made into a calligraphy brush."

"How unnecessary," she said.

Sylvanas glared, but made no further comment.

They stood within the Great Hall, side-by-side as the priest recited all the necessary blessings and incantations. Jaina's face ached as it droned on; sore from the forced and unfeeling smile she gave to anyone who caught her eye.

When it was time for the ceremony — when it was time for Sylvanas to trim their daughter's hair —, Jaina felt her spine stiffening, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Sylvanas met her gaze and spoke in a hiss of breath. "Pull yourself together, Proudmoore."

The weight of the baby in her arms was strange and unwieldy; she had to shift Aeryn several times before she could get her hands in the proper position.

Aeryn squirmed as soon as she left Sylvanas’ arms, her little Cupid’s bow mouth pulling into a moue as she whimpered.

Jaina froze. She gave the baby a feeble bounce, but Aeryn was already beginning to fuss in earnest.

Sylvanas stroked a hand over the bowl of Aeryn’s head, murmuring something in Thalassian. The baby’s long brows lifted in recognition, calming somewhat.

Then she pulled away, and Aeryn fussed again.

“Hold her closer to you,” Sylvanas muttered, casting a pointed look at the crowd watching from the pews. “At least pretend to care, damn you.”

“I’m doing my best,” she hissed, tucking Aeryn closer to her. The baby squirmed and nuzzled close, nosing around against her chest. The pressure made her breast ache in response; she could feel one start to leak. “Just get it over with.”

Sylvanas made a low noise of irritation in her throat but said nothing else. She clipped the end of Aeryn’s hair, coming away with a soft tuft of blonde curl that she carefully secured with a length of red silk before passing it on to the priest.

When it was over, Jaina all but shoved the baby back into Sylvanas’ arms. She tried not to notice the way Aeryn settled comfortably there.

She tried not to notice her mother’s worried face watching from the crowd.

After the ceremony, Jaina began to notice the preferences. Though she tried her best to be present in her daughter’s life; though she tried to hold Aeryn more — it was clear that their daughter preferred Sylvanas. When she held the baby, Aeryn squirmed and fussed and cried, and would only calm when placed in the arms of the banshee.

“She doesn’t know you,” Sylvanas told her, though not unkindly. “Give it time.”

Though she knew it was of her own doing, Jaina couldn’t help the slow festering ugliness that grew each passing day that Aeryn chose Sylvanas over her.

As Aeryn blossomed from a newborn to a full-fledged baby, so too did her personality. The baby smiled her first smile as Sylvanas spoke to her quietly one morning. Jaina watched, hovering by the bed and pretending not to notice the way the Banshee Queen’s eyes lit up and voice lightened into an almost giddy lilt.

“What a pretty smile,” Sylvanas cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the baby’s chubby cheek. “You have your mother’s smile, my little sparrow.”

The way Sylvanas crooned should have made something warm and soft bloom in her chest. Instead, all she felt was a hollow ache.

It had to be an ugly thing, but surely understandable. That she would be jealous of her own child choosing another over her.

When Sylvanas was away, she took to laying the baby on the bed by her. Aeryn kicked and squirmed and fussed at times, but eventually they seemed to come to a stalemate.

“I know,” she said to the baby sometimes, leaning on an arm and watching Aeryn. “I wouldn’t want to be near me, either.”

Aeryn snuffled at her voice, blue eyes searching for her face. When they found her, the baby quieted, staring intently into her face.

“You’ll probably hate me,” she muttered, reaching out and tentatively stroking a finger over Aeryn’s cheek. “You already seem to. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry you weren’t born to a better mother. Or a better world. But at least one of us is doing a good job.”

Aeryn blinked at her mincingly and cooed.

Despite herself, Jaina found herself smiling softly. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Who would’ve thought that the Warchief of the Horde would be such an attentive mother.” She ran her fingers gently over Aeryn’s belly, watching as the baby cooed and kicked at the sensation.

“That’s because she isn’t my first.”

Jaina startled at the voice, pushing upright off the bed and twisting around. There, in the doorway; Sylvanas watched them, expression unreadable but not unkind.

It was hard to hide her surprise. “She’s not?”

Sylvanas pushed off the doorway and approached the bed, settling on the edge. “No,” she replied, bending to nuzzle Aeryn’s hair. The baby kicked and snuffled excitedly, no doubt recognising her, and Sylvanas’ lips twitched into a sad smile. “Despite what you and the Alliance may think — I was once married. I had a wife. We had a child. A daughter the same. Count yourself lucky that Aeryn is nowhere near as fussy as Nilarith ever was.”

That Sylvanas would willingly reveal such personal memories left Jaina reeling. She floundered for a moment for what to say; if she was meant to say anything at all. Instead she watched quietly as Sylvanas danced elegant fingers over Aeryn’s belly, tickling under their daughter’s chin and stroking over an ear.

The tenderness and care in the touch made Jaina’s chest stir with something she recognised as sympathy and guilt at once.

Eventually, she found the sense to croak out, “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

Sylvanas lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It was another lifetime. I have mourned them enough. I will carry them with me as long as I walk this earth.” She lifted her eyes and glanced at Jaina. “I at least take some comfort in knowing that our daughter died in her mother’s arms...and that she was loved deeply.”

Jaina stared down at Aeryn; at the way the baby clung to Sylvanas’ finger in one tight fist.

