#know when you will get married

[bandhanyoga]

It is a common question reaching the marriageable age: when will I get married? Sometimes, an inordinate delay in a person’s marriage makes the family ask: When will you get married? Will you ever marry or not? And why not: marriage is considered an essential rite of passage that everyone undergoes.

[unpersoniverse]

Skén:nen sá:sewh

as promised, here's Precious boy™ getting kissed by Precious wife™ because he deserves all the love in the world :cc

translation: Get home safe

[bunnykaye]

💚BONUS Polin Week💚 day three | Mutual Pining

[zarnzarn]

The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

[mohntilyet]

veilguard spoilers regarding a josie romance. but can we talk about the letter josie sends to a romanced inquisitor because. i’m sorry. fucking losing my mind at the fact that the inquisitor and josephine are close enough friends with the guy the inquisitor duels in her romance to be invited to meet his third child. implying they’ve been invited to the other two. at a baby shower and getting introduced as the one who dueled the baby’s father because he was trying to steal your girl. antivan romances insane.

NO LITERALLLYYYYY. AND HE’S AN IN LAW. ITS TOO FUNNY. i cannot imagine how they met and how yvette probably was like “teehee…. the man that my sister spurned…. has fallen in love with ME!” and the best/worst part is that ortranto really has. i like to think of them running around with each other and secretly meeting as though their families actually hate each other (they really don’t lol) . the ortrantos would probably be delighted to have their son actually marry a montilyet like they wanted, even better that they’re actually in love and it’s not arranged!

i have this image of josie going like “you can’t marry him. is this a joke, because it’s not funny. i almost embarrassed him! the only reason the ortrantos do not hate us is because he is a very kind man who saw that i was in love with the inquisitor! ….yes i suppose a very kind man like that could love you…….. yes of course i want you to be happy…… yvette gabrielle montilyet, i fear you are not hearing what i’m saying— DON’T SAY YOU ARE ALREADY AN ORTRANTO. DID YOU ELOPE? ah okay. don’t do that. i said don’t do that. yvette come back and listen to me” etc etc

of course i must believe that there was a big scene caused (once again) by a montilyet and ortranto that ends with lord ortranto making a speech where the publicly declares his love for yvette in front of all of antiva city to see and hear. so there’s no backing out from this one. in my mind there’s a rehash of the big “BECAUSE I LOVE HER!” (ortranto, desperate but genuine), “you do?” (completely aghast josie who has somehow missed the fact her sister has been giggling even more than usual), plus an “OF COURSE HE DOES!” (a thrilled yvette) that reminds josie so fondly of her own love story that she's immediately relaxed (and suddenly accepting) about this whole thing <3

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

i think that if mulder ever confessed to scully how he hooked up with (what he believed to be) a vampire in his suicidal haze while she was missing, she would be mournful over how terribly he suffered in her absence, and touched in his trust in her to share that. but also she would make some terrible "i vant to suck your blood" jokes and ask if he felt seduced. which is why their dynamic is great.

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[girlsdads]

#ok it’s giving girl dad wearing his daughter’s handmade necklace special for him into work 🥺🥺😩😩

couldn’t stop thinking about this tag of mine, wrote a little smth about it 🥰

The stomping footfalls racing down the hall behind him could only be those of a toddler. Daniel turns and squats just in time for his tiny blonde projectile of a child to come barreling into his chest. The force sends Daniel falling back onto his butt with a surprised oof, his daughter giggling delightedly in his lap.

“Hey, Ellie-bug,” Daniel smiles. “Daddy’s gotta go to work, remember how we talked about it and you promised to be a big girl?” He brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth where it’s gotten stuck in a little smear of jam leftover from her breakfast. Daniel had shown Max how to make it just the way she likes—the pancake batter shaped in the silicone star mold, the silly faces drawn in jelly and jam.

Ellie’s head bobs up and down dutifully, but she makes no move to get up.

Max appears from the kitchen then, looking like a man who’s been fighting a losing battle with the second pancake. There’s a splatter of thick batter on his white t-shirt. He’s holding the spatula like it’s offended him somehow. Daniel looks at him over their daughter’s head, and loves him fiercely.

“She is of course the biggest girl,” Max says. Ellie grins proudly. “Why don’t you give Daddy your present now, then we will finish your pancakes.”

Daniel watches her grey-blue eyes light up like she’s just now remembering why she came running at him in the first place. She reaches a chubby hand into the bib pocket on her overalls, embroidered Enchanté script stretching as she roots around and produces a string of brightly-colored plastic beads. She holds it out to him expectantly.

