#if i didn't have them i would be dead already

[dante-mightdie]

The way i'm straight up dying over the second-wife Price au so far Like I don't think you understand how nice it is to see such a fun take on such an already-lovely idea, but GOD I would love to see Price seeing reader after a good few months of trying to convince himself that he was right in leaving her there. Maybe he always felt that guilt, that twisting in his guts that made him feel like a bastard when he thought about you, maybe he never quite got over the look on your face when the ropes were tied, the fear in your eyes. You weren't supposed to be scared when you looked at him, but you were. He's long since accepted that you're dead. It would just be silly to think otherwise, but he's still got the other wife, right? The other wife, who he slowly realizes isn't nearly as gentle as you were, who didn't stop a moment to smile at passing children or nod at him when he came back from a successful battle. maybe he's terrible for wanting to go back, but then he sees you in the woods, holding a baby in your arms and cooing at the little thing while you wash it. It could be his. That's the first thing he thinks, and then he sees Simon. Simon who should be dead, Simon who defected mid-battle mere days before he met you, Simon the *traitor*who comes up behind you and knocks his forehead against yours so gently and takes the baby into his arms as you smile at him. And maybe Price feels a sort of longing in that moment, a sort of pain he's never felt before, because you look... happy. You look happy in a way Price has never seen on you before. Genuine and comfortable, that soft smile on your face spreading as you chuckle and hug Simon. Or maybe not. Maybe Price turns and leaves, maybe he never quite sees that it's you or maybe he just cant mentally reckon with you being alive without him like this, happier without him after he hurt you unforgivably. Maybe Price doesn't even know if it would be worth giving up his half-assed, but functional marriage with your replacement-that thought still makes him shudder-to try and talk to you again, because you look like you wouldn't even entertain him, and he **knows** that Simon won't I dunno, just some thoughts for you, I hope you like :)) (You have absolutely no obligation to respond if you don't wanna, just want you to know that this au and your writing in general has honestly been something nice to come home to and it's really helped me through some rough days)

simon bumping his forehead against you like a stray cat is awakening something in me

c/w: stalkerish-vibes from chief!price, nsfw, masturbation, sex, mentions of war, torture, children

he had to return a couple more times just to be certain. dedicating a few hours a week to come back to that lake in hopes of seeing if you were actually alive or if his mind was playing tricks on him. he caught a few more glimpses of you. some by yourself, a few with your baby and a couple with your ‘husband’

he’d watched you bath by yourself in the late evening, slipping off your clothes and unknowingly giving him a view of your most intimate parts. not like he hadn’t seen them before. sometimes when he felt extra guilty and pathetic, he’d stroke his cock as he watches you bathe in the lake

he’d also caught you and your child down there once or twice, a genuine happy smile on your face as you help them dip their feet in the shallow tide. he knew the whispers of the clan was getting to you, rumours that you couldn’t conceive but he never had his doubts. he just never had the time to dedicate to you due to his many responsibilities as the clan chief

that’s a weak excuse, still. he had energy to dedicate to his second wife, for a while at least. he soon tired of her and her attitude towards her wifely duties. and he didn’t just mean her bedroom duties, although that was becoming an issue too. he also meant her responsibilities to the clan. she had a responsibility to offer them support and she was failing to integrate herself with them

you didn’t seem to have any issues with your marriage. you seem perfectly happy with your husband. price wonders if you really know who he is. it’s hard to imagine the ex-wife he knew as shy and timid seems this content with the infamous warrior ‘ghost’

price wonders if simon has told you about his time as a prisoner of war under an enemy clan when he was a fresh adult. perhaps he’d told you about how he got all those scars, how he’d endured years of torture before he finally escaped. except, he didn’t stay away once he returned home. no, he went back in the middle of the night. and slayed every enemy in that camp with his own two hands. a blood-thirsty fury in his veins as he takes his revenge

the sweetness only lasted a few minutes before the taste turns bitter. especially when he finds that he’s been shunned from his clan. his actions deemed inhumane, evil, unnecessary. simon didn’t agree, not one bit. he had dedicated his life to the clan and this is how they treat him after he nearly died for them

price had never met him. he was a known name around these ends. probably not to you. you don’t seem too afraid of him when he tugs your clothes off, bumping his nose against yours and pushing you up against a tree. hoists you up and wastes no time in lining his cock up with your pussy. nudges his tip inside your hole before thrusting the rest of his cock in

john watches as you whine and moan and beg for more in a way he never got to see before. perhaps if he had actually dedicated any time towards your pleasure, he would’ve gotten to witness this too. he fucks his fist from his hiding place, imagining that you were falling apart on his cock instead

he wishes he could use some of that famous courage he’s known for to actually come up and speak to you. apologise for abandoning you, not being a proper husband and protecting you from all the people trying to tear you down. yet his feet can’t seem to pass further from the spot he watches you from

he figures he should leave you be, you deserve your peace and your happiness. you seem to have found it. he wonders if you’ve found forgiveness for him in that time too. maybe you’d throw that sweet smile in his direction, welcome him with open arms and tell him that it’s okay

but he knows that unlikely. he’s sure that wolf of yours would show up, sniffing out a potential threat near his mate. bare his teeth and growl at price for even selling close to you. much more likely that he’ll rip john apart with his canines and claws, leave his mangled body in the dirt. he’s not so sure that you’d tell him to heel either, how can he expect you to save him when he left you for dead?

[ventique18]

~ Malleus and Malletsum go on a date ~

"... It's already morning. Time really flies by quickly."

Apparently Crowley messaged the whole school to bring whatever tsum they find to his office?? Silver was wondering where the fuck Malleus was but he didn't receive the message because the battery was dead, and he was out prancing around with his tsum date from evening to morning??? Bro was so excited with his little tsum friend he didn't SLEEP.

"Tsum. Are you not tired? It would be difficult to tag along with that body."

THE TSUM JUST SMUGLY HOPS BECAUSE IT HASN'T FELT A TINY DROP OF EXHAUSTION

"Ho, it seems I needn't worry. You're sturdier than I'd imagined."

He told the tsum he'd bring it to show to Lilia and Sebek, and Malletsum hopped so HAPPILY his hat nearly flew out of his head HJKJKSDAKJDSAKLDASLASK

"Heh. I'm looking forward to the students' reactions to you."

"Come to think of it, I'd heard that the headmage sent out summons to Lilia and Sebek when their tsums appeared last time. I'd have hoped to receive an invitation this time around, but I've not received one yet."

"Heh. Perhaps it might have been too much of a hassle to be explaining the third time around."

BRO DOESN'T KNOW HE DIDN'T SHOW UP FOR THE TSUM FRIENDSHIP PYRAMID THIS TIME DJSAKDJASIOKDAJSLDSA

"You need not worry, tsum. I will make sure to take good care of you even if nobody explains to me how."

"I will show you my favorite gargoyles. You're sure to appreciate them too."

[loves4ge]

office hours

nanami kento x gn!reader

workplace romance

you had to give it to him, the man was dedicated. you don't think you've ever seen nanami kento not working. it was actually kind of disconcerting. made you want to almost invite him for happy hour. almost. you looked at your little office desk succulent, the small mug of markers and pencils, and a tiny picture of you and your little cat.

you thought it was quite plain, but compared to nanami's near-empty desk, it might as well be festive.

"did you send over the email yet?" that was nanami. he asked you politely, in a measured voice that was distant without being rude. you turn to face him, god, he looked good in that tie. your mind processed his question slowly, as you just stared at him.

"um, sorry- the email? what e- oh! yeah, i sent it. sorry, i'm feeling a bit scatterbrained, i suppose." you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. nanami would not be invited to your funeral. you'd die a second time if that happened.

"alright then." and that was it. the quota of your talking time with nanami today was up and you'd have to survive on that sentence to fuel your crush on him. the gravelly tone in which he said alright, you could almost imagine how he'd sound like when he would say sweetheart.

god, you sounded psychotic.

"i'm not a psycho. i'm not a psycho," you repeated in whispers, typing your keyboard with aggressive strokes.

the clock struck 12, and people started filing out of the office for lunch. you texted a friend to see if she could join you for lunch but fate likes to kick you at the worst times possible; she was going to lunch with her coworkers.

your coworkers were nice, but you'd rather not spend a minute more with them unless at gunpoint. even then, you'd probably weigh the pros and cons. you'd love to have lunch with nanami, but after he turned your first two invites down, you never really built up the courage to ask again.

you stood up, making sure you had your wallet on you. you glanced at nanami; he was still seated. pursing your lips, your fingers curled into a fist out of hesitation.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" you asked, an awkward smile painted onto your face. lord have mercy, your nerves were so visible, it was painful.

"i do." you immediately thought of another place where he could say that phrase, with you standing opposite him—you were psychotic.

"oh, well. guess you can't keep me company today, haha." you wanted to close your eyes out of sheer embarrassment. who says haha?

"that's not true. i could, if you wanted me to." your eyes shot towards him. suddenly, your mouth was dry.

"uh, well. so you'd like to have lunch with me?"

"yes, i'd love to." oh my god, he said love.

"you're sure?" he cracked a slight smile at that, and you were sure your heart was going to burst. in fact, there was 20% chance you were already dead and this was your reward for suffering through a lifetime of humiliations. you weren't sure if this was an appropriate time to pinch your arm to check.

"yes, i'm sure. you have any place in mind?"

nanami kento was going to kill gojo satoru for being the inconvenient piece of shit to ever live. not only did he have the most unserious "emergencies", he also had them at the worst possible times.

first, it was when his beautiful coworker, the one with a blue-potted succulent, invited him for lunch. nanami had noticed them when it was their first day at work, their desks being so close to each other and all. and who wouldn't notice them? nanami certainly had.

the second time nanami had to help with an emergency, it was when you invited him to dinner. this was three weeks after the first invite, so it was obvious that you had worked yourself to ask him. god, it killed him to turn you down.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" he turned from his desk to look at you. this was a month after the dinner invite. he didn't have any plans for lunch today. he was behind on work, actually. he needed this lunch hour to catch up on things. besides, he had a big breakfast. he could always get something quick to eat at his desk from a convenience store.

"i do."

he was going to kill gojo satoru, right after he took you out for lunch.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to esqueciment-o

Title: Heavenly Skies

James beaufort x Reader

Warning: hella sad. Mentions of death.

The entire school could name two people who haven't been there for an entire week.

James Beaufort and Y/N.

Lydia had also been gone for a few days, and she would be seen coming and going with a large workload. But the other two have not been seen.

The entire school as a whole about where the two could have gone. The entire scandal was that maybe they had decided to elope to get away from their families. That they had been stripped from their statuses within their families and were left on their own.

Little did they know, that that was far from the truth.