“I do love her,” she murmured. “I think. I’m meant to, aren’t I?”

“I can’t tell you what to feel,” Sylvanas said. “The circumstances of her birth weren’t something to recall fondly. It’s understandable that you resent her for what she represents.”

It was unfair. To Aeryn and herself. Victims of circumstance.

“I don’t resent her,” she insisted. “I just — I just don’t know how to feel about her.”

Sylvanas went quiet. She looked down into Aeryn’s face for a long moment, until the tension seemed to bleed hard enough for the baby to notice.

Aeryn let out a whimper, kicking her legs.

Sylvanas’ ear flicked. “She’s hungry.”

“How do you know?”

“You learn their cries over time. Hungry, wet, bored. Hurt.” Sylvanas pushed upright. “I will get her bottle ready.”

Jaina peered down at the baby, took in Aeryn’s little moue and soft cries. The sound made her breasts prickle and she winced, reaching up to soothe the pressure.

Hesitantly, she said, “I can — I can try to feed her.”

Sylvanas paused and glanced at her warily. “You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” Jaina said, reaching up to untie the laces of her tunic slowly. “I’d at least like to try.”

Though it was clear she was doubtful still, Sylvanas inclined her head. “Would you rather I —?” She gestured towards the door.

Jaina flushed and shrugged her tunic off a shoulder low enough to expose one breast. “You’ve seen it all,” she muttered, gingerly manoeuvring Aeryn into her arms. “I’d — appreciate it if you stayed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get her to latch.”

Sylvanas nodded slowly and moved back towards the bed. Aeryn fussing in her arms brought all of Jaina’s attention to the baby; but she could see in the corner of her eye, the Warchief bustling about with pillows.

“Here.” Sylvanas piled the pillows high against the headboard, gesturing to her. “Lean back. I’ll put a pillow under your arm. Something to brace the weight of her while she nurses.”

Jaina obeyed, shuffling back against the pillows comfortably, keenly aware of the way Aeryn squirmed and wriggled closer to the warmth of her skin. She tucked the baby into the crook of her arm and slouched slightly to urge Aeryn to her breast.

The first suck stung and she pulled away in instinct, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Aeryn let out a cry at the loss, but Sylvanas was there to soothe her.

“Gently,” she coaxed. “Hold her closer and let her set her mouth fully on your breast. She’ll know what to do.”

It was a strange, alien sensation; pinching slightly when Aeryn finally latched. There was a soft, wet suckling sound, and Jaina felt something shift and open in her chest as the baby began to suckle greedily.

“There now,” Sylvanas murmured, settling down on the bed beside her. “You’re a natural.”

Jaina said nothing — couldn’t trust herself to say anything with her throat welled thick with emotions she wouldn’t dare name.

Instead, she cradled their daughter close; one finger clasped tightly in Aeryn’s little hand.

[thewritewolf]

Old Ways, New Age Chapter 1

Summary: The Guardian order has been suddenly restored, nearly two centuries after their disappearance from the world. They emerge into the future and immediately set out to discover what has happened to the miraculous in their absence.

The last thing they expected to find was someone like Ladybug.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Hello and welcome to my entry for @marinettemarch, which marks the first of the six prompt months that I will be doing. I’ll be posting a new chapter each week!

I hope you enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Ladybug was swinging across the city, making her way to tonight’s meet up spot for patrol with Chat Noir. Her arms moved of their own accord and her eyes stared sightlessly into the horizon. Thoughts swirled in her head as she got lost in memories that hadn’t yet been dulled by time.

Funny how quickly things could change. How they could catch you off guard, even when you were preparing for them. After all, what had all those lessons about the kwamis— - their names, their personalities, their tastes - been about, if not for her to replace herthe old master when the years caught up to him.

Then again, it hadn’t been the years that caught him, but Hawkmoth. Nothing like an unexpected attack to move the time tables along. In all the uncertainty that had followed her since that battle, there was one thing that was unshakably true.

Master Fu was gone and the duty of protecting the miracle box had fallen to Marinette.

It was a fact that ran through her head at least a few times every day, but no matter how many times it happened, it never failed to knock the wind out of her. Even now, weeks later, she’d be hit with a sudden wave of sadness in the middle of class that she wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone.

Even her partner, Chat Noir, couldn’t really understand the full weight of what she had to deal with now. As much as she wanted to share with him, she had inherited more than just magical artifacts and responsibility from Master Fu - she’d inherited some of his caution, his paranoia. As far as she was concerned, she could bring Chat Noir into the fold slowly. However, she could never go back once she did,and she wasn’t ready to open up. Not yet.

Which was good for safety. Though not so great for her feelings of loneliness.

Nonetheless, her heart felt lighter when she saw the silhouette of her partner outlined against the setting sun, sitting on the roof’s edge. Secrets or not, they were still a team. One day, she knew she would be willing to share everything with him. Yet that day was not today.

She landed on the rooftop with a grace that she only had in the spots, and although she was sure she hadn’t made noise, his cat ears twitched and he turned toward her. The moment his eyes landed on her, he grinned.

“And just when I was starting to think you’d fur-gotten me.”

“With jokes that bad, I almost wish I had.” She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “But what can I say? I’m a glutton for pun-ishment.”

Chat let out a tender sigh, putting his hands over his heart and laying on his back. “I love it when you pun with me, m’lady.”

