#such is the nature of the human condition

[odoraful]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹, 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹.ᐟ

xiao has been noticing some symptoms in you lately and decides to go to baizhu for some advice…

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; absolute fluff, i'm talking very silly and cute ; baizhu and qiqi appearance ; reader has a massive crush on xiao and it goes utterly over his head ; but xiao is just trying his best to be caring ; 3.2k words

⟡ a/n — xiao lovers please rise 🙂‍↕️ banner art by dsmile9 on twitter!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In his time as a doctor, Baizhu had seen it all. Every weird and wonderful thing about the human body. Every high and low of the human experience. He thought there was little that could shock him now. However, he was disproven at this very moment when the Conqueror of Demons showed up at Bubu Pharmacy.

There actually didn’t seem to be wrong with the yaksha in terms of ailments. No gaping wounds or visible signs of karmic corruption. Baizhu did observe that he appeared more bashful that usual with how tight his arms were folded across his chest, but he did well to hide it under his stone-faced expression.

What was wrong was that he was standing here.

Willingly standing here.

Not being dragged in a half-conscious state by little Qiqi or another one of his companions who certainly cared about his health more than himself.

If Xiao was at his doorstep, the situation must be rather serious.

“Conqueror of Demons,” he greeted, resting his chin on his hand. “Now, isn’t this a welcome surprise?”

Qiqi hopped down from her stool behind the counter, shuffling towards Xiao with unbelieving eyes. She poked at his leg, checking that it was really the yaksha in the flesh. Xiao let the young girl prod as he unfolded his arms and spoke.

“Baizhu, I need your assistance.”

A request for aid? From the Conqueror of Demons himself? Baizhu stood up straighter, his curiosity changing from amused to serious.

“I-it’s about Y/N.”

Ah, I should have known. Yes, he was familiar with you. The person who had brought Xiao to the pharmacy in the aftermath of a particularly dangerous patrol. He could never forget the worry carved into your face and the tenderness in how you brushed his hair away from his sweat slicked skin. As to your relationship together, he had his internal speculations, but never heard anything official as of yet.

Baizhu nodded. “Qiqi, would you mind closing up the pharmacy early today?”

He looked over at Xiao with a soft smile, “Come with me to the back. We can have a discussion there.”

The room Baizhu led Xiao into was reserved for consultations with patients who had more complicated presentations. The furniture inside were all crafted from the same dark wood with gold embellishments. It contained a bed with white linens, a chest of multiple drawers containing all sorts of herbalist components, a low table for working with accompanying stools and chairs, and a bamboo screen for privacy where a wash bucket and cloth were set up behind.

Rather than sit on the bed or in any available chair, Xiao chose to stand. Baizhu sat in his chair by the table, legs crossed. Qiqi joined them soon after, plopping herself onto a stool.

“What seems to be the problem?” Baizhu asked.

Xiao sighed, brow twisted with concern. It was probably the most emotion he had seen in the yaksha. “Y/N hasn’t been themself lately… I believe they might be ill, but I can’t conclude what the ailment is.”

“And may I ask why you came to me? Wouldn’t it make greater sense to have them see me directly than through a middle man?”

Xiao shook his head. “Each time I’ve asked about the state of their health, they dismiss me.”

“I see…” Baizhu hummed with understanding.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask about the condition of their loved ones. But to see the Conqueror of Demons show such care for someone despite his reclusive nature. Curious indeed.

“Well then,” he continued, taking his pen and flicking open a notebook in front of him to a fresh page, “what symptoms have you’ve observed so far?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient has been showing signs of increased clumsiness…

Xiao wasn’t a master at interpreting emotion, but he was adept at observing them. Any flicker of change in someone or something’s manner could be the difference between blocking a strike or being fatally injured. Not that being in mortal danger applied to this situation right now, but the skill was transferrable. Right now, Xiao was observing you from the balcony of his room at Wangshu Inn. You were assiting Verr Goldet with hanging some new decorations far below. The boss, however, had currently been pulled aside to help an elderly couple with directions.

Standing on a step ladder, he watched as you hung up a red colored ornament to one of the lantern poles that lined the deck of the inn. His keen senses spiked. The combination of you on your tippy toes, the unstable structure supporting you, and your focus being entirely on hanging the decoration instead of yourself did not have many positive outcomes. Instantly, Xiao went from being on the topmost floor to behind you. Traces of his teleportation manifesting as green wisps of energy in the air.

You felt the ladder stabilize beneath your. Your heels fell back down as you stood properly.

“Thanks Goldet!” you called over your shoulder before turning around fully to ask, “Tell me, would the flower or butterfly one look better—”

The rest of your question caught in your throat. Verr Goldet was not there behind you. Rather, a certain teal haired protector who you had grown close to.

You were introduced to Xiao by Verr Goldet herself who believed it would be good for you and him to meet. Being apart of the adventurer’s guild meant that you had interacted with many different individuals, and could share your knowledge of the mortal world. As time passed, strangers would turn to acquaintances, then acquaintances would turn into friends. The label of which Xiao himself bestowed upon you on an ordinary afternoon. It made your heart both soar at the heartfelt admission and sink to hear such a definitive term. You always hoped there would be room for something more.

Xiao blinked up at you on the ladder. In a matter of seconds, he saw your eyes go wide with recognition, then your feet slipping against the ladder’s surface. Thankfully, he had reflexes as quick as an electro thunderstorm. You tumbled forward, straight into his arms.

“X-Xiao?!” you squeaked.

He didn’t let you go just yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, trying to let the shock of the fall pass over you.

“This ladder is too unbalanced,” he said. “You should be more careful.”

You could only nod. Your brain was more occupied with your proximity to Xiao. How you could see the different shades of amber in the irises of his eyes, and the shape of his lips.

Some part of your consciousness pinched itself, and you whipped your head away.

“I-I didn’t realize. That’s my mistake,” you answered with a sheepish chuckle.

He gave a short sigh before gently letting you stand. The places where his strong grip held you still tingled against your skin.

“Also… the flower one,” Xiao mumbled.

You cocked your head, thinking you had misheard him. “I’m sorry?”

Xiao folded his arms, nodding towards the lantern pole.

“You asked about the decorations. The flower one would… look nice.”

Never had such simple words caused a flutter in your stomach.

If that wasn’t enough, Xiao remained with you, lending a hand where he could. He didn’t want there to be an accident if he had left you alone. What he didn’t expect was that you seemed to be more clumsier as time continued. Unable to step on the ladder without your knees wobbling, tripping over the boxes of decorations, dropping the tools every time you went to hang a decoration up. Considerate as he was, Xiao climbed ladders, moved boxes, and hammered things in place for you without protest. Though, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be concerned.

Verr Goldet returned to find the pair hard at work. She observed, amusingly, how obvious you were being about your feelings and how oblivious the other was in seeing them.

Ah, youth, she mused to herself.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient has been experiencing raised bodily temperature…

Telling Xiao not to worry was like telling the waters in Chenyu Vale not to flow. It was a simple law of nature; a force unable to be stopped.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you emphasized for a second time.

You were seated on the small sofa in your living room. Beside you, Xiao also sat, straight-backed and gloved hands in his lap.

Xiao had come to your home to visit. Both out of curiosity as to how mortals lived in their own dwellings and curiosity about you. More specifically, why you had been so flushed recently. Whenever he saw you, he noticed the pink that spread from tips of your ears to apples of your cheeks.

“There are signs that show otherwise,” he stated, bluntly.