Reluctantly, James parents had allowed him to stay with Y/N's parents as plans were made. Their parents had allowed an arranged marriage between the two, helping strengthen the connections between the two families. In the meantime, James and Y/N had plenty of time to get to know each other, eventually falling in love.

It was rare amongst arranged marriages, in which both parties felt the same mutually about each other on the topic of love, but the two had made it work.

James was sitting in a study within the manor that belonged prominently to Y/N. Book shelves, filled mostly with classics, lined one of the walls. His head turned to the other wall, where canvases, filled, empty, and half filled, lined the wall and floor. His heart swelled as his eyes traveled over the paintings, taking in the sight of them. Most of them he had seen already, as the two of them had spent alot of time here. He would watch while she painted, often joining in and attempting his own paintings. James wasn't anywhere near as good as she was, but Y/N always told him that he did a fantastic job no matter what.

A smile came to his face as a tear rolled down his cheek, remembering the conversations.

"You did good, James! I swear on it!" Y/N had leaned into his side as they stared at his painting. It was a landscape painting, and for a person of no experience, he did well enough. She her arm around his, her other hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

James had looked down at her, a small smile on his smile.

"I don't know love. It doesn't compare anywhere close to yours." His eyes drifted from her to the paintings surrounding the room. "And yours are astonishing." He said, finally looking back at her. The corner of her mouth quirked up.

"Do you know how many artists out there in which people thought they weren't good enough? And look at where they are at now. Sure, most are dead now. But, I'm just trying to prove my point. It might not look the greatest to you in this moment, but I adore it."

James scoffed. How ironic it was in this moment. His eyes trailed from the floor to the two paintings centered on the wall. It was the two paintings they did that day. He took a few steps close to the wall, his eyes moving over the two paintings, his heart thumping against his ribcage. James lifted his hand, his fingers gingerly tracing over the details of her painting.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, knowing that it was likely either Lydia, telling him about what everyone is saying about him and Y/N at school. Or it was quite possibly Alistair or Cyril, checking in on him.

It didn't matter, because he was ignoring his phone. And he had been all week.

James moved from the wall, never taking his eyes off, as Y/N's mother walked into the room.

"Oh, James. I didn't think you were still here." She said. The exchanged soft smiles as they gazed around the room.

"You feel closest to her here, don't you?" She asked. James let out a heavy sigh, his eyes fluttering as he gazed at the floor.

"I do." He said quietly.

"There isn't anything wrong with it, James. Me and her father sit in her often." James looked up at her, tears swelling in his eyes and in this moment, he decided that he would allow himself the ability to be vulnerable.

"Why her." His voice sounded thick. "Of all the people in the world. Out of everyone on this entire planet. Why Y/N?" He croaked, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Her mother had her own tears rolling down her cheeks. She shrugged, shaking her head.

"We ask ourselves that every night." She said, a sad smile on her face. James took a few staggered steps towards her, before allowing himself to collapse against each other. They hugged each other tightly.

"She loved you James. Don't forget that. And tomorrow, you'll get your chance to tell her how much you love her back." She whispered.

------

James had arrived to the funeral home early with Y/N's parents. Lydia and their parents would be following behind them.

He made a b-line to the casket. There she lay, herself and everything she had been on full display. Tears already began to swell in his eyes as he neared it. He thought he was ready, but with each step he took closer to the casket, the more difficult it became.

Once beside it, he stared down at her. Just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her, which was only about a week and a half prior.

She had met him on the lacrosse field before he started practice. They had bid each other a Goodnight with a kiss to go.

It was only a few hours later that James heard about the accident.

Y/N and her chauffeur were killed in a drunk driving accident.

James put his hands on the edge of the casket, unsure if he would be able to stand on his own.

"Your mother told me you loved me. Always knew you could never resist my charms." He teased quietly. James drew in a shaky breath before swallowing thickly. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He glanced down at his feet. James slipped his hand inside the casket, letting it rest on hers currently resting on her stomach.

"I know you know this already." He started, his thumb gently rubbing along the knuckles of one her hands. "But I love you, Y/N. And I always will." James smiled, gazing softly down at her face. Her expression was so peaceful, and it was almost as if nothing happened.

Oh how he hoped that she had only been asleep.

More tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the dress she wore.

"You'll paint some more heavenly scenery for me. Right?" His voice grew thicker, and he drew in a shaky breath. James blinked the tears out his eyes before closing them. He imagined her voice and laughter. It was followed by a gasp, as he started crying.

He leaned over the casket, his hand moving from hers to her face. James pressed his forehead to her own, his tears dripping his cheeks and onto her own.

He was suddenly aware of others in the room, and he had only expected her and his parents to have filed in. Were his parents really there for him. Or were they only there to save face? He rubbed his thumb gently on her cheek.

"Nothing at Maxton Hall could have prepared me for this." He said quietly. "Nothing could have prepared me for losing you. My heaven here on earth." James eyes drifted across her face, just hoping that it was a sick joke and she would open her eyes right then and there. That she would wrap her arms around him in that moment and console him, telling him that everything would be okay. He wanted everything to be okay. "Y/N. The one good thing I truly believed in." He brushed his lips against hers.

"You will continue to be that one good thing in my life. No matter where you are." He said softly, sniffling quietly. James stood upright, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I love you, Y/N. Paint the skies for me."

------

Taglist:

@honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @imasimptoowth @wheredidmyeyesgo

[whoishotteranimepolls]

What is the poll you've had the most votes on?

Oh, that's an easy answer. That's a poll I made a week into starting this blog when I had maybe 200ish followers that blew up. That I now know people shared the link on X/Twitter and a few other social media, which probably explains why it went crazy. Plus, it started a meme that I still get hate messages about

If anyone wants to know what it's like to deal with so many notifications. I didn't have notifications turned off when I posted that poll because it was the highest amount of notes a poll had gotten up until then. It was maybe 500. Most of them only got around 100, if that. But my phone would buzz every time I got a reblog. Because of that, it woke me up out of a dead sleep. It was vibrating that much, and I changed those settings very quickly.

Now that it's over, I have found screenshots on Reddit, Twitter/X, Instagram, Facebook, you name it. Plus, the Polygon video that featured it as a backdrop was shared on TikTok, YouTube and the rest of their social media.

That probably explains the activist essays because some of the polls have spread far beyond just Tumblr. I mean, my cousins have shown me my polls, not knowing I'm the mod of this blog, and they casually watch anime. Plus, I know they don't know I'm the mod because if they did, I would have gotten a call from my grandmother already

[derww]

//Lifesteal spoilers

TL;DR: Pangi and Spoke are definitely behaving very strange. 1k words

TW: Digging up a grave, non-graphic corpse

The first thing Pangi does is desecrate a grave.

He takes out a shovel — with some awkwardness, perhaps due to lack of sleep or a sore head — and, with an effort, plunges it into the frozen ground, wipes away a portion of soil — and again, and again, and again, until the cherry lid of the coffin appears.

He opens the coffin and frowns.

Zam, despite his many wounds, looks peaceful. Like someone who lived a very long life and died the way he wished. Cherry petals are woven into his hair. He's smiling.

Pangi does not look impressed. He snorts, as if dissatisfied with something. His relationship with Zam in the last month definitely could not be called the best. Zam tried to kill him, Pangi asked Minute for help, they quarreled, and they have never had a heart-to-heart conversation since. And then Zam died, so there was no one to talk to anymore.

He takes Zam's coat from the corpse.

To be honest, the coat is in a disgusting state — stained with everything possible, battered, riddled with holes, and smeared with blood — on the verge of unbearability. It's a dead man's clothes. It's unsightly.

Pangi puts it on.

The coat is too big for him. It smells like a corpse. Pangi adjusts his sleeves and closes the coffin. He stares at it intently for a while, as if thinking about something, but eventually turns away and buries it, tamping the plowed soil on top.

This is, after all, a very strange sight: the coat is quite obvious from someone else's shoulder and does not fit him in anything, but Pangi stands staring at the grave and holds onto it as if it means something.

And then he smiles, turns around, and walks away without looking back.

*

Spoke wakes up in the midst of the chaos of the room. He almost blithely dusts himself off, straightens his clothes, and pulls off his ski goggles. He squints, as if unaccustomed to his own eyesight, stretches, and puts on the enderchest.

He blinks his eyes in surprise. Laughs. Hides the enderchest. Equips armor.

There's something very wrong with the way he moves. Sharper, but at the same time clearer and more measured. The general relaxation and sloppiness were lost and replaced by precision. It seems as if Spoke was prepared for the fight, despite the fact that there was no one to fight with.

He changes his chestplate to elytra and takes off. He needs time to orient himself in the directions, but then he determines where to go and rushes to his destination.

The spawn is deserted — the expected consequence after half of the players got banned. By the time Spoke flies up to the podium, Pangi is already here; he childishly swings his legs from side to side, admiring the destroyed landscape and the rays of the daytime sun. All the grass around it is planted with dandelions and poppies. When he sees Spoke, he waves and smiles at him.

— Arrow cannon, seriously? — He laughs at Spoke, who rolls his eyes, — I thought you were better than that, bro.

— And this is what I get for trying to make everything at least a little interesting, — Spoke rolls his eyes, — they didn't even give me the last word. I won't play along with them anymore.

— I really hope so! — Pangi agrees and smiles,—Welcome back, Mapicc.

— Welcome back, Zam, — Mapicc nods,—it's good to have you back.

*

— Do you want my body? — Pangi breaks into laughter and instantly makes a very indecent joke.

They are in the middle of an old copy of spawn — sand, towers, and cherry trees.

— Yes, bro, — Zam calmly replies, — Leo jumped into the void; Wemmbu got stabbed; Mapicc got shot with the arrow cannon. Our opps are winning too much. I need to come back to balance things out. In the exchange, in s6 you can make me do anything you want...

Pangi abruptly stops laughing and stares at him.

— Do you really want to come back, Zam?

— It's cool in the afterlife and all, of course, but Mapicc would like that-

Pangi bows his head. 

— No, no, Zam, – he stops him, – do you want to go back?

Zam stammers.

— Um, — he hesitates, — yes, I think so.

Pangi nods. He's smiling.

— All right, Zam. You can use my body, — he laughs again, — until the season is over, I give you my permission. But be careful and don't kill me!

— You are the best partner, Pangi, — Zam rejoices.

— You should have realized that before you decided to kill me!

— Hey, I explained it, I couldn't bring myself to-

*

When the swearing and dissatisfied Mapicc finds himself in the afterlife, Spoke is already here — definitely not dead and not invited by anyone. He sits on the central chair of the presidential room and nods thoughtfully.

— You're not staying here, young man, — he says calmly, — you need to get back before this finale descends into the most boring nonsense.

— And what do you suggest, bro? I'm banned. — Mapicc throws up his hands, —that's the essence of hardcore. One death, and that's it.

Spoke laughs.