“Don’t turn into a kitten puddle just yet, chaton.” She stood over him and nudged him in the shoulder with her foot. Their eyes locked as she leaned over him, her hands on her hips. “We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover before this patrol is over.”

“It is admirable that you two adhere to something so strict a routine as a patrol.”

Ladybug tensed up, her hand on her yoyo as she whirled toward the voice. A man was standing on the other side of the roof. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of her mother’s Chinese period dramas - from the archaic yellow robes to the shaved head - and he looked every bit the part of one of those Buddhist monks. Unlike them, however, he clutched a sturdy staff in one hand. From the iron caps on the ends and the fact he wasn’t leaning on it, she assumed it was more a weapon than a walking stick.

“That bodes well for the discipline that may have been instilled in you.”

The stranger frowned as Chat Noir sprung to his feet and pulled out his baton in one swift motion, crouching as he extended it into a full staff.

“Although, clearly, there is still room for improvement.”

Spinning her yoyo into a shield, she watched the stranger carefully. “Who are you?”

“And why are you so interested in ‘discipline’?” The hostility in Chat’s voice surprised her, but she pushed it aside for later.

“My apologies.” He raised one hand to his chest, palm pointing to the side and bowed his head. “I am Master Namdak of the Guardian oOrder.”

“The Guardian oOrder…?” Chat Noir said slowly, his stance relaxing as his eyes widened. “You mean Master Fu wasn’t the last one?”

“‘Master’ Fu?” Confusion tinged Namdak’s voice. “I know of no master by that name. Although…” He cupped his chin with one hand, eyes narrowed as they stared past the heroes. “I do recall a young acolyte by that name. And he had been the one in charge of your miracle box.”

“I heard that your monastery had returned, but I didn’t expect to see you here in Paris.” Ladybug caught her yoyo in the palm of her hand and settled into a more casual pose. “I was pretty sure it would have taken you longer to react to suddenly returning after like almost two hundred years.”

Namdak smiled, the indulgent smirk of a grandfather. “When you are custodians of artifacts that are strange and powerful - such as the miraculous - things like this become the new mundane.”

“That’s great!” Chat slammed his fist into his palm, a wild grin on his face. “Does that mean you’re here to help us?”

“In time, most likely.” Namdak nodded. “But for now, we are simply taking stock - establishing new contacts and retrieving lost artifacts.”

Unbidden, suspicion welled inside her.

“So what brings you here, then?” Ladybug’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What’s your mission here? Contact or retrieval?”

Master Namdak continued smiling, but there was a hollowness to it, as if he took no joy in this conversation any longer.

“Retrieval.” Both hands settled on his staff - non-threateningly for now, though Ladybug didn’t fail to notice the tension in the air. “We know that you are in possession of the miracle box, chosen of Creation. All miraculous must be returned to the fold.”

Chat Noir backed up, closing his hand over his ring and shooting glares at Namdak. “No way are we letting you takesteal our miraculous! We were chosen for this!”

“Chosen by a renegade who never completed his training and yet deigned to call himself by the highest rank of our order.” Anger and frustration had seeped into the master’s voice and he calmed himself after taking a deep and soothing breath. “I realize this comes as a great surprise to you, but this is for the greater good, I promise.”

“If the greater good means sacrificing all of Paris to Hawkmoth,” Ladybug snapped, hands on her hips and glaring down the old monk, “then it isn’t a good that I want to be a part of!”

There was a long pause as they stared at each other.

“...Hawkmoth?”

“Did you seriously come to Paris without even trying to find out why two miraculous users were activated by your order?” Chat crossed his arms and snorted. “Talk about making a monk-ey out of yourself.”

“We can sense the presence of the miracle box, not all that is inside it.” Namdak frowned disapprovingly at Chat Noir. “How could we have known?”

“You knew enough to find out where we start patrols,” Chat countered. “Looks like you just got lazy after stalking us for a while.”

“Hawkmoth - and his henchman, Mayura - are two villains terrorizing this city,” Ladybug said, stepping forward just when it seemed Namdak was about to respond to Chat. “They are the holders of the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous, respectively. From what Master Fu told me,” she said, placing extra emphasis on the title, “they were the ones who found those miraculous long after the fall of the Guardian oOrder.”

Namdak stared at them for a long moment before turning away, his hand rising to his chin once again.

“This… changes things.”

“Good.” Ladybug smiled. “Maybe now that you understand what we’re going through, you can-”

“The Guardians will leave you with two miraculous, while returning the others to the custody of the Order. Two miraculous to fight two miraculous - this is fitting.”

“No!” Ladybug threw her hands in the air. “No, this is not ‘fitting’! Do you not know what abilities their miraculous hold? We’ve needed support from other miraculous from time to time and taking that option away from us will just make it all the harder to beat them.”

“All the more reason for my next suggestion.” Master Namdak pointed his staff at Chat. “He will need to surrender his miraculous.

Chat Noir paled as Ladybug put herself between him and the Guardian.

“That is not happening. Chat Noir is my partner and—”

Namdak shook his head. “You misunderstand me. He may have another from the miracle box, but it is the height of foolishness to allow the two miraculous of reality to be within arm’s reach of such a villain.”

Ladybug put her arms on her hips. “So, what? Now you’re banking on us failing to stop Hawkmoth? If he wins, then you’re just going to have a greater problem on your hands.”