Ever since that time he helped you decorate the inn, Xiao had been much, much more attentive towards you. Eyes examining you up and down with little subtlety. Under such a gaze, how couldn’t you become hot and bothered?

“I am not familiar with mortal health, but I have noticed you’ve grown more…” Xiao searched for the right descriptor in his head, “…redder, recently.”

Archons, does he know about it?! you thought to yourself with alarm. He turned towards you, and you stifled a yelp. There was no way in Celestia this was how he would find out.

“It may be due to some kind of illness.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. An… illness?

Sensing the confusion on your face, Xiao moved nearer until he was right by your side. He lifted a hand up to your forehead, an action he had observed many adults perform on children to assess their temperature. If he was correct in its function, then this should allow him to draw an appropriate conclusion.

Your body locked up.

He was so, so close once again.

“Even now,” the slight gravel of his tone reverberated in your ears, “your face is heating up. It is likely a fever.”

He pulled away. You exhaled a breath that you subconsciously held.

“I can take you to see Baizhu. He will know what to do.”

Xiao stood up, implying that he would take you there right now.

“No, no! There’s absolutely no need!” you protested.

The emphatic rejection made Xiao frown.

“I-it’s nothing that bedrest can’t fix.” you said, attempting to provide a convincing cover. “There’s no need to waste your teleportation powers to transport me.”

“It is no waste if it concerns your health,” he answered.

“You know what,” you shot up from the sofa, “I’ll go to my room right now to get some sleep!”

Xiao opened his mouth, prepared with his own protest. However, you were faster than him in continuing your sentence.

“You should go now, Xiao. I wouldn’t want you to catch whatever sickness I have.”

Though he appreciated your consideration, as an adeptus with a completely different constitution, he was certain mortal ailments would hardly affect him. However, he couldn't explain all that to you with how fast you marched away to your room, leaving him behind.

He saw your head poke out from behind the door of your bedroom.

“Thank you for visiting me!” you called out before shutting the door.

If Xiao knew this word, he would have used it to describe the exact emotion he was feeling at this moment: Flabbergasted.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient’s heartrate is frequently elevated…

Even after the fever incident, Xiao, to your relief, still wished to see you. You half expected him to be so bewildered by your actions that he would no longer want to be associated with you. So, you two returned to your ordinary routines of meeting with each other.

Xiao liked having your company in the evenings before he went out on patrol. As you sat on the edge of his bed, you would tell him about your week’s completed commissions. For Xiao, it served many purposes. Tactically, he could get insight any threats to Liyue that he couldn’t detect if you were involved in or overheard any significant commissions. In those first instances of meeting with you, Xiao would have said that that was the only purpose your stories held for him. But, with each passing night, Xiao realized he rather enjoyed hearing your voice. The cadence of your tone soothed him the same way notes played by a skilled musician captured an audience. He then found his lips curving into a hidden smile whenever you described a particularly frustrating encounter. Cheeks puffed in annoyance that drew a word from his vocabulary that he seldom used: cute.

Tonight, however, you appeared to be in no such mood for stories.

You were quiet, slowly flipping through pages of a novel as you read. It wasn’t strange for you to complete your own activity during this time, but Xiao had come to anticipate your conversation. His concerns about your health bubbled to the surface once again.

If he had focused more closely on you, he would have seen that your attention was far from the words on the page. Not looking at Xiao meant your heart could be less out on your sleeve and instead encased within muscle and bone where its supposed to be.

Xiao glanced back at you, eyes glued to the novel. He wouldn’t push it. Maybe this was the rest you were speaking about previously to help you recover.

He grabbed his shoulder armor from the bedside table, preparing to put it on himself using one hand as he had done hundreds of times before.

Two hands grasped the armor, lifting it from his own grasp.

“Let me help you.”

Your voice was delicate, almost hesitant as you reached out.

Xiao wordlessly accepted, sitting down on the bed to grant you easier access. You adjusted the spiked armor piece, making sure it laid flat and the black material beneath was secure around his shoulder.

Whilst you didn’t look up at him, he freely observed you. There was something beneath your avoidant gaze and bitten lower lip he couldn’t quite decipher. At the same time, there was something in his chest that stirred.

So unfamiliar with these new emotions you seemed to bring for him, Xiao could only think in somethings.

“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s always easier to have someone else helping you out.”

Fitting the amour in place, you went to pull away. Suddenly, Xiao caught your wrist with his hand.

The breath escaped your lungs. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were imagining all this in your head. Xiao brought two fingers to your wrist, applying light pressure onto your skin.

“Your pulse...” concern laced his voice as he spoke. “It is quite fast.”

How could he even sense such a thing!? You cleared your throat, trying to temper your shock.

“It’s always naturally this high,” you answered as light-hearted as possible.

“Mhm,” Xiao could only hum with mild suspicion.

Willing his jade spear to materialize, Xiao weighed it in his hand, readying for the night’s patrol.

“Look after yourself,” he said gently. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

With a nod and a lilt in your voice you replied, “I know. You always do.”

Xiao headed to the balcony. He did not turn around to face you, and therefore missed your tender gaze and your fingers brushing over your wrist where his gloved touch still lingered on your skin.

Disappearing into the night, Xiao made up his mind. He would go consult Baizhu about your condition and see what the course of action he should take. Surely the well practiced doctor could provide some necessary answers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

During the first part of Xiao’s recounts, Baizhu had a pretty good guess about what was happening with you. By the halfway point, he wondered if he should even continue feigning writing patient notes.

Xiao finished relaying his information, hands now on his hips—expectantly. “What do you think is happening?”

Baizhu tapped his pen against the page of the notebook. It certainly is a very special type of sickness… he thought to himself. How would Xiao react if he told him he diagnosed you with 'lovesickness'?

“Will Y/N be okay?” Qiqi asked, tugging on Baizhu’s white coat. “I like Y/N. They always give warm hugs.”

The doctor gave a reassuring smile and patted Qiqi’s head. “Yes, they’ll be alright. I’ve made my assessment.”

Xiao prepared himself. If it was serious, he needed to know how to best help you. Comparatively, Baizhu appeared not the least bit troubled. Turning to the adeptus, he drummed his fingers against the table.

“Did you notice a particular trend in the occurrence of these symptoms?”

“A trend?” Xiao repeated, resting his chin on his hand.

Maybe it had to do with the weather? Or something you had eaten on those days?

“Yes, they all seem to happen when you’re there,” Baizhu answered seeing Xiao unable to come to a conclusion. “Being more clumsy, feeling hot, a fast beating heart, but only around a certain someone…”

Xiao’s brows raised. “Am I the cause of Y/N’s illness? Is my karmic debt responsible for this?”

Baizhu shook his head immediately. “No, no, Archons no! I can assure you that these symptoms have nothing to do with your karma.”

He sighed, trying to switch his words. “Rather, it’s more to do with your… character.”

“My character?” Exasperated confusion was permanently affixed to Xiao’s face. “This ambiguity you speak with is unhelpful.”

Baizhu had done some tough things as a doctor. But trying to subtly hint to a somewhat emotionally unaware individual that someone had a crush on him was certainly one of the hardest.

He paused a moment. Was it really his place to reveal this? Wouldn’t it be far better, and more meaningful, for you to tell him on your own?

“Some symptoms that people report are actually very normal parts of everyday living,” he said, adopting his most professional tone. "My recommendation is for you to ask Y/N how they’ve been feeling recently, and to tell them that it’s never healthy to keep things bottled up inside.”

Finally, some advice for Xiao to action.

“You think I should be more direct in my confrontation?” he asked.

