#how it's the responsibility of each generation

[elumish]

@cuteykitsune asked in a reply: How do you show religion in your story? Prayer? Chuch? Holidays? Traditions?

I wanted to actually give a full response to this, because I think it's a great question.

Religions consist of a few things:

Stories

Beliefs/creeds

Rules/norms

Traditions

These aren't quite collectively exhaustive, and they're certainly not mutually exclusive (they are closely tied to each other), but they encompass the vast majority of what makes up a religion.

Stories are probably the simplest part of a religion: the written or oral tales passed down in the religion that tie to its beliefs, teachings, and/or origins. The Bible, the Torah, the Quran, stories about pantheons, creation stories, etc. all serve to both explain the world and provide guidance on how to live a proper religious life. These stories don't need to be part of the official canon of the religion and can be about historical figures tied to the religion (e.g., Catholic saints).

In stories, this may show by through people telling or referencing stories, through art or architecture depicting those stories, or through references to holy books, as some examples.

Beliefs are about the shared ideological viewpoints of the religion. These are often documented in the religious stories, but don't necessarily have to be. They can be as formal as the Nicene Creed or as informal as just a general shared understanding.

Theism is a major belief for the vast majority of religions, though it is not necessary. It also includes belief in what is sacred, what is acceptable, whether there is an afterlife, what good or bad traits are, etc.

If the religion is a theistic one, this belief would also include one about how the god(s) engage with the world and with people. Do they believe there is direct physical engagement (see: Zeus and the many mortal women he sleeps with) or that guidance is provided spiritually? Do they believe that there may be intervention in times of crisis? Do they believe that the god(s)'s hands are shaping the world constantly or that they created the world and then stopped? Do they believe that the god(s) listen to direct prayer from anyone or that specific locations, objects, rituals, or qualifications are required? Are the god(s) benevolent? Omniscient? Omnipresent? Do they care about humans?

In stories, this can show up any way you show the character thinking about the religion or gods. Do they think that the god(s) support their actions or if their actions follow their religious teachings? Do they care if that's the case? Do they always wash their hands carefully because their religion teaches cleanliness is important? Do they believe that certain things are good or evil?

Rules/Norms cover the institution/enforcement of those beliefs. These may be strict laws outlined in religious texts or by religious institutions (e.g., dietary restrictions) or general norms (e.g., dressing up for church). This may dictate how someone can engage with the religion or how religious people can engage with the broader world.

This is also where two religions or sects with similar beliefs really start to differentiate from each other. One might explicitly disallow something that a different one begrudgingly tolerates, even if both believe that it's bad

The structure of the religion also starts to come into play here. If a religion says only men can serve certain roles, for example, men will then be the ones playing those roles in the religious institution.

In stories, this is shown the same way any other rules or norms are.

Traditions, in my view, cover a wide range of things, from big societal traditions like holidays or rest days to small personal traditions like prayer. This is what you do as part of a religion--the actual actions taken by individuals or groups to participate in the religion.

Do people go to a physical location on a regular basis? Are all locations equal or can a person only go to certain ones? Is there someone who leads services? If people congregate for worship or other religious practice, how often? What does it look like?

Do people pray individually? What does that look like? Do houses have shrines or other dedicated areas for worship, or is it only conducted in congregate areas?

Do religious practices include specific rituals? Specific objects? Specific clothing?

This is also where the structure of the organization really shows up. Is there an organized structure (a la the Catholic Church) or is it religional? Local? Individual?

In stories, this can look like any physical practice of the religion.

Some of the biggest fantasy worldbuilding fails that I see, in no particular order

Gods without religion. The Gods are real and a known historical fact, but virtually nobody is religious.

Cultural racism/discrimination without structural racism/discrimination. Discrimination that exists only in microagressions or mean comments, without existing in any sort of structural way.

Secret history with no clear reason for it to be secret and no clear method for maintaining that secrecy. Major parts of the world's history are kept entirely secret, even though there's not an obvious reason to do so and even when history has shown this is virtually impossible to enforce (especially in a world with any movement or communication across borders).

Large, homogeneous countries. Even without immigration, virtually no country larger than the Vatican will be fully homogeneous in terms of culture, dialect, beliefs, traditions, etc., much less a large one with limited communication technology as is often seen in fantasy. The Planet of Hats problem.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hat in hand, thank you for your time, sex ed question: do orgasms from masturbation and orgasms from partnered sex actually feel different? Is it just the intimacy that makes people like it more?

hi anon,

great question, and I'm about to make a real meal of it.

so, first off, let's make one thing clear: the mechanisms that create an orgasm are the same regardless of the cause. no matter what's getting you off, regardless of what part of your body is being stimulated, it's the same nerves and muscles responding.

that may sound obvious, but it hasn't always. Freud, for instance, advanced the idea that vaginal and clitoral orgasms were fundamentally different, and that women who preferred to orgasm by touching their clitoris were less psychologically mature than women who preferred vaginal orgasms. fast forward to now, and we know the only difference between a clitoral and vaginal orgasm is that clitoral orgasms are generally easier, thanks to the incredible amount of nerve endings - and that many orgasms that result from vaginal penetration result at least in part from the large internal portion of the clitoris being stimulated through the vaginal wall. huge W for the clit!

now, having said that: just because the mechanics are the same doesn't mean that every orgasm is going to fee identical, or that every single thing that could produce an orgasm is going to actually work for everyone. sex with a partner can feel very different from sex with a vibrator which can feel very different from sex with just your hand, and even those individual methods aren't going to result in the exact same experience every time. there are a tremendous number of factors that influence arousal and sexual response, including many that have nothing to do with sex directly but nonetheless impact your body and mind and the way stimuli is received.

think of it as being similar to a meal - you could eat the exact same food, prepared the same way, two times and still feel very differently about depending on other factors in your day. when you're in a good mood, enjoying a day off, and able to sit with your food for as long as you like with no rush, you might savor the meal much more, take the time to appreciate the individual flavors and ingredients, and eat more in a single sitting. you might spend the rest of the day thinking about how good the food was, and look forward eagerly to the leftovers. whereas if you come to lunch on a short break from work, unable to devote much time to eating and already stressed out from an unpleasant day, you may be more likely to eat quickly to sate your hunger and zip back to work without taking much time to think about the food at all, because the meal is just fuel to keep going.

neither of these ways of eating are wrong; they both serve different needs and have a time and place. while I'd love to be able to cherish each meal, I'm certainly not going to pretend that I never eat just to have enough fuel to keep chugging until the next meal.

and, to extend this metaphor: we were imagining that was the exact same food, eaten under two very different circumstances. now factor in the infinite different kinds of food a person could eat in infinite different situations. now imagine that it's things that make you cum instead of food (which are still the same thing, for somebody out there, and to them I say congrats for speedrunning this one), and you've got a pretty good grasp on how infinitely variable the experience of orgasm is.

so: do orgasms with partners actually feel different? sure, but only in the sense that all orgasms can feel different from each other.

partnered orgasms can come with a lot of extra bells and whistles thanks to involving a whole other person (or multiple people), which opens the door to many more forms of stimulation than most people can manage on their own, as well as some inherent unpredictability - while you can, obviously, know exactly how you plan to touch yourself and receive pretty immediate feedback to how it makes you feel, but with other people you gain both the ability to be surprised and the necessity of much more communication than solo sex. all of that means that partnered sex can be a pretty substantially different experience than getting off alone - not necessarily worse or better, but definitely different, and definitely not just because of how the orgasm feels.

so why do people like it more? well, not all people do. for some people, it's vastly easier and more comfortable to just get off alone. some people like partnered sex but don't orgasm easily in the process; I'm one of those! I think I've had a grand total of one (1) sexual partner who could reliably get me off, but that didn't mean I wasn't having fun with the others - orgasm just wasn't a priority, because I went in knowing I'd probably need to finish myself off if I wanted to cum and didn't sweat it.

of course, the opposite also exists - for some people, masturbation doesn't do jack shit, and partnered sex is the way to go. some people only get off, or vastly prefer to get off, to scenarios that necessitate the presence of other people. some people aren't that interested in sex for the sake of sex, but like having a sense of connection with their partner(s).

and for many, there's no need to have a preference between getting off alone or with a partner in the first place - they're filling two different needs, without needing to be compared. why pit two bad bitches against each other? for me, getting myself off is easy and convenient, and having sex with someone else is a great way to play. both good, both serving totally different niches in my life.

tl;dr: variety in all things, babes.

[bluemoonscape]

Lost Records is such an insanely beautiful game to me. I just haven’t felt as much from a game as I’ve felt from this in so long. Of course the supernatural elements are important but it’s the simplicity that gets me.

You play as a lonely girl with body image and general self-esteem issues. She meets 3 girls, all queer and all romanceable. No male love interests. It’s the best summer of her life and it’s going to end. Swann, Kat, Nora, and Autumn all wish for it not to end and it still does. Swann is running out of time in Velvet Cove and Kat is running out of time. They genuinely love each other within their little bubble—there’s no talking behind one another’s backs, no backhanded comments. They all support each other.

They talk about missing their childhoods when everything was easier. They talk about things like periods and hygiene products casually, something I literally haven’t even seen from a game up until now. Autumn talks about all the pressure she feels to be the perfect minority in a conservative majority white town—she’s always trying to keep the girls out of trouble because or else she’s suddenly responsible in the eyes of others and she takes that to heart. Nora is this neglected child who’s constantly trying to fill that void and it’s so heartbreaking to watch. Kat is maybe the most insane of all because there’s something so visceral about how angry she feels, trapped in a tiny, conservative nothing town in a family she fights against day after day for nothing because she’s here to die. And there are all these little seemingly insignificant details that are hallmarks of wlw culture, especially in the 90’s!! The Riot Grrl scene (specifically Bikini Kill) the Emily Dickinson reference, even a statement as simple as “If I was a boy, I’d kiss you.” The teenagers talk like real teenagers. And in the adult timeline, the pandemic actually fucking exists! It’s a part of the background! They talk about how it impacted their lives, especially Swann as an isolated, socially anxious and most likely neurodivergent person!

There’s such a sense of togetherness and loneliness all at once, hope and hopelessness. It’s realistic despite the supernatural aspect. It’s life. It’s beautiful and it’s unfair. It’s joyful and it’s furious. It’s finding someone who understands you with the knowledge that it will be ripped from you. But the injustice doesn’t take away the fact that it happened.

[starrihan]

I Don’t Know The Answer (Getting Back with Toxic! Boynextdoor)

-> Pairing: afab! Reader x toxic! Boynextdoor

-> Plot: getting back together with the members after breaking up with them

-> Genre: angst, swearing, use of real names (Sanghyeok, Dongmin, and Donghyun), kissing, slightly suggestive, mentions of sex in Leehan's, Jaehyun, Taesan and Woonhak are idols/ trainees, drinking, mentions of not eating/ generally not taking care of themselves

-> Warnings: mentions of not eating

-> Word Count: 6,077 (~940-1100 words per member)

-> Notes: Based on this ask! I’m sorry this was literally asked a month ago but I finally got around to the writing these scenarios so I hope you like them! Part 2 to this post! (not proofread plase lmk if there are any mistakes!)

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~정답�� 들리지 않아 ~

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Sungho:

It had been a couple of days since you and Sungho went on your little ‘break.’ To say it was driving you crazy was an understatement. You were losing it, not being with him and in his arms. And he wasn’t doing any better. 

He felt so bad, so guilty for ever making you feel that way and for making you seem like you couldn’t tell him when you were going out or about your day. He hated how jealous he got. He hadn’t eaten for days. He barely showered and let the apartment get dirty. Dishes in the sink for when he would get a little snack, clothes thrown about in rage that he never picked up. Even shattered glass from the vase he broke out of anger after you had left. He was a mess.

You tried to do activities to help take your mind off of things, off of him. You went out with your family, with your friends, but the only thing on your mind at all times was him. You were starting to think that you made a mistake. About a week and a half after your break, you decided to text him, asking if you could come over to the apartment. You hadn’t gone back, even though you said you would to get your stuff. You were nervous sending the message, but relieved when Sungho’s response came almost immediately, a big ‘YES’ in all caps lighting up your screen and making you smile. You didn’t know if you were making a mistake but you needed to see Sungho again, even if it was for the last time. 