“A problem that would be much lessened without him having the ability to make wishes come true and a small army of miraculous champions,” Namdak replied, a distant quality to his eyes that made it seem like he was staring at another time entirely. “If you are as skilled as you seem to believe, then you will be able to hold your own until the Guardians can return to aid you.”

“No deal. I’m not about to let your paranoia doom my entire city.” She pulled out her yoyo and spun it into a shield. Behind her, she heard Chat Noir take his baton in his hands. “Now go back and tell the Guardians that we don’t want them here.”

“I will leave, but I will return.” Master Namdak took a couple steps back, all without taking his eyes off of them. “You can count on that.”

She noticed too late that he had reached behind his back and tossed down a few clay pellets. When they hit the ground, a thick smoke blotted out all the meager light and both of them were wracked by coughing fits. By the time the smoke cleared a few moments later, he was gone.

“Well,” Chat said, between the last few coughing fits. “That wasn’t ominous at all.”

“Yeah… Think we did the right thing?”

“No doubt about it, LB. Why should we tie one hand behind our backs just ‘cause some old geezers want to do inventory?”

“Well, the miraculous are technically theirs.”

“So are the butterfly and peacock, but you didn’t see him hitting up Hawkmoth for donations first, did you?”

“You’ve got a point there.” Ladybug sighed. “And for a minute, I was hoping we were about to have a new friend in this war.”

Chat Noir pulled her into a half-hug. “Don’t worry, m’lady. At least I’m always here for you.”

“At least there’s that,” Ladybug said with a smile. “Still want to do our patrol?”

“Nothing I want to do more. Lead the way, bugaboo!”

[tentoriwrites]

Cider and Honey

Rating: General Audiences          Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light

Characters: Haurchefant Greystone, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Language: English           Words:1748          Song:  "Broken Heart of Gold (acoustic)" One Ok Rock

Summary: Haurchefant comforts the Warrior of Light in their hour of need in a sweet way. Non-gendered Warrior of Light.

Author’s note:  TIL the Japanese version of Haurchefant is completely different than the English version. So I'm going to make two versions of the same scenario. This version, the sweet version, features English Haurchefant.

The last few dying embers of a once roaring fire now simmered in the fireplace. They gave off very little warmth and even less light. Morning would not come for some time and even when it did, it would not offer comfort. No, the sun would only serve to cast harsh light on the reality of the situation the hero of Eorzea now found themselves in. Even the moon seemed unwilling to cast its glow upon the suffering hero.

There they sat on one of the softest and plushest couches they ever felt. Only in Sultana’s bedchamber had the furniture felt so luxurious. And so, it had only served to remind them of their failure. To her and to everyone else. That is what led them to sitting in the middle of a couch, in their bedclothes with their knees to their chest, face buried in their knees. A desperate bid to stave off the metaphorical darkness that threatened to consume them.

Everyone liked to think the Warrior of Light was made of stronger stuff than mortal men. But the truth of the matter was they were made strong because of their friends and comrades. Tempered like steel by their desire to protect the ones they held precious. Bereft of the thing that gave them strength, the weight of the world pushed them closer and closer to the watery surface of despair. They knew. They knew if their head should ever go under, it would be the end of everything. So, they persisted in treading those waters, as best they could, alone in the darkness.

Light steps on the polished marble floors spoke to someone or something stirring elsewhere in the manor. A quiet gasp pulled the Warrior of Light’s face up slightly, but they saw no one through their vision blurred with barely constrained tears. So, they dug their fingers into the flesh of their leg to take their mind off the tears that threatened to spill free and buried their face in their knees again.

A dull thud on the table beside them pulled the hero from their stupor once more. A tray with a steaming cup of beverage and a vial of white-ish liquid caught their attention. They slowly and absently looked around but felt a warm weight on their back before they found a person. They followed the person with their eyes as the shadow moved from the back of the couch to the fireplace. They threw a pair of logs on the embers and blew gently for several long moments until a small fire kindled once more. The warrior didn’t need to see a face to know who their nursemaid was.

“Haurchefant…” The name was barely more than a hoarse whisper, giving away everything they had hoped to hide.

The Elezen jumped as if startled and quickly spun around. He looked one part relieved, one part deeply apologetic.

“Pray excuse the intrusion, I did not mean to wake you. It would not do for the reputation of the Fortemps name if the Warrior of Light caught cold while under our stewardship.” Haurchefant whispered as he gave a slight bow.

“I wasn’t asleep.” The hero unfolded slightly and wrapped themselves in the blanket.

“Then pray excuse my presumptuousness but I suspected that might be the case.” He reached out and picked up the vial on the tray. He gently pressed it into the warrior’s hand. “A weak sleeping potion.” He gestured to the mug on the tray. “Mulled cider. Mulled wine is a more traditional Ishgardian drink, but I have found it does not do as well washing down medicine.” His characteristic enthusiastic smile graced his face.

“Thank you. You have done too much for me already.” Their voice was nothing short of despondent.

“And yet…” Haurchefant sat down at the end of the couch looking rather melancholy. “I feel as if you ask not enough of me.”

“How could I possibly? If not for you, we would have nowhere to go…” The hero turned part way so they could look at Haurchefant better.

Though the Warrior of Light was quick to say so, Haurchefant was just as quick to shake his head in protest.