“Yes, but not too much to arouse anxiety.”

Xiao nodded thoughtfully. He should have known that it didn’t have to be a physical illness—maybe your symptoms were a manifestation of stress or worry you were experiencing. Talking it out would be a good step. Even if he was not the most skilled at it, he would try anything to help you feel better.

“I will take your advice. Thank you, Baizhu.”

He bowed his head in thanks. Baizhu gave a hum of what sounded like satisfaction.

“Tell me how it all goes, Conqueror of Demons.”

Baizhu’s voice as he spoke was a little too singsong for Xiao’s taste. But, he was one of the best doctors in Liyue, so who was he to second guess his words?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance���Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[muletia]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐬 -`♡´-

orion pax x human!reader x d-16 and a sprinkle of platonic x elita <3 pocket spouse au

summary: finally, the time has come to meet your spouse! after joining the Pocket Spouse Program — an Earth-Cybertron friendship pact allowing humans to become partners to bots who wish to have their very own human to love, cherish, and treat as their soft, squishy spouses — you’ve been waiting for so long for your turn to come. and as it turns out, this long-awaited day is full of pleasant surprises <3

cw: fluff, canon divergence because tfo takes place bazilion years before humans, a little bit of jealousy and obsessive thoughts, possessiveness, implied polyamory, implied nsfw thoughts (nothing explicit thought)

word count: 3900

shot out to all the anons and non-anons who gave me a lot of great ideas for this au <3

Armed with a travel bag filled with the most useful items and a backpack stuffed with supplies, you stand before the capsule-shaped elevator. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping into the tight, enclosed space, and enter, sealing your fate. The doors close behind you, and without giving you even a second to prepare, the elevator descends rapidly, taking you towards your new life but not granting enough time to fully shake off the old one.

Not that there was much to shake off, considering you had willingly made the decision to join the Pocket Spouse program. Nothing was holding you on Earth, least of all luck, so you decided to seek it elsewhere. And as it happened, you chose to start your search on a planet inhabited by sentient, enormous, transforming robots who, apparently, had quite the fascination with humans. An extreme new beginning, but after hearing only good things about the living conditions and the way humans were treated with care, you figured — why not, if it meant living in luxury?

Of course, you had considered various scenarios in case the rumors turned out to be a sham. You could end up with anyone. A fetishist, a collector of exotic pets, a hoarder of toys. That was the unknown, stressful factor that the speed of the elevator gave you no chance to tame. The decision of which robotic spouse you would be assigned to also did not belong to you, so all you could do was hope for a stroke of luck that you’d end up with someone normal.

You don’t even have time to take another deep, reassuring breath when the capsule comes to a sharp stop, and almost immediately its sliding doors open.

You’re greeted by a metallic face with distinctly feminine features. Beautiful in its strange, alien way, but also serious. One look is enough to tell you that you’re dealing with a bot who is strict and has no tolerance for nonsense, but your first impression naturally shifts when your eyes and her optics meet. Her metal face softens almost instantly, easing your stress just enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. You step out toward the bot, onto a small platform designed specifically for a species of your size, and with each step, the bot seems to grow to an unsettlingly immense scale.

The room is small — or at least it seems that way as you try to translate its dimensions into the standards of the giants who inhabit this planet — and carelessly sterile in dark gray tones. There’s no doubt it was put together in a rush, without much thought, simply to exist and serve its function. Its barrenness is unsettling. So much for a luxurious life of doing nothing?

The bot straightens and pulls a datapad closer as she finally speaks. “[Name] [Last Name], I presume?” You still can’t get over how easily the metal of her face bends and flexes when needed, as if it were made of rubber.

“Exactly.”

She nods her helm. “My name is Elita One. I am the head of this mining sector, and I also hold responsibility for every pocket spouse assigned here. And unless there is a change in management, you answer to me, you listen to me, and you bring all future requests or orders to me.”

Oh. So you got assigned to the working class. Fine, you’ll adjust as soon as you get proper living conditions. “Alright.” The lack of warmth in her demeanor discourages you from wanting to engage in any future interactions, but if she’s your only lifeline to protection from potential mistreatment, you’ll treat her words as gospel. “Nice to meet you.” You smile and extend a hand toward her. She stares at you hesitantly for a moment before finally reaching out a single digit to complete the greeting.

“Likewise.”

Elita doesn’t withdraw her servo, though; instead, she straightens it and clasps her digits together, gesturing for you to climb onto her palm. “For safety.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You accept the invitation, though a red flag starts waving in your mind. You don’t remain on her servo for long, as Elita smoothly and carefully transfers you onto her shoulder.

“I advise you to be careful,” she warns. “Miners rarely interact with pocket spouses, so they might try to touch you or snatch you up in their servos. Do not try to stand, do not lean over, and above all, do not excite them. A simple wave of your hand is enough to send them into a frenzy. Understood?”

Alright, now the stress is back. You hadn’t expected such strong reactions towards humans, especially since this trend od getting pocket spouses was no longer new. “Wait. I thought pocket spouses were already a well-established concept on your planet.”

“Not in these parts,” she sighs. “On the surface, the sight of humans may not cause much of a stir, but things are different down here. For us miners, pocket spouses are a rarity. Only the best can afford them.”

Oh, so even among a highly advanced race of sentient robots, there was still a harmful caste system in place. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, because what else is there to say in this situation? When she shoots you a sour glance, you decide to change the subject, hoping to save your image from seeming callous and naïve. You clear your throat. “So, I assume you already have your own pocket spouse?”

She gives you a pointed side-eye. She saw right through your plan.

“Of course, I do. Do I need to repeat myself about being careful, or is everything clear?”

“Clear as day.” You don’t need to see her faceplate to know that this human phrase is unfamiliar to her. Feeling her impatient side-eye on you, you awkwardly correct yourself, “Yes.”

“Good. If you have anything else you’d like to know, now is the time to ask. I assure you, you won’t have time later.”

“My spouse. What are they like?”

“Spouses,” she corrects nonchalantly, not even looking up from her datapad, throwing you completely off.

“Spouses? Do I get one for free?”

Elita does not appreciate your attempt at humor. She sends you a sharp look.

“In a manner of speaking. Officially, a pocket spouse is assigned to a single bot, but there are cases of sharing. Or, if by some miracle, a human ends up with a conjunx. But I haven’t heard of such cases.”

Conjunx? That’s a new word, and it means absolutely nothing to you, but you decide to store it in your memory for later, too distracted by the fact that you’ve been assigned to a pair.

“Okay, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I think? I don’t know yet, you caught me off guard.” You take a deep breath. You’ll manage. Somehow. “So, my spouses. What are they like?”

Elita’s expression darkens, and that, in turn, unsettles you. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“What is it? Did I get assigned to some creeps?”

“Worse,” she huffs. “D-16 is a decent mech and an exemplary miner, and officially, he is your spouse. But Orion —” she grips the datapad tighter as if restraining herself from an outburst “—Orion is the most foolish, irresponsible, and reckless bot on all of Cybertron. And if you think I’m exaggerating, you’re gravely mistaken. He attracts trouble like a magnet and throws himself into it because he is incorrigible. I almost pity you, really, because you couldn’t have gotten a worse match. Even Darkwing would have been a better spouse.”

But… as if fighting her own thoughts, she adds, “For all their recklessness… they worked very hard to have you, and I know they will treat you well. Perhaps clumsily at first, but well. That doesn’t change the fact that Orion has an empty canister instead of a processor, so if he does something idiotic, and he will, you are to report it to me immediately.”