You arrived at the apartment later that day, surprised to find it spotless, with a nervous Sungho sitting on the couch waiting for you. The second he had received your text, he jumped into action, cleaning as fast as he could, throwing away the garbage and hurrying to the shower. Upon hearing your keys turn he flinched, nerves going crazy. You walked in, and he swears he fell in love all over again, regret and sorry washing over him as he took in your tired eyes and pale skin.

“Oh I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked…”

You say awkwardly, feeling bad for thinking you could just walk in like it was still your apartment, even though it was. 

“You still live here too… I think? So it's fine…” 

It's painfully awkward, you both finding it hard to relax around each other after being away for a bit. You close the door behind you before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch from him. Silence eats away at the both of you for a minute before Sungho decides to speak up, breaking the tension.

“I just want to apologize to you first, Y/N. This last week has been so miserable, and I can only imagine how you’ve felt, especially after the way we left things… I’m really sorry.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him apologizing and seeing the tears that formed in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Sungho. I’m not gonna lie, I was also miserable. I was so angry at you for always getting upset and jealous whenever I’d go to work events or hang out with my friends because there was a guy there.”

His head hangs low, unable to face you as he’s ashamed of his actions. 

“But more than my anger, I’ve missed you Sungho. And I may be stupid for admitting that to you but it's true. All I can think about is being back here with you, in our house and in your arms. This last week has been killing me.”

He’s looking into your eyes now, feeling guilty for how he made you feel but also happy to hear that you missed him and want to be back with him.

“Then come back, please. I haven’t gone anywhere and I don’t want to. We belong together Y/N and I want nothing more than to be with you.”

You were holding back tears, your voice choking up on your next words.

“But Sungho… I still have my job and my friends. And some of them are men. I need to know that you won’t get mad or jealous when I’m out with them, especially because none of them want me, we’re all just friends. I need to know that you trust me”

“I promise, Y/N. I don’t know what got into me to think that you weren’t loyal or trustworthy. I am so, so, so sorry for ever being that way. Please, please come back to me and let me show you how sorry I am. And let me make it up to you.”

You could see it in his eyes that he was genuine, that he meant every word that was coming out of his mouth. You couldn’t help but fold, jumping into his lap and giving him a kiss, one that caught him off guard but that he welcomed with open arms, eyes closing as he melted into the kiss. 

All the pent up roller coaster of feelings from the past week and half, the anger, the jealousy, the rage, as well as all the love you could muster, poured into your kiss, growing needier by the second. By the end of it, you both pull away, panting and slightly sweaty, foreheads resting on each other as you both adorn a big cheesy smile on your faces. 

“Thank you so much for taking me back Y/N… I love you so much.”

You smile and kiss him again, hands entangling themselves in his hair. 

“I love you too Sungho… don't be a doofus again.”

You both laugh as he pulls you back in for another kiss, so relieved that you had come back to him.

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Riwoo:

It has been about a month since you broke up with Sanghyeok. You stayed true to your word, not going back to him. But you couldn’t say that you were handling it the best. The breakup was still pretty fresh and part of you thinks it was the manipulation that got to you, but part of you thinks that even through the manipulation, you truly did love Sanghyeok at one point, and dealing with that loss was hard. But you kept reminding yourself of why you left in the first place, finally being able to hang out with your friends, wearing and doing whatever you wanted.

You were going out to the club tonight with a couple of your friends to celebrate one of their birthdays and you were excited to say the least. You missed partying and going out, and tonight was just the pick me up that you needed. What you weren't expecting was Sanghyeok to be there. 

You had gotten ready like you normally would, slightly heeled boots, a sequin crop top and shorts that left very little to the imagination– perfect club attire. You did your makeup light, anticipating to sweat most of it off anyways. Upon arriving at the club, you and your friends order a couple of drinks. You all start feeling it a bit, heading out to the dance floor and having fun. 

When you decide to stop and take a break, you have a seat at the bar, catching your breath and getting a cup of water. You don't expect someone to sit next to you, not that you minded but it caught you off guard. You look at the stranger, orange hair standing out to you. When he turns to order, you’re more than shocked, dropping your glass onto the counter. 

“Sanghyeok?”

He turns to you, a look of shock on his face as well. 

“Y/N?”

“You dyed your hair?”

You’re still taking it in, the stark contrast from his previously brown to now burnt orange hair. 

“Umm yeah I did. I figured I could use a change after we… you know.”

Seeing him again, with his new hair now too, the rush of feelings you spent so hard trying to fight off were coming back, much to your dismay. 

“Oh yeah well… it looks good,”

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol that made you blurt that out, or your true feelings. Either way, you cursed yourself for complimenting him. What if he knows you still want him and uses it as a chance to manipulate you again?

“Thanks,”

His genuine smile to your accidental compliment was killer. He somehow managed to get more attractive in the month you had spent apart. You ordered another drink –a shot this time– thinking that you’d need it for the rest of the night. 

“So what brings you here anyways? I thought you didn’t like going out, especially not to clubs.”

“It’s Jaehyun’s birthday today. You know how he gets.”

You had completely forgotten about his birthday. You felt bad, but then again, he was your ex-boyfriend’s friend, not yours, so it shouldn’t matter to you anyways.

“Oh same, it’s F/N’s birthday today too. If I see Jaehyun around I’ll wish him a happy birthday.”

The air was tense and felt awkward. 

“Well, I’m gonna go back out there, celebrate a bit more.”

You say, hopping off the bar stool and heading back to your friends, trying to shake off the encounter. 

You’re pretty drunk at this point, dancing a little wild as you and your friends let loose. Constantly bumping into people, you were used to the little touches on your shoulder or waist of people trying to get by, not minding it anymore. But you were confused when you felt a pair of hands on your hips, whipping your head towards the stranger, fists balled and ready to swing.

“Sanghyeok? Why are you holding me?”

You put your fist down, but you can tell by the unwavering smile on his face that he was drunk as well. 

“I missed the way your hips would move on me. I forgot how good you were at dancing…”

It was kind of hard to hear him over the music, but you got it, turning around to face him as his hands now rested on your waist. You weren’t expecting him to do this, but you chalked it up to him just being drunk and not being able to control his impulses. And you justify your next actions based on the same premise: you’re too drunk to control your impulses.

The way the lights were flashing in your faces, you could clearly take his features in. His eyes, his nose, his lips. The things you missed about him the most. You may regret this in the morning, but how would you know if you didn’t try? You lean into him and his touch, but you don’t kiss him. You broke up with him so you couldn’t be the one to initiate it. But if he did, you could justify it to yourself. As if he read your mind, he leans in, closing the gap between you two. You sway your hips to the beat, as does he, never breaking the kiss as you let your inhibitions go and the kiss continues. He breaks away first, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I know we broke up but… we should really continue things elsewhere. I’ve missed you and I really think we should talk.”

You bite your lip. You knew where this was headed. Maybe you’d talk, but you wanted to see where things would go. 

“Sure, let’s go.”

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Jaehyun:

The weeks following your breakup was hard. Obviously, you loved his group and their music, even having albums and photocards of theirs. Always hearing about them and their growing fame made it harder for you to move on. You would see him everywhere, billboards, magazines, when you open up your phone to scroll through twitter. It’s like you couldn’t escape him. Of course you were proud and happy for him and the other boys that they were finally getting more recognition. But to you, it was at your expense. The expense of your happiness. But it was also hard on Jaehyun.

The more famous he and the boys got, the harder he’d have to try to conceal his true feelings, how dead he felt on the inside. The constant work, learning new dances, creating new songs, going on shows all while leading the group, was getting to be too much for him. He would spend days locked in his studio, barely sleeping and running on very little fumes, often pounding back energy drink after energy drink just to sustain himself for his other MC job. He was starting to feel burnt out, so much so to the point that he was getting sick. 

You were casually scrolling on twitter one afternoon, like you normally do when you saw the headline: “BOYNEXTDOOR’s Jaehyun to Put a Halt on Recent Activities Due to Sickness.” You shot up from your laid down position on the couch, double checking that you read the caption correctly. You had only been broken up for three weeks and seeing this headline made you worry that he was overworking himself this much. Putting your pride aside, you text Sungho, asking about Jaehyun’s condition. When he tells you that he's not doing well, you ask if you could come see him, but to not tell him that you were coming. He agreed and you were on your way to the dorm with soup and cough medicine. 

Upon arriving at the dorms, you were surprised when Leehan opened the door. You were nervous at first, but he reassured you that Sungho told him about your plan and let you in. You smiled, relieved and left the cough syrup on the counter before entering the room. You walk into his back facing you, a perfect set up. 

“Taesan, who was at the door? The upperz don’t knock so who's here right now?”

“I told you you work too much. Look at you, sick as a dog.”

You bite back laughter as he whips his body over so fast to see you. You thought cracking a joke would be a cute way to announce your arrival, especially after not seeing him for three weeks and to keep the mood light, but the tears welling up in his eyes said otherwise. 

“W-what are you doing here…?”

His sniffles only got worse as the tears started to fall from his eyes, grabbing a handful of tissues to relieve his sinuses. You quickly put the soup down on the nightstand, rushing over to him to give him some water. 

“I read a news article saying that you were sick so I wanted to come over to make sure you were okay. You haven’t gotten sick like this, where you can’t even work, in so long.”

He was awestruck at your confession but confused regardless.

“But you broke up with me… so why are you here trying to take care of me?” 

You look down and smile, mostly to avoid crying at the pent up emotions you still carried since breaking up with him that day. 

“I broke up with you because I couldn’t see you. I never stopped caring about you. Plus, I could get to see you now, even if you aren’t feeling well.” 

“So you don’t hate my guts, even though I so stupidly put work before you?”

You look up at him and laugh, teary eyes matching his own as you take his hands in yours. 

“I never hated you, Jaehyun. I was just so frustrated that you decided to spend your only day off with the people you see everyday, and not with me. I just didn’t know how to handle myself and I snapped. I’m sorry, I never meant to make things harder for you, I just let my emotions take over.”

His smile contrasted the tears. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you right now, but he didn’t want to risk getting you sick as well. 

“I’m sorry for not paying attention to you and your needs. I was so tired and frustrated. I should’ve spent that time with you and I realize that now. I didn’t realize how much I worked, and it became even worse when you left me. I’ve barely slept or eaten, no wonder I got sick.”

You take his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks as you stare into his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for not giving you the space you needed. I know how stressed you are and how much everyone relies on you and I shouldn't have snapped at you like that.  Can you forgive me?”

He smiles and nods, and you smile back, leaning in to kiss him.

“Woah wait. I can’t kiss you. You’re gonna get sick too!”

He yells, covering his mouth with the blanket to prevent you from kissing him. 

“So what if I get sick. That just means I get to spend more time with you, right? Sungho can take care of both of us.”

He laughs as he drops the blanket on his lap, letting you kiss him, finally starting to feel a little bit better. 

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Taesan:

It had been about a year since you broke up with Dongmin. Life went on and you slowly started to forget about him. It was a long and quite difficult road for you, truthfully, but you were able to get over it with the help of your friends. You couldn’t say that the breakup didn’t still have an affect on you though, finding it very hard to find a partner who you could trust that they loved you completely, and not only when they had the time for it. 

You thought Dongmin had moved on as well. He seemed to be doing fine in all of his classes and you'd even heard a couple of rumors going around about him being with other girls. So you assumed that he was okay, and part of you still felt hurt thinking that he had moved on so quickly. But it was no longer your business, or something you’d let yourself think about for too long. 

The harsh reality for Dongmin though, was that he had not actually been doing so great. Sure, he was doing fine in school, and for a while, he was fine without you. But recently, he couldn’t help but miss the way you would always come with him to practice. Any new girl he went out with wouldn't spend as much time as you did with him. Part of him believed that he just missed having company, just wanting someone there with him to fill the empty space of the solo practice room. But the more time passed, he realized it was your company that he missed. 

He would get scolded almost everyday during practice for not being focused. He thought that being with other girls would help him get over you. Even though he acted strangely cold towards you on the day of the breakup, he had reflected a lot about it, feeling really guilty for the way he went about things. He wasn’t ready to be fully committed to you and you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, but he knew he couldn’t tell you those things. He knew you wouldn’t give him the time of day to hear him out, and rightfully so considering the way he treated you. 

He was contemplating on whether or not he should text you but decided against it. Instead, he got to class early the next day, waiting for you to arrive so he could take the seat next to you. He figured that you couldn't ignore him if he was right next to you. 