— You're not thinking wide enough, bro, — he taps his temple with a finger, — be smarter than that! Your team needs you to fight these... — he gets lost momentarily, — fans of syrups and nuts.

— I have no idea what you want from me, — Mapicc crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't look happy, but it seems natural in the current situation.

— Bro, you give me your hand, — Mapicc reluctantly obeys, and Spoke grabs him and pulls forward — right up to the push, during which Mapicc's head goes round, until he finds himself on the other side.

Mapicc looks at Spoke. On his hands. He touches his head.

— Bro, — he says, and for some reason his voice sounds different, — this shit is insane. How are you even doing this.

Spoke burst out laughing. He looks habitually unperturbed.

— You have things to do! — he asserts and pushes Mapicc forward, — forward and with a song! Kill them all there!

— Will do, — Mapicc agrees, — will do.

[stupidphototricks]

It's interesting re-reading Sir Terry Pratchett's books in a random order, because there are connections that I wouldn't have noticed otherwise. I read Johnny and the Dead immediately after The Wee Free Men, and these two passages struck me in a similar way:

And what there was about the Queen's voice was this: It said, in a friendly, understanding way, that she was right and you were wrong. And this wasn't your fault, exactly. It was probably the fault of your parents, or your food, or something so terrible that you've completely forgotten about it. It wasn't your fault, the Queen understood, because you were a nice person. It was just such a terrible thing that all these bad influences had made you make the wrong choices. -- Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men

The words would fill up the hall until they were higher than people's heads. They were smooth, soothing words. Soon they'd close over the top of all the trilbies and woolly hats, and everyone would be sitting there like sea anemones. They'd come here with things to say, even if they didn't know how to say them. The thing was to keep your head down. But if you did keep your head down, you'd drown in other people's words. -- Terry Pratchett, Johnny and the Dead

Both of them describe dealing with an adversary who is smooth-talking, articulate, eloquent; someone who is apt to win the argument by saying things perfectly and making you look stupid and silly and wrong, no matter how right you actually are. Someone who can even make you question whether you are right.

I feel this in my bones because in pretty much any situation, no matter how much I believe in my own opinion I can never coherently explain it to anyone else, if they don't already agree with me. I stammer, and get confused, and can't find the right word, and lose the thread, and give up. It doesn't matter, I think.

Of course the stakes are a lot higher for Tiffany and Johnny in these books. And of course (spoiler, but not really) they find the strength, and the words, to not be overridden and out-talked and silenced and gaslighted (gaslit?), but to push back and say what they need to say.

I wonder if Terry Pratchett drew on his own experience with having a speech impediment, here. I imagine that there were a lot of occasions in his early life where people talked over him, didn't take him seriously, didn't let him finish what he was saying. And, well. We all know that as it turned out he was extremely worth listening to.

Just because someone has difficulty speaking doesn't mean that they don't have something worthwhile to say. Be patient.

Just because someone is eloquent and well-spoken doesn't mean that they're telling the truth or have your best interests at heart. Practice critical thinking.

And most importantly your opinion matters, and you should express it, however imperfectly.

[angelsdean]

Thinking a lot abt John and Mary's relationship this morning, specifically the "their marriage wasn't perfect until she died" of it all, coupled with what we know abt Heaven's interference and manipulation of their relationship, how they couldn't stand each other until Heaven intervened. Like one would think, okay Heaven intervenes and now there's no resistance, smooth sailing, and then, oh she's dead, well she already served her purpose, no need for John to be infatuated with her anymore. But that's not what happens. They have friction throughout their marriage while she's alive. Then they have the perfect marriage after her death. And like !!! I have so many thoughts abt this. Startng with:

John's whole revenge quest is also crucial to Heaven's agenda. It wasn't just about matchmaking Mary and John, it was about setting off the dominoes for this entire path. Which is why it's important to Heaven that John views their marriage as perfect after and remembers Mary as this idealized mother figure. These things are what fuel John's quest for revenge. She is supposedly his true love, cruelly taken from him and their children, so now he must avenge her and put this quest first, before everything. And all of this is so crucial to Heaven's future plans. It's important to Heaven that Dean and Sam have the childhood they have. Especially Dean, who is meant to be their sword. It's important that John raises them to be soldiers. It's important that Dean has all that sense of responsibility and guilt placed on him as a young age. It's important that Dean is made to be a caretaker and protector. Because ultimately that's the stuff they want to use to manipulate Dean into doing their bidding and saying Yes. They let Dean be molded into Heaven's perfect vessel. He's raised to already see himself as a weapon, as the one who needs to protect others (eventually the whole world), and also as someone expendable. John places a gun in Dean's small hands and expects him to put himself in front of Sam, and Dean learns to put the lives of others before his own. Now of course, Heaven / Chuck also seem to foolishly miss that by Dean being raised like this it also means the one thing he's going to really push against is the idea of killing his own brother. And like Heaven, John also makes this mistake when he tells Dean he may have to kill Sam.

Okay now the second part of my thoughts on why Heaven's manipulations continue to influence John so strongly after Mary's death: it's because Mary is no longer there to fight it. When she was alive I think her own free will would have been pushing up against Heaven's manipulations, as would John's, leading to constant conflict. If Heaven were able to simply "make" them act how they wanted then their marriage would have always been perfect. But we know it's not. We know they fought. We know that on at least one occasion John left. And I just think that while she was alive, both of them had their free will constantly clashing with Heaven's agenda. And the living, breathing, contradictory and complex Mary made it difficult for John to ignore her flaws and how the two of them didn't quite fit together. Once she was dead though, and in the complicated grief of it all, it became easier for John (and Heaven) to smooth over the memory of her. She became to John what she always was to Heaven: Mother Mary. She became the perfect, pure, saintly mother figure. John no longer had to reckon with who she really was, and Heaven no longer had to fight two sets of free will revolting against each other.

[lenievi]

Les Misérables, the musical: things I found worthy of note (seen in Prague on 18th May 2024)

Madeleine/Valjean used a cane and limped

in this version, Javert was shorter than Valjean

when Valjean met Cosette in the forest, he kissed her hand. When he took her away from the Thénardiers and dressed her in the black dress, they held hands and skipped away together. It was cute.

during "Lovely Ladies" there were some threesomes with two guys and one girl

during "Master of the House", Thénardier had several cute scenes with Éponine. They danced together on the table.

during the song, when the second guest came, he had a (toy) cat with him. Thénardiers took it, killed it, cooked it, and served it to him (to go with the lyrics)

sad that during the cart scene, Valjean gave his hat and coat to a random policeman who tagged with Javert because Javert was too busy holding his own hat lol

Javert, played by a 74yo guy, has an aura of being absolutely done with the world and oozing holier than thou kind of attitude. He calls Valjean his rival twice in the lyrics. He also does not have long hair in a ponytail, and he has white hair since Toulon. And his Toulon/Montreuil uniform is chef's kiss

Confrontation: when Valjean was like "pls gimme three days", Javert was like "no *scoffs, shaking his head* no". For some reason, the final fight between them (after they stop singing) was missing, so the scene kind of ended in a way that made it seem that Javert let Valjean go. It was funny because he also wore a weirdly exasperated expression.

During the Arras trial, when Valjean takes of his cravat and exposes his chest (he still has the number on it), Javert just looks at him and then orders Champ to be taken away

Marius kissed Éponine's temple (or forehead) during the scene in Paris when we see grown Cosette for the first time

the café was called Café ABC lol

I think I mentioned this before, but they don't wave the red flag in our adaptations (there are reasons for that), they use the French flag. It's reflected in the song ("Do you hear the people sing?") with "the tricolour will fly" and it was also reflected on stage in a really cool way - they were slowly putting red, blue and white pieces of fabric over a gun to form the French flag (and then in the following scenes, they'd have a real one to wave as if they sew it from the fabrics). The three pieces of fabric thrown over the gun made a comeback during "Empty Chairs", where one of the dead guys was carrying it (which to me symbolized the broken dream because the tricolour flag didn't fly, it stayed as three pieces of fabric)

when Éponine was dying, everyone was crying. Little Gavroche was lying on the ground in some women's lap, crying and being comforted. (Javert was sitting on his chair having the expression of pls let this be over already. why am I still here?)

when they captured Javert, they threw him on his knees and Gavroche was then singing right into his face (and those two were the oldest and youngest ones in the cast). It was fun. Gavroche was really small, the boy didn't look older than 10.

one of the barricade guys carried Gavroche on his shoulders almost all the time (and when Gavroche died, he shouted the loudest). And they appeared liked that during "Empty Chairs" too

Enjolras was the last one to die. He climbed the barricade and waved the flag, was shot and fell down. When Javert came to the barricade, he climbed it (then it got turned, so we saw), and Enjolras was hanging in the middle, covered by the flag, and Javert bowed to him and climbed down.

Javert almost picked up the sewers cover haha

when Javert met Valjean again after the sewers, he was using the formal "you" in the song

when it comes to the lyrics and "look down", I liked how well it was done - our lyrics have "I/we want to exist" and I was curious how it would fit the post-sewers song and it did

Javert jumped from the bridge. Like he climbed up the bridge (and yes, the 74yo guy climbed ladders several times during the show) and then "jumped" and a younger guy plopped down on the ground (= into the smoky illusion of Seine) lol

during the curtain call, Valjean and Javert's actors "high-fived" (but it was on the level of their hips). And Javert's actor got six cans of beer which I found funny.

also during "Master of the House" Madame Thénardier's mic stopped working, so the poor woman had to sing without it for a while until a guy in a suit brought her a handheld mic.

[tobiasdrake]

love your db analysis posts! i'd love to hear your thoughts on ultimate gohan, if you have any. between him having little to no reaction to finding out everyone on earth is dead, and randomly letting gotenks fight buu instead of himself, he did not seem to be the same character at all to me, and iirc even piccolo says so, i just... find it hard to believe a non-rage-triggered power-up would do that to him.

Much like Android 16, I do wonder if there were more plans for Ultimate Gohan that wound up being scrapped by the shift in narrative direction.

We're first introduced to the concept of Ultimate Gohan as the Elder Kaioshin is explaining his abilities.

Gohan's dormant power has long been a recurring attribute of his character. In fact, this isn't the first time he's had an elderly sage draw out his dormant power.

Teaching him to draw out and control his dormant abilities was (stealthily) part of Goku's training with him. That Gohan was finally starting to make it his own and tap into his true ki is the reason for why he was repeatedly unimpressed by Goku's abilities.

Gohan didn't even realize it, but through his mastery of the Super Saiyan, he'd also begun to take control of and internalize the tremendous ki he'd always had stored away in him. And as he came into his own ki, what he could sense of Goku's ki proportional to his own didn't make sense to him.

Super Saiyan 2 was, then, the culmination of Gohan's development. His full power, channeled through the Super Saiyan and its amplifying effects - both for better and, uh, for worse.