Galncing at the datapad, she adds "Do you want to know anything else? We don't have much time for idle chatter."

"Just one thing. You mentioned that there's already a human in this sector. Can you arrange for us to meet sometime soon? It’d be nice to have occasional contact with someone like me."

"We'll see what can be done," she replies warily, clearly displeased with the idea. Her answer makes it obvious that there's a high chance you’ll be left hanging rather than meeting your fellow human, but you’re not giving up that easily.

"Thanks," you say. Out of politeness, feeling an even stronger urge to stay on her good side.

"Shall we begin?"

You take a deep breath. You’re doing this. You’re meeting your extraterrestrial partners, cementing your future on this planet. Your hesitation lasts only a moment — just a brief weighing of pros and cons, an instant of fighting the urge to turn around and run back to the elevator. Less than a second is all it takes for you to give your answer.

"Yes, I want to meet them."

"Be careful," she warns sharply, one last time. "I've worked too hard for this job to lose it now because of human irresponsibility."

Elita takes a step forward, and you have to grab onto her helm to keep your balance, but thankfully, an exaggerated optic-roll is her only reaction to the excess contact. The next steps aren’t as shocking; by the third, you’ve adjusted to the rhythm of the giant leading you to a set of sliding doors, which she opens with a button on the side.

Your pocket spouses certainly know how to make… an intriguing first impression.

Caught off guard by the sudden opening of the doors, they literally tumble into the room and land on the floor, shooting you a lightning-fast glance before scrambling to their pedes at record speed, straightening up as if nothing happened. Their excited grins grow quickly and they’re clearly contagious, because you feel your own lips curling into a smile.

They look masculine and young, as much as you can say that about beings whose tissues don’t age. What grabs your attention most is the bot with yellow optics. You haven’t seen such a unique color among their kind before. Maybe you haven’t met many bots yet, but you could swear most had blue optics. Interesting... You make a mental note to compliment those bright, captivating optics later.

Your gazes meet, and the mech with the unusual, beautiful optics parts his lips slightly. You get the feeling he wants to say something, but excitement completely paralyzes him.

"Well, that was a stunning performance. Was eavesdropping worth it?"

"Ahem, no... we weren't eavesdropping," Orion defends himself, though his gaze remains fixed on you.

"Forgive us, Elita, you just caught us off guard when you opened the door so suddenly," D-16 adds, having suddenly regained control over his body.

They step closer, as if hypnotized, drawn to minimizing the distance, but Elita halts them with an outstretched arm. They stop, but their lovestruck expressions make it clear that their minds are already revolving solely around you.

"Ugh, pull yourselves together," Elita scolds. "You won’t lay so much as a digit on your pocket spouse until you’ve listened to the protocol, so focus."

"Mhm, yeah, yeah."

"Now do you understand what I was talking about earlier?" she directs at you. "I wish you Primus' patience with these two airheads."

"Oh, come on, they’re quite charming," you remark — but it turns out to be unnecessary, as the eruption of joy at hearing your voice is nearly impossible for even Elita to suppress.

Both of them surge forward, their excited cheers and cooing echoing through the empty room, bombarding you with loud adoration.

"Didn’t I just say something about getting them worked up?!" Elita hisses at you, but the sharp tone doesn’t sit well with your partners, their expressions suddenly sober as they feel the instinct to stand in your defense.

"Elita, leave them alone," Orion intervenes. "They’ve done nothing wrong."

"I knew this would happen," Elita sighs. "Enough. Let me recite the protocol so we can all go our separate ways, because I don’t have time to babysit all of you."

She looks at the two mechs before her to make sure they’re listening, but it quickly becomes evident they have no intention of cooperating today.

"Primus, focus! Do you think I have time to waste? Unlike you, empty cans, I have a ton of work to do and I'd like to finish it before my shift starts."

Still seeing their dazed, absentminded expressions, Elita decides to escalate.

"Do I have to take your pocket spouse away for you to finally pay attention?"

Orion snaps out of his trance first, alarmed at the idea of you being taken away.

"What? No, no! We’re listening now, boss."

"Next time, there won’t be a verbal warning. I’ll smack you both on the helms, and that’ll be the end of your pocket spouse respecting you."

Of course, a reprimanding servo-to-helm contact was unavoidable when it became clear they were drifting off again. But after the protocol was recited, a datapad signed, and you were informed that regular supplies of human fuel and clothing would be delivered to you, the long-awaited moment of your "eviction" from Elita’s shoulder finally arrived.

She steps closer to the two bots, who extend their servos with interlaced small digits toward you so you can transfer safely. Grabbing your bag, you carefully step from her shoulder onto their servo, at last entering physical contact with your spouses.

"You have a few clicks of free time before your shift starts," Elita informs them. "And if you’re even a nanoklik late, I swear you’ll be pulling overtime."

She gives you one last soft, almost sympathetic look, so out of place with her previous authoritative tone before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Two pairs of optics focus on you.

You gaze into them, sinking into the moment, finally understanding what Elita meant about their fascination with humans. Because looking into their dazzling optics, brimming with excitement and adoration, you find yourself experiencing that same fascination with their alien race, even though you’ve met other bots before.

You can truly call yourself a pocket spouse now, completely leaving your past life behind. And you sincerely hope this one will be better. That Orion and D-16 will make it so, though you have no guarantee.

"Hello," you say warmly.

"Hi," they reply almost simultaneously.

D-16 can’t hold back any longer. He extends his servo toward you, eager to finally acquaint himself with the texture of your body, but he hesitates the moment he feels you shiver ever so slightly, struck by your fear.

"Ah, I’m sorry, don’t be afraid," he says.

A bad start. A very bad start. He worries he’s already tainted your budding relationship, that his reckless excitement has scared you enough that you won’t give him a chance to open up. But you quickly soothe his fears.

"It’s okay, really. You can touch me if you want."

Their youthful, boyish excitement returns, softening their handsome metal faces — and your heart along with them.

"Just be careful," you remind them. "Humans are quite prone to accidental squishing."

"We’ll remember," D-16 promises. "We’d never hurt you. Right, Orion?"

"Of course. You’ll be completely safe with us."

"Alright, I believe you." Not entirely. You want to believe them. But if what Elita said was true, then they would stay true to their word if they worked so hard to be assigned a human. Only fools would deliberately destroy the fruits of their labor. "So? Do you want to touch your pocket spouse?"

Your pocket spouse. Your. Theirs. Theirs and only theirs.

It’s a dangerous thought for a miner, because the concept of ownership had been limited to just a recharge station and the locker next to it. Everything else was shared. Shared washracks, shared habsuites, shared berths for resting. There was no room for theirs.

But you were theirs. Truly, undeniably, and tangibly theirs. Only theirs. And they wanted it to stay that way. Theirs to touch, theirs to give attention to, theirs to talk to and compliment. Not for Jazz, not for Wheeljack, not for Sideswipe, and no longer for Elita. Theirs. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time because you were burdening them with responsibilities they had never known before. Theirs. They couldn’t rely on anyone else anymore.

They exchange a brief, knowing glance. Theirs. They cannot ruin this. They cannot make mistakes. You have to like them, just as they instantly fell in love with you, and see them as good spouse material. They will show you that they can take care of you. Their pocket spouse. Theirs. Only theirs.

"What’s wrong? You don’t want to?" you ask teasingly, snapping them out of the traps of their own thoughts.

"Oh, Primus, of course we do. Very much. You have no idea how much," Orion confesses.