Daniel takes the strand delicately in hand, wraps it around the backs of his fingers and rotates his wrist to get a good look. It’s a necklace, probably more of a choker given its relatively small circumference, the fat pony beads the only real indication it was made by a child. The powder pink and fuchsia beads are separated by interspersed pearlescent white orbs and clear sparkly stars. Smack in the center is a single number bead, a glittery pink three.

“Jeepers, did you make this for me? It’s beautiful!” Daniel says, and means it. He’s already been wanting to talk to his team about adding a jewelry collection to a future drop, and what better inspiration?

Ellie nods excitedly. “Papa helped me do a…,” she pauses, squints and tilts her little head, searching for the word, “…a pattern!”

“We made it the other day, while you were out with Blake,” Max chimes in. “For good luck.” He sounds almost bashful, like maybe it wasn’t their daughter’s idea in the first place. Daniel’s heart is so swollen it’s threatening to leak out through the gaps in his ribcage.

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Daniel muses, softly, mostly to himself. He stretches the elastic over his head, feels the smooth plastic three settle in the hollow of his throat. His pulse thrums evenly against it, grounding.

He flashes his biggest smile at his family. “How do I look?”

“Pretty, Daddy!” Ellie throws herself forward again, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s neck. It leaves him locking eyes with Max, who’s gazing down at the two of them like nothing else in the universe exists. Daniel can never quite get used to that look—still feels butterflies dancing up the back of his throat, his stomach dropped into a glorious freefall.

“Beautiful, Daniel,” Max says, reverent. “Always.”

[spacedlexi]

"sounds nice... having a partner"

[lloydfrontera]

'lloyd is very weak now and needs to marry so he'll have someone to protect him'- lloyd has the only grandmaster on the world following him around like a puppy. he has the most terrifying motherfucker on the world wrapped around his little finger. he has the one person in the world who can hit an absolute in the head and get away with it swearing in his heart to protect him no matter the cost over and over again.

lloyd made javier watch him die twice right in front of him just to keep him alive. there is no power on existence that could make javier allow anyone or anything to even think about harming lloyd again.

lloyd is fine

[reaping-the-benefits]

hi! (dinner party anon here)

your medic reader is always so, so delicious i feel like i’m getting spoiled with a Michelin star meal. you mentioned wanting to talk about how reader met met price? would you please, pretty please tell us what your ideas are?

it's the middle of the night, and I should be asleep. But the idea will rattle around in my head until I finally get it down. So forgive any grammatical errors.

content warning: MDNI suggestive content, a small age gap

So, what I'm thinking is that reader is a couple years younger than Price. Like five to six years younger at the max. which might not matter in the story, but it matters in my head.

I think you and Price had been vaguely aware of each other for longer than you can pin down. You joined later in Price's career, and had seen each other in passing. Once you had tended to a minor wound of his, but he had been in and out of the med bay without much conversation.

You two officially meet when he's a Lieutenant. He'd ended up having to drag two recruits to the med bay, hurt during training. Nothing you hadn't seen before, and you had to snap at them more than once to stop squirming while you attempted to stitch them back together.

Price was immediately enamored by your spitfire attitude, and made an effort to come back to you. He wasn't willingly putting himself into harms way, but maybe he was catching a few more stray hits during training than normal. Not that he'd admit that.

You, on the other hand, were far more willing to admit that having him in your office was beginning to piss you off. I mean, come on! How did he become a Lieutenant while being this reckless with himself? It's ridiculous, and you end up snapping at him on more than one occasion.

It's during one of these rants that Price grabs you by the shoulders and kisses you. Maybe not the most suave, but he had been young and seeing you all fired up had him hard in his pants.

You like to joke that it had been the most reckless thing he ever did. Price would argue that the most reckless thing he did was have you blow him in your office. Agree to disagree, because you both know that specific blowjob was the hardest he's ever come and he had practically dragged you back to barracks to have the most mind-blowing sex in your life.

You started dating shortly after that.

I think, after he got promoted to Captain, you both bought a little house together. Some place to call home, to fill with your shared life.

And shortly before the task force was formed, you got married. It hadn't been some elaborate affair, just a run down to the courthouse. You both knew something was brewing, events that would keep you both far too busy for a proper wedding. But you were fine with it either way.

Ghost was absolutely your witness. It's the only reason he was willing to make that stupid bet with Soap and Gaz.

[royalarchivist]

Pac: You know Ramon, maybe one day you can start doing farms here? I would appreciate it! And I can pay you in chocolates and diamonds, you know?