“I have done nothing more than any self-respecting knight would have.” Haurchefant took on a far-off look as he stared at the fire. “Though some of Ishgard’s citizens would argue otherwise I have a very firm belief of what it means to be a knight. To protect those who cannot protect themselves. To fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. To save those who cannot save themselves. There is no greater honor for a knight.” His eyes came into focus again as they leveled on the warrior. “In truth… I will forever be in your debt.”

“How? For Francel? I would have saved him anyways. He was suffering because of a great injustice!”

Haurchefant pressed a finger to the hero’s lips in part to remind them it was late and to be quiet, but also to make them stop talking altogether. “Though I may have been sequestered at an outpost in the middle of nowhere, I am neither blind nor ignorant.” His finger hovered over long before slowly sliding down to take one of the hero’s hand in his. His gaze followed that finger, lingering where it lingered until it settled on their entwined fingers.

“As you so ungentlely learned from Ser Aymeric in your first meeting, many of my brothers and sisters see the Dravanians as the only threat to Ishgard. All others are relegated to other nations or a distant future they imagine will never come. But… I…” His gaze drifted up to meet the hero’s again. “I understand your defeat of the primals was vital to the salvation of all of us.”

His free hand came up to take the warrior’s chin. “You have saved my life more times than I even know. Pray, let me save yours this night. Not as a knight, but as Haurchefant. As the man who treasures you more deeply than even you know.”

Wide eyes and flushed cheeks greeted Haurchefant’s words. The warrior tried to look away but their eyes could find nothing else to look at but him.

“Whatever it is you need, whatever would have me do to ease the burdens on your shoulders, speak it and I shall do everything in my power to make it so.”

“I…” They took a deep breath and closed their eyes moment so as to compose themselves. To find any words at all to offer under the intensity of his earnest gaze. “Stay with me for tonight, please.” They slowly opened their eyes.

Haurchefant had nothing but a warm smile on his face. “I have one condition. You must rest. If you think yourself incapable on your own then do take the medicine I brought.” He freed his hand from your grasp and pulled the warrior’s hand up, still holding the elixir.

“All right.”

The acquiescence seemed to fill Haurchefant with a great measure of relief. After watching the warrior down the whole bottle and place it back on the tray he took a corner of the large blanket to wrap around himself. Then he wrapped the warrior up in the rest of the blanket.

“Come rest your head on my legs.” He patted his thigh gently.

If they had not been so sleep addled by the potion, the Warrior of Light would have been a bit embarrassed. Their current state found them taking his offer readily. They curled up on themselves and made themselves comfortable by laying across his whole lap. Their face nuzzled into his stomach and they breathed deep of the scent of the fresh linen material of his bedclothes and his skin. As if out of instinct they grasped one of his hands and hugged it for dear life. This earned them a quiet chuckle from the Elezen. He carded the fingers of his free hand through their hair slowly.

“Though I would much rather see you smile, if you must cry then pray let me always be there to wipe your tears away. Would promise me that?”

“I… I will only ever cry… with you… Haur…che…fant…”

“I just don’t understand where they both could have gone without anyone noticing!” Emmanellain’s boisterous voice seemed to echo off the walls. “Was the Warrior of Light not pledged to help us with our duties?”

“You are hardly one to speak of completing one’s duties…” Artoirel retorted quickly.

The brothers and Honoroit rounded the corner and found one of the parlor doors opened. “It would seem our honored guest is waiting for us.” Honoroit suggested as the made to enter the foyer.

Instead of seeing a dressed and ready Warrior of Light and Haurchefant waiting for them, they found the pair on the couch in a similar position they fell asleep in. Though now the warrior was hugging Haurchefant’s waist, his hand was still resting in their hair.

Artoirel quickly grabbed Emmanellain and Honoroit by the shoulders and yanked them out of the doorway.

“Haurchefant! That sly dog…” Emmanellain sounded put off by the sight he just beheld.

“If you were not possessed of such profound ignorance, you would have clearly realized from the way Haurchefant spoke they shared a unique relationship!” Artoirel hissed between his teeth as he shoved the younger men down the hall.

“By Halone, what is going on?” Count Edmont looked bewildered as the trio haphazardly fumbled down the hall.

“I suggest you do not take any visitors in the parlor this morning, Father.” Artoirel offered no other explanation.

“Haurchefant! I thought you said that was a weak sleeping elixir! Wake up! We overslept! I’m supposed to go with one of your brothers today!”

The sound of clamoring from the parlor preluded a pair of thunderous steps changing in tone to match the various flooring types. Suddenly, the Warrior of Light came scampering out of the parlor followed by Haurchefant. The warrior stepped on the edge of the blanket and proceeded to slide into the wall face first. They then fell backwards on to Haurchefant sending them both to the floor in tangle of limbs and blanket.

Count Edmont pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I trust you would like naught to be said of this?”

“Yes, please.” The Warrior of Light answered rather sheepishly.

“Then we shan’t speak of it again. Do ready yourselves for the day quickly.”

[thethirdamell]

I Yield (Borders Yet To Be - Part 1)

@pinkfadespirit tagged me for WIP Wednesday so here’s what I’ve been working on instead of AO. Thank you for the tag! This is part one of who knows how many. I was thinking of making it a one-shot, but it’s getting a bit long, so I’m still undecided on how to handle it. WIP Wednesday Tags: @mikkeneko @verifiedhawke @arcanefeathers  @ushauz @wannakissrobits @degenerate-perturbation @thefluffynug @doctorhawke @nightingalerising @loneliii-aura @faux-fires and anyone who wants to share :) Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins  Rating: Explicit Tags: Romance  WC: 3246 Main Pairings (M/M): Amell / Loghain 

Summary: “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.” 