They were both brave, but it’s Orion who makes the first move. His servo finds your back, pressing against it with a single digit. Soft. Oh, so soft.

Once, he asked Elita what her pocket spouse felt like, and that was the answer he got. He didn’t understand it then. What was softness? What kind of sensation was it? What could he compare it to? But now… now he knew that softness was you, and you were softness. And if he could, he would never let you go.

"Wow, incredible. D, this is incredible, unlike anything else. You’re… extraordinary!"

He gently strokes your back, and you allow yourself to wrap your hand around his massive metal finger, which Orion welcomes with a beaming, delighted smile. How was it possible that your servo was even softer? Or maybe somewhere else, you were even softer still. He’d heard that humans and Cybertronians were compatible, and though he knows it’s not exactly proper to let his mind drift into impure, carnal territories so early in the relationship, cannot stop himself from dreaming of drowning in your softness. Wants to be surrounded by it. Wants to be suffocated by it. Wants to feel it after every shift, wake up in it and recharge.

Impatient with his partner’s sluggishness and selfishness, D-16 clicks his glossa.

"Move your digit, Pax, it’s my turn now."

It takes Orion a few nanokliks to pull himself away from his indecent thoughts. He doesn’t want to let you go, doesn’t want to be more than a few centimeters away from you ever again, but he knows D will smack him on the still-fresh sore spot left by Elita on his helm if he doesn’t pull his servo back. So he does. And immediately, he is consumed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness and emptiness, as if his life has suddenly become incomplete. He already wants to come back to you.

D-16’s reaction is similar. Awe at the new but pleasant texture manifests in his slightly parted intake and quick strokes across your back, searching for and discovering softness. Where your hand meets his digit, an incomparable warmth spreads, giving him a sense of completeness. You, him, and Orion. Three puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, finally reunited after years of separation.

"I’m glad you like me," you laugh. "That’s a good start, huh?"

"It was good the moment we saw you," Orion says. "Really, we couldn’t have imagined a better pocket spouse."

"You’re too kind," you reply. You know they’re speaking from excitement, their minds weaving intricate visions and fantasies about life with a pocket spouse — visions that might not be so rosy in reality — but you don’t want to ruin it for them. Especially since you want to find a good life here, too. You want to be happy, regardless of the expectations they unknowingly place upon you. If they want to play house, you’ll join them. If they have a human fetish, you’ll indulge them in that too. "I think we’ll be happy together, won’t we? I’d like that."

"We will, for sure!" Orion assures enthusiastically.

"We know we’re just lousy miners, and you won’t have any luxuries," D-16 adds, earning a sharp elbow to the side from Orion. "I wasn’t finished, Pax." He elbows him back. "But we’ll do our best to make sure you have a good life with us. We’ll do everything for you. We’ll get… almost anything, but if you need something from the city, just say the word! Orion or I will get you food, clothes, whatever you need."

"Thanks, you’re sweet," you say, touched by their words. "I know I can’t do much, but maybe I can repay you somehow?"

"Just having you here is enough for now," D-16 says, smiling softly, enchanted by your question.

"Will you touch us again?" Orion asks, only to immediately receive a frustrated elbow. "What? They asked first."

D-16 pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to believe his partner’s tactlessness. Orion’s talent for making things worse had to affect you, it just had to. Just like every fragging time, it would fall on his shoulders to get them out of trouble, and in this case, to make sure you saw them as normal and worthy of being your spouses. They cannot mess this up. At any cost.

Which is why D is surprised when he hears your soft laughter. He lifts his servo from his faceplate and looks at you hopefully. So their relationship wasn’t ruined by Orion’s loose vocalizer?

"Of course. Come closer," you say, encouraging them further by crooking a finger.

Two massive faceplates move toward you simultaneously until they finally touch. They’re so close that you can stroke their cheeks, and so you do, slowly running your fingers over warm, living metal, drowning in their proximity. Orion and D-16 press into your hands, leaning into the comforting, though foreign, softness — now only theirs. Not for perching on Elita’s shoulder anymore. For them. Theirs to be petted, theirs to be embraced.

They could spend a lifetime in this room if it meant constant cheek-stroking and being spoiled by you. Oh, how they couldn’t wait for your shared life. Waking up with you. Coming back to their recharge stations after a hard day’s work, knowing someone was waiting for them. Spending time together. Telling you about Megatronus and Sentinel, showing off their merch, sharing every detail of their lives, and begging you to tell them about yours. About your planet, your interests, your human life — so they could make your life here as good as possible, desperately vying for your affection.

You will like them. You must. Because they already adored you, unconditionally devoted to their beloved pocket spouse. Theirs.

Relaxed and overwhelmed with contentment, they let their engines hum louder.

"Oh? You like this that much?" you ask, totaly not planning to exploit the bots’ ability to purr purely for your own selfish pleasure.

"Very much," Orion rumbles.

"You’re the best," D-16 adds.

For a moment, they open their optics, their gaze focused on you. And the trust flickering within them, the fervor of emotions burning away reason convinces you that you chose well by deciding to become a pocket spouse.

[fridaynightgrimmdark]

I think a lot of it also stems from how women and men are raised. By nature, 99.9% of humanity has the same capacity for good or evil, for abuse of power, for intelligence. Unfortunately, society has babied A LOT of men. Wealthy white men especially. And it shows. It's like how all those trees in the biosphere 2 project kept falling over once they hit a decent size. They'd grow beautifully because they were raised in perfect conditions, but they'd topple over and collapse on a whim bevause they never developed strong roots. They had no wind to fight, so they never learned how.

We, the various global majorities who often remain opressed in certain ways by society (due to ethnicity, gender, sex, queerness, religion ect) have grown deep roots and strong communities. A lot of the people who put us through these things simply have not, or at least haven't in a way that helps them. This isn't to say all of them are doomed to be rotten, far from it. It just says that strength has to come from elsewhere. Sometimes it's from seeing a friend go through these struggles, sometimes you end up in them yourself.

I went to a charter school with a lot of kids who could have had the world handed to them if they'd asked, and a lot of them did, but even more of them gave themselves room to grow and change and observe. They let themselves see that other people were and are still fighting. And because of that a lot of the wealthy, white male classmates I grew up with turned into decent people. Some of them also failed that test and are still that same guy who insists that he will find a lovely wife and keep her in the kitchen forever.

We all have the capacity for goodness and empathy. It just depends on how those roots are nurtured.

idk how to tell you this

but women are not more enlightened than men

they're not less abusive or shallow

they're not less bigoted

that shit just looks different in them (and actually sometimes looks exactly the same)

just like anything looks different coming from anyone, depending on who/what they are

news flash: yall contribute to the creation of the monsters you hate so much

and ur gonna keep doing it until you see everyone as human and fallible

Edit: imma block every one of you radfem idiots and read u for filth when I feel like it. eat shit and die terfs

[violentlilies]

Chaos wins because the Imperium is fascist

It suppressed the basic human desires of the soul and gives people no time or opportunity to express making them yearn for creativity and freedom and self expression

It makes its people live miserable lives of eternal war, poverty, disease, horrible living conditions and servitude yearning for release, peace, painlessness and pleasure

It leaves its people no time to be human. To engage in art, sexuality, to express themselves, have peace, pleasure and happiness. So they yearn.

It’s oppression leaves them angry and vengeful. They yearn for revenge.

It suppresses and persecuted psychers for their natural abilities who yearn to be themselves

It bans, heavily regulates and persecuted exploration of knowledge, magic, technology and science. Anti intellectualism and thoughtless dogma are praised and revered. Anyone who thinks for themselves or learns is an enemy.