Ramon: pay me by marrying my dad

Fit: No, hey– [Stammers] Ramon! Ramon!

Bagi: YES!!! Yes, Ramon, yes!

Pac: [Laughs] Nooo, Ramon! You got me- you got me right on the spot!. Dammit! Ok... I will consider! I will consider. [...]Let's make a deal: I will do that when you become a dragon. 😉

Ramon: 😑

Fit: [Laughs] Yeah, when you become a dragon, Ramon! That sounds good to me!

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: Yeah, Ramon knows about Create. You know Ramon, maybe one day you can start doing farms here? I would appreciate it! And I can pay you in chocolates and diamonds, you know?

[Fit and Bagi laugh]

Fit: That's a good reward, yeah!

Bagi: Chocolate and diamonds!

Pac: Yeah [Laughs]

Ramon: pay me by marrying my dad

Fit: No, hey– [Stammers] Ramon! Ramon!

Pac: "Pay me by marrying my dad"? Oh– [Stammers] Ramon! Ramon! Ramon!

Bagi: YES!!! Yes, Ramon, yes!

Fit: [Fit uses his chainsaw to break the sign and accidentally hits Ramon] Oh, sorry– I was trying to break the sign, I'm sorry, Ramon.

Pac: Ramon! [He does the "falls to pieces" emote]

Fit: Baby steps, Ramon! Baby steps!

Pac: Baby st– Ramon, remember–

Bagi: Yes, Ramon, yes!

Pac: [Laughs] Nooo, Ramon! You got me- you got me right on the spot!

Fit: [Laughs]

Pac: I'm gon– props- props on you, you know? It was a good– yeah. Dammit! Ok... I will consider! I will consider.

Ramon: [Nods repeatedly]

Fit: Yeah, you can't rush these things Ramon, you know? Like, it's- it's– You know? I mean– plus, you know, w– we got our own things we're working through!

Pac: [Leaning into the mic] You can't rush on love.

Fit: Yeah, exactly! Like– yeah. You know? We're working on ourselves. Yeah.

Pac: Yeah.

Fit: [Weakly] Yeah...

Ramon: [Spins in a circle wildly]

Pac: Baby steps!

Fit: Baby steps, baby steps.

Pac: One day– ok, let's make a deal: I will do that when you become a dragon.

Ramon: [Stares at the ground, resigned]

[Pac and Fit both laugh]

Fit: Oh yeah– Yeah, when you become a dragon, Ramon! That sounds good to me!

Ramon: [Tosses a potion of swiftness on them]

Pac: Woooo! Baby steps no more– I'm just kidding.

Fit: [Laughs]

[ganondoodle]

should surprise absolutely no one that i much much much prefer radahn when hes older (and not mindless! or mindcontrolled!)

(doesnt look amused about what malenia just did in that ol trailer- and possibly even moreso about what she said)

that (and base game) version of him is the only one to meeeeeeeee

[moderndaypandora]

Hob is going to come home one day two months into Dream's retirement (and seven weeks into their marriage) and Dream's going to be full Victorian maiden on the chaise lounge, arm covering his eyes.

Hob, who is not a fool: Want to talk about it, or want to be consumed by the agonies for a little while longer while I prepare dinner? You got groceries, right?

Dream: [horrible groaning dirge of assent]

Hob: I'm starting to get a little concerned, dearest

Dream: I went out to. Obtain groceries. And the woman at the till said 'enjoy your food'.

Hob: And you said?
 Dream: "My thanks. you as well."

Hob: My poor love. Have a kiss to ease the sting.

Dream: [accepting the forehead kiss as his due] I can't go back to that grocery store in this lifetime.

Hob: Understandable.

Dream: Can we fake our deaths tomorrow?

Hob: Give me two weeks to wrap everything up, then we can.

Dream: <3

[hawnks]

A werewolf knight promised a bride in return for his unflinching loyalty and unmatched battle prowess.

His Jarl thinks the most beautiful, talented, and wellbred Lady of the island will suit nicely as his gift.

But the wolf has already made his choice -- he'd made it long before he ever went to war. Everything he did, every terrible, horrible, deadly thing, he did it for her.

And since he was promised a bride, well. Who can stop him? It's his due, after all.

[msmc-796-official]

I... have a confession to make, of sorts. There won't ever be a good time to admit this, unfortunately, so it's best I get this off my chest now, and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It has not been easy speaking with all of the flashclones who have made themselves known in the wake of Union's latest raids; both for myself, and the squadron at large. I must commend my squadmates for handling themselves with the utmost professionalism - while my own correspondences with these newest members of the Omninet have been what I would consider adequately polite, I've been biting my tongue the entire time, and I fear that my personal discomfort with the issue is starting to slip through the cracks.