Walking into the lecture hall, you take your usual seat in the middle row, sitting in the chair by the aisle so you could easily leave for your next class. He practically sprinted over to the chair next to you. You hadn’t realized someone took a seat next to you since you were pulling out your laptop. Upon getting situated, you flinch as you look over to see Dongmin’s gaze on you. 

“Jesus Christ, Dongmin? What the hell are you doing sitting next to me.”

“What a nice way to greet someone after not speaking for a year.”

“You don’t deserve a nice greeting now move or I will.”

You had no energy for his antics today. You had been busy studying for exams and involving yourself in clubs around campus, you couldn’t afford distractions. 

“Please Y/N, wait. Hear me out.”

You scoff, mouth agape at his ridiculous request. 

“You ice me out before we break up, not really giving me an explanation for anything and now you want me to hear you out? Fuck off, Dongmin.”

Your words are harsh but deserved. You start packing up your things, getting ready to move away from him. He stops you, grabbing your arm lightly as you look up at him, the pleading look in his eyes almost making you want to fold. 

“Please, can we just talk outside for a sec? It’ll be fast, I promise.”

You huff, yanking your arm away from his grip and standing up angrily. If you weren’t in public, you would’ve stomped your way out. He eagerly got up to follow. 

“You have until class starts. What?”

“Y/N, I just want to start off by apologizing. I took a lot of time to think things over about us and the way we left things and I feel more and more guilty for the way I treated you.”

“And it took a year for you to come to that conclusion? You never once reached out to me or apologized so why now? The last girl you had on your dick didn’t want you anymore because she realized what an asshole you are?” 

You didn’t want to sound so rude, but all the emotions from the breakup came bubbling back up. You could see the hurt look in his eyes but you couldn’t let yourself fall so quickly. You needed him to see how badly he hurt you.

“I was stupid. I still am. But I can’t focus during practice. There were other girls, I will admit that. But they’re not you. I didn’t like any of them as much as I liked you and I don’t know why I acted the way I did towards you before. I was just stupid and couldn’t handle the pressure of everything at once. I realized how good you were and how much happier I was with you. I don’t deserve you or your presence but I needed to at least apologize. I miss you and I still care about you and I would do whatever it takes to gain your forgiveness.”

Hearing his genuine apology and watching as his head hung lower and lower was breaking you. He was actually being so kind and serious, but you were still skeptical of it all, and rightfully so. Biting your lip, you hold off on your reply, contemplating whether or not you should forgive him. He looks up at you, defeated. Taking your silence for an answer, he looks away, attempting to walk away before you grab him.

“Dongmin, wait. I accept your apology. But it will take a lot more than that to gain my trust and forgiveness.”

“Anything! I will do anything if that means you’ll give me another chance!”

He swears this is the first time he’s smiled in weeks. He experimentally holds your hands in his, relaxing a bit when you don’t pull away. You try hard to bite back a smile. This was all you’ve wanted all along, but he was going to have to work for it. 

Thank you, Y/N. I won’t disappoint you again.”

༄ ༄ ༄

Leehan:

A semester had passed since ending your friends-with-benefits relationship with Donghyun. Even though he was president of the aqua life club, and you had meetings regularly, you opted to avoid him as much as possible within the meetings. The only times you would speak to him would only be if you had a question or if he needed you to do something for the club. 

Because everyone in the club knew that there was something going on between the two of you before, they could easily sense the tension in meetings following your ‘break up.’ Of course, he didn’t address it. Partly because it would be unprofessional to do so, but also because he didn’t want to put your guys’ business out there. But even though a new semester had started, Donghyun still kept getting asked questions about your relationship, specifically from his friends. 

At first, he didn’t think that he had done anything wrong. But after being constantly harassed by his friends about the way he handled things and even getting a few complaints from other aqua life members about how awkward club meetings were, he started to think that maybe he had done something wrong. 

You were getting ready to leave your class, remembering that you had a club meeting soon. You packed your things up, grabbed a cup of coffee from a nearby cafe, and made your way to the student center where all your club meetings were held. 

Seeing as no one was there yet, you assumed that you had just gotten there early and took a seat where you normally did. You looked up from your phone about 15 minutes later, when you heard the door open. In came Donghyun, but no one else. You decide not to say anything at first. Donghyun pulls out his laptop and is clicking away. The tension was suffocating, but you could take it anymore.

“Where’s everyone else? The meeting was supposed to start 5 minutes ago…”

He just looks up from his computer, a creepy smile adorning his face. 

“There is no meeting. I emailed you specifically because I wanted to talk to you, but you blocked my number.”

“So why did you wait 10 minutes to tell me that? You just wanted to waste my time again?”

“I wanted you to talk to me first, so I know you would actually be okay with speaking to me.”

“Well at least you have half a brain to know that I am not okay with speaking to you. Goodbye Donghyun.”

You got up quickly to leave but he beat you to the door, blocking your only way out.

“Y/N please, just let me talk to you.”

“I don't want to talk to you, now let me out!”

“I can wait here all day until you talk to me, you know I'm a very patient man.”

You give up, huffing and sitting back down to where you were sitting before. 

“What?”

“Oh, feisty are we?”

“Donghyun I’ll kill you.”

He laughs before sitting in the seat across from you. You knew he was normally silly like this to lighten up the mood. It was one of the reasons you started liking him in the first place. But right now, you hated that about him. How carefree and aloof he could be. 

“First of all, I want to say that everything I said that day, I didn’t mean. I just didn’t know how to phrase my answers and they came out sounding worse than I meant them to be.”

You avoid his gaze, not wanting to look at his face as you relive the words that he had said to you that day.

“I want to start by apologizing to you first. I realized how much of a dick move it was to take you out on dates if I had never planned to date you at the time and I can see how I was sending you mixed signals. And to clarify, I didn’t mean it would be weird if I dated you. I don’t even know why I said that because it's simply just not true. You’re a wonderful person and anyone would be lucky to show you off.”

You look back at him, gaze softening at his kind words. 

“I’m really sorry for hurting you and treating you like that. I really miss you, and not the sex. I mean, I miss that too, but I mainly miss you and your presence. You’re so fun and funny and easy to talk to. And you’re the only person I hung out with that actually cared about fish. I think I didn’t realize the way I actually felt about you until after that night. I do like you, and in more than a friends-with-benefits way but I was scared to admit to those feelings because I was afraid of what might happen. I’m telling you now because it's eating away at me. I totally understand if you want nothing to do with me but I had to let you know how.”

He looks at you, biting his lip as his face shifts from a small smile to one full of nervousness, the little glint in his eyes boring into yours. The words he’s saying, you’ve been wanting to hear them for so long. You couldn’t lie, you still liked him. You wanted to give him another chance to redeem himself and let yourself enjoy him again. Having so many meetings go by and not being able to talk to him so casually anymore, it hurt you still. Your silence was killing him, but he stayed, waiting for your response. 

“Thank you for the apology, I really appreciate it. I can’t say that I haven't missed you. I want to give you another chance… but I'm scared.”

He reaches across the table, tapping your hands, wanting to hold them. You hesitate, but open them up, placing your hands in his palms. His smile makes your falter, nerves rising as he rubs the backs of your hands with his thumbs.

“I understand. But if you let me, I will prove to you that I like you. I promise, I will not hurt you again. We don’t even have to have sex until you feel like you can trust me again.”

The big smile on your face held your answer. You squeeze his hands, laughing. 

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

He lets go of your hands, walking around the table. He stands you up, caressing your cheek in his hands before dipping his head down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Thank you for giving me another chance Y/N. I swear, you’ll never regret it.” (😉)

༄ ༄ ༄

Woonhak:

It had only been a week since your split with Woonhak. To say you’d been crying everyday was an understatement. You missed him so much. You felt bad for ending things but you felt even worse knowing that he thought you were the reason for his shortcomings when it came to being an artist. All of your friends that knew about your relationship had seen the toll it had taken on you to be away from him. The dark circles under your eyes, how pale your skin looked and just how your overall well being seemed to decline day by day. 

Woonhak felt so guilty. He would beat himself up for snapping and saying the wrong things. This argument with Taesan that day came to a halt, seeking comfort from the older member after he had heard the entire thing. Woonhak had even missed practice for a day, resulting in getting scolded heavily by his managers. 

Overall, it was a pretty shitty situation for the both of you. But Woonhak couldn’t stand knowing that he hurt you so bad. He still cared about you, he just over expressed his anger and frustration out on you. He spent days curating the perfect message to send to you— in hopes that you would read it of course. 

He even told his members who were in full support of his plans. They needed him to be better, for his own sake and the sake of the group. And you were still so heartbroken, you would run to him the moment the message flashed on your screen. You hadn’t even changed his contact name yet.

Baby Bear 🧸:

“Hey Y/N. I hope you see this and don’t block me immediately. I know how terrible I was to you and I’m sorry. I haven’t stopped crying and I’ve barely eaten. Can you believe it? Me, not eating? Haha anyways, I hope you’re doing better than I am. I didn’t get to apologize to you before so I’m doing it now. I would rather do this in person but I don’t want you to have to see me if you don’t want to. I would even understand if you never wanted to see my face again and if you stopped supporting my group. But I just want you to know that I still love you and I am so deeply, truly, sorry about the way I treated you and things I said to you. None of my anger was meant to be put on you and you didn’t deserve any of that. I wish I could take back my past actions, but I can’t. I hope you can heal from all the pain I’ve caused you. I love you.” 

You were struggling by the end of the message, tears flowing so crazy that you could barely see the screen. You had taken some time to read it, causing Woonhak to be on edge the whole time, waiting for your response. Having your read receipts on didn’t make it any better for him. He was shaking sending the message, clinging onto Jaehyun’s arm beside him. He was crying on his shoulder, praying that he’d receive a text from you. 

When your text never came, he sighed in defeat. He continued to cry for another 20 minutes on Jaehyun’s shoulders until he finally got up to wash his face. It was then that a knock on the door sounded through the living room. Jaehyun went to open it, shocked at the sight of you, tears flowing down your face and drenched from the rain outside. 

“Where’s Woonhak?” 

He pointed to the bathroom, stunned at your straightforwardness. You usually addressed him very nicely, though given the situation he excused you and let you in. You ran to the bathroom, knocking on it frantically until Woonhak opened the door. 

“I hate you so much.” 

You said, throwing your arms around the boy whose face was still very wet. Not that you cared considering you were drenched yourself. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I will never raise my voice at you ever again. I will never treat you like how I did before. You mean so much to me you’re really the love of my life and I can’t lose you again!”

He squeezed you so hard, it was hard to breathe. But you didn’t care. You stood there, held in his embrace for what felt like hours until he pulled away, face fresh with new tears. He was sniffling but his smile never faded, beyond elated to see you again. 

“You better not treat me like that again! I’ll have to kill you if you do!”

“You should kill me if I do that again.”

You both laugh, wiping your tears away. But you couldn’t help but shiver, the cold wetness finally setting onto your body. 

“Oh my god you’re drenched. Did you run through the rain to get here? Baby, you’re gonna get sick!” 

He sprung into action, running to grab you a towel. 

“Here! Take a shower. I’ll bring some clothes of mine for you!” 

You laugh at his eagerness, but you already feel a hundred times better, knowing that you have him back in your life. You grab him before he leaves again. He immediately finds his hands on your waist, you holding onto his arms. 

“Okay I’ll shower, but after, we need to talk about all this.” 

He nods, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Of course. I need to let you know how sorry I am and how much I love you. Seriously, I’m never gonna act that way ever again.” 

You place a soft kiss on his lips, melting into his touch. 

“Pinky promise?” 

You hold up your pinky, giggling as he locks his pinky with yours. 

“Pinky promise.” 

[brain4stew]

Can you do reader who's just socially awkward like REALLY REALLY awkward at doing convos and whenever they tried they felt forced and talk like an npc,reader likes to observe people from afar,even spooking some others whenever reader pops outta nowhere..(with noobs,007n7,twotime,builderman's reaction to it) it aint even mysterious it's just straight up SAD(me fr)

OMG NO, I FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS… With having social anxiety and all that…

BUT ANYWAY, I’ll see what I can do with your request!

(Again, I don’t know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut!! ;

(Noob)

• Ah, Noob… The little scared guy… He’s confused by you at first, but shrugs it off as you being weary of people. (Which is somewhat true.)