The chaos gods don’t represent these desires. These are healthy human desires that everyone should have a right to. The chaos gods feed on these desires and take advantage of the people desperate for them to trick them into servitude.

An oppressed angry man will seek out a blood god

A man in pain and suffering will seek out a god who will take the pain away and make life bearable in misery

A suppressed miserable man with a miserable dull life being told he has no other purpose then to feed the war machine and be a human meatcog will seek out a pleasure god who promises to enrich his life

A man stripped of creativity and innovation, in a world of eternal stagnation and anti intellectualism yearning for change and freedom will seek out a god of change

The lesson in warhammer isn’t that pleasure, anger, change and seeking relief are bad.

The lesson is that in a fascist system where these basic human desires are repressed and humans aren’t allowed to be human they will seek these things in anything they can, leaving room for exploiters to gain power.

The “imperium of man” is fully anti-human despite claiming to be humanity embodied. It’s citizens are living in abject misery, eternal war, stripped of their identity and self expression, suppressed, only exploited for their usefulness, bodies and labor - for the end of an ever expanding empire for its own sake. A vanity project. There is no actual benefit to humanity.

Chaos gods aren’t the representatives of “pleasure” and “anger” etc, they FEED off of the desire for these things. They feed off of angry, suffering, desperate people in pain.

If the people of the imperium were happy, chaos would be powerless, because people would be happy with their lives and their yearnings and desires wouldn’t feed them or give them a way in.

The more the imperium cracks down on its people and the more fascist it gets the more the people will yearn, feeding chaos while it grows stronger and stronger.

Warhammer is screaming in your face about how overpolicing and “peace and order thru suppression” doesn’t work and backfires, from Nostramo to the imperium itself.

If the imperium wanted to stop chaos it should stop being fascist and allow people to be human and engage in and embody their humanity and human desires in a healthy way, therefore the offers of chaos wouldn’t attract people.

The same goes for the primarchs. If Fulgrim felt like he had an outlet to be himself and express himself freely he wouldn’t have felt the need to submit to slaanesh. He knew the risks but his yearning for freedom was stroger. Same for angron.

It’s so funny seeing loyalists and imperium fans react to the rise of chaos with even more fascism and limiting human expression even more, decrying basic humanity such as sexuality and art as “slaaneshi” and therefore bad - as if this will do anything but drive people to slaanesh even more.

TL;DR: Fascism is bad and conservative ideology is a fundamentally anti human worldview and always fails. If you don’t allow people to be human in a healthy way they will find an unhealthy destructive way, but you can NEVER suppress basic human rights and desires for peace, freedom, pleasure, knowledge and justice.

A regime which fears the human soul, knowledge, freedom and individuality will never be free of chaos. An Emperor who doesn’t trust humanity and even his own children with themselves will never succeed.

If you fear that knowledge, freedom, self expression, rightful justice and prioritizing happiness and pleasure will turn people against you and ruin your “plans”, you might be the problem

[fel-09]

Howdy! Hello! Thanks for answer my last request so quickly! It was amazing and your writing is wonderful to read!

I had another request if you are interested? Another Thranduil x Reader, except in this one Reader can’t feel pain? Like not a situation where they have a high pain tolerance but they have a medical condition that makes it impossible for them to feel pain!

And who will protect you?

Sorry for the mistakes, I'm very tired.

You were used to curious stares.

Humans, elves, dwarves-anyone who recognized your secret gazed at you with apprehension, doubt, or even disgust. You felt no pain. Not at all. Since birth. It was not a gift, not a blessing, but rather a curse. Deprived of your natural self-preservation mechanism, you have been on the brink of life and death many times.

Thranduil learned of this by accident.

The battle was fierce. Arrows bursting, screams, the smell of blood. You fought alongside the elves of Licholesia, twirling among your enemies, not noticing the blades cutting through your skin. Only when the battle was over, when everyone held their breath in the deafening silence, did Thranduil notice you - bloody, with wounds that should have rolled you off your feet.

- Why are you standing there? - His voice was cold, but wariness lurked in his eyes.

You shrugged.

- It's not fatal.

His gaze slid to the deep cut on your side. The blood flowed in an even, dark line, and only the absence of a grimace of pain proved your words. He didn't believe it at first, but when you looked up at him with a calm, even indifferent gaze, something in his face changed.

Thranduil was an elf who saw everything, felt everything. He felt the rustle of leaves as they fell from the trees. He felt the warmth of the fire, even if he didn't touch it. His world was made of sensations, and you... you were devoid of them.

He couldn't understand that.

- So you don't feel pain. - He'd said it once, watching you bandage a fresh wound on your arm.

You nodded.

- How do you know you're not feeling well?

You hesitated.

- By the blood," you answered simply.

Thranduil stared at you for a long time, too long, as if trying to figure out something impossible.

- It means you could be hurt, but you wouldn't know it.

You nodded again.

- 'It makes you vulnerable.

- It makes me strong,' you parried.

He grinned.

- No. It makes you a mortal who doesn't realize the limits of her body.

You didn't answer, but a strange emotion flared inside. You'd never thought of yourself the way he said.

Thranduil was watching you. You saw it out of the corner of your eye, felt his presence in the shadows of the trees, in the remoteness of the palace corridors. He asked questions no one had ever asked before.

- Are you afraid of death?

- No.

- But if you can't feel pain, then you can't tell when it's time to stop.

- That's right.

- It scares me.

You looked up at him sharply. The king, whose mask of unwavering confidence never fell, was admitting fear?

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he feared breaking the thin line that separated you.

- I don't want you to die.

You smiled.

- 'No one does.

He frowned.

- I want you to live.

Those words penetrated your heart. No one had ever said it to you like that before, with such feeling. People have wondered, feared, but not cared. No one tried to protect you from yourself.

One day he reached out and touched your palm.

- Can you feel it?

You shook your head.

- But you realize I'm there for you?

- Yes.

He squeezed your hand tighter.

- Then you can feel, just differently.

You didn't know what to say.

With him by your side, you began to realize something different. You didn't feel pain, but you felt the warmth of his hands. You didn't feel hurt, but you felt his eyes on you. And for the first time in your life, you wanted to feel pain to see if it was real.

But the pain didn't come.

Only something else came, the feeling that you didn't have to be with him.

didn't have to be the one

he didn't feel. Because he felt for both of them.

You expected it.

Thranduil didn't say anything out loud, but you knew it would happen. When the King of Licholesia made a decision, no one could change his mind. No one, except perhaps time itself.

- You will not go into battle.

His voice was calm, but steel lurked in that calmness.

You froze, clutching the bandaged blade in your hand.

- I have fought before.

- And you won't again.

You gritted your teeth.

- Thranduil, this is not your war.

- This is not your war. - He stepped closer, and you could see the anger glittering in the depths of his eyes, cold and icy as a winter night. - You go into battle without realizing your limits. You could bleed out and not notice.

You clenched your fists.

- I know my limits!

- Lie. - He raised his hand as if about to touch your face, but stopped at the last moment. - You don't even know where your body ends.

You didn't answer.

He took another step forward, and you felt the tension in the room become as palpable as a bell.

- I forbid you.

Silence.

You stared at him, incredulous, irritated, but deep down.... you were afraid.

- You have no right.

- Yes, I do. - His voice was firm. - I am your king.

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to claw at him, make him realize he couldn't decide for you.

But he'd already made up his mind.

You unclenched your fists.

- Is it because you're afraid?