But it's been seven years and Gohan's been indulging in his true love of academia, in accordance with the agreement Goku and Chi-Chi made about his future.

Goku may have successfully escaped having to get a job by conveniently dying at the last possible second, but Gohan's future is set on a course. He's going to be an academic. It's what Chi-Chi wants for him, and it's what Gohan wants for himself; Even Goku acknowledges that.

Seven years of rigorous study and zero martial arts practice later, Gohan isn't the guy anymore. In fact, examining just how much Gohan isn't the guy anymore is the whole point of his fight with Dabra.

Goku eyeballs Dabra as being roughly around Cell's power. This allows Dabra to serve as a yardstick for Gohan, so we understand what it means for him when he fails to measure up.

Gohan that was a Zanzoken/Afterimage. Nobody even does those anymore. They became obsolete after ki-sensing was normalized, because everyone can now easily sense which "image" is the real one. The one other time we saw a Zanzoken return post-23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, it was against Frieza, who can't sense ki.

Dabra is mocking you right now. He legit thinks you're so shitty at martial arts that you'll fall for this amateur-hour guff. And he's right.

I kinda feel Geets here. If I had to watch my last chance to ever fight my rival get wasted on this, I'd be losing my mind too. He fucking fell for a Zanzoken; Can I just take over already?

So. Yeah. Full Power Gohan isn't a thing anymore. He can still tap into the form - and for some inexplicable reason so can Goku and Vegeta - but this is no longer Peak Potential. Which is where the Elder Kaioshin comes in.

This is a classic formula of Dragon Ball. We've seen it in the RRA, Piccolo, Saiyan, Namek (twice!), and Android arcs. First, Goku gets the shit kicked out of him - sometimes even to the point of being presumed dead.

While the surviving cast members scurry about trying to find a way to face the bad guy, Goku - sometimes unbeknownst to them, sometimes not - is recovering and preparing to come back stronger than ever. This typically takes the form of some sort of godly trial or ordeal guaranteed to make him stronger than ever.

Then, at the 11th hour when all else has failed and all hope is lost, Goku makes his return to have one last epic battle for the fate of the world/universe/cosmos.

This is the Dragon Ball formula. Has been since the day the Four-Star Dragon Ball saved Goku's life from a lethal Dodonpa. Of course, getting Gohan back up to speed isn't going to be enough, since Majin Buu in his weakest form was able to do this to our Cell-adjacent yardstick.

I wonder what Dabra Cookie tastes like? I imagine it's like the wafer part of a Keebler cookie. Sugary and nice on its own but better with fudge.

So. Yeah. If Gohan's going to throw hands with Buu, he's going to need more than the power he fought Cell with. Fortunately, that's the Elder's specialty, and what makes this different than that other time Gohan had his dormant power drawn out.

That's right, we're limit-breaking again. Not the limits of human ability, the limits of Saiyan ability, or even the limits of Super Saiyan ability; We're limit-breaking Gohan specifically. Elder Kaioshin's abilities can not only draw out Gohan's full dormant ability but push it beyond Gohan's natural limits.

Full Power Gohan? Nah. This is Limit-Breaker Gohan. Not his full potential; Beyond his potential. Something entirely different from the Super Saiyan, but similar enough that he doesn't require much alternative instruction.

Kinda feels like a thing that shouldn't be able to exist, to be honest. After all the time that's been put into things like the strain of the Kaio-ken on a body, the effects of Frieza having power beyond his limits, or even what trying to use Super Saiyan 3 in a mortal body does to Goku in this very arc.

The idea of Gohan channeling ki beyond his limits seems like it should have some drawbacks, doesn't it? We do get some hints that something's weird about Gohan's new power. Piccolo can't even recognize his ki signature in this state.

This form is doing some weird shit to his ki. And, as Piccolo notes, Gohan's harder now. Gohan is here to take care of business, and nothing is going to get in his way.

But. Then. The switch happens. Suddenly, Gohan is no longer the protagonist and we need a way for Majin Buu to suddenly be too much for Gohan to handle. So we go from this:

To this:

In the span of two chapters. All so that Buu can ass-pull a brand new ability that's never once been mentioned before even though Kaioshin will later cop to having seen him do it twice, that will instantly make Ultimate Gohan stop being a solution to this problem two chapters after his debut.

A plan that, in fact, he began putting into place one chapter after Ultimate Gohan's debut. Never in the history of Dragon Ball has a brand new form or ability been obsoleted this quickly.

And then Gohan was basically thrown in the dumpster and this was never spoken of again, with Ultimate Gohan just becoming his new Strongest Transformation in follow-up products. You can feel the climactic final act being aggressively aborted around him, in favor of Goku and Vegeta's third act.

Hell, at one point, Goku even suggests bringing in Gohan to fight Pure Buu. Y'know. Since Ultimate Gohan is the strongest in the universe and all that. But Vegeta nopes it.

No explanation offered. He's just like, "That's not the plot anymore; Try to keep up, Kakarot." To be fair, Goku had a chance to bring Gohan into this too. They're both aggressively elbowing Gohan out of the spotlight here.

Mad disrespect.

[mundrakan]

You told me to send a request, soooo

Wolfstar fluff? I live for wolfstar fluff.

I oblige gladly.... although I really struggle to do Fluff. I hope this is what you had in mind :)

Sirius exhaled into the steam of the hot tea, making it swirl in strange patterns that Remus couldn't stop watching. “So... what do you think?” In the old ripe age of – god, was it already fifty? - Sirius had calmed down by a lot. He still nursed his cup crinkled the nose and smiled. “I think that we finally find, who the madman here is.” “But you have lots of tattoos. Would it be so bad if I got one too?” Remus was irritated. It seemed so hypocritical. “Most of them were for protection... and after what I put under my skin there... it hardly mattered.” Sirius weighed his head sheepishly. “I am screwed up anyway. But you...” Honest worry softened his eyes, and probably with good reason. These days Remus often wondered how he made it this far, when every moon got a little harder. But Sirius was still Sirius. He couldn't go without a joke – and thank Merlin for that, the day he did, he was probably dead. “Besides... it doesn't fit your aesthetic.” “What would that be?” “Well.” Sirius looked him up and down. “Slightly dented family car? Ex-teacher?” He pursed his lips, and Remus knew what was about, and that he didn't mean it. “Boooring...” Remus carefully took the cup from his hands, before he poked him into the ribs.

[yayakoishii]

can we get some drunk love confessions from sanji?

Sober | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Tags: Light Angst, Fluff, Insecure Sanji; there's a scene that might feel like dub-con to some but it's consensual from both sides– please read at your own discretion! ♡

A/n: thank you so much for this prompt anon,, I love drunk confessions myself so I was excited to write this!! I wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be confessing or Sanji, so I decided to make it Sanji this time since I already wrote a fic where reader drunk confessed. I hope you enjoy this ♡

also available on ao3!

The shouting on the ship got your attention from where you were playing cards with Usopp. Across the deck, Zoro and Sanji were fighting again. Even in the dark cloak of nighttime, they sure had the energy to fight without missing a beat. You sighed to yourself then decided that it would be better if you went over and distracted Sanji so the fight would end.

Except, before you had even stood up, the screaming stopped and the two were now stomping towards Zoro's stash of sake. You raised an eyebrow as you saw them sit down across each other, still glaring. You hurried over to them after telling Usopp that you'll be back in a while.

"What's going on?" You asked quietly to Nami and Chopper who had been watching over the two.

"They're having a drinking contest," the navigator replied matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows shot up in shock. Why would Sanji challenge Zoro to a drinking challenge of all things? "Zoro challenged him. And of course your lover boy couldn't back down."

"Nami!" You hissed at her, cheeks flushing. "Don't say that so close to him!"

Nami gave you a deadpan look. She still lowered her voice for your sake, "Sanji is dense as fuck. I bet all my money he wouldn't figure out your feelings from such a simple term."

"I'd still rather not risk it," you muttered underneath your breath before turning your attention to the drinking challenge in front of you. The two of them had already managed to down more than half of the first bottle. Illuminated by the lights on the deck, you could see the slight flush starting to rise on Sanji's cheeks.

The blonde chef could hold his liquor well but going against Zoro was probably equivalent to digging his own grave.

"This is not gonna end well," you sighed. "I'll just go finish my card game with Usopp. Are you gonna watch over these two or…?"

"They're paying me to play referee," she shrugged. You rolled your eyes and bit down the smile trying to come up. Chopper announced that he was going to sleep and to call him if something happened. You both waved him goodnight. Giving Nami a thumbs up, you went back to your seat too. Usopp was staring intensely at his own cards. You stared at him for a few seconds.

"You looked at my cards, didn't you?" You said flatly. Usopp's eyes widened and he started denying but gave up when you started shuffling the deck again. "Let's play one short game before turning in for the night."

You could still hear Zoro and Sanji fighting in the background, the noise just incoherent enough that you couldn't quite make out the words. You could tell Sanji was steadily getting more and more drunk as his voice started getting a little higher and shrill as he shouted. Even in the dead of the night, the Thousand Sunny was as lively as ever. The thought made you smile to yourself as you triumphantly showed your card sets to Usopp, finishing the game.

"You're suspiciously good at this," Usopp complained as he started packing up the cards.

"Be happy I didn't bet money on this," you grinned and leaned back in your chair. "You'd be a penniless beggar otherwise."

Usopp muttered something under his breath that you didn't quite catch. The day's exhaustion was starting to catch up and you decided that it was a good time to go to sleep. You had the early morning lookout shift anyway.

"Goodnight," Usopp called out as he left. You tilted your head up and down to acknowledge his words but stayed in your seat for a few more minutes. The shouting had ceased sometime ago and the low murmurs of conversation washed over you like a lullaby.

"(Y/n)!" Nami's shout of your name startled you awake from your half-asleep state.

"What is it?" You asked with a yawn as you made your way over. "Is their match over?"

"I had to stop them cause I don't think either of them plans to stop," she frowned. "I don't know about Zoro but Sanji would definitely die of alcohol poisoning if this goes on."

You laughed for a second but froze when you realised that Sanji was staring intensely at you. It made you self conscious and you automatically carded a hand through your hair to ensure it wasn't sticking out awkwardly.

"You should take him back while I squeeze my money out of Zoro," Nami winked at you and ran after the swordsman who had already wandered off somewhere. She was gone before you had even finished nodding.

"Alright, Sanji, come on," you smiled down at him, holding your hands out so he could stand up with the support. The chef stopped staring at your face and switched to staring at your hands instead. From your angle, you couldn't quite see his full face but the red splotches on his ears and cheeks were enough indication of how drunk he was. You waited for a few seconds. After a few beats of silence, Sanji placed his own cold hands into yours. You immediately covered them, trying to warm them as you pulled him up. The blonde must have been more drunk than you had thought because he lost his footing and nearly crashed into you.