• Noob has tried to talk to you, countless times, but became embarrassed after your responses…

• In the lobbies, he sees you in the corner of his eyes, and quite literally jumps a little and flinches. (Why are you just standing there, staring, from a distance??)

• In rounds, of course Noob is still on edge, due to the killer. But also because of you, as you scared them countless times, appearing out of literally thin air. (WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!)

• Overtime, they found out you were just extremely awkward and anxious around people! (They automatically assumed you had social anxiety…)

• Noob took it upon themselves to help you, and stay by you. (Even if you spook the ever living spirit out of him.)

(007n7)

• He was concerned and confused by you. Why don’t you interact as much? (Not that he minds it, he already had a kid that has WAY too much energy…)

• He has talked to you a few times, (mainly him talking to you about C00lkidd, while you listen to him), but that’s basically all, as he, got embarrassed by your responses and so.

• Eventually he understands you, and stays by you, just as a silent reminder that, you aren’t alone.

• In rounds, he’s anxious, cautious and nervous. But, he goes to find you, just to see how you’re doing. (Father instincts alert…)

• He carries a medkit with him, (which he spawned by coincidentally…) in case you need it. (What about Elliot, good sir?? 🤨)

• You are constantly doing generator’s, to decrease the time of the rounds. (And because you want the money.) You even body block some of the killers attacks, when they’re going for Elliot. (You end up severely injured… But, Elliot is thankful for you body blocking him, and he heals you when he has his pizza ready.)

• After each round, 007n7 INSISTS on taking care of you and your wounds. Scolding you and telling you to be more careful. (Atp he sees you as a reckless child… Like C00lkidd… Smh.)

• 007n7 basically just… Adopted you in his mind. Even if you don’t talk much, or interact with anyone that much.

(Two Time)

• They understand you QUICKLY.

• They don’t interact much with others either, nor do they talk much.

• Sometimes, they get their courage up a bit, to stand a bit closer to you… (Before they eventually go away out of embarrassment and worry.)

• In rounds, they immediately go to find a medkit for Elliot. They found one of course but uh… You accidentally scared them, as you were doing a generator nearby. (Insert their tail stiffening and their pose being a bit… Cartoonish.)

• They stood by you for a while as you were doing your generator, in case the killer is nearby. (They accidentally scared you too when you were done…)

• After many rounds, Two Time gathers up their courage again, and actually talks to you, for quite a while. (You both somehow, and strangely enough have lots of the same interests, and worries and so.)

• Two Time decided that you’re their #1 *cough* sorry *cough* #2 best friend there and then. They enjoy your company, even if you both don’t talk much or interact much.

(Builderman)

• Builderman… Let’s just say that he has information about everyone, hell, even the killers. He is of course, the 2nd(?) in charge of the game Roblox anyway.

• He’s not that surprised that you don’t talk much, or interact with anyone. He has your information after all.

• However, he did not expect you to accidentally jump scare him, as you were watching him fix a device.

• In rounds, he’s putting down his Sentry when he’s doing a generator nearby, or he puts it somewhere where the killer will get distracted by another survivor.

• He also puts down a dispenser where it’s somewhat hidden, yet easy to maneuver around, in case of the killer being nearby and attacking.

�� You did… Accidentally scare him when he was doing a generator… He actually thought you were the killer, due to how quiet you are.

• He did gesture for you to do the generator with him, so it’s less time to fix it, and the time can be decreased quicker.

• He did occasionally ask you for some help due to him being… Well… Old. And forgetting how to fix the generators, which, you actually helped him with. (Even if you just silently poked your finger at the generator, and drawing an “invisible air line” for him.)

• After rounds, he asked you if you wanted to learn how to heal survivors after rounds, and to fix devices, and items a like. Which, you accepted.

• You actually opened up to him after a while, seeing him as a comfort person. Someone you can actually trust and talk to, and not be too worried about. (Well, unless you worry about his health and age due to how old this guy is…)

I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK LIKE WHAT SEEMS LIKE AGES. MY BRAIN IS LEGIT JUST MUSH AT THIS POINT.

[thesirencult]

Messages For The Divine Feminine 222

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

Dear Divine Feminines,

I've never felt called before to share this kind of message as I was always skeptical abaout collective messages and saw them as nonsense. This evening though, while doing a personal tarot reading I felt the energy of two important Divine Feminine archetypes: Aphrodite and Cleopatra.

As I was wrapping up my reading I felt called to share some messages with fellow Divine Feminines on their journey to ascension and spiritual fulfillment.

Think about tomorrow as the first day of a new life. If you want to welcome the new you have to let go of old stories and negative beliefs who are holding you back from reaching your true potential. New perspectives are opening up and the truth is available for you to uncover.

You've strayed away from your path and got carried away by attaching yourself to your current situation. You forgot that your goal should be manifesting your heart's desires and not getting stuck on emotional rollercoasters. You hold the reigns. Detaching from the situation doesn't mean letting go of a beautiful vision of the finale, it means not paying attention to the immediate responses of your environment. Also have this in mind when it comes to your relationship with your destined Divine Masculine.

You are choosing yourself now. You are choosing your own vision of a better future. You're crafting the grand finale! Remember, you are currently living in the energy you seeded yesterday, so if you want a better tomorrow start with "good seeds" now. Congratulations, you have cut the cord and cracked the code of what manifestation and alignment means. Don't destroy tomorrows dreams by analyzing them from the viewpoint of yestarday's broken thoughts. You are more powerful than that.

Hoarding won't bring you results. On the contrary, sharing yourself and your gifts with others and being generous with your time and energy will yield better results. This will help your energy flourish. Growing means being generous with the fruits of wisdom. Stop trying to "save yourself" from the future because it scares you, the future is much better than you think and you're just self-sabotazing. You are safe. This tower moment was needed because it is better to build on solid foundation. Goddess wants you to know that your Divine Masculine is also undergoing the same process. No, when I'm saying Divine Masculine I'm not talking about the dusty next door, but about your true pure soul connection, the one that demands growth and love from you, not hate, frustration and games. These are low vibrational connections. Games won't work when it comes to soulful connections. Drop the mask and share yourself bare... Step into the mindset of abundance. You're enough, you are safe and you have enough love to be vulnerable with it.

When it comes to your love life, you're currently learning to believe in love. You are in the energy of manifestation, mid-manifesting. You next connection will be a soul connection. You're NEW to this, cut yourself some slack. Focus on how you can grow and prepare for them. Your person will love the fact you're both learning how to love eachother properly, they won't make fun of your eager nature or you trying to do better, they ar eon the same boat.

Think about what YOU want, feel it and give it a shape. Create the mold and the Goddess will fill it in. Do not try to fit the clay in the mold. Even if you are in a relationship with your true soul connection know that he is and he becomes the product of your manifestation. Create the mold. Create the mold and they will follow. The situation holds lots of potential to grow into something beautiful-if you let it unfold. Roses bloom when the time is right, the moon holds different shapes each night, time runs in circles and cycles, cosmic timing...

Trust. Time, faith and belief are the solutions to your problems. How can the seed of love grow inside you? How are you going to water it? Are you even watering it my gorgeous Divine Feminine? Work your way up and let yourself grow into the ideal state of love. Let your vision of love adapt and change.

In a pure soul connection each one builds on the work of the other. A sacred entaglement of two equals with a common goal. Both alternate between leading and being lead. Swaying in the dance of mutually beneficial promises. If you want your love life to heal, seek to be helpful, seak to lead spiritually. Together you will bring to life something much greater than what you would create alone.

My Divine Feminine, let go of your doubts, accept yourself as a whole, mind-body and soul and water your potential.

[translatemunson]

file 004 — Warbird takes the sky

chapter four of death defying acts

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cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader (i'm really trying to keep my descriptions of her and her background to a minimum so i can be inclusive to all people, but let me know if i can improve), no use of y/n, reader has a call sign (i had to pick one, it makes sense for the story), innacuracies about the navy, topgun and army (i did my best guys), this takes places after the events of the movie, drinking, lmk if i missed anything.

On Monday morning, you parked your car at the Naval Air Station North Island a few minutes behind your normal schedule. You grabbed your things from the passenger seat, fixed your hair one last time, and rushed to the Operations building. Everyone got an email last night about a special training exercise the following morning, but not much was attached to the briefing.

So when it was crucial for you to be early, you got stuck in traffic. You texted Bob to ask him to save you a spot at the briefing session — you were not required to attend those, but you felt like it was necessary to get more intel about the Daggers —, and you were running there before you missed any more information.

As you were ready to open the door and try to snuck in quietly when Officer Stewart intercepted you. “Good morning, Officer Hyde. You are expected in the control room.”

“Morning, sir. I thought I was supposed to watch the briefing with everyone else,” you motioned your head to the room.

“It’s just some tactical fighting maneuver exercise, you don’t need to stress over that.” Officer Stewart was very forward, polite and one of the best team leaders in the Intelligence office. He knew everyone’s strong and weak spots, and wasn’t afraid of overruling some orders to have his team working as soon as possible. “The file is on your desk, and I’m counting on you to hand me those reports in real time.”

“Yes, sir.”

You took the stairs to the third floor, passing through the heavy doors to the operation command room. You waved hello to your coworkers, settled your things on your desk and opened the paper folder.

Tactical maneuvers, two flight instructors this time around. In a jet each, they were gonna try to follow and intercept the four US Navy jets in the training path. The small resemblance to the escaping scenario Maverick and Rooster faced at the end of the Uranium mission shouldn’t be overlooked as a coincidence. They were preparing for a still unknown mission, but every single part of the training was necessary.

You looked over the pairings, pretty much the same pilots, except for one small difference. Bradshaw and Seresin were acting as mission captains in each round. So this was also a testing of their leadership skills.

Maverick was one of the assault pilots, but the other one was a blank information in your sheets. Were they getting some admiral or captain in the sky? How this was gonna work after all?

“Permission to take off, pilots.” The flight director announced over the speakers. 

You adjusted your headset over your ears, tuning into the general radio wave. The pilots were deployed one by one, conducting the G-force test and some engine checkings. You wrote down their data, coordinates and estimates on a side sheet. Then you heard Maverick’s voice, followed by a very familiar tone.

“Warbird, ready to take position.” What the hell your father was doing in North Island? Since when he was here?

You held yourself back from using the radio to say hello, but you saw when Office Stewart gave you a warm smile, in a silent “surprise” hanging on his lips. You smiled back.

You knew your father’s potential, being responsible for training over a dozen classes of Top Gun after he retired from the missions. Nowadays, he was laying low and working with the new recruits during the first stages of training, but he was still an exceptional pilot. Who did this? Who convinced your father to fly in training, side by side with one of the pilots he didn’t like?

The who and how shouldn’t be your focus now, since you need to watch how everyone’s gonna perform on training. But you were dying to reach for your phone and text the group chat “That’s how I found out we’re working together for a day?”

Hangman was leading the first session. For one morning only, he was being a good team player and leader. He had Phoenix and Bob as wingmen, and Coyote was leading Payback and Fanboy. They were hitting their marks, which was good, but Maverick and your dad were getting closer. In the mapped valley route, that meant lots of weak spots and not many tricks to save their asses.

You passed your first round of notes to Stewart before they reached the Daggers. You watched closely the monitors, seeing if your father was using any of the tricks he was famous for. But so far, he was following Maverick’s lead, and they were giving the aviators a run for their money.

As the terrain got narrower, Hangman was forced to make some risky decisions. At one point, Payback and Fanboy were shot down. As they reached the target, Coyote had to send the second missile without his laser. You noted down how it was a miss, and then they started the open terrain pursuit. Bob was screaming on the radio about Maverick and your dad’s positions, and Hangman, Phoenix and Coyote were swaying from one side to another, gaining and losing altitude like crazy, trying to survive this part.

“Dagger Two down,” your dad called on the comms. “Engaging with Dagger Three.”

“Copy that, Warbird,” Maverick confirmed.

You watched, mesmerized, when both experienced pilots entered a double formation, going after Coyote. Hangman was trying to move back and form a plan with his last wingman, but they outsmarted them: as your father went after Coyote, Maverick pulled one of his maneuvers and got Hangman right in the middle of his aim.

Everyone in the control room clapped because it was an excellent demonstration of teamwork and experience in the field. While your father didn’t have any confirmed air kills on his resume, he was quite the deceiver and strategist. And Maverick, well, he had his reputation and a name for himself.