He didn't answer right away. But when he did, there was something different in his words.

- Yes.

You felt the ground slipping away from under your feet.

- If you felt pain, you'd know when to stop. - His voice got quieter, deeper. - And now I have to do it for you.

You turned away.

- You don't understand.

- I do. - Thranduil leaned down to look into your eyes. - You're used to living on the edge. But now you have something to lose.

You didn't know what to say.

You could have thrown yourself into battle, gone against his will, proved something, but... в

this time it was different.

Thranduil wasn't just forbidding.

He was protecting you.

You felt the tension in the air become almost palpable.

Thranduil stood across from you, his gaze piercing you, but not with anger, but with something much deeper. Anxiety. Fear. Something he probably never allowed himself to show.

You wanted to say something, but he didn't give you time.

Warm palms rested on your cheeks, and before you could blink, his lips touched yours.

The kiss was deep, but not desperate. It was firm, but not demanding. It was... protective.

Like he was trying to convey to you through that touch everything he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, his forehead remained pressed against yours. He was breathing heavily, as if he had to fight for this moment.

- I know you want to protect people," his voice was quiet, but it was so strong that you felt as if the words were imprinted in the air. - But who will protect you?

You didn't have time to answer.

His hands slid down your back, enclosing you in an embrace. They weren't hard or overbearing. They were strong, secure, like he was trying to keep you safe from the world.

- Except for me," he whispered. - I'm your only defense...

You froze, feeling him press you into him, as if that weren't enough, as if he was afraid you'd disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip.

- I'm afraid... - he breathed out this confession into your hair, so quietly that if you hadn't been so close, you might not have heard it at all. - I don't want to admit it, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose you.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You're used to fear, but not like this.

You're used to being afraid for others, but not for yourself.

And now, in his arms, you realized - for the first time, someone was afraid for you.

Not because you were weak.

But because you were important to him.

You hugged him back, pulling him closer.

- Then let me stay close.

He

didn't respond with words. He just squeezed you tighter.

[acti-veg]

Hey, I see a lot of your posts recently, and I've been scrolling back through your blog looking for answers to various questions, this really the first time I've ever really questioned my beliefs in regards to animal products and I've had several pop up, firstly, what about hunting? Deer have a habit of eating themselves out of a habit if left unchecked, and even in areas where we've reintroduced wolves and bears, it doesn't seem to be enough and I've personally known people that for them, hunting was the only way to ensure food on the table. Also I feel like a lot of vegan arguments try to remove humans from the category of animals, and it seems to want to put us above death and ignores some human features, like our mouths which resemble other omnivores, how do I handle these questions?

Hey anon, I’m glad you’ve approached this with an open mind, far too few are willing to do so. I’ll break this down into sections as it may end up being a long one.

Hunting

Deer don’t eat themselves out of a habitat when they exist as part of a healthy ecosystem. When we do introduce natural predators to keep numbers down, we generally only grant permission for far lower numbers of predators than the carrying capacity of the ecosystem.

This is largely due to public discomfort at the re-inclusion of predators, but the real political pressure comes from two parties - hunters and ranchers. Hunters want deer numbers to be large so that they can hunt them, and ranchers want predator numbers to be low so that they don’t interfere with their profits.

Keep in mind that these ecosystems existed for hundreds of millions of years before the arrival of humans and the mass culling of predators and prey. In a healthy ecosystem, as deer populations increase they can support more predators, whose numbers grow. If the predators become too many, there is not enough food to go around, fewer predators survive and litter sizes decrease to compensate. The balance is righted and maintained by natural systems, it is only when humans interfere or reduce the land available for wild animals (largely to make room for grazing land) that this becomes a problem.

There are vanishingly few people living in industrialised society who rely on hunting as a food source. For subsistence hunting communities, such as some indigenous groups and remote coastal communities, fishing and hunting may well be necessary for survival - I don’t know many vegans who have any problem with that.

Veganism is about doing what is possible and practicable to avoid animal exploitation, if it is genuinely not possible for you to survive on plants then that is very much covered within that definition. For people who recreationally hunt though, hunting licences cost money, weapons and ammunition cost money - for most people, the calories they could gain from cheap plant-based staples would be far cheaper than those they could gain from hunting.

Humans as Above Death

Honestly, I see this argument come from non-vegans far more often than vegans. Vegans are vegan precisely because we don’t believe we a separate to, or superior to, non-human animals. However, the idea that we’re in the same food chain and we’re just like non-human animals is a fantasy that hasn’t been true for 50,000 years.

The agricultural revolution removed us from natural ecosystems, and the Industrial Revolution that followed it removed us even further. It is hard to imagine being further removed from death than to buy the corpse of an artificially created species that was selectively bred, drugged and raised in industrial conditions, who you have not only not hunted but never even seen, wrapped in plastic by a large corporation.

Veganism has nothing to do with denying death or ignoring human features. Humans are omnivores, sure, but that is just an arbitrary species categorisation. It means we can subsist on both plant and animal matter Does the fact that we have canine teeth create a moral justification for causing harm to other animals, on the basis that the blind and amoral process of evolution gave them to us? Surely not.

Conclusions

Vegans know that we aren’t above death and we aren’t separate or above other animals. Humans are highly intelligent and technologically advanced apes, but we’re still apes. We seem to only want to acknowledge this fact when it suits us though, when we want to hunt or eat other animals. But we’re not hunter gatherers, we’re consumers who shoot animals with guns or buy their flash pre-slaughtered and pre-packaged.

However, that same technology and economy have now given us the option to choose to cause less harm. We know beyond any reasonable doubt that most humans can now be perfectly happy and healthy while never purposely harming any animal ever again. We can choose to not only survive, but thrive while minimising the impact we have on animals and the planet we share with them. So why wouldn’t we do that?

[talonabraxas]

‘He under whose supreme control are horses, all chariots, the villages, and cattle; He who gave being to the Sun and Morning, who leads the waters, He, O men, is Indra.’ ~ Rigveda

Lord Indra Talon Abraxas Indra - lord of Heaven Indra is one of the most important gods of the ancient Indian vedic tradition. He is the king of Devas, and rules the high heavens, the svarga, with his capital at the immortal city of Amaravati. Many contemporary scholars consider Indra a personification of the forces of weather. Indra is the god of thunder and lightning. And of course, the rain, the single most important factor in the life equation of the early fledgling agrarian societies.

Origins: The origins of Indra are subject to much debate among the historical scholars. Some say, the name is derived from Inra, a got of Mitanni, an ancient Hittite race from the Asia Minor region. However there is a great resemblance to other gods from all across Asia and Europe - from Nordic to ancient Persian religions - and many scholars believe them to have a common origin.

In the Hindu Puranic texts, Indra is the youngest son of Aditi and Sage Kashyapa, who is in constant conflict with his step brothers from Diti and Danu, the other two wives of Kashyapa. Indra and his brothers, the Adityas (sons of Aditi) are the force of good while Asuras, his step brothers (sons of Diti and Danu) are forces of evil.

Significance and Role: Indra is undoubtedly the most important of the vedic deities. He is hailed the supreme god in over 300 hymns of the Rigveda. In these hymns he wields the Vajra, the thunderbolt, and is the slayer of demon Vritra.

A very interesting aspect of the vedic depiction of Indra is although Indra is consistently mentioned as the supreme deity, the Vedas never say the other gods are subservient to him. This is consistent with the vedic doctrine of the Param Brahmn, the supreme consciousness from which everything else emerges. All the gods are but aspects of the Brahmn, and in a manner of speaking, equivalent.

