this one's sort of weak

nekoma ANBU

6

“The idea of falling prostrate before anyone or anything is, frankly, downright revolting. That sort of humility makes one weak, and while Oswald considers himself many things - admitting, even, to a few faults – the one thing he refuses to be is weak. But there’s a part of him, small and persistent, that wonders, Am I being punished?”

The Bird and the Worm Chapter Two: Take Me to Church

By: @okimi79 and @riddlelvr

@burlybrute cont. from here

          Normally, she would have kept herself COMPOSED and not shown any sort of weakness.  SHE was the dominant one in this relationship, despite the front that Gaston put out to the villagers.  But, alas…  She blamed the wine, really.  Apparently, it brought her MUSHY side out to play.  Hence, the giant goofy smile on her face and the EAGERNESS practically oozing from her pores.  Theodosia moved to stand SLOWLY, lest she lose her balance or something of that nature, and made her way to him, rising up onto her tippy toes before giggling and deciding to have just a LITTLE BIT OF FUN, “What’s the magic word?” She asked, still giggling through her sing-song tone.  All she wanted was to get a ‘PLEASE’ out of him and she’d give him WHATEVER HE WANTED.

anonymous asked:

I first sent this to some1 who doesn't like kidfic, so now I'm here. I had a dream about the party coming upon a dying tal-vashoth woman who'd just had a baby and everyone being like "Well, Dorian and Bull can raise it," and Bull is like "????!" but DORIAN is "Yes, give me the baby. Who's my little star, it's you! Biggest baby Pavus in generations, aren't you? Why are you looking at me like that, Bull, make yourself useful and wind this fabric around so my hands are free and the baby is secure."

HELLO ANON YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE, i should just change my blog title to “kidfic <3″ because i think i could probably read and/or write kidfic every day for the rest of my life and be content with my lot in life. this is who i am. it’s who i want to be.

i tend to write bull as liking kids more than dorian but i’m starting to love the opposite (ty for starting me down this road, chaoslindsay), and boy howdy let me tell you i absolutely love this idea. (WHAT A GOOD DREAM BTW.) here are some thoughts i had because i have a lot of feelings okay:

A qunari child would be so outside of Dorian’s childhood expectations for himself, and the demands placed on him by his parents and society, that it’d be easy for him to look at the child and not think immediately of a future where this child would be groomed and molded into the perfect heir, as they tried to do with him. So it’d help to eliminate some of his own unreasonable compunctions, and he’d just be frigging delighted 24/7 with this tiny creature who fits in his arms. A qunari that fits in his arms, who’d have ever thought, whose horns haven’t even started growing in.

And Dorian – who hasn’t maliciously thought of Bull as a beast in years, who hasn’t said the words even jokingly in months – still finds himself struck with what he was taught about the Qunari, what he still thinks when a new Vashoth joins the Inquisition. And now, every time the child opens his wide dark eyes and blinks lazily up at Dorian, every time he seems surprised by his own hands waving in front of his face, every time he laughs and squawks and hiccups after he’s done crying… Dorian thinks he can do better, for this child. He will. 

He rocks the child in his arms late at night and whispers against the tight curls springing out of the sweet crown of his head, coaxes him to sleep for papa, darling, that’s a good boy.

..

Vivienne is not particularly fond of the mess and chaos that accompanies a child, but she finds Dorian the information he needs, reaches out to her contacts in Rivain for anything on the rearing of qunari children. Sera and Varric are delighted by the child, Sera playing peekaboo with him for what seems to Dorian hours, Varric self-editing his own novels into naptime fare, until the babe yawns and slips under. It takes some time for Dorian to accept what he can’t help but think is charity – until Vivienne tells him one evening over a glass of excellent wine that friendship is not charity, Dorian. Do not think yourself above or undeserving one of the chief tenets of a relationship. And oh, it is a help, because Bull is…

Bull is supportive, and does as Dorian asks him to do. But Bull seems to be all thumbs when it comes to the child. He holds him in stiff arms, glancing down at him with brief looks, never lingering, like he’s checking that the child is still there but doesn’t want to dwell on it either.

..

Every time Bull looks at the kid, he thinks of the potential children he has who are still under the Qun, who maybe inherited his penchant for caring too much, for going too far, and what happened to them when he went Tal-Vashoth. There’ll be records, people tasked with watching them, if that first pregnancy took then that kid should be old enough to have been in their role for a while. What’d he bring down onto them? His tama didn’t deserve it, she did her best with him; but what about the kids who got whatever desirable traits the tamassrans wanted to breed for – and then the shitty stuff too? It’s not their fault, but it’s on their heads now, whatever insubordination they were born with.

It’s… unsettling then, to be handed this kid with the expectation that he’s not gonna fuck him up.

..

“What’s his name?” Bull asks quietly, arms still stiff but hand gentle under the child’s head.

Dorian breathes out loudly, half tired laugh, and crosses his arms – and then promptly uncrosses them, concerned the pose makes him look as frustrated as he feels. “Every name I know is Tevinter. I’m not sure that’s appropriate.” Which is true, but also a ploy to force Bull to make some sort of decision – Dorian’s been combating the fear that Bull’s not wanted this since they first agreed to take care of the child, that Bull said yes because it was the right thing to do, because Dorian wanted it, because Bull still stumbles over wanting things for himself…

“Kid needs a name,” Bull says, and he caresses the kid’s temple, the little bump that’ll one day sprout into a horn. “Okay if we call him Felix?”

Dorian can’t speak past the lump in his throat. He tries, an unflattering creak making its way out his mouth, and then he’s nodding, unable to look away from the tenderness in Bull’s touch.

6

はい、桜井先生。Indeed, I have to agree that is a valid reason for that どや顔.

Cr: Abunai Yakai 14.01.2016

There are two kinds of pity. One, the weak-minded, sentimental sort, is really just the heart’s impatience to rid itself as quickly as possible of the painful experience of being moved by another person’s suffering. It is not a case of real sympathy, of feeling with the sufferer, but a way of defending yourself against someone else’s pain. The other kind, the only one that counts, is unsentimental but creative. It knows it’s own mind, and is determined to stand by the sufferer, patiently suffering too, to the last of its strength and even beyond.
—  Stefan Zweig. ‘Beware of Pity’ p. 20