To this end, I wish to share my thoughts publicly, that I might better express my own emotions towards this complicated, frustrating, and highly nuanced issue. I only ask that you hear me out in full before you render judgement, and pronounce your sentence carefully.

First: an observation.

MSMC policy requires that all pilots dictate an end-of-life plan at the time of their recruitment, that their final wishes may be carried out by the company in the event of their death under MSMC's employ. The options provided for this are effectively unlimited, allowing the pilot a great deal of choice and freedom in planning their postmortem arrangements. These plans may also be altered in the future should circumstances change, provided the pilot is of sound body and mind.

Under MSMC policy, in compliance with the policies set forth by Union, one of the available postmortem options is flashcloning.

In my fifteen-odd years serving under MSMC, I have only heard of three pilots who have willingly chosen to be flashcloned after death (thus prolonging not only their life, but their term of service under MSMC as well). Of these, I have only personally met one, affiliated with MSMC-808 "5Q8R3 L00P3RZ" - I believe their current iteration goes by callsign Lemniscate. While I do not know how many times they have been cloned during their term of service, their current iteration seems happy enough, and their squadmates reassure me that they've maintained a consistent identity (plus or minus the odd quirk, as is typical of flashclones) throughout their life (lives?).

Second: a digression.

I purchased my Dusk Wing, And The Voice of Apollo Spoke From On High (Apollo for short), from an SSC showroom on a planet whose name I no longer recall. The curated atmosphere called to mind the high marble pillars and lush green-blue waters of some distant Cradle mythology where gods roamed the earth and mortals strove to emulate them, punished and rewarded for their folly in equal measure with gifts and curses beyond name. Each frame was posed as the statues of old on Cradle, too-human limbs arrayed in too-human poses, each a machine of war turned living art piece.

Apollo, true to its future name, was arrayed in flight; hover-jets draped with sunlight-yellow gossamer, veil rifle aimed in its middle tier of manipulators with the same care and precision as an archer would take with their bow. To see it lowered to the floor after its purchase was to see Icarus fall; to climb inside its cockpit for the first time, to don wax-and-feather wings of my own and fly.

The old tales caution that divinity has a cost, and I too paid the price. A vial of blood, drawn with silver needle and spirited away into an unseen cooler before my pen ever touched paper. Apollo was mine, but SSC had received a far greater gift in its place: a sample of my DNA, unwillingly donated as the price for my divine armament.

Even now, this price weighs heavy on my head like the sword which hung above Damocles, poised to drop without a moment's notice with each new Union raid on yet another forgotten cloning facility. Who can say on what distant planet the children I did not birth sleep in stasis - children with my eyes, my hair, my nose, my smile; sons and daughters who will never be called as such because, to their creators, they are slaves, weapons, property - anything but human.

Third: an explanation.

I believe that flashcloning, in its current state as of 5016u, as approved by Union's Third Committee (and exploited by the likes of SSC, HA, and several countless others across the stars) is an inherently unethical practice; both for those who donate their DNA (willingly or otherwise), as well as for those persons produced by it.

To see countless lives created, manipulated, slaughtered, and recycled in the name of so-called "progress"; to see inherently human beings stripped of every vestige of humanity but the body in which they reside and then forcibly brainwashed and molded into soldiers, medics, mechanics, weapons, machines, slaves, property - it is an abominable and inhumane practice that should have died a slow and painful death in the darkness from whence it was birthed.

This being said: I cannot stand idly by as the products of this inhumane practice continue to suffer. No matter whether it is beneath the apathetic gaze of Union, the dehumanizing bootheel of HA, or the eugenicist scalpel of SSC, I will not allow my fellow persons to endure another day of abuse at the hands of those who would abandon their own creations as little more than imperfect failures for daring to remind their creators of their sentience.

Alone, I can do nothing. I too am but a cog in this great uncaring machine humanity has built, one which prospers on suffering and bloodshed and the work of hands which have forgotten the body to which they are attached. Even if I were to risk life and limb and reputation to make my position known, it is a battle which lies dead in the water - it is impossible to halt the wheels of progress without irreparably damaging the future which relies on their turning.

And so I fight. I fight for those who have forgotten their humanity, both willingly and unwillingly, that they might find something of their own - identity, purpose, desires, connection, life - that reminds them of what they were and are and always have been: human.

-- Angel