Indra is the first among the leaders. He was chosen by his Aditya brethren to lead the war against the Asuras - the daityas and the danavas. He is the king of Svarga (heaven) - the third of the upper seven lokas, after Bhuloka (Earth) and Bhuvarloka (Antariksha). He is the bridge between Devas and the Mortals.

The ahutis (oblations) given during their yajnas provide food for the devas. And in return the Devas provide humans with a range of material benefits mostly related to the natural phenomena. Indra is the prime deity responsible for the cycle of seasons that provide conducive conditions for life to flourish on the Bhuloka.

Indra is also a spiritual guide who appears before sages who have performed the appropriate penance and leads them on the path of spiritual ascension.

Benefits of worshipping Indra: Indra is the god of thunder, rain, rivers, and other meteorological forces. Agricultural communities worship him to bring timely rains. He is the powerful king of gods and slayer of the Asura, Vritra, and in this aspect, devotion to him brings human prosperity and happiness. His influence ends the serpent of deceiving forces and life’s delusions, imparting a clarity to the worshipper.

Almost all of the yajnas include giving havis (ahuti in agni) dedicated to Lord Indra. The somayajna - the prakriti of all yajnas - which includes Soma Ahuti dedicated to Indra bestows the doer (or the yajamana) with much grit and sharp intelligence.

Powers of Indra: Indra is a powerful deity in the vedic tradition, being the immortal king of all devas. His dicatats are as binding to the mortals as they are to the devas. He is the god of war and is invoked for success in the battlefield. Indra’s other powers include his influence over the weather of the world, which we have discussed previously.

Indra is often associated with Somarasa, a drink about which the scholars hold contrasting views. Some believe it to be an intoxicating drink like wine, others believe it to be a refreshing brew more akin to a kind of herbal tea.

[gertritude-art]

Evil Gertritude: I'm making a VN about NORMAL KIDS without HEAD PROBLEMS 😈😈😈

i can't even joke about this... i started picturing mordred in jeans + a t-shirt and felt ill. what is wrong sweetie. come back to us.

[hisenemy]

I wanted to study others and behaviours. Now I see through everyone and everything.

Studying human nature and norms so masking isn’t as hard. (It is).

[ehhgg-art]

you ever think about the fact that laios won not by being a monster but by being human.

monsters as we’ve seen throughout the manga are predictable, they have this rhythm to them that, once someone understands, can be used to take them out. take kelpies like anne where laios states that she is just a monster and cannot be trusted. even kensuke is “just a monster after all”, running away from danger when laios needs it most. kensuke is beloved by laios not just because he is a monster, but because laios, in human fashion, anthropomorphized him in his mind (giving him a name, etc.)

but people are different. they are multifaceted, non-monolithic creatures. long lived races are not all pious and apathetic towards short lived races as we see with marcille and senshi. chilchuck actively works against the prejudice against half-foots. tallmen from every region have their cultural differences as we see with shuro and laios/falin. even “demi-humans” like orcs have depth to them, having rich culture and values despite the general idea that they are a violent pillaging race.

even laios’ family and village, the nexus point for his dislike of people, have depth to them. though their parents did not actively protect their children, they did not wish harm on them either. the exorcisms performed on falin by their mother was harmful in laios’ eyes, but helpful in his mother’s perspective.

laios himself, despite loving monsters and hating humans, is so very painfully human. he hates humans but has risked life and literal limb to save his sister and his party. he loves monsters but is aware of their dangerous nature and spares them no mercy.

(big spoilers under the cut)

the winged lion mistook laios as a one dimensional entity, one which only operates on a one track mind without paradox. it thought laios to operate like a monster, and so it approached his desires like one. it believed that laios, being so obsessed with monsters, must behave like one as well, so completely disregarded the fact that laios could have something up his sleeve.

but laios is not a monster, he is human. he has ulterior motives, overlapping beliefs, contradicting values. it is his humanness that made him explain to his party what to do when things went awry. it is his humanness that allowed him to lie. lie to the world about his true plan as well as lie to the winged lion about his intentions.

sure laios WANTS to be a monster, that much is definitely true. but what he IS is a different story. laios is an unpredictable, sporadic, messy human being. it is that fact which the winged lion overlooked, and ultimately led to its downfall and laios’ victory.

[lucidloving]

[ranticore]

do centaurs who would normally have horns (like cows or deer) have them in the ironwall setting? would a cowtaur be expected to be polled as a baby?

I did think pretty hard about including additional animal features above the waist but ultimately decided against it (they have round human ears etc), so I don't think there would be horns at all but I never really considered that either. So... maybe

[humanconditionpoetry]

Earth's Voice

Hello Y'all, I got a new poem for you. Sorry if I have not been in as much as I have been in the past few days. I kind of been out of it(in general), trying to regain back some momentum.

That said, I have a simple poem that I hope many of you will like. No, I have not forgotten about Illusions(Expectations vs. Reality), it is coming soon. I am just little typed out of writing, but it is in the editing stage.

That said....enjoy this simple nature poem.

Thanks for understanding and Hope you all have a great day!

Earth's Voice:

I hear the voice of nature in the trees.

It echos within me.

I am Scared to leave...

Nature's pleasant sounds....

are gone by Humans resound.

"Suddenly, I do not smell, hear, feel, taste or even see"

Is this the cast out of paradise like Eve?

Garden's, Flower and Trees lush...

Disappearing in a Rush.

Barren Lands...

Was this parts of God's Plan?

Or was it the Design of Man?

"It Matters not, Now"

The Earth's Singing constructs a vow

"Save me Now or Share your Name , along with others on the ground..."

This too is also a allowed.

"Save What was once so profound...."

"Don't let greed win another round"

I leave to save the Earth's Key...

Nature, her every beating heartbeat.

Nature preceded Civilization.... Civilization with no restraints or connections, ends Nature.

[now-you-sound-like-a-jedi]

Taking a course on ancient warfare and military history as part of my masters, I hope you're all ready for several long analyses applying sociological theories of violence and warfare to Mandalore

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Man is the creature who does not know what to desire, and he turns to others in order to make up his mind. We desire what others desire because we imitate their desires.

- René Girard (1923-2015)

Frnechman René Girard’s work has been enjoying a renaissance in recent years. He has long been recognised for his theory of human behaviour and human culture. In 2005 he was inducted into the Académie française, and in 2008 he received the Modern Language Association's award for Lifetime Scholarly Achievement. He was Professor Emeritus at Stanford University.

Back more than 50 years ago, René Girard started teaching French literature because he needed a job. He hadn't even read many of the books he was assigned to teach. Then, as he studied the classic novels of Stendhal and Proust with a fresh mind, staying one step ahead of his students, he was struck by a series of similarities from novel to novel. Unbound by any narrow research agenda, Girard discovered a simple but powerful pattern that had eluded sophisticated critics before him: imitation is the fundamental mechanism of human behaviour.

Stories thrive on conflict between characters. By reading the great writers against the grain of conventional wisdom, Girard realised that people don't fight over their differences. They fight because they are the same, and they want the same things. Not because they need the same things (food, sex, scarce material goods), but because they want what will earn others' envy. Humans, with a planning intelligence that sets them apart from all other animals, are free to choose. With freedom comes risk and uncertainty: humans don't know in advance what to choose, so they look to others for cues.

People can desire anything, as long as other people seem to desire it, too: that is the meaning of Girard's concept of "mimetic desire." Since people tend toward the same objects of desire, jealousy and rivalry are inevitable sources of social tension.