Thankfully, you realised just in time and instead of the two of you falling on the deck, Sanji had crashed into your arms. Chests pressing, now he was the one looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. The proximity resulted in Sanji's smell enclosing you, and you flushed at how one of his hands had sneaked around your waist in the confusion somehow.

"So beautiful," he whispered. Your heart was thudding faster, almost like it was trying to escape the confines of your ribcage. You nervously laughed it off.

"Alright, you've had too much to drink," you joked and tried to separate but Sanji's grip did not loosen. He always fought with his legs so you tended to forget that his arms were just as strong. Fingers spreading apart, his hand splayed across the small of your back. The cold touch over your shirt made goosebumps rise on your skin but you were distracted by the way Sanji's tongue was lightly grazing over his lips. The soft pink seemed to be shining in the light.

"This must be a dream," he spoke quietly, seemingly more to himself than you. You stayed still, praying that Sanji couldn't hear your crazy heart rate and that he would forget this tomorrow. (Or well, maybe he shouldn't forget this. You didn't know which option was more appealing at the moment.) "You smell divine, my love."

"Y- You too?" You squeaked out in panic, wanting to hide your face but your hands were trapped between your bodies, resting on his shoulders. Sanji laughed at your words– a soft, genuine, relaxed laugh that you didn't often get to hear. It made your embarrassment quell down and your heart felt warm. Sanji wasn't wrong. Something about this whole night seemed to feel hazy and distant, like a dream. He would only say such words and smile like that around you in a dream, right?

"I wish this wasn't a dream," his words sent something cold down your insides. "If only this was real…"

You paused and looked up at him. Pushing your body on the tip of your toes, you leaned into his ear and asked quietly, "What if it wasn't a dream? What would you do?"

You didn't know what had possessed you but it felt like the right thing to do, the only natural question to ask after his previous words.

"So many things I've wanted to do for so long," his words were still quiet, almost like he was afraid to break the tranquillity of the night. You stepped back and Sanji let you this time. His expression seemed broken and his eyes looked glassy.

You had never actually seen Sanji drunk. He had a high tolerance for alcohol and he usually didn't drink much to ensure he could take care of anyone else who was. (He always said it was just for the ladies but you knew he was secretly looking out for everyone even though he wouldn't admit it.) He never really cried in front of you either. The fact that a drunk Sanji was sad and broken was news to you.

"Sanji," you didn't realise you had cupped his cheeks until you had already done it. Something about that desperate look on his face had spiked an intense urge in you to hold him close. "Is everything alright?"

"If this was reality," his voice wavered, unconfident and so unlike the usual him, "you wouldn't look at me like you're doing right now. If this was real, you wouldn't be in my arms right now. You would never love me the way I love you and you would never see me as something beyond a crewmate."

Your breath hitched at the words, fingers accidentally pressing harder into Sanji's jaws. He didn't seem to feel it because a tear slipped down his cheek and onto your hand, the liquid trailing between your touch.

"That's okay," he blinked, a few more droplets falling down or getting stuck in his eyelashes. "As long as I can hold you like this in a dream… that's enough for me. I won't ask more of you if this was real. All that you give me is already more than I deserve. After all, for someone like me… There's no way you would fall for someone like me. And that's okay. Because you deserve someone better. But I'm so selfish. I wish I could keep you all to myself. I wish I could hold you like this in reality, and tell you how much you mean to me. I wish I could make you smile all the time and be a shoulder for you to cry upon on your bad days. I wish I could k- kiss you and tell you over and over… how much I love you."

It felt like a swarm of butterflies had suddenly erupted in your chest. The fluttering feeling was ticklish and you couldn't quite form words and you could only gape at Sanji. He still seemed to believe this was a dream because his other hand cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed against it, gentle and warm, no longer cold after all the proximity in you two. Before you could say anything, he dipped down and captured your lower lip in between his own, gently caressing it with his tongue. The sudden sensation made you erupt in flames, the blush reaching the tips of your extremities.

"S- Sanji," you breathed out shakily when he let your lip go to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wanted this. You had wanted it for so, so long– but not like this. You drew your head away before he could successfully infiltrate the warm, wet cavern of your mouth and instead gave him a flushed smile. His eyes still looked glossy but there was an unmistakable softness in them.

You would normally have told yourself that he was just drunk and didn't mean it. But there was a part of you that knew it wasn't the effect of the alcohol. Sanji was unbearably honest when he was drunk. His true feelings were what's making him sad. Denying them would be both idiotic and disrespectful, but you couldn't accept them either. The words he spoke weren't ones he had decided to say himself. He thought this was a dream.

"Tell me this tomorrow morning," you whispered, pressing a gentle and slightly wet kiss on his cheek. "Tell me you love me when you're sober. Tell it to me, when this is real and no longer a dream. I'll wait for you to tell me when you feel ready for it."

Sanji stared down at you, his eyes starstruck and in an expression of awe. The sight made your heart clench but you told yourself that he will do it. He will tell you his feelings again, when he is in full consciousness. For that, you had to let him go right now.

"And then we'll do everything that we have wanted to do for so long, yeah?"

°•❀•°

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[merao-mariposa]

we'll meet again on some snowy day

In which they meet again after Phil travels to the other plane

<3•<3•<3•<3•<3

Philza was busy, and Missa knew very well what it was like to be busy, so instead of being upset by his husband's sudden absence, he took advantage of filling the hours of alone time he couldn't have with his children in the past.

The happiest moments of his days being the three of them were those in which he could learn more about his children, the proper method to care for Lullah's hair or Chayanne's interest in streaming. Now that they were off the island, his little ones' imagination was the limit.

He allowed himself to breathe the cold air that played in his lungs, Quesadilla did not reach that cold even in its harshest winters, but the arctic hardly had warmth to give if you moved away from the dominions of the empire.

he noticed in the distance how another black shadow was approaching, crossing the frozen air with impetus and Missa smiled slyly when he was close enough to his earshot shouting the now customary "MUMZA SEND GREETINGS"

As quickly as the little crow got to him Missa made sure to lavish his plumage with soft, loving caresses, slightly interrupting his loud ramblings of “TECHNOBLADE AND PHIL TOOK A TEA” “DADZA CHOKED ON HIS MUG LMAO” “GREAT EMPIRE, POG EMPIRE” “SOUL HARVEST POST TEA O7” “TEA FOR THE ANGEL OF DEATH” “SOULS FOR THE EMPIRE” “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” with loud purrs

Soon the tea party gossip between old friends and apparent war crimes was amplified when a cloud blackened his view, surrounding him with hundreds of messenger crows that Phil had sent to keep his family updated on his adventures with the most important people in his life, he laughed with joy as he tried to pay attention to the messages he had been receiving for a while.

It was a dense cloud, so dense that Missa had difficulty seeing beyond his nose and even so he smiled happily knowing that Philza had been able to safely reunite with his people, he was a little afraid that as soon as they escaped from quesadilla the older man would not longer want him and the reaper would never see him again thanks to the difference in power between them, from the angel of death to a simple death reaper made him feel small.

He should have given him more credit, Philza is loyal in a way only a crow would ever be.

Missa is enthralled with the cloud of happy stories wishing that the sapphire-eyed man could stay longer on the plane of the dead experiencing more wonders that he did not notice anything else until a pair of firm, warm arms rested firmly on his waist.

He cried out loud and confused when the crows began to chant a name that tasted like honey in his mouth. Amazing how no matter how much time passed Missa always seemed to fit into Phil's arms like he was made to be in them forever.

The cold blue sky or the frozen ice envies the bluish color in his man's eyes and when he smiles at him, he feels the snow melting around him, every time he returns from the celestial plane he looks happier and revitalized as if shining with pure joy and Missa wants him to stay there and be this happy every day of his life, he deserves it. Stupefied, he still does not notice how among the sea of ​​feathers that still surround them, a pair of revitalized wings press around him like a shield against the elements.

“Misaaaa”

“Philza!”

“Missa…” His warm breath against Missa's collarbones makes him shiver and he places his hands on the opponent's shoulders. Allowing himself to enjoy the shorter man's company.

“I missed you” mentions the skeleton

“I missed you too” he murmurs something muffled against the fabric that protects Missa's body.

“How is the boss?”

“Well, she sends you greetings!” As if he didn't already know from the crows "Techno too, he says hello and asks when are you taking Chayanne to train?"

Sighing softly into the blonde hair Missa allows himself to meditate. “Mmh he flew to the Nether to help Dapper with a special loot or something. "he'll probably be back in a day or two."

Philza laughed softly at the thought of his little dragon, more than worrying about him, he would worry about every damn mod down there.

“When is Techno available, cariño?”

“For his favorite nephew? It better be all the time in the world,” Philza exclaimed with a happy laugh that pierced Missa's chest literally and figuratively.

Suddenly the crows around him cleared up a bit but before Missa could react a soft and indignant voice echoed in their minds.

“Chay is not Uncle Techno's favorite!”

“Llulah!!” Philza left his husband's comfortable chest to greet the dragon that was flying near them.

Although he will deeply miss the touch as soon as it faded, he knew that he would have the arms of his platonic husband again later, he allowed himself to enjoy the scene in front of him without worrying about anything else: Chayanne's absence was felt in the air but the laughter of father and daughter only predicted positivity, for a moment he almost lost the elegant but simple clothes in light blue tones and the royal blue cape that adorned his partner, on his head rested a gold crown symbol of the Empire. His girl, on the other hand, had soft and deep colors, something about her still gave vibes to a pre-Hispanic dragon, a mix between snake scales and colorful feathers, there were also poppies snaking between her long horns that Phil was now complimenting, “Chayanne will be so pissed off when he see that they grew more than his”

“Let's see those teeth!”

Both dragons were omnivores with a special attraction to meat but if Missa had to guess

“Is it me or are Chayanne's even bigger?” Missa asked, stroking Lullah's snout a little, who did not hesitate to blow some thick, black smoke from her nostrils into Missa's face.

Philza burst into laughter as Missa tried to scold the dragoness, ignoring that some ash got in his face making him look very funny actually.

“If you don't behave I'll make your dad cook today!” Llulah remained silent about that, wanting to refute something about how her fangs were sharper than Chay's, how apá Missa deserved it a little, which was with love! And pray not to have the classics…

“In fact I learned a new recipe with avocado toast, do you want to hear that? You have an avocado toast and BOOM you put nother one on top” Lullah made a tired groan and Dadza was such a smug “I call it; an avocado sandwich”

“That's great, man” Missa barely contained the urge to laugh while the dragon twisted her tail in displeasure, “But you won't be too tired now to cook?”

“Definitely not for you, mate”

Laughter resounded once again in the frozen when, just as when she was a small egg, Lullah dropped into an exaggerated pose of defeat.