They were given a small break for refueling before taking the skies again. You waited on the edge of your chair, already impatient because you wanted to have a few minutes with your dad. But again, you were expected to do a stellar job if you wanted that promotion.

On the second run, now with Rooster as mission captain, they were almost mirroring Hangman’s run. Bradshaw was more vocal on the comms, giving out instructions to his team. Your dad and Maverick were having a harder time catching up, but you were quick to notice how Rooster was losing his momentum as they approached the target.

Fanboy and Payback were the first to go down, but they managed to give Coyote the aim for his shot. They succeeded in destroying the target, now they were up for a run. Their maps showed the expected terrain, and they were on their own to plan for their escape.

“Any eyes on them?” As Bradshaw asked, you took a look at the radars.

Warbird and Maverick somehow found a blind spot on Rooster’s formation and intercepted them not a few seconds later. The arrows in the screen started to dance around each other, the formation long forgotten.

Coyote and Phoenix were shot down basically at the same time. Rooster was a few miles ahead, and when your dad said “I’ll get him” on the comms, you knew things were gonna get good.

Bradshaw was going low, rapidly reaching the hard deck. Your dad had him cornered in no time, locking his aim as the other pilot tried to go up and save himself from imminent failure. You whispered an excited “yes!” when they confirmed the kill. All pilots were commanded to land and take a break before the debrief.

Officer Stewart only had a second before you were out of the room and making your way to the hangar. You were out on the tarmac in a matter of minutes, just waiting for your father to jump off the jet and explain himself. And the looks you got from your colleagues were filled with questions that were promptly answered when you said “Dad! Why didn’t you give me a call?”

“Your mom said it would be better if it was a surprise,” he explained, opening his arms and giving you a nice hug. “I was hoping to hear your voice over the comms today.”

“Not today, but maybe next time. Oh, I missed you so much.” You stayed there for as long as possible, already used to the port flight aura you dad carried around.

Most people said your looks and personality were a fair mix of your parents. Your temper was something you inherited from your dad, but the sweet smile and warm eyes were your mom’s biggest traits. Looking at pictures from when they were younger, if it wasn’t from the passage of time, you would look like a perfect conjunction of their younger versions. Dressed in a Navy uniform, you used to be called Mini Warbird.

“Missed you too, birdie.” For your father, you would always be an aviator. “So, are you joining us for the debrief later?”

“I think so,” you smiled. “You did an amazing job today.”

“You sure? I feel a little rusty.” He shook his shoulders, like taking the dust off of them. “Alright, but did I look cool on your screens?”

“You looked like you never stopped flying dangerous missions. I know an experienced pilot when I see one,” you admitted.

As you said those words, Bradshaw walked by. And his expression was far from friendly: his sharp eyes were focused on your father; his face red and sweaty because of the exercise; his hands gripping the helmet like he was holding himself back. 

Your father followed your attention, and said “Nice work, Lieutenant Bradshaw.” But the pilot just walked by.

“Well, dinner’s on me,” your dad said. “Meet you at the debrief?”

“Will do.”

+++

“Now that we are not on the clock, and your mom is not around to use her psychologist tactics, tell me: how have you been?” Your dad asked as he settled two beer bottles at your table.

You drove him to the Hard Deck as soon as you were both done for the day. His stay was only for the training, his ticket back to his base booked for the following morning. Which was such a shame, you were really hoping you could spend more than just a few hours together.

“I’m ok, I guess. A lot of work, new people, new information, new squad. And a ton of pressure to perform well without causing unnecessary friction.”

“Any trouble with the captain?” Your mother wasn’t there, but your dad was more than prepared to poke the sensitive topics.

“Believe me or not, no. I was part of last week’s debrief, and I was surprised when he asked me for my insights and complimented my notes.” You looked around, making sure there wasn’t any coworker hanging around your booth. “People are very chill around here. Well, not everyone.”

“Is that Hangman guy being an ass to you as he is to his colleagues?”

“No, actually Bagman is all bark, no bites when he learns your job pretty much could help him get the mission captain position.” In a world full of politics and power games, you knew how to move around the board. And that didn’t mean not having some fun while there.

“So who are you talking about?”

“You know, the bird” you took a sip of your beer. “I know I’m the outsider writing down all of their mistakes and giving those out to the captains and admirals, but I’m not here to be judge and jury. So ever since day one, he’s acting like I am the enemy.”

“He’s been very temperamental since his father died.” Sometimes you would forget that your father was training and flying side by side with Maverick, Goose and those Top Gun pilots. You were born months later after Goose’s death, too young to remember the faces, and your family was transferred when you were two. “The kid is an excellent pilot, just a bit—”

“Arrogant? Doesn’t like to take feedback even when the person on the other side of the radio is trying to help? Yes, I can agree.” You rolled your eyes.

“Someone’s bitter.”

“I really wished Maverick was the pain in the ass you and mom told me, because I’ve dealt with aviators like him before, instructors even. Bradshaw is even worse than that one admiral in Virginia.”

For a second, you thought your dad’s silence was him trying to find arguments to defend Bradshaw — even if that, before all of this, he wasn’t nice to Maverick or anyone that was close to the reckless pilot. You noticed how, on the drive there, he was laying all the compliments to Rooster’s sense of leadership, and praising Hangman’s flight skills.

“Don’t even start,” you interjected. “I don’t wanna hear you saying he is a troubled kid, and he is the way he is because Maverick is his godfather or whatever.”

“I won’t. But we had this argument before: just because numbers and readings are clear to you, flying is more of an instinct than something you can learn.” His serious tone, reserved to students or when you were losing your temper. “Once adrenaline kicks in, you know we are not the most reasonable people out there.”

“I never pointed those things out loud. I check the readings, I give them to the chief, and my work is done.”

“I know what you do in those rooms, kid. What I’m saying is sometimes we know what we are doing, even though the odds are against us. So point out if someone is slow, or if their success rate is not as sharp as it should be, but don’t act like this is the only variable in risk during training.”

“Can we move on? Thank you very much.” At your core, you know your father is right. But, in your mind, if a pilot can’t complete a mission training successfully, it’s your job to point that out. Otherwise, they will fail on the field.

Much to his dismay, your father started talking about his new flight students. It was that part of the class everyone wanted a call sign to put over their last names. You knew what yours meant, but just didn’t remember who gave it to you. Maybe it was one of your colleagues, maybe one of the captains, perhaps Bob would remember.

For the longest time, you thought everyone would just call you Birdie or anything related to your dad’s call sign. And they did, then your call sign was Crow for exactly ten days before a training session. From them on, you were referred to as Hyde.

Had a nice side, but once they did you wrong, you showed a side that everyone would be afraid to fly closely to.

You were going to the bar to close out your tab when you heard familiar voices. The Dagger squad walked to the Hard Deck like they owned the place. You thanked Penny, pointed to the exit with your head to your dad — to avoid walking back to your table and crossing paths with Bradshaw and his friends —, and walked to the parking lot like you were on a mission.

Bob called your name, you just waved a “hello”. Hangman offered to buy you a beer, you pointed to the door and mouthed a “sorry”. Nat recognized your father moving the same direction and just smiled. You reached the door, and you slammed into someone’s chest and then stumbled backwards, almost falling. But they held your arm, and you were safe.

“Officer.” Bradshaw’s voice made your instinct kick back, and you took your arm away.

“Lieutenant,” you said, harshly. You don’t give him another look as you walk out of the Hard Deck and take your father to his hotel. Damn, how you wished he could stay with you.

a/n: the build up is building up, and i wanna say chapter 5 is one of my favorites! fingers crossed i can finish it faster this time around

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Gaga's notable omission from MDL

I'm working on a post in response to a discussion that has sprung up about Gaga's announcement that they plan to start using AI-generated subtitles for certain languages. I'll have that up pretty soon, but in the meantime, I wanted to post about something that came up in that discussion.

@wei-ying-kexing-apologist noted in their contribution to that conversation that references to GagaOOLaLa as a potential source for watching QL series are consistently absent from MyDramaList. I hadn't noticed this before, and I found it really interesting. I don't actually think it's very pertinent to the subtitle discussion, for reasons that I'll talk about below. But I do think it's important.

The fact that this omission is so consistent (even 25 ji Akasaka de, a Gaga co-production, doesn't list them as a potential place to watch that series!) suggests some kind of official (but not publicly stated) policy on the part of MDL. A lot of the information on that site comes from fans, but it isn't always reflective of fan sentiment. Important parts of the listings for each show, including the section at the top of each page that lists places to watch a series, seem to be controlled by the people running the site, or at least to involve limited options for fan contributors that have been set by site administrators. If you look at the comments on any listing of a QL series that airs on Gaga, you'll almost always find someone mentioning that it's available there, so site users are still talking about that platform. They just aren't able to get that information into the main listing at the top of a show's page. And that matters! Knowledgeable MDL users know to look beyond the information at the top of each page, but more casual ones are unlikely to do so. If they see that they can watch a show on another platform, such as iQiyi, and don't see Gaga listed, they'll be more likely to use the other platform. This is likely to have an appreciable effect on Gaga's bottom line.

Given all of this, I don't think Gaga's omission from those listings is at all reflective of a lack of respect for Gaga in the QL fan community (which was @wei-ying-kexing-apologist's stated basis for mentioning it in relation to the subtitle discussion). It seems far more likely that there's a policy in place at MDL that is excluding them from being listed as a streaming source. I'm particularly convinced of the likelihood of this because when I did a search of the MDL forums for posts mentioning GagaOOLaLa, I found numerous posts requesting that Gaga be added as an "approved viewing site/channel" but whenever I clicked a link that would take me to those posts, I was sent to either a "page not found" message or a page with nothing whatsoever on it. The fact that those posts were partially scrubbed also raises the question of how many other posts may have been entirely deleted so that they didn't show up in my search.

It makes sense that MDL would have a policy about which sites can be officially listed as sources for watching a series. If they didn't, people could post links to any gray site on the internet, and MDL could be implicated in piracy, something with potential legal consequences. But it's clear that they've refused to list Gaga as a legitimate source despite requests from numerous site users and despite its being completely legal and above-board. They're even deleting people's request posts asking for the site to be added. That's downright suspicious.

I'll hold off on speculating here about the reasons this might be the case. Suffice it to say that there are plenty of possibilities that come to mind given political considerations involving Taiwan and perhaps even their specific LGBTQ+ focus. But I don't think I have sufficient background knowledge to comment in detail about either of those possibilities.

You could make a case that all of this is still pertinent to the subtitle discussion, in a way. For example, you could say that since Gaga is already at a disadvantage because of this MDL policy, we should make even more of an effort to support them and overlook it when they engage in practices we disagree with. But personally, I remain convinced that this isn't something we should put much focus on when we look at the subtitle issue. That's not to downplay the importance of the problem. In fact, it's worth asking whether we should consider applying the kinds of pressure to MDL regarding their Gaga policy that folks have discussed applying to Gaga regarding their subtitle policy. MDL users have already tried going through the channels they're supposed to use and have been resoundingly ignored. Maybe it's time for other tactics.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I'm an aspiring author (actually work my ass off and have sold some original work). Aside from the fact that I loathe social media, the current climate has made me very glad that everything I post is strictly professional and only about new releases. Two reasons: 1) I absolutely hate when I go to check an author's page to see what their new book is and it's reams of political ranting (your job is to write books, tell me about your books and not your opinions); 2) as the Tolkien anon said, the fandom and book/publishing sphere generally skews left (most publishing houses are based in New York, after all). I fear these days it's basically suicide to show your affiliation for anything that's not left, but it really shouldn't be that way. One's political beliefs have no correlation or bearing on the quality of one's writing (though I guess brain-rotted liberals who just have to shove their idealogy into their writing are the exception to that). I still think it's best not to use your book as a soapbox, as you're telling a story, not writing a pamphlet, and your priority should be telling the best story you can and not spouting off to your audience.

That being said, huge shout-out to Larry Correia. While I don't read his books, he's openly conservative on his site/blog Monster Hunter Nation, and IIRC he took part in the Sad Puppies campaign to demonstrate how the Hugo Awards were (probably still are) biased towards a small group and authors who didn't align with them politically would be attacked. Dude's very based (gun instructor, unsurprisingly) and I appreciate him being vocal about his beliefs and uncaring what anyone else thinks.