Sweat. Soaking his hair, his tunic, every inch of his flushed skin. His pulse was thrumming in his ears, so loud he couldn’t hear the harsh grunts he knew spilled from his lips as he took thrust after thrust. Damn him. Damn the Warden. Loghain was exhausted, every muscle trembling as he struggled to keep up with the man’s limitless stamina, his limitless mana, his limitless everything. Amell shoved him hard against the wall, and the sound that escaped him was more gasp than grunt.  

Amell didn’t just have him, he dominated him. From the moment they’d started this, he’d been in complete control. Loghain couldn’t move, could barely breathe without the man’s allowance. There was so much strength in him - Loghain couldn’t call on a comparison. Not since Maric died, but Maric had never taken charge of him like this - had never ruined him like this. Amell grabbed him and turned him around, only to throw him on the floor.  

Loghain hit his knees, and stayed there, breathing hard. This was what he’d asked for - what he’d wanted - and now that he finally had it - there was nothing left but to surrender to it. Amell advanced on him, but there was nothing hurried in his stride. Like he knew Loghain would stay there, exactly where he’d left him, exactly where he wanted him. Amell had taken everything from him, and there was nothing left now but his dignity, but somehow Loghain knew Amell would take that too.

“I yield,” Loghain said, letting his sword fall from his hand.

Amell stopped. Loghain hadn’t expected him to stop. He expected to meet his end at the Warden’s sword, thrust through his heart before the whole of Ferelden. Beaten. Bested. Utterly destroyed at the hands of the man he’d spent the past year fighting with more fervor than the Blight. Amell unlatched his helmet with his shield arm, and let it clatter to the floor of the throne room.

Dragonscale echoed on the stone in the utter stillness of the Landsmeet. Amell still held his sword, and could still drive it through him. Loghain still expected him to. Amell’s eyes swept over him, a bloody shade of russet that was difficult to meet for how they seemed to see through him. He wasn’t the Regent, or the Teyrn, or the Hero of Riverdane to the Warden. He was just Loghain - and Loghain had lost. He knelt, chest heaving, one hand to the floor and the other to his knee to keep him steady, and prayed Anora would look away.

“... I accept your surrender,” Amell said.

Anora wept. Alistair raged. The Landsmeet gasped, but no one was more shocked than Loghain.

Loghain had underestimated him. He’d thought Amell like Cailan: a child wanting to play at war. He’d never been more wrong about a person. Amell unified the country where he failed, arranging his daughter’s wedding to Maric’s bastard, and winning the allegiance of the bannorn, the elves, the dwarves, the mages, and now somehow, Loghain as well.

Amell wanted him for the Grey Wardens, or perhaps simply wanted his death behind closed doors. Loghain knew enough to know the Joining was often fatal, and far less glorious than a public beheading. It seemed a fitting punishment, all things considered. Loghain respected the man for it, though Maric’s bastard disagreed.

Alistair hadn’t contained his anger to the Landsmeet. Loghain and half the palace overheard their argument when they returned. Alistair locked himself in his room, which just left Riordan and Amell to oversee his Joining. Amell sat on a table, his gloves and a selection of vials laid out beside him, reading over a tome embossed with griffon wings.

He looked no less commanding outside of battle. He had an impressively strong nose and well-defined jaw, but there was something in his eyes. Blood red, shadowed by a strong brow and further accented by high cheekbones. He cut a leaner figure in Warden leathers than he did in dragonscale, and wore the dark blues almost regally, posture strong, raven hair braided back behind one ear.

It seemed only fitting to stare. Loghain should get the measure of the man that had spared him, but Amell was hard to read. There was a strategist in there, alongside a mage, despite Amell’s reliance on sword and shield. Strange Amell hadn’t used his magic in their duel. Or perhaps smart. Perhaps it had all been for show, and Amell could have killed him with a wave of his hand, but wanted to allow him some semblance of dignity before the Landsmeet.

A strong leader couldn’t have weak allies, after all. Loghain had never thought of himself as weak before, but he knew when he’d been bested. Amell was the better soldier. The better leader. The better man. He was competent, but that competence wasn’t terribly comforting if he was just now learning the ritual Loghain was to undergo.

“Am I to understand you’ve never done this before?” Loghain guessed.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Amell said.

“Quiet,” Riordan murmured. “The Joining is complex. He needs to focus.”

“You could at least get me when you're ready,” Loghain muttered, pacing impatiently. The less time he had to think this over, the better. The thought of leaving Anora alone didn’t sit well with him. She was formidable, strong enough to endure without him, but the memory of her tears of relief at the Landsmeet haunted him. He didn't want her shedding any more, and prayed it was mercy, not malice, that had stayed Amell’s hand.

“Trust me,” Amell said without looking up from the tome.

“I don’t see I have a choice,” Loghain said.

In time, Amell set his book aside and cast his spell, blood and lyrium weaving together in the silver joining chalice. It smelled like death, a scent so sweet it was noxious, and Loghain didn’t doubt he’d meet his end at it.