Yeah. he felt good having waited for this.

[the-lesser-light]

I think what breaks my heart the most is a Jew that doesn't know their own history.

Not converts, not married into, but solid blood line with practicing family history.

I met someone recently who I was having a long conversation with and she mentioned that she couldn't get together with family anymore because she couldn't be around 'those zionists'.

She had chosen not to be a practicing Jew anymore and I didn't get into her personal choices or life style or upbringing, but she made some comments about colonization that didn't sit right with me.

Me, being a new convert, I didn't feel it was my place to argue with her or explain her own people's history to her. So we just carried on and changed the subject.

In Judaism 101 class today, the subject was Israel. Originally the class was supposed to be about history and the foundation and modern history and direction of the nation. This is the first time they've had this class since Oct. 7th. The historian barely got through her lecture before the yelling started.

Some people demanded explanations for the killing of children in Gaza. Some people yelled about the evils of Zionism. Others demanded to know how they were expected to withstand Antisemitism in this new life they have chosen.

The teacher struggled to explain that the religion and the politics are two things they are going to have to learn to separate and contend with in their choice. She explained the politics, the laws of war, the tactics of all sides (she certainly had the credentials to do this).

I felt the explanations and her direction to "here are the sides, do your research and decide for yourself what side sits best with you, but please do your research" was good. She even instructed them to have a hard conversation with their sponsoring Rabbi to decide if this was a path they could even take if they can't handle it.

Still there are chaos in the chat and demands for explanations and answers. Eventually the teacher had to leave and the class was dismissed.

Having done my research, it kills me to know that potential new converts are listening to protests and bad news sources and bringing in hate to a community that is already suffering.

It kills me to know that Jews aren't learning their history and are playing the path of 'the good jew' and doing their best to appease those that would happily see them dead either way.

Willing Ignorance is the most unforgivable form of hate there is. It fans the flames that fear starts.

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 10

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: 18+ only, Explicit

He didn't mean to make things worse.

AO3

They shot him. They actually shot him.

Well, stunned him, but still. Hunter couldn’t believe it.

All right, he could believe it, but he was still pissed about it.

He woke in the secondary cargo hold, neck aching and body heavy with sedation. He rubbed his head as he sat up, wincing at the lights even though they were dimmed.

It was the scent that alerted him to Crosshair’s presence. He leaned on the wall opposite of where Hunter had been laid across a large crate, arms crossed as he gave an unblinking stare.

“What…” Hunter started, confused why Crosshair looked so… well, angry.

“Good question,” Crosshair growled, and yeah, he was mad. “What was that, Hunter?”

Sitting up the rest of the way, Hunter thought back and—the conversation with Rex. Crosshair. Rampart.

Hunter scowled and got to his feet, fists balled at his sides.

“That piece of shit. I’m going to kill him—”

Crosshair shoved him hard enough that he nearly lost his balance. Unusually aggressive for him, given that it was Hunter who normally got physical first.

“You could have ruined everything,” Crosshair snarled. “We could have lost our only chance to find Omega, and for what?”

Hunter’s nose crinkled into its own snarl.

“This isn’t about Omega.”

“That would be a first.”

Hunter took the low blow and shoved past it.

“This is about you,” Hunter persisted. “About what he did to you.”

Crosshair scoffed and looked away, arms folding over his chest, defensively. Protectively.

“Does it matter?”

“Are you serious?”

Crosshair met his eye, glare hard enough to sizzle nerves.

“It’s done,” he snapped. “And nothing can change that. We need Rampart to find Tantiss, and that’s all you should worry about.”

“I can worry about more than one thing.”

Crosshair unfolded his arms, paced a few steps, and then whirled back around on Hunter.

“Why is this so important to you?” A finger prodded against Hunter’s cuirass. “Why can’t you leave it alone?”

Hunter stepped right up to him, not backing down from the sharp eyes and bared teeth.

“Because he hurt you. And he’s going to pay for it.”

“So this is about revenge?” Crosshair sneered. “How is that going to help Omega?”

“This is about helping you.”

Hunter knew he’d said the wrong thing even before Crosshair’s eyes lit with fury, and he had the real urge to back away.

“This may come as a shock to you, Hunter, but I’ve managed to survive this long without you hovering over my shoulder.” Crosshair moved so close he was within kissing—or more accurately, biting—distance. “I don’t need your protection or your help.”

Hunter could pretend that didn’t hit like a blaster bolt to the chest. He’d never been very good at pretending, though, and a sliver of panic slipped through. It felt like they were moving backwards. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He just—he hadn’t been thinking. Once he knew what Rampart had done, he’d literally seen red. Everything after had been a scarlet-tinted haze, and it was probably for the best that Crosshair had stunned him. Otherwise, Rampart would be dead, and Hunter would have done irreparable damage to the trust that was already so fragile to begin with.

Not to mention Omega was counting on them, and Hunter had nearly destroyed their best shot at rescuing her. But… it was torture to know their only source of intel was a man who’d treated Crosshair worse than an animal. He’d used him like a plaything. A toy to be discarded. Hunter would not let that go unanswered, even if Crosshair would.

The look on Crosshair’s face leeched some of his fury away. He was angry, how could he not be, but there was a pleading there too. He really did want Hunter to just drop it. Forget it ever happened.

“Crosshair,” Hunter tried again, his voice softer this time. “You can’t just ignore this and hope it goes away. You have to deal with it at some point. Talk to someone. Anyone. It doesn’t have to be me, but, you can’t take on everything alone.”

Crosshair loomed over him, their chest plates nearly touching.

“You think I’m holding back?” he seethed, eyes hard and too bright, as if he might laugh. Or cry. “Omega was taken, and you haven’t said a word about it. You chased one side of the galaxy to the other looking for that kid. You deserted for her. Left—… left Kamino for her. Everything you did was for her, and now you want to pretend I take highest priority?”

Crosshair’s right hand shook by the end, and he grabbed it with his left, squeezing it in frustration, something more than simple physical pain in his expression.

Hunter sucked in a breath, confusion and a certain dreadful understanding blooming in his mind.

“Crosshair…”

He moved closer. Crosshair moved back.

“No.”

His brother’s voice was no longer steady. There was something in his eyes that scared Hunter worse than anything he’d felt in a long time. Worse than staring down the muzzle of a rifle or the jaws of an angry beast.

“You made your choice,” Crosshair forced out. “So did I. And neither of us chose each other.”

There was nothing Hunter could do but watch as Crosshair left him there, alone and drowning in regret.

The ship was quiet, but the silence wasn’t a peaceful one. It held a poised tension, ready to snap in two—or maybe that was just Hunter.

He stared across the galley, unseeing, as he sat on the floor with his back to a cabinet. His thoughts were muddled, still too distraught, though he was on his way to dulling them.

And still Crosshair’s expression wouldn’t let him go. The sharp pain and crushing disappointment, bright jealousy and lingering betrayals of the past. And here Hunter had thought he was the one being gnawed at from old, unanswered questions.

Did Crosshair truly think Hunter had left him behind because of Omega? That he was replaced?

If he believed that, he was wrong. Hunter had taken her because she was a child with no one to turn to. He never would have left Crosshair behind. He’d tried to protect him, block the regs from separating them, but he’d failed. Having to watch Crosshair leave that brig had been agony much worse than the rifle to his gut.

They had planned on going back for him after they escaped and got their gear. Hunter would have tracked him down and ripped through half of Tipoca City searching for him.

But Crosshair had found them. Cold smiles and uncaring orders. It was like looking at a stranger. As if all the years they’d been together, fought together, bled together, had meant nothing. His brothers were nothing to him. Hunter was nothing to him.

Hunter had shut down and made himself equally cold. It was the only way he could save the rest of his family and survive leaving a piece of himself behind.

Omega hadn’t replaced Crosshair, but she had been a way for Hunter to move forward. Otherwise, he would have kept searching for Crosshair, even if it killed him. It might have. Maybe it would have been him instead of Tech.

Maybe that would have been better. What good was he if he couldn’t protect his squad?

And here he’d failed again. Crosshair, Tech, Omega. Who else was going to pay for his failure in leadership? Wrecker? Echo? The damn hound?

The spicebrew burned as he chugged it down, eyes watering, but he let the acrid taste be his punishment. He knew he should have stopped drinking a while ago, but why stop at one regret. Really, when Hunter made mistakes, at least they were of impressive proportions.

Phee had come across him a while ago, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cabinet that held her stash of what tasted like very expensive hooch.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled before she could threaten to kick them off her ship or fine him for the bottle he’d already drained. Instead, she’d given him a surprisingly soft look. Sympathetic. Too understanding.

“I’ll excuse the lapse of manners, and the pilfered spicebrew, if you restock my shelf once you sober up.” She tilted her chin toward the storage unit still occupied by the Imperial. “The extras are in there. Try not to accidentally stab the womp rat on my couch. Blood’s hard to get out.”

“Thanks, Phee,” he’d said, voice not entirely steady. She’d given him a shrug, but again, her expression had been more kind that he deserved.

“Sometimes you gotta let the hurt, hurt.”

And then she’d left him to lick his wounds, though Hunter didn’t soothe them so much as he chewed them open and let them bleed. Being alone like this was… bad. He knew that. He remembered how the last few months had been the loneliest of his life. Wrecker could only do so much, especially when Hunter clammed up and shut him out. He hadn’t wanted to, but it was an old habit, one Wrecker was too sweet to shake him out of.

No… Hunter had needed someone else for that. When they were cadets and Hunter’s enhanced senses had been too much, he would do the same thing. Disappear for a while, find a dark storage space to crawl into until things quieted down again. And he never wanted to talk about it after.

Crosshair had been the only one willing to take the snarls (and the possibility of biting) to pry him open.

Hunter supposed it was funny. Crosshair hated talking about this kind of stuff himself, but he could get Hunter to at least admit when he’s in pain. That’s really all he had to do for Crosshair to be satisfied, and when they were much younger, pull him into his bunk to curl around his side. And it had always filled Hunter with a sense of relief and… he didn’t know what else. He just knew as long as Crosshair was with him, he could handle anything.

What if he lost that? Along with everything else he’d gained since Crosshair returned?

Hunter’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to experience that a second time, life without his brother at his side. Maybe Hunter relied on him too much, maybe that made him a bad leader. He wasn’t sure he cared. He’d lost too much already, and Crosshair leaving would be the blow he couldn’t survive.

Especially right now. Each passing moment took him further away from Omega, and it felt like Crosshair was holding on by a thread. What if he lost them both? Again?

He was on his third bottle when quiet voices whispered outside the door. His senses were pleasantly dulled at that point, but not so much that he couldn’t understand the hushed words.

“Yeah, and he’s not doing so hot, either.”

“…Right.”

“Just make sure your boyfriend doesn’t get alcohol poisoning or throw up on my stuff.”