On the positive side, I think the rise of self-publishing and smaller publishers in response to increasing monopoly of the big publishing houses merging with each other has been a net good. Let them all burn, I say. The more insular and more political they become, the more worthless they are. They're constantly chasing the next hot thing that's full of minority checklists and typical DEI nonsense, or chasing "Booktok" trends, which has been another canister of gasoline on the dumpster fire, to say nothing of literary agents who do the same thing (some of them actually ask you to list the tropes in your book, excuse me while I vomit).

I only care about writing a good story. If my story is rejected because it doesn't check off enough political boxes in the narrative, then why do I need them? Why should some New York liberal whose blood is 90% kool-aid decide I won't sell? Direct audience contact will decide that.

You're right and you should absolutely say it. I love this ask.

[spillthepuckingtea]

https://www.tumblr.com/spillthepuckingtea/776567349106081792/httpswwwtumblrcomspillthepuckingtea776564444?source=share

Well, here is my analysis of Jim Hughes:

He grew up very immersed in the hockey world and has devoted his entire life to the sport, either as a player or coach. And clearly this experience has influenced the upbringing of his three sons:

Model of authority and development: By bringing so many years of coaching experience, Jim has developed a leadership which is based on structure, preparation and hard work.

Developmental mentality: Rather than focusing on natural talent, he seems to value effort and progressive improvement through training and strategy.

Long-term vision: As we know, his intervention in the boys' careers has been not only in terms of technical and coaching, but also in terms of planning and strategic decision-making.

Personality Traits

Talking about the Big Five Personality Traits theory:

Openness to experience: Moderate. His life has been dedicated to hockey, his experience as a coach tells us that he is open to new approaches and strategies.

Responsibility (conscientiousness): Very high. His experience as a coach and his focus on the development of his children demonstrate a high level of planning and discipline.

Extroversion: Moderate-low. He is not an active public person and seems more reserved than Ellen, although in his professional life he constantly has to interact with different people and has made many contacts over the years.

Kindness: Moderate. As a coach he probably knows how to combine demandingness and expectations with support in situations that require it, but he can be more rigid and inflexible in high-performance situations.

Neuroticism (Emotional Stability): Low. Demonstrates good pressure management and does not appear to be impulsive, succumb easily to stress or be emotionally stressful.

In a general summary we could say that he is someone who focuses on development and long term planning, is not a person who seeks the limelight and seems to prefer to stay more on the sidelines to observe and be in the decision making process. These decisions he makes are probably based more on data and observations, rather than emotions. He does not seem to be an extreme authoritarian figure, but maintains high standards.

Parenting Style and Impact on his children

From developmental psychology, Jim seems to use a model of "demanding parenting with structure," in which the parent sets fairly clear rules and stances but offers support when needed. Within this parenting style are these three components:

Emphasis on discipline: no room for complacency and/or mediocrity

Encouragement of healthy competition: He has taught his three children that there is always room for improvement. And they themselves have said that they have always been competitive with each other.

Growth mentality: It is evident that he has instilled in his sons not to conform and to be in constant evolution.

His role in high performance

Jim has served as a coach and talent developer in the NHL, which demonstrates a high degree of knowledge and understanding of the performance and management of young athletes in training.

Strategic decision making: He has guided the careers of his sons and many other athletes, making key decisions in their development as players.

Pressure management: As a coach and parent of athletes, it is evident that he has the ability to maintain focus and not let pressure influence performance.

Analytical skills: As part of a player development program, he has had to observe many athletes, evaluate potential and design strategies for improvement, skills that he evidently applied in his parenting of his children.

Interpersonal Relationships

Since he seems to have a structured approach, it is likely that he has certain tendencies in his relationships:

friendships: He may value loyalty and be selective with whom he lets into his life, preferring purposeful connections, such as colleagues in the hockey world.

Ellen: They are likely to have a good balance and complement each other, with Ellen being the more emotional side and Jim being the more analytical and structured side. It seems that their relationship is based on mutual respect and admiration, they probably connected thanks to their shared love of hockey. And they have a clear common goal: the success of their sons.

Relationship with Quinn, Jack and Luke: May be more demanding than emotionally expressive, probably has been an important part of their career decisions, his role is more of a mentor than an emotional confidant.

Conclusion

Jim can be said to be a strategic, disciplined and development-oriented figure. This approach has probably been a key element in the formation of his children as professional athletes and people with a competitive and resilient mentality. His influence on the family has been quite strategic, ensuring that every decision made by his sons brings them closer to their full potential.

Wow just wow.

1. i never really payed attention to their dad but this is such an interesting pov

2. We love an educated queen so props girl

[tubbytarchia]

Do you have any thoughts on Lizzies’ secret life character?

Sad. Tragic in more ways than one. Imagine a deep frown on my face

Although I lovee Lizzie's character to death, I don't think I'm so good at verbalizing my thoughts in depth about her, but I am trying to write a general opinion piece on her. As far as Secret Life goes, I really like how antsy she is to do things that are likely to harm her even when not required to. Eg her immediately going for Cherry trees in spite of them being in a dangerous spot, her trying to save the camel from Mumbo, her readily jumping into the End Portal... Although in that last instance she did seem to just not think about it and be under the impression that she could instantly snipe the dragon kill lol. It's a bit sad even before the party that she's alone since she bounces off everyone so well, but I'll always believe in her. She at one point says "I might be better alone" which is referring to Mumbo regarding a task, but even so it felt like appropriate though sad foreshadowing

I don't headcanon seablings outside of ESMP1 simply because I don't see a portrayal of such a dynamic outside of it, but Jimmy and Lizzie do have multiple cute interactions in SL, like them shaking their asses at each other to communicate lol, it's a shame that the one notable interaction they have is Jimmy accidentally killing her :(. I didn't remember them having so many interactions even if they were brief, I need to rewatch more of Lizzie's Life POVs because the ass shaking is something siblings would do, I have to admit

I also need to point out that I love Lizzie's and Pearl's dynamic as few interactions as they have. The way she's drawn to the same qualities in Pearl that she's drawn to in Joel and with no hesitation rewards her as promised when Pearl gets her a bone, even whilst Joel is trying to appeal to her. And Pearl remembering her slumber party the next session without being reminded was probably the nicest anyone was to her about having missed it

But of course, the sad lonely slumber party... It does not get any easier to watch (or that episode in general. Her idea of getting everyone into the end to pass the night was a genius idea but alas) but god bless Joel. God bless. The one real one. The one constant. And him remaining vengeful on Lizzie's behalf means so much to me. Of course Lizzie's failure of a party and failure to seek much revenge for it resulting in her early death is the tragedy of it all. No less tragic than anyone else dying first but sad nonetheless. And it continues the trend of Lizzie permadying due to a third party which is arguably the most tragic part of her character that I think would make for banger analysis

It's even more tragic to me though that her character gets made out to be all about the SL death while I see little discussion about her actual character outside of that. And also people placing importance on her death because of Jimmy. I absolutely understand it was always going to be at least a little about Jimmy regardless of who would have died first, but the amount of talk I see that makes her character all about her failure and death, and then that death all about Jimmy, makes me sad because I think there's a lot to say about her. So I tend to be adverse to any kind of canary labelling and "She took the bullet for Jimmy/her brother" kind of sentiments, although I do think that the SL finale is still significant and I understand why it had the impact it did on the fandom. Just not personally a fan of a lot of the responses to it

[beanwaterontherocks]

Sacrifice My Love At the Altar

Fandom: Killer Chat! Pairing: Ronin Beaufort x gn!reader Summary: The silver band resting on your ring finger was proof. Proof that you had let yourself be burned, touched by corruption and bathed in blood. Ronin in all his eccentricity was, of course, not satisfied by a quaint courthouse wedding. Warnings: Blood and gore, Marriage Word Count: 1054

You liked to think that you had your now-husband Ronin Beaufort all figured out. Spending months learning his tragedies and bloody triumphs, his little habits and all his annoying self. But as you walked into the abandoned house, just a few miles out of town, you felt a rush of anticipation akin to the kind you’d felt on the night where you fell…for him and in general.

The door to the old building opened with a creak and you looked down to see a coal-black carpet, littered with bloodied lilies leading into the darkness. Well, almost darkness, the only light came from a dusty window and several scarlet candles on the walls, lit and slowly dripping wax onto the wooden floor with quiet, slow thuds. 

You heard him before you saw him, whistling an admittedly good rendition of “Here Comes the Bride”. As you stepped down the walkway, trying your best to humor him and match the melody’s tempo, you saw the copper-scented pentagrams drawn on the wall.

Bits and pieces of slimy, fresh gore nailed to their corners, draping like a macabre tapestry. If the old you could see you now, they’d without a doubt be disgusted, physically and emotionally. You had fallen, the shining silver band engraved with the words “meet me in purgatory” was proof of that. The jeweler had looked at you sideways at that request. 

Ronin stood under an arch decorated with more lilies, as well as your own favorite flower appropriately also covered in blood. He grinned at you, the room falling completely silent save for your own footsteps. 

“You know we’re already married, right?” You asked as you reached him, taking his hand and pointing at his ring, adorned with the words “Always the devil, Ronin Beaufort”. Judging by the..pristine condition of the decor, he had set all this up just a few hours after your simple courthouse wedding that same morning. 

“On paper, sure, but I thought we needed to join properly in unholy matrimony”, Ronin said as you felt his arm snake around your waist and pull you into his embrace. “It’s not really a ceremony, let’s call it a ritual”, he spoke into your ear and you chuckled in response. This was just truly, purely him. You supposed that was appropriate, you were sacrificing your lives in a way. You felt a bubbling happiness as you glanced at your matching bands. 

“I married you for tax benefits so I don’t really need all your theatrics”, you said, leaning into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked at you with those eyes dark as ripe nightshade and a hundred times as deadly. He looked at you with twisted affection oozing like viscous blood. 

The scent of blood and the sickly-sweet beginnings of decaying flesh mixed with the remnants of the rosy sweet cologne he’d worn for your official wedding.

He had looked handsome in his deep red and black suit, but now with his blazer discarded who-knows-where, his tie loose, shirt disheveled and a manic yet flushed expression on his face he looked devastatingly beautiful. So much so that you couldn’t resist pulling away, only to pull him back to you by his tie and pressing his lips to yours. When you broke apart, Ronin laughed his dark, joyful chuckle and gestured to the floor in front of the arch.

“How about that first dance?” 

Ronin was a lot of things, a nuisance, a murderer, someone you loved but he was not a good dancer. What would traditionally have been a waltz ended up being the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms and swaying slowly from side to side. Not that any of you cared much for tradition anyway. 

“So, who’s our guest? I don’t remember putting a liver on the guestlist”, you remarked, glancing at one of the visceral wall decorations. Ronin smiled, as though he’d been waiting excitedly for you to ask that question. 

“I mean we had to have a priest somewhere, I was thinkin’ about opening him up and putting him at the altar, but I wanted that little moment to be just for us”, he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head in a sweet gesture that starkly contrasted the crazed look in his eyes. 

“You went all-out, though I did promise to take you in all your sickness, so maybe I deserve it”, you spoke softly. He was sick and he’d brought out the festering rot hidden deep inside you, pulled it out with very own lips. 

“Till death do us part”, he laughed as you leaned your head against his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. 

“Please, like you won’t be waiting for me if you die first and I’m not going to haunt you till you croak”.

There was no escaping him, if you somehow miraculously were spared from the Nine Circles, he would personally break down Heaven’s door to bring you into the depths. You felt his arms tighten around you, holding you as close as he possibly could.

“You’ll haunt me? Run through the blood in my veins so I can hear your wicked words everytime my heart beats? Baby, I’m so fuckin’ glad I married you”, Ronin laughed, the sound ringing through his chest. 

The melody played by his aorta was crudely interrupted by a…pained groan echoing from somewhere else within the house. 

“Awww, that was gonna be a surprise”, he said with exaggerated disappointment as he pulled away, still holding your hands. 

“I think I know already but…what’s next?” You asked, your tone frighteningly casual considering what was about to take place. You really had fallen so far, but your fall had been cushioned by a warm sea of love and gore.

He looked towards a hallway in the house and you began to notice crimson spots leading down to a lone door. There were no candles in that hall. Ronin retrieved something from a nearby table. You felt the cold metal hilt of a kitchen knife tapping against your ring and he handed the blade to you. His hands cupped yours, warm and flushed with excitement as he guided the incredibly sharp tip of the knife towards the old door. 