Riordan retrieved the chalice. The old Orlesian still bore the scars from his imprisonment at Howe’s estate, and there was nothing but practicality in his voice when he spoke. “You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the greater good. From this moment forth you are a Grey Warden.”

“I understand,” Loghain reached to take it from him when Amell stopped him. Amell's hand clasped over his own on the chalice, and felt pleasantly warm contrasted with the cold silver. It sent an involuntary shiver up his spine, and made him acutely aware it had been years since anyone had touched him.

“Wait,” Amell said.

“Change your mind?” Loghain forced a chuckle. “Should we get the guillotine?”

“Join us, brother,” Amell said, his hand still resting atop his own, and it wasn’t just warm, it was soft, his grip firm and steady through the oath. “Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.”

“My sacrifice?” Loghain fought back the urge to roll his eyes and wrench away. His pride wasn’t worth the loss of warmth, the loss of contact, the loss of compassion. Amell’s touch was like to be the last he'd ever know.

… strange that didn't seem so terrible.

“Yes,” Amell said.

“My death, you mean," Loghain cleared his throat.

“Death is just death,” Amell said. “If you die, I won't waste it.”

“See that you don’t,” Loghain drank.

Loghain lived, and that was all he could say of the matter. He was stripped of his lands and titles following his defeat, and felt smaller for it. In a strange way, he felt better for it. It was out of his hands now. His successes. His failures. They were on Amell, and Amell seemed to shoulder them well. Amell spent a great deal of time with Anora, Alistair, and Eamon, offering his advice on the state of the bannorn before he left for his fortress at Soldier’s Peak.

Loghain joined him, and all his companions. They hated him down to the last man, but Amell didn’t, or if he did, he didn’t make it obvious. He spoke with him, and ate with him, and acknowledged him the way it seemed he did the rest of his companions. The only distinction seemed to be that Amell watched him with a… unique intensity. An intensity Loghain only noticed because he watched Amell the same way. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, and honestly couldn’t say which of them had started it.

They took the North Road from Denerim towards Soldier’s Peak, and spent the night at a small town inn, where it seemed Loghain should speak with him. Set expectations for whatever there was between them. He knocked on the door to Amell’s room, one hard thump of his fist, and won a polite, "Enter."

Loghain let himself inside. The room, like all the rooms at the inn, was modest. An armchair and a couch set before a low table, where Amell sat with a selection of books and maps, his mabari at his feet. There was also a basin for bathing and a bed, both big enough for two, but Amell was alone.

That seemed strange, for a man like him. Maric had never been alone, not even when he should have been, women from all walks of life walking their way right into his bed. Rowan had suffered for it… but Loghain didn't want to think about Maric or Rowan. He wanted to think about Amell.

There was a lot to think about there. Amell besting him. Amell sparing him. Amell staring at him. His hair, free of its braid, curved to frame one side of his face and the wholly unwarranted raise of his eyebrow. Like Amell was intrigued by his visit, but there was nothing intriguing about him. He was a bitter old man who’d lost his country, his crown, and his companions all in one fell swoop.

… It seemed he should resent Amell more for that.

"Loghain," Amell said, closing the book he'd been reading. "Did you want to talk?"

Sitting seemed too presumptuous, so Loghain leaned on the armchair while he spoke, "What else could I want?"

"You tell me," Amell countered, with a strange lilt to his voice.

"I'm not here for a rematch," Loghain assured him. "Don't worry."

"I wasn't."

… Cocky.

“I passed your test,” Loghain noted, fighting back a smile and wondering why his face was so determined to settle on the expression. “Fate has a twisted sense of humor, it seems.”

“It seems,” Amell agreed.

“I suppose you think I'm some sort of monster,” Loghain continued. “More so since I survived your ritual: you keep striking at me, and I just refuse to die decently.”

“I may have to resort to magic next,” Amell said playfully.

“Oh?” Loghain raised a bemused eyebrow, his smile finally escaping. “What was all that nonsense with darkspawn blood and lyrium, then? A puppet show?"

"Something like that," Amell said mysteriously.

"It seems to me that magic has already failed," Loghain joked, though he wasn't naive enough to think the extent of Amell’s magic could fit in one little cup. "I’d recommend a sharp knife in the kidneys next time. Less impressive, but it gets the job done.”

Amell hummed thoughtfully, like he was considering it, before shaking his head. “The plan loses something when you’re the one suggesting it.”

“I suppose it does lack the element of surprise,” Loghain allotted.

"Sit down," Amell waved a hand at the armchair.

It was more suggestion than command, but it still disarmed him. Loghain couldn't remember the last time anyone had told him to do anything. More so, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually listened. He circled the armchair and sat. Amell smirked, like he was pleased with him for following the order, however insignificant. His eyes wandered over him, like he was sizing him, but Loghain couldn’t imagine why. Amell had already beaten him.

What other reason could the man have to stare? Loghain straightened his spine and refused to fidget for it. He knew where he stood with the Warden and he wouldn’t be intimidated by it, but Amell’s stare didn’t seem threatening. It just seemed interested. Silence stretched, and it took Loghain longer than he cared to admit to realize he was waiting for permission to speak.

“Well,” Loghain cleared his throat. “What shall we do to settle things between us, then?”

"Things?" Amell raised an eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to be coy?” Loghain guessed.

“Do you want it to be coy?” Amell asked.