A sigh was what Phee got, but not a correction. Huh.

The door slid open, and Crosshair stepped through. He gave one quick, appraising glance up and down Hunter’s slumped form, and another quiet sigh left his lips.

Hunter lifted the bottle and pointedly took another swallow.

Something bounced off the bottle, nearly knocking it from Hunter’s hand, and a fork clattered to the ground.

“Hey,” Hunter complained with a scowl.

“Dick.”

Hunter opened his mouth to throw back an insult, and then promptly shut it when Crosshair sat on the ground next to him, so close their shoulders touched.

Was he… hallucinating? He was quickly on his way to getting shitfaced, but even his fast-paced drinking had a hard time keeping up with his even quicker metabolism. At least he didn’t have it as bad as Wrecker; the poor guy got cut off at 79’s before he could actually get proper drunk, the bartender droid claiming they were dipping too far into stock.

Hunter continued to stare, but his brother remained firmly in place. So, not a hallucination. Crosshair was… touching him. And not yelling obscenities at him. Which meant he couldn’t be that mad at Hunter, but that made the situation even more confusing.

He blinked, trying to find words to say, and Crosshair didn’t help. He sat with his legs bent, arms resting on his knees, face forward and neutral.

 “So… how bad did I shoot down our chances? At getting Rampart to talk,” Hunter rushed to add. His cheeks went hot, and Crosshair chose that moment to glance his way, appraising his flushed skin with a raised brow.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Crosshair said, and there was a smile there he didn’t understand. “He’s feeling quite chatty all of a sudden. Something about the life almost being strangled out of him?”

Hunter blinked again.

“Made him reassess his priorities, apparently.”

Hunter finally relaxed, more from Crosshair’s easy tone than the actual words.

“Did it now.”

“He was ready to spill a-l-l-l-l-l-l his secrets.”

Hunter grunted and brought the bottle back up to his lips. It made him feel better. Marginally.

He lowered the bottle with a sigh.

“Then I better get back to questioning him.”

“Already done.”

Hunter glanced at him, frowning.

“You… know where Tantiss is?”

“Not exactly,” Crosshair said. “But we know how to find the coordinates. Orbital Station 003 above Coruscant, they upload the coordinates to the navicomputers there.”

Hunter mulled it over, the information processing through his brain at a frustratingly sluggish pace.

“Then… I need to contact Echo and Rex. Come up with a plan to infiltrate—”

“Also done.”

“W… what?”

“We’ve got a plan. Echo is stealing us a ship and some clearance codes, and he’ll signal us when he’s ready to meet. Phee’s got us in a holding pattern until then.”

Hunter’s mouth gaped open, and Crosshair just gave him a steady, almost-smiling look. He finally closed his mouth and chuckled.

“Maybe you should be the sergeant.”

“No, thank you,” Crosshair said smoothly. “My hair’s already grey.”

Unexpected warmth flooded Hunter’s chest. He was just… glad that Crosshair was talking to him again. After the last words they’d said to each other, he’d thought he’d ruined things between them permanently. Hunter suddenly felt like an idiot for breaking into Phee’s stash and getting wasted like… well. Some kind of idiot.

“So… we’re really doing this,” Hunter said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “Are you… okay?”

He didn’t know what he was asking about specifically. Was Crosshair okay to go back to Tantiss? Was he okay after what Rampart did to him? After what Hunter did to him?

Crosshair shrugged and said, “Sure,” in an entirely unhelpful way.

Hunter chewed his lip, a sick feeling sinking in his stomach that was made worse by the alcohol. It had done nothing to dull his memory, and he could still remember Crosshair’s reaction that night on Pabu. Lying on his stomach, willing to try something new with Hunter, but then freezing, scent soured by fear. And even before that, on the Remora—Crosshair’s reactions to Hunter’s tears. His immediate panic and horror at what he thought he’d done.

Even Captain Howzer’s interactions with Crosshair looked different in a new light. Maybe he had been interested, or maybe he’d just been concerned for a fellow brother. Especially if Howzer was familiar with Rampart and what he did to clones.

Hunter hadn’t understood then. He did now.

“I… I thought…”

Crosshair shifted next to him, probably to get a better look at him, but Hunter couldn’t meet his eye. It was painful enough to say the words aloud.

“I thought… you and him… I thought you were… together.”

“Who?” A pause. “Me and Vice Admiral Asshole?”

Hunter didn’t react to Crosshair’s attempt at a bad joke, and his brother sighed.

“You didn’t know, Hunter. And I didn’t exactly clue you in.”

Hunter winced and shut his eyes tight.

“But I should have known.”

“How?” Crosshair pressed, shifting closer. “You’re not a damn Jedi. You can’t read minds.”

“I should have…” Hunter trailed off.

“Should have what?”

“Been better.”

He blurted out the words, not quite able to keep up with what he was even saying, his throat tight and his sluggish thoughts churning in unhappy drunkenness.

“I failed you. I failed Omega. I failed T--….”

He choked, and he swallowed it down with another swig. The spicebrew burned in a nicely distracting way, but not so much that he couldn’t feel Crosshair press closer against his side.

“Need to cut you off. You’re getting morose.”

When Hunter failed to respond, Crosshair let out a quiet sigh.

“You didn’t fail anyone, Hunter.”

“Yeah, I did.” He finally looked at his brother. “Especially you.”

Crosshair’s eyes widened the smallest amount, but it was still a large gesture.

“That’s absurd,” he said, voice unusually soft. “You know that’s absurd.”

Hunter shook his head and looked away.

“Hunter…”

But Crosshair didn’t say anything else, just his name, and there was something fragile in it, an alluring plea that tempted to draw him in like an insect to flame.

But he needed Crosshair to understand.

“Plan 88. You told us what was coming, and I didn’t listen. There was a reason,” Hunter rushed out when he sensed Crosshair about to interrupt. But Crosshair remained quiet.

“It wasn’t that… I didn’t believe you. I did.” Hunter stared at the bottle he held by the neck, slowly sloshing the liquid inside. “It’s just… we knew you were being held prisoner. And we weren’t going to leave you there.”

Hunter swallowed past the lump in his throat. The spicebrew made it easier to talk, when he wasn’t choking on his own regrets, but that didn’t mean it was a painless process.

“Tech insisted we find you. I… was more cautious. I thought it might be another trap. Another chance to hurt us. But I wanted it to be true, that you had turned on the Empire. I wanted it too much.”

And that scared me, he didn’t add, because he didn’t have to. Not when Crosshair could see right through him like he always could.

Crosshair was silent but tense, as if bracing for an inevitable hit. Hunter didn’t know how to take away that tension, so he kept talking, letting the words spill out almost faster than he could process them with the spicebrew fogging his thoughts.

“I needed to know what made you change your mind. Because I knew it wasn’t me. I wanted to be the reason you left the Empire, and it just… got in my head.”

“Hunter—"

He shook his head and smiled a little.

“Yeah, I know. I know how it sounds. Like I’m a jealous cadet all over again.”

“You were jealous?” There was no teasing; Crosshair was genuinely curious.

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter’s lips tilted lopsidedly. “Any time a reg stared at you too long, I found a way to make him stop staring. Usually with a punch to the head.”

Crosshair snorted, and there was a ghost of a smile.

“That would explain your sudden and inexplicable aggression against the regs. You didn’t have a problem with them until we were older. I never did figure out why.”

Hunter winced and said, “I think Tech did.”

“Oh?”

“He gave us those… educational lessons after I started that one fight in the canteen. The one where I, uh… gave that other kid a concussion.”

Crosshair finally laughed, a low rasp that rippled up Hunter’s spine.

“So we have your hormones to thank for those grueling lectures. And you didn’t even bother to pay attention.”

“I was distracted!” Hunter protested a little too sharply.

“By?”

Hunter pointedly didn’t answer and took another swig. He was getting too sober for this conversation.

“Don’t stop now,” Crosshair teased, the smirk returned, “not when the confessions are getting good. So, you were distracted from topics of erections and ejaculations because…?”

“Why do you think.”

“I want you to say it.”

Hunter closed his eyes. Considering all the shit Hunter stirred up with Rampart, he could give this to Crosshair. Besides, he was tired of secrets. Tired of hiding things because that’s what he’d always done.

Hunter finally said, “Your scent.”

“…What.”

“Your scent. It had been changing for a while. And it was distracting, especially while Tech was talking about… sex stuff.”

Crosshair snorted again, but he was gracious enough not to prod Hunter what he meant by sex stuff.

“So, I smelled hot and bothered, and that distracted you, did it?”

“Yes,” he ground out through his teeth.

“There, was that so hard?” Crosshair grinned. “I guess it was…”

“You’re hilarious.”

“One of us has to be.”

Hunter took another long chug in response to that, and when he saw a blur out of the corner of his eye, he barely managed to pull the bottle away and keep Crosshair from stealing it with a hand on his chest.

It didn’t work, of course. Not because of Crosshair’s longer reach, but because there was no universe where Hunter would resist Crosshair crawling halfway onto his lap. It was objectively unfair, but Crosshair always did fight dirty.

His closeness also allowed Hunter to catch his scent, warm and inviting, and he almost chased it, a whine in his throat at the loss of Crosshair’s hand on his thigh rather than the bottle plucked from his fingers.

Crosshair took a swig and eyed him triumphantly, thinking he’d won. Hunter would let him continue to think that, not even trying to be subtle as his watched Crosshair’s throat bob as he swallowed. The alcohol in his gut was doing its job, filling him with a weightless bliss that pried his tongue loose without warning.

“I… won’t apologize for trying to kill Rampart,” Hunter said softly. “But I didn’t mean to make this more difficult for you.”

Crosshair stopped drinking. He set the bottle down and eyed Hunter with a mixture of caution and something a little brittle. He looked away and gave a half shrug. The silence stretched between them, and when Hunter sensed Crosshair wasn’t going to respond, he kept going.

No more secrets.

“I haven’t talked about Omega being taken, because I know we’ll get her back,” Hunter said slowly, carefully, wanting to make sure Crosshair didn’t miss a word. “I know because I got you back. I thought we’d never see you again. But… you’re here.”

Crosshair pointedly stared at the ground. He suddenly seemed so fragile, slightly hunched and trying to keep a blank expression.

Hunter wanted to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Make all of this go away. And maybe that’s why his words came out the way they did, low and serious.

“I’d do anything for you, Cross. You know that, right?”

That startled his brother enough to meet his gaze, his eyes a little too wide. And then he scoffed, and Hunter could actually see him rebuild his defenses, wall them off and retreat to safer distance.

Not this time.

He was in Crosshair’s lap within the span of two heartbeats. Hunter took the bottle out of his hand and set it aside, uncaring that it tipped over.

Hunter cradled Crosshair’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

He’d tried to imagine what it would be like kissing Crosshair. The way Echo had talked about it, first kisses were awkward, weird, and poorly landed.