“I said I wanted a bleeding wedding cake, remember?” 

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 13

Part (13) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

If I ever say there'll only be one more chapter in an arc... just... ignore that. Very similar to a wedding photographer saying "just one more picture." Lies. It's all lies.

Warnings: Reference to child being injured, standard guilt and regret, mild injury description and medical procedure, panic, profanity, mild brotherly teasing

WC: 4,461

“Any dizziness or problems with your vision?” The routine words left with little thought toward either the question itself or the dismissive answer given, and the man before me clearly resonated that disinterest, bright green eyes never turning from the girl tucked firmly into his side. I hadn’t seen their reunion, but the depth of their love for each other, the relief in finally finding themselves together once more lay plainly in how inseparable they’d been since he’d boarded, flanked by Wrecker and Echo, as Tech darted past to get the Marauder airborne before anyone had even begun reaching for the crash seats.

“Your… um, your man – the clone – the… with the glasses…” He muttered, hand motioning vaguely toward the cockpit, “he already asked me all this.” I had to steal a short breath to bite back the rush of annoyance at his generalized labels.

“I imagine he did.” I responded in a pointedly professional tone. “Tech is extremely capable in several fields, including medical, but you know how it is, Senator: we all have our own paperwork.” He let out an absent hum, hand coming back up to slide gently down his daughter’s hair.

“To the best of your knowledge, did you lose consciousness at any point?” I continued, but he didn’t turn back to me.

“Was she hurt?” The sudden quiet of his question caught me off guard, attention lifting to find him nearly curled around the dozing child. “Areeya… was she hurt?” He pressed, fighting back the tears clawing up his throat. I didn’t answer for a moment, unsure if he was the type to lash out and blame anyone but himself for what happened; stomach churning over the danger such a man might pose… but I remembered the Senator from Alderaan… how kind he’d been…

“Yes.” I whispered, gaze studying him carefully for some sign of warning, but he didn’t lash out; didn’t turn toward me with rage in those eyes he’d clearly passed on to her. “A ship she was on crashed… but she was lucky – my squad secured her well enough to prevent all but some minor injuries – small burns on her legs, a few bruises.” His eyes instantly travelled over the tiny form in search of any signs of such trauma. “I’ve already treated it – she probably won’t even scar.” He was still for a moment, and then a tremor stole through him. It was so slight, I nearly missed it, but then another seized his shoulders. And another.

I lingered for only a moment as he began to break. There were questions I still needed to ask, tests I was required to run… but not now. The man before me was a politician. He’d likely sent countless to their deaths from the comfort of some mansion absent a moment’s thought toward what widows they left behind. Maybe he’d been responsible for withholding resources desperately needed by the army. Maybe he’d spoken out against increasing provisions, or refused to entertain thought toward measures of caring for the soldiers once the war was over. Maybe not. Maybe he was one of the good ones – someone who recognized clones for the very real, very human people they were and acknowledged the horrors “leaders" like him subjected them to…

Regardless, in that moment, his career didn’t matter. He was a father. And he was mourning his failures in protecting the child who still sought nothing more than the safety of his embrace. And that was a moment not meant for the eyes of a stranger.

I gently rested my hand on his shoulder, fingers briefly tightening for what glimmer of comfort that silent gesture might offer before standing and treading toward the fore of the ship, footsteps echoing quietly about the otherwise empty cabin.

In the cockpit, Wrecker lounged across the pair of chairs behind the copilot’s seat, surprisingly soft snores just catching on slow, deep breaths, clearly having fallen asleep mid-conversation with his brother. Tech glanced only briefly toward me as I sat beside him before letting his gaze return to the datapad balanced on his thighs, jaw taut with annoyance from, I could only imagine, his inability to hold the device with the hand still strapped to his chest.

I watched the light trails of hyperspace gleaming against the soft yellow shielding eyes narrowed above a tense frown, and I didn’t need to look at the small screen to know what he was reading.

“Hunter…” He started, but, in a rare moment of hesitation, let the following words remain unspoken.

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper, legs pulling up to tuck against my chest as I watched him. He didn’t look at me, but his attention shifted away from the hastily written medical report I’d typed out while waiting for them to return, and I briefly wondered if he’d blame me for everything Echo had been so eager to dismiss. Part of me hoped he would, that someone else might justify the guilt still raging in my chest.

“There’s no record of brain damage from the most recent scan.” My arms tightened around my knees at the façade of hope forced into his words.

“Nothing serious, no.” I confirmed before continuing quietly, reluctantly, “Field scanners are pretty limited for fine detail, though.” He knew that, and I hated how effortlessly that simple fact robbed him of whatever denial he’d so briefly clung to. “I’ll know more after we rendezvous with the Vigilance. Unless he wakes up before then.” I added, and my teeth worried absently at my lip from the silence that followed.

“How’s your arm?” He didn’t respond for several seconds, his gaze finally shifting almost disdainfully toward the restrained limb.

“Unusable.” He replied with more than a touch of impatience before forcing out a small sigh and continuing, “but I believe your stitches are holding.” A tiny huff of laughter caught in my throat that made his lips bunch slightly.

“Mind if I take a look?” Some of that tension eased from his shoulders, attention shifting back to me as the screen to his datapad went dark.

“If you believe it would be beneficial.” He yielded, leaning back slightly against his seat.

“I believe the last thing we need right now is for one of you guys to get an infection.” I responded, pushing myself to my feet, and the look of offense that instantly pulled at his face drew a barely restrained chuckle from me.

“I would recognize the signs of infection long before it became dire.” I flashed him a smile at the chastising words, settling lightly onto my knees beside him.

“You focus on getting us back to the GAR.” I replied warmly. “I’ll make sure your arm doesn’t fall off.” He merely hummed dryly in response, and I couldn’t help but be struck by the stillness around us, by the violent juxta of that quiet against the chaos I’d found myself in the center of mere hours prior, and I savored it in the way I carefully freed him of the brace, movements just shy of reverent as I began stripping him of what armor he’d been able to slip on around the thick bandages.

“I didn’t think you’d still be able to rescue the Senator after we had to blow the walls early.” I murmured, words hushed.

“It… wasn’t easy.” He admitted, voice catching slightly at even the tiny strain of supporting the weight of his forearm, and I quickly guided him forward to rest the limb on his thigh. “Echo and I were forced to crash the speeder into his transport to prevent them from taking off.” I paused, taken aback by the lengths they’d had to go to.

“If you keep crashing things, the GAR’s not going to let you fly anymore.” I teased. His brow hitched as he glanced toward me from the corner of his eyes, but his expression softened slightly at the little smirk warming the mockery of accusation narrowing my gaze.

“I believe this maneuver would more appropriately be referred to as tactical misuse of an appropriated transport.” I didn’t try to hide the way my face contorted around a barely muffled laughter, and thrilled in the almost shy smile just managing to toy with his lips.

“Wouldn’t’a had to ‘tactically misuse’ anything if yuh’d just let me blow that last charge.” Wrecker mumbled, appearing to all the worlds as though he were still asleep save for his good eye peaking groggily at us.

“Had you detonated the final charge, there was a non-zero likelihood of the Senator being caught in the explosion.” Tech retorted, and it was clearly not the first time he’d had to voice that argument.

“Ahh, he’d’ve been fine.” Wreck dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand. “The clanker’s had ‘im way in the back. Maybe a couple ‘a bruises, but then we wouldn’t’ve had to run all the way up here!” I had to fight the wince at the thought of him running up the steep hill, knee only just beginning to heal.

“Your way likely would have resulted in our primary objective being injured or rendered unconscious, in which case we likely would have needed to carry him to the Marauder as that transport was a large enough target for even the B1’s to accurately hit.” I let out a small sigh as Wrecker drew a breath to respond, clearly more amused by the ease with which he could pester his brother than any desire to actually prove his point.

“Not if we blew them up, too!”

“The amount of explosives needed to terminate the entirety of the Separatist forces would most certainly have resulted in our own deaths, as well…”

It wasn’t a clean line. The metal that had torn into his arm was jagged and hot, and the scar would clearly proclaim just how frightful the wound had been. He didn’t look down as I checked the severity of the swelling, inspecting the countless stitches for signs of tearing, and I realized that Wrecker’s bickering was far more intentional than I’d initially assumed. He was offering a distraction. Even after all the time I’d spent with them, the effort I’d put into earning their trust and easing their fears, I knew what horrors haunted their youth, knew how ingrained their terror was of allowing anyone beyond their own brothers to care for them.

Maybe that knowledge should have hurt. Maybe I should have been insulted or annoyed, but I felt only gratitude. Despite that fear, Tech made no effort to pull away from my touch, and Wrecker’s laughter felt so effortless as he continued prodding his brother with senseless taunts and jests. I wondered if Tech knew, if he was intentionally allowing himself to be bated. Probably. The thought made me smile, though I knew there was a sorrow behind it I couldn’t quite hide.

“How’s the pain?” I asked softly as I finished securing a fresh bandage. His eyes flashed only briefly from me to the crisp linen before darting pointedly to the unlit screen of his datapad.

“Tolerable.” He answered, and I rolled my eyes with a short huff.

“Tech.” I pressed, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“In so long as I do not attempt to use it, the pain is nominal.” He reassured me, voice lowering into something near a whisper. I don’t think I’d ever heard him talk like that before. There was an unspoken apology and gratitude and warmth, and something about it sent a wave of static dancing through my chest. I hadn’t expected it, couldn’t recover in time to even grant myself a shred of denial that he didn’t notice, eyes catching his for just a moment before quickly looking away.

“If that changes,” I murmured as though there was no threat of heat creeping up my neck, “let me know.” Stealing a quick breath, I forced aside that lingering thrill and fell back into rote phrases and warnings. “It’s not just about pain management. That wound was severe. If there’s any sign of infection, we need to catch it early.” His hesitation had nothing to do with his injury, but he belatedly nodded in response.

“Speaking of pain management,” I continued, voice rising as I turned to look at Wrecker, and I tried not to calculate how much he’d been able to see around the broad backrest of the pilot’s chair, “how bad did that hike mess with your knee?” Something between a grin and a wince flashed across his scarred face.

“Already got one ‘a them ice packs on it.” He offered with a note of remorse, and I didn’t hide the way my brows rose in surprised approval. “It’s helpin’ some, but…” His cheeks warmed slightly, jaw shifting with an almost abashed nervousness, “it’s still pretty stiff… Think you’ll have time to…” His hand swept toward it with a shrug, and my expression warmed.

“I want to scan it again – make sure nothing got damaged, but, yeah, I think another massage is a great idea.” He instantly relaxed at the reassuring murmur. “Are you okay to wait a few minutes, though? I want to run back to check on Cross and Hunter first.”

“‘Course!” He replied without hesitation, and my heart ached for how quickly he answered, how ready he was to put his brothers before himself… but nearly an hour had passed since I’d left the medbay, since I’d watched that damn, wonderful line dance across the monitor. It didn’t matter that several alarms would blare through the entire ship should that change… I needed to see it, to feel it once more before that anxiety might ease.

The Senator had shifted just enough about the crash couch to cradle his daughter, Areeya, against his chest, and both appeared to be asleep. Echo wasn’t in the cabin with them, nor was he in the kitchenette or fresher. I’d just resolved to search for him after checking on the others when I finally reached the medbay.

“Dammit, Crosshair!” I nearly shouted, body already surging forward before the door finished opening. He’d forced his legs beneath him, body trembling as he leaned heavily against the wall. Blood slid toward his wrist where he’d ripped the IV from his arm, and his shoulders jerked with each harsh breath. “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be-” My words fell short as I reached him, hand darting to his chest to steady him, but he jerked away with a violent scowl, and I couldn’t help but freeze.

“I’m fine!” He growled through clenched teeth. “I’m not staying in this kriffing medbay!” I was so taken aback by not only that venom I’d nearly forgotten the taste of, but also by the strange frenzy in his hoarse voice.

“You didn’t give a damn about that last night.” I retorted, and I could hear the confusion simmering beneath my annoyance, the insult gnawing through my chest that I had to fight to suppress in order to slip back into some semblance of gentleness in the face of his outburst. “Cross, it’s alright. Just talk to-”

“Talking isn’t going to give me my damn eyes back!” He snarled, teeth bared, and his head jerked to the side at the distant sound of the air cyclers kicking on. I barely noticed that quiet hum anymore, but he flinched as though someone was screaming mere inches from his ear.