… Was Amell flirting with him? He couldn’t possibly be flirting with him. He was old enough to be the man’s father. His grandfather, if he'd been more adventurous in his youth, but he hadn't. He’d loved Rowan, and then Celia - though not half as well as she deserved - and then no one. Amell had no reason to flirt with him. Loghain had spent the better part of a year trying to kill him, and there was nothing flirtatious in that.

Loghain wasn’t a flirtatious person. He’d barely flirted with his own wife, and he’d never flirted with Maric - no matter his feelings for the man. He couldn’t begin to imagine the scandal that would have come from that, even if Maric had shown any preference for men. His King? It would have been as bad as… whatever this was. Amell was his Commander. Amell was half his age. Amell was waiting for an answer, smirking a little more for every second he delayed.

“What I want is for this to be over,” Loghain said before he embarrassed himself further. “You’ve won, Warden.”

“Amell,” Amell corrected him.

“... Amell, then,” Loghain said.

“There’s nothing to settle,” Amell assured him. “I expect us to work together.”

“Is that punishment meant for me or for you?” Loghain wondered.

“Did you want to be punished?” Amell ran his thumb over the tips of his fingers, a flicker of electricity playing over his fingers, but the magic seemed more static than lightning, his expression more thoughtful than threatening.

There was too much to think about there. Amell was absolutely flirting with him. Maric had told stories of the nights he’d spent with mages and their magic, and they assaulted him mercilessly the longer Amell held the spell. The short exchange felt like their duel all over again - Amell wearing down his defenses, and Loghain helpless against him.

It shouldn’t have been so appealing. It shouldn’t have been appealing at all. Loghain didn’t know anything about the man beyond his skill with a blade, but something in the roll of his fingers and the quirk of his lips seemed to suggest it was… quite a proficiency.

“I imagine you must have one in mind,” Loghain mumbled despite himself, wondering after the sensations. Pleasant, no doubt. Something that shivered across the skin. Something that wasn’t serious, and was clearly just meant to tease or torment him.

“A few,” Amell grinned.

“So just like that, we’re allies?” Loghain asked - refusing to read into that grin, that magic, those hands. Amell was just making fun of him, adding insult to the injury of his defeat with this whole exchange. “I can’t imagine it’s so simple. I don’t know what concessions you want from me. I expect my word will not satisfy you.”

“Did you want to satisfy me?” Amell countered.

“Mockery, then,” Loghain deduced. There was no other explanation. He stood, but Amell stood with him, a fast hand catching his wrist when he turned to go. It was the same hand as before - the same warmth, the same firm grip, and Maker - the magic. Amell cut off the spell with the contact, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.

Static rippled up his arm, sending a full body shiver through him. Amell had to have felt him tremble. Had to have known he was making a fool of him. They were enemies at worst, reluctant allies at best, and the thought that Amell might be after more than that was ridiculous enough as to be insulting.

“What mockery?” Amell asked.

“This,” Loghain gestured vaguely between them. “I’ve seen enough Satinalias to know when I'm being made the fool.”

“Fortune favors the foolish,” Amell said - and Maker preserve him but there was something captivating in him. Not just his eyes, but his scent, clouding his head for their closeness. He was something like blood and magic, and it spoke of the same power that had bested him at the Landsmeet and was besting him now.

“Fortune favors the brave,” Loghain corrected the proverb, feeling himself begin to sweat the longer Amell stared at him with those damn eyes, like fire, heating up his skin with all their impossible promises. “I am no fool and I will not be made one. You may have won, but I doubt it was done with sword alone. If not for your magic, I could have taken you.”

“Is that what you want?” Amell asked.

“What?”

“You want to take me?” Amell released his wrist, and caught his collar instead. His fingers barely skirted the fabric, but he might have wrenched for the effect it had on him. Loghain couldn’t focus on anything but the way his lips moved when he spoke, and the thought that they might have been softer than his hands. “You want to take my magic?”

“Damn you, Warden,” Loghain hated himself for whispering, but he couldn’t raise his voice any more than he could raise his head, tilted just slightly so the other man could reach his lips if he wanted. “What do you want from me?”

“You tell me,” Amell countered - his eyes were fixed on his lips, and the warmth of his breath spilled over them with every word. “What do you want?”

“I want you to let go of me,” Loghain lied.

Amell let go, and Loghain regretted it more than all the mistakes he’d made of late. The rest of his mistakes he’d made for Ferelden, but this one-... this was a mistake he could make for himself. It almost seemed worth the risk that Amell might be mocking him, might be too young for him, might be too much for him. Loghain cleared his throat, and took an unsteady step back. “Thank you. Goodnight, Warden.”

“Amell,” Amell corrected him.

“Amell,” Loghain repeated, and beat a hastier retreat from Amell’s room than he had from Ostagar. He took a cold bath in his own room, but he was so flushed from the exchange his skin may as well have warmed the water. This-... this was the real defeat. The real shame. Not at the Landsmeet, but here, in some backwater inn on the North Road, where he met his end not at Amell’s sword but his smirk.

Take him. Loghain couldn’t take him. One look, one touch, and he was ready to yield. The memory wouldn’t leave him, not even when he took a hand to his aching cock and beat a frantic pace against his racing heart. He hated the touch of his own hand - weathered with age and nothing like the supple youth he felt in Amell - but his release strengthened his resolve. If he didn’t even want the touch of his own hand, neither would anyone else.