Crosshair’s lips melted against his like butter, smooth and warm. And when Hunter licked against his mouth, Crosshair opened to him, his own tongue meeting Hunter’s with enough fervor to send an electric jolt up his spine.

Now his head was fuzzy with spicebrew and the intoxicating taste of Crosshair. Hunter wanted to drink him, or devour him, he wasn’t sure which, and he pressed himself tighter to his brother, thighs squeezing around his waist in an attempt to get closer.

The sedating effect of the alcohol didn’t affect all parts of Hunter, and he was grateful he no longer wore a codpiece as he ground his erection against Crosshair’s stomach—not the most comfortable when he was covered in armor, but Hunter was hardly in a position to care.

In fact, he quite liked this position, sitting atop Crosshair’s lap and kissing him. The kiss turned more desperate, possessive, before Hunter broke off and continued to plant his lips along Crosshair’s jaw.

Crosshair made a purr-like noise and gripped him by the hips, shoving him closer, and Hunter nipped at his neck. Fuck, he wanted Crosshair so bad it ached.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk.” Hunter only pulled away when he’d left a bruising mark on Crosshair’s neck, and he rubbed a thumb over the bloom, pleased at the sight.

“Three bottles in isn’t drunk?”

He smothered Crosshair’s protests with his mouth, smiling a little when his brother immediately gave in, parting his lips and practically going limp when Hunter licked into his mouth.

“Not in a way that matters,” Hunter mumbled against his lips, smiling wider when Crosshair shut him up by kissing him harder. He wrapped his fingers into Hunter’s hair as if to prevent him from pulling away. As if Hunter would dream of doing that.

Hunter didn’t know where to put his hands, frustrated he couldn’t get under Crosshair’s armor, so he settled on cradling his neck and jaw, using every opportunity to taste his mouth. It was like a different kind of challenge between them, a fight that Hunter felt he won no matter whose tongue ended up where.

Maker, why hadn’t they tried this before? If he’d known it was like this, Hunter would have kissed Crosshair often and earnestly. Maybe it was a good thing then, how late he’d figured this out. Omega would have come to some realizations sooner, and that wasn’t a conversation Hunter was equipped to have.

Still. To have Crosshair like this, breathing hard and gripping Hunter wherever he could reach, his mouth pliable and warm, Hunter didn’t care who knew.

Something warm and vast filled his chest, the cold hollowness that had lived there for months slowly filled with something else. It was almost too much, like he would burst from the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter blurted out when he had the air. Crosshair kept stealing it from his lungs.

“For?” Crosshair asked, breathless.

Hunter couldn’t remember if he’d ever said the words before. He’d never needed to. They had always been able to apologize without saying it aloud, but this felt important.

“…Well. Everything.”

Crosshair stared into Hunter’s face, cheeks flushed and lips tantalizingly puffy. He licked them before responding, and he was so quiet, Hunter might not have heard it if he hadn’t been in his lap.

“I… yeah. Me too.”

Hunter leaned in, not in a kiss, but to brace their foreheads together.

“We… we don’t need to go any further than- than this. What we’ve been doing. We don’t have to do anything y-you don’t wanna do.” Hunter didn’t mean to sound so rattled, but the alcohol was making him raw, like an exposed wound.

Crosshair was quiet for a long moment, and then he pulled back to look at him, his own expression searching Hunter’s pleading one. And then the natural lines of his forehead smoothed, and a little smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re such a puppy sometimes.”

Hunter didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like Crosshair was about to reject him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Crosshair finally said, his words unusually soft as he ran his fingers through Hunter’s hair. “Don’t we always?”

Hunter closed his eyes and shamelessly leaned into the attention. Maker, how was Crosshair able to make him feel so good, even with a simple touch?

And then Crosshair’s lips were on his again, and Hunter shuddered, wrapping himself as tight around his brother as he could. He couldn’t help it—his hips rolled, desperate for touch, a whine in his throat as he wordlessly begged.

He didn’t care if this wasn’t a good idea, or that Echo could contact them at any moment, or Phee or Wrecker could just walk in. All he could focus on was Crosshair’s tongue licking into his mouth, his fingers digging into Hunter’s hips so hard he would have bruises later.

“Crosshair—”

He choked out in a whimper, and Crosshair growled. He reached down, Hunter couldn’t see what he was doing, but relief hit him as Crosshair tugged open his pants and freed his cock.

Crosshair fumbled with his own codpiece, and then their lengths slid together, aided by the saliva Crosshair spit into his palm. Hunter groaned as fingers wrapped around them and stroked without mercy.

Hunter claimed his mouth again, holding Crosshair in place with a hand cupped around his jaw, but his other squeezed between them and batted away his brother’s grip. Hunter wrapped his hand around them both and jerked them off, swallowing Crosshair’s surprised moan.

Between strokes, Hunter grinded against him, and Crosshair did something with his tongue that he didn’t have words for, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Hunter thought kissing was a sappy, romantic thing that didn’t do much, so he was completely caught off-guard when kissing Crosshair made him so aroused so fast he was a little lightheaded.

Or maybe it was the booze, it was hard to tell at this point.

He broke off the kiss, gasping for air as he moved faster, teeth grazing Crosshair’s jaw as he fucked into his fist and against Crosshair’s length.

He was caught by surprise a second time when Crosshair grabbed Hunter’s hair and pulled, forcing his head back, and his teeth clamped onto Hunter’s neck. Not hard enough to injure, but Hunter still choked on his whine, helpless as he lost his rhythm and spilled over his fingers.

Hunter didn’t stop, using the additional lubricant to stroke them together, not caring if he was oversensitive. He kept going until Crosshair groaned into his neck and throbbed, coming hard enough that he didn’t breathe for several seconds.

Crosshair collapsed back against the cabinet, releasing his grip on Hunter’s hair as he panted. Hunter tasted his lips, gentler this time, almost teasing. He was rewarded with Crosshair’s shuddering breath and annoyed look. Hunter just smiled.

“Puppy,” Crosshair muttered, more to himself than to Hunter. He still didn’t know what he meant by it, but his hazy expression and soft stroking of Hunter’s hair told him he was at least content.

Hunter managed to find some napkins within arm’s reach and cleaned up the mess, most of it caught on their armor. At least they hadn’t made a mess of the galley; Hunter was already testing Phee’s good graces, and leaving cum on her floor would possibly lead to an airlock ejection.

But once he cleaned them up, he didn’t move off Crosshair’s lap, instead collapsing against him and resting his head on his shoulder. His brother made a noise of long-suffering as he reached between them and tucked them both away.

Oh, yeah, Hunter forgot that part. He turned his head and kissed the side of Crosshair’s neck in appreciation. His body was a heavy weight, and even through his old armor Crosshair was a beacon of warmth, pulling him in.

“We still have time,” Crosshair said, answering an unasked question. He stroked up and down the small of Hunter’s back, the only place he could feel the touch with his cuirass in the way. “Relax.”

Hunter closed his eyes and did. A small, guilty part of him knew he should get up, resume his role and get them ready for a mission that would be their hardest yet.

But Crosshair was right. There wasn’t much for them to do until Echo commed, and Hunter needed to sober up. He was exhausted down to his bones, and Crosshair’s arms around him was a refuge he didn’t realize he needed.

Hunter buried his face into Crosshair’s neck and let his muscles relax. Crosshair had him. It was safe to let go.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Honestly, I don't think any of this was cruel to Wang Ruofu.

First, she backed her sister when she stuffed a concubine into Minglan's house in a clear attempt to shit all over her marriage. Then she poisoned Granny Sheng when she rightfully punished her for it. She deserved both her punishments. In fact, they didn't go far enough, IMO.

***

I cannot anymore with this fucking woman 🙄

Who gives a fuck who gave birth to him? That is his GRANDMOTHER. Whom you tried to POISON. Also, he is a government official, and a moral and sensible man. Him covering up for your crimes would have been a failure on all fronts.

***

No.

Your best hope is that Granny will not live longer than ten more years since she is already quite old. And if she does, that she will have moved over to Minglan's house by then, so that she doesn't have to look at your stupid face every day.

***

And after all this, she still continues to be driven by grudges and resentment.

Of course he will have no love for you. Of course he will try to get some recourse for his dead mother. It's no wonder that none of the illegitimate kids love you because how have you treated them? Certainly not well. You may not have sold them into slavery the way your sister did with the kids in her home, but if it had been up to you, all three of them would have died of neglect and you would not have cared. Changfeng and Molan luckily had their real mother with them until they were grown, and Minglan had Granny. You deserve nothing from any of them.

***

I AM ANNOYED BY YOU!

DOES THAT COUNT? YOU ARE STARTING TO GET ON MY VERY LAST NERVE.

My guy, you cannot force trust and intimacy and yelling at her about it is not helping your case!

I find him so pointless as a male lead. He has not done a single plot-relevant thing since he married Minglan. He just whines and whines about how he's not getting enough attention from her while she goes out and about, making new friends and solving Imperial marriage problems. In this last arc, he just swooped in at the very end to take credit where none is due because of course, the writers couldn't have had Minglan resolve the situation, no, Mr. Feng Shaofeng had to have a place in the spotlight too. After everything she did, right at the end, they made her so bumbling and helpless, so that he could swoop in to rescue her. I'm beyond pissed.

***

LMAO, imagine bringing up Wang Ruofu as a role model for anything.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. This drama was miles and miles better without you looking for trouble where there is none.

***

I am on her side here.

I'm super aroace, though, and I can't stand whiny, needy men encroaching on my space and time, demanding more than I am willing (or able) to give. Seriously, fuck off.

***

LMFAO

Minglan did him the biggest favour.

***

Wait a minute.

Doesn't that make Old Master Kang her grandfather??

Gross.

***

What you don't know and don't want to know not only about your daughter but about your entire family, could fill not just a book, but an entire library.

And she is like this because you are worthless and spineless.

***

LMAO, she read him to filth 🤣🤣

I love her so much! Definitely one of my favourite heroines, if not THE favourite right now!

***

Pathetic.

***

Wait. Her??

Didn't Sheng Hong get rid of all of them?

Also, what happened to her leg? Did she also get caned or tortured or something?

Terrible fate, she had such a comfy life with Concubine Lin for so many years and now she has to do hard labour with no hope for things improving.

***

LMAO, so what?

It's not you who has served three Emperors and it's not your memorial tablet being worshipped in the Imperial ancestral hall.

***

LMAO, that's right Minglan, put them on the spot!

They want you to do their dirty work for them.

***

LMAO, of course, let's change the topic quickly, now that the spotlight is on them.

***

Ah, so all of them are slaves, after all.

MInglan gave her the greatest gift. Her freedom to live as a free citizen. I hope she does the same for the rest of them, if she hasn't already.