“Crosshair, your eyes are healing. They aren’t-”

“Just shut up!” He roared, and I instantly fell silent, something cold and wrong coiling about my chest at the sound of fractured gasps catching between ground teeth, at the sight of his chest bucking with each panicked flinch as he fought to regain some sliver of control over his shaking legs, the limbs stealing tiny, rushed steps as he felt for the edge of Hunter’s cot. “…damn it…” He growled, but whatever remorse twisted through him quickly vanished beneath the safety of his rage as he cursed again. “Damn it!”

Without another word, he pushed himself harshly forward, hand stretched out to maintain some bit of contact against the wall as he all but darted for the door, and I didn’t have time to move before his shoulder rammed into me with enough force to knock me back several steps with a quiet “oof”. I heard the sudden intake of breath, the way his lips parted around what he’d never admit to being a sob as a desperate apology strained to leap from his tongue, but, in the same instant, he was moving again, head tucked toward his chest as he threw himself from the room.

“Cross!” I called, my own sob shamelessly ripping the air from my lungs. It hurt not to go after him, not to sprint through the hall and lock him in an embrace until he stopped shaking, but I knew that would only make it worse. Trapped. How could he not feel trapped when he could see nothing but darkness around him? As worried as I was, as desperately as I longed to help him, I knew that he’d find more comfort in a few minutes alone, in stealing himself away of his own strength and volition than in what honeyed words or gentle touches I might offer… A few minutes… then I’d grant myself some excuse to seek him out…

My eyes dropped to Hunter, to that blessed monitor that I knew was cursed to haunt my dreams for years to come as I studied the display. Steady. Strong. Stronger than I had any right to hope for, and I felt myself wilt beneath a shaking sigh at the color just beginning to return to what meager patches of skin were free of the deep purples and sickly yellows of bruises that were finally beginning to fade.

I tried not to rush, fingers reaching out to feel his pulse before turning my attention to the tube still piercing his side. It wasn’t dripping anymore, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove it. Not yet. Another scan. A fresh IV bag. A stolen moment to rest my hand lightly atop his chest as I tried to ignore the palm-shaped outline over his sternum, an echo of that near-grief just threatening to overcome me before forcing myself to move; to clean up the liquid already beginning to soak into both cots from Crosshair’s crudely detached saline bag.

“Everything’s looking good.” I told him. It didn’t matter that he was unconscious. I wanted him to know. “You’re going to be in a world of pain when you wake up, but you’ll be okay.” Feeling those words on my tongue, hearing them and knowing there was no hint of deceit or deception amidst the syllables offered a far greater comfort than I’d expected, and I granted myself just a moment longer to grasp his hand tightly in mine, to savor the warmth of him before finally pushing myself to stand once more. “I’ll come back to check on you again soon – need to figure out a way to deal with that damn brother of yours, first…”

I didn’t have to look far. He didn’t like being down low. I didn’t know if it was an innate drive or something drilled into him through a lifetime of training, but he gravitated toward high places; trees, rocks, even something as simple as claiming the upper bunk.

“Cross?” I called gently as I entered the bunkroom. He didn’t move, body curled tightly atop his bed, that familiar, scratchy blanket wrapped awkwardly around him where the fabric had clearly folded but he’d been unable to straighten it. “You’re going to bleed all over your sheets… Can I at least put a bandaid on your arm?” My voice was barely louder than a whisper, words slowed, unrushed and void of the guilt churning through my stomach. Shouldn’t have left him… I should have made sure someone was with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone…

Several seconds passed in a tense silence, before, almost begrudgingly, he tried to offer me his arm, but that tangled fabric snagged around his wrist, instantly earning a strangled growl as he tried to wrench the limb free, and I could see how badly he was still shaking.

“Hold on – hold on. I’ve got it.” I murmured quickly, already hopping onto the now empty frame of Hunter’s bed to reach him, but he’d already managed to fling the coiled blanket away, and I had to bite back a sigh at the mess of crimson already smeared about the crook of his elbow. Balancing awkwardly atop the metal tubing underfoot, I gently slipped my fingers beneath his arm, pointedly ignoring the flinch he couldn’t quite fight back, and began dabbing at the stained skin.

“I know you probably want to be alone,” I started, voice hushed, lazy, as though I wasn’t pouring the entirety of my focus toward willing some measure of calm into him, as though I was somehow more concerned with the miniscule prick from the torn IV site than I was the crippling display of shear terror from the man I’d so readily found myself viewing as impervious to such things, invulnerable…

I’d seen the others break; seen Hunter ruined at the threat of losing one of us, Wrecker crushed beneath the fear of a child, Tech robbed of his brilliant mind and left floundering, and Echo… I remembered holding him through nightmares, remembered how readily he held me in turn, and I felt my heart stutter with a dread that only grew the longer he somehow managed to hide from me… but Crosshair…

I’d seen his rage. I’d felt the biting edge of his indifference. And I’d grown to love them with the same fervor that now filled me upon finding him watching me with far kinder emotions; amusement when my own stubbornness led to fights, grief when reality seemed bound to tear us apart, and something far sweeter when no one else was there to bear witness, when stolen moments allowed for a softness forbidden amidst the harshness of what stations happenstance had forced upon us. This, however… This was raw in a way I’d never wanted to see. This was cruel and wrong and wrought with a hopelessness no whispered reassurances could touch.

“But I still have some work to do with Wrecker’s knee, and I’d prefer to do that with him laying down.” I continued speaking with that same, unconcerned, almost mumbled cadence, casually securing a small bandage over the tiny hole before guiding his arm back over his chest, hand lingering for just a moment longer. “Is it okay if I bring him in here with you?” Again he paused, belatedly reaching out to wrench the blanket back over him. I knew that blanket had nothing to do with the cold, needing, instead, some cover to hide the way he trembled.

“… fine.” He muttered, mouth taut with a harsh frown.

“Okay.” I whispered, finally allowing a sliver of worry to just bleed through, and I stepped down before he had the chance to lash out at the sound of it, pointedly letting my footsteps tap loudly against the metal floors so he could hear me.

“Wreck.” I called upon returning to cockpit. The way his posture instantly changed, shoulders pulling back as he sat up straighter, attention quickly locking on me left me no uncertainty that he heard every ounce of unspoken pleas yet to leave my lips. “Mind if we do this in the bunkroom?” He was quiet for a moment. I tried to think of how to explain what I was really asking, how to warn him about the state Crosshair’s temporary blindness had rendered him into but he didn’t need me to voice it.

“Yeah.” He replied with that understanding and patience I’d forever love him for.

Tech shift just enough to meet my gaze, studying me for a moment before speaking.

“Crosshair…?” I offered a tense smile.

“He’s not handling it well.” I admitted, barely breathing the words. Tech’s eyes turned back to watch Wrecker carefully begin climbing up the ladder before returning to me, head bobbing in a small nod. Without another word, he turned back to the viewport, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the delay before actually taking in any of the data flashing across the control panel. Later, if he allowed, I resolved to bring Crosshair in here, to allow the brothers a moment of their own to recover from the maelstrom of emotions this cursed mission had brought.

“I said I was sorry!” Wrecker’s voice reverberated through the ship without even the faintest hint of that stillness he’d regarded me with barely a minute prior, and I quickly trailed after him, unsurprised to see the alarm in the Senator’s eyes as I passed through the cabin, reaching the bunkroom just in time to catch Crosshair’s seething retort.

“Sorry doesn’t get the kriffing dents out of my muzzle!”

“Well, we’ll jus’ get yuh another one at the Vigilance.” His response wavered between an apology and a dismissal.

“I don’t use regulation parts.” He scowled.

“I’m not letting a single one of you behind a gun again for at least a month, anyway.” I interrupted with an impatience of my own that carried the grief and guilt and regret we all suffered beneath in some way.

Wrecker lounged comfortably across his cot while Crosshair still lay curled tightly atop his, though he’d pushed himself up as though to glare at the man through the thick bandages about his eyes.

“Plenty ‘a time to get a replacement!” Wrecker beamed, and neither of us drew attention to the flash of gratitude I sent him. It felt like years had passed since that terrifying moment – since forcing myself back into the burning carcass of the wrecked transport to save Tech only to find Wrecker leaning hazardously on the Firepuncher with that tiny girl over his shoulder.

“I brought you in here to deal with that knee, not so you could start a fight.” The feigned reprimand only earned a knowing smile from the gentle man.

“Not my fault he’s so picky about that hunk of metal.”

“Hunk of-!"

“Enough.” My voice rose just enough to echo slightly, and I had to bite back a chuckle at Wrecker's little smirk as he began tugging at the waist of his blacks.

“If it makes you feel any better, him using your rifle like that was probably the only reason he was able to save Areeya.” I murmured up to the seething sniper.

“It doesn’t.” He responded curtly. I didn't try to silence that bout of laughter, and thrilled in the subtle way his shoulders relaxed at the sound.

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[crownedwithstars]

The idea that only Ulmo or Nienna care about Middle-earth and do anything to help Eruhini is a strange misconception because Tolkien pretty clearly shows that at least Manwë is watching very closely what's going on and sometimes even interferes? It's just that the Valar mostly seem to work through the elements they represent, which if you think about it is pretty neat.

Like there are various instances where the wind acts up suddenly, causing storms or rising in just the right moment (as in ROTK, clearing the air for the Rohirrim and speeding Aragorn's journey as he sails for Minas Tirith)

And even more obviously, the Eagles. Tolkien specifically says that the Eagles are Manwë's advocates in Middle-earth, providing miraculous aid when all else fails. Without the Eagles, Beren and Lúthien's quest would have failed and Huor would not have got to Gondolin (which then would have prevented Eärendil's success or even meant he was never born). They give crucial aid to Gandalf more than once. The Eagles also help Fingon to save Maedhros, because Manwë "would not wholly abandon the Noldor". Tolkien recognises that the Eagles are "deus ex machina", and in this case, the meaning is quite literal.

Then there are the Istari, envoys of the Valar: while there is proof of only Gandalf's success, even just the efforts of one of the Wizards was enough to bring down Sauron.

As for Ulmo, you could argue that he is responsible for the whole Eärendil and Elwing arc - and that it was a job between him and Manwë. It's Manwë's Eagles that bring Huor to Gondolin, and Ulmo later sends Huor's son Tuor into the hidden city. Tuor and Eärendil both get sea-longing in their hearts. During the flight of the survivors of Gondolin, Eagles are again present and bring up the body of Glorfindel, making you wonder whether they would have interfered more in the Balrog fight if Glorfindel had not stepped up to protect the refugees - and Eärendil, the fated saviour of Middle-earth. Also, Ulmo rescues Elwing when she casts herself into the sea, turning her into a bird so that she can fly to find Eärendil. Water and air and birds keep showing up in the stories of Eärendil and Elwing and if that's not proof of Manwë and Ulmo's plotting, I don't know what is. I mean, it's even said in the first pages of the Silmarillion that they are fast friends and closely allied from the beginning! Eärendil becoming a star also in a weird way even combines the elements of Ulmo, Manwë, and Varda: bearing the Silmaril, Eärendil sails an immortal ship in the sea of heaven and stars, forever as a sign of hope to the Children of Ilúvatar.

What about the other Valar? If we keep in mind that they chiefly work through the elements they represent, their abilities to interfere are limited (and this is a self-imposed limitation clearly). Yavanna's creation of the Ents proves to be a pretty great one in The Two Towers, although you can argue to what degree she is influencing the events. More obviously In Shelob's lair, Sam calls for Varda, and the light of the phial of Galadriel comes alive in his hand and smites the great spider, helping Sam to defeat the monster. Also, during Sam and Frodo's desperate march through the hellscape that is Mordor, Sam yearns for a little bit of light and water to hearten him - and lo and behold, he gets these exact things as if Varda and Ulmo personally delivered.

In other words, the Valar are a lot more active in Middle-earth than they get credit for, and they work in subtle and indirect ways because only then can they make sure they don't accidentally kill a lot of the Children.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."

[nenoname]

been seeing some talk about how realistic would it be for twins to refer to themselves as the older or young one and that just makes me curious about the japanese and other dubs and what they have the